Writing in the Sand (22 page)

Mr Kelly follows Robbie and Lisa into the hallway. Mrs Kelly says, “Frank, why don't you and Lisa take Robbie into the front room?”

Mrs Kelly leads me into the kitchen. She says, “I'll put the kettle on, shall I? Make a brew.” There's already water in the kettle. All she has to do is switch it on. She turns round. “So blood's thicker than water, eh?”

I think, yes, it definitely is.

“You're a courageous kid,” she says. “There's not many would go to such lengths.”

I'm confused: surely she can't be pleased with me. “How d'you mean?”

Slowly, she shakes her head. “She had me well and truly fooled.”

“Who did?”

“Your Lisa…I didn't have an inkling. I would never have guessed, not in a hundred years. She didn't give herself away for one single second, not even when you both came over for tea in the garden.”

“Mrs Kelly – Lisa didn't know anything. Not until today. It was Shaun. He worked it out because he'd seen me. That night, outside your house.”

The tea's forgotten, she looks at me in disbelief. “You're not telling me Lisa had no idea
where
you were taking her baby?”

I can't go on. I'm floundering. Drowning. “Mrs Kelly—”

“Yes, love?”

“Robbie's my baby. Not Lisa's.”

The kettle switches itself off. Mrs Kelly's voice is a whisper. “
Your
s, Amy?”

“I never looked pregnant. I didn't know I was. It was a shock, a terrible shock.”

There are tears in her eyes. “Oh, my dear girl.”

“You were the only one I could think of that night. To take him to… I'm sorry.”

“Thank God, Amy. Thank God you thought of me.” For several seconds we look at each other, then Robbie cries in the front room. I use the water in the kettle to warm the bottle I made up earlier. Mrs Kelly watches me. Is she remembering how she taught me to do this? I make for the door. “I'll ask Mr Kelly to feed him, shall I?”

When I get back, Mrs Kelly is refilling the kettle. What is it about kettles? There are always kettles. Needing to be filled, needing to be poured.

We sit down. Mrs Kelly says, “Would you like to tell me about it?”

“Everything?”

“If you like,” she says. “If it would help.”

So I tell her everything. Except about Liam; though she's bound to have realized. I tell her about this morning. I tell her how – running through the rain – I was more sure than ever that I had to keep Robbie away from Gina Smith.

She asks the big question, the one I'm waiting for: “Amy – your mum. Does she know?”

I squeeze the word out: “
No
…” And take a shaky breath. “She saw Robbie when you brought him here… She has no idea who he is.”

Mrs Kelly looks around. “Where d'you keep your tea bags?” I show her, and where we keep the teapot we hardly ever use. She pours boiling water on the tea bags. “It'll be very, very hard for your mum,” she says, “but she needs to know. She'll want to support you – with whatever you decide.”

“I want him with me.” I can't stop the tears. I feel like a kid. “I stole him though. They'll take him away, won't they?”

“Amy, love – I don't know.” She comes over, takes my hands in hers. She speaks slowly, quietly. “You're not in the best position, are you? Still at school. And your mum… Well…with the best will in the world she wouldn't be able to cope with a baby all day.”

“There's Lisa.”

“Mmm.” She hesitates. “…I take it young Liam's the dad.” I nod, and she says, “And so far away.”

“I don't want him to know.”

She says nothing. And I say nothing. I'm hoping she feels like me, that telling Liam could be a massive mistake.

I hope she'll understand what I have to say next. I look into her eyes. “I can't bear it – the thought of Mrs Smith adopting Robbie. I
can't
let that happen. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have run away with him this morning. She's awful – I know what she's like.” I gulp through my tears. “She actually thinks it would be best if Mr Smith's mother was dead.” Then I remember promising Kirsty I wouldn't say anything. I need just one more lie. “Someone overheard her at the hospital.”

