“I want to at least talk to him,” said Mark. “Find out why he did…what he did. Make sure it won’t happen again.”
Sam looked scared. “She’s all right, isn’t she?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know.”
“Of course she is. Christ!”
“Look, fuckface, what am I meant to think?”
“Anything you like, Sam, you always do. Anyway, Richard looked after her the whole time. She hardly saw Tony either.”
Sam eyed Richard suspiciously.
Mark continued, “I think Tony just wants to talk to me. I think that’s what this is all about. I have to sort it out. I think I know how I can see him. It has to be on his terms.”
“I’m not listening to this,” Sam said. “I’ve had enough. We’re going back home and taking Sally. You can do what you want.”
Peggy put in, “Sam, just listen to him.”
“Shut up, Mam. I let you come here to see Sally. Don’t push it.”
“You listen to me, madam. You’ve had your own way through all of this.”
Followed by everyone else, Sam looked in astonishment at her mother.
“You have kittens over the whole business—quite understandable—and your wishes have gone over and above everyone else’s. Including Mark’s. But now you know that Sally’s all right. She’s with you and safe. Just listen to him. It’s time you stopped treating everyone rotten. You were up in arms and being a bitch even before your daughter was snatched. Now, you’re about to make changes in your life. I can see that. But remember, Sam, these changes are not just to your life. They’re to all our lives. We all have a stake in what goes on now, and you’re not going to get all your own way.”
They sat back. Cautiously Mark asked, “What changes is she talking about, Sam?”
Sam blew out smoke and crushed her cigarette. “I’m taking Sally home to Bob’s house. We’re moving in with Bob.”
She felt Bob’s grip tighten on her shoulder and took it for support, but it was shock.
Mark stared at her. “If that’s what you want to do…”
“There’s no ‘want’ about it. It’s just what’s going to happen.”
“You can’t just have her.”
“I’m her mother.”
“You can’t just take her.”
“I’m her mother, Mark.”
“You can’t—”
Sally was crying again. He stopped.
“Listen to you!” Iris burst out.
“Keep out, you old sow!” Sam told her.
“Listen,” Iris snapped. “Just listen to the pair of you! You’re talking about big life changes, court decisions, right here and now when you should be glad this is sorted! And—might I add—I’m absolutely starving. Custody is for the court to decide, if it comes to that. And right now you’re scaring the life out of Sally. She’s had enough of this.”
“She’s right,” Mark said.
Sam glared murderously. “We’re still going home,” she said. “And taking Sally.”
“You’re leaving me?”
She just tutted and looked away. The owner was approaching with a menu now, as if his professional manner had expertly located a suitable lull in their proceedings. Or perhaps he had just heard Iris say ‘lunch’. When he gave the sheet to Sam, she looked past him, and saw with a shock that it had gone dark outside. The street was dim with a silent storm.
EVENTUALLY THEY TOOK UP TWO FULL TABLES AND DOMINATED THE
small café. The adults said very little to each other. They had passed a certain point in their dealings and concentrated instead on eating. And talking to Sally, listening to her talk. The child became their focus. Radio Four played behind the counter, its voices unctuous on the leaden air. The café owner watched the family scene, attempting to work the relationships out.
Sally chatted on brightly as they ate. She talked about Christmas, about travelling on a train, about the stories she had read during her visit, about Richard’s dog.
The adults smiled, nodded, urged her on. But she was doing it for them. Sally knew about the times they needed a focus, the times when childish inconsequentiality was all that would stop them fighting.
“We have to go,” Sam said at last, and Mark looked away to see the snow piled high against the door.
Come on, he thought, snow heavier. Bring it all down. I want to keep them here a while. Let it go dark outside; fill in the canyons of the street. Smother us in and make us stay to sort this all out.
“Mark, we’re going back home.”
“There’s…” he began, tapping ash quickly, everyone looking. “If you go to the newsagents here…don’t be shocked when you get your change…there’s a bloke in there with two thumbs.”
“Mark, what…?”
“On one hand. And there’s an antique shop that does elephant feet.”
Sam looked at him levelly.
“Ask him,” Mark urged. “Ask Richard. They’ve got everything here.”
Iris covered his hand with hers. “Peggy and I will stay for a while.”
“Come on, Sal,” Sam said. “We’ve got to get back off home. That weather’s not going to let up.”
Bob was standing. “Sam? Ready?”
“Sally, get your things together.” Sam started fastening up her daughter’s coat. All she was carrying, though, was the kangaroo Sam had brought.
Sally had lost her brightness, but now her eyes shone. “Aren’t we all staying together?”
She looked at her dad.
“I think you’d better go with your mam, pet.”
When Bob opened the café door, the cold wind of the street slipped in. Mark gasped. It gripped him, held him, as he watched them shuffle out.
TWENTY ONE
“WELL, I’M GLAD WE CAME,” PEGGY SAID AT LAST. “WE NEEDED A TRIP out. To take our minds off things.”
Iris said, “I’m amazed we could get anywhere in that weather.”
They had caught the bus just outside the café. It had snorted and steamed towards them, a livid baked-bean orange against the fresh snow. Mark had slumped on the back seat, looking vulnerable and drawn, as he had since Sally kissed him goodbye.
It had been Richard’s idea to come here. They had the rest of the day to fill in somehow, waiting until Tony