Mrs Kelly raises her eyebrows. “Or a little bird told you? …Amy, love, I think you may have got Mrs Smith all wrong.” She sighs. “She's supporting her husband through a very sad time… One way or another, I see her as a young woman who badly needs something to go her way at last. Between you and me, it's been tough for her over the past few years. It's been tough for both of them.” She touches my cheek, finds a tear to wipe away. “Until yesterday they were facing the most difficult decision of their lives. Then, last night, it was virtually taken out of their hands.”

“How?”

“Mr Smith's mother suffered another stroke – and as their last kindness, he and Gina let her go.”

“And
all
she can do, the day after his mum dies, is think about taking Robbie out. Couldn't she have waited?”

“It was prearranged, Amy – and Mr Smith, particularly, didn't want to take this special time away from Gina. We felt it would help them both.”

I'm quiet. I'm still finding it hard to see where kindness comes in. “If they truly loved her, wouldn't they do everything in their power to save her?”

“Amy, she was already very sick.”

“But you're always hearing that if strokes are treated early, people can lead happy lives.”

“In her case, Amy—”

“And how parts of the brain step in and take over from the damaged parts. People recover their speech. There are TV ads telling you what to look out for and how you should act quickly. Wouldn't you have thought – being in hospital – she'd have stood every chance?”

Mrs Kelly shakes her head. “Of course we can never be a hundred per cent certain about anything – but I don't think so. Last night's stroke was…” She frowns. “The deciding factor.” She puts out a hand to me. “I understand the way you feel, Amy – absolutely – but I'm as sure as I can be that the Smiths have done the right thing. And knowing what I know about Gina, I'm certain it will have been terribly hard for her, helping Andrew come to the right decision.”

While she takes the others their cups of tea, I sit quietly – listening to them talking. I'm glad I'm alone. I have to think. I'm not thinking differently about Robbie, I want him as much as ever. But I'm thinking differently about Mrs Smith – partly after everything Mrs Kelly said. And even more, though I'd been trying to forget it, because of her baby that died.

Mrs Kelly comes back into the kitchen, and while Mr Kelly and Lisa stay in the front room, she asks if I've thought how I'm going to break it to Mum – that Robbie is my baby.

Would I like her to help me? I don't know what to say. I don't know which will be worse for Mum: having me or someone else telling her. Mrs Kelly asks if I'd like her to come to the hospital with me. When I say I need a little while to think about this, she says, “Tomorrow, I think, don't you?” and I realize tomorrow is only a few hours away.

The Kellys get ready to take Robbie back with them. Apart from him, there's not a lot to take. Only his buggy, his bottle, a packet of nappies and the tin of formula. Just as I'm beginning to get a sinking feeling at seeing him go, Mrs Kelly says, “Amy, you come with us. I'll have to contact Social Services and talk to the police again, which means you may need my support. I think it would be as well if we were all together.”

It's clear Lisa doesn't want any part in this. Doing a vanishing act with Robbie has probably stopped feeling like a scene in a TV soap. “I'll stay behind,” she says, “and look after Toffee.”

When we arrive at the Kellys', Kirsty is out with Jordan. I'd been dreading facing her, so it's like I've been given extra time…though I know this is only temporary. I don't know how Mrs Kelly keeps so calm. She's incredible, dealing with Social Services and the police – telling the sergeant who came round that she's only thankful Robbie is back with her, safe and sound. She even manages to plant the idea that this evening isn't a good time to add to my worries; that there'll be time for explanations soon enough.

I've been worried to death Mum might hear about Robbie before I get a chance to talk to her, but the police say they won't release information of any kind until tonight. Mrs Kelly asks their permission to call Mr and Mrs Smith. She says she's sure she can trust them to keep the news to themselves.

Now, I have to get my head round telling Mum.

The police say they can't “condone” what I did, and it's lucky I'm not older. If I was, they'd be dealing with me a lot more firmly. It's odd: they seem to have the idea that I don't understand the meaning of responsibility. I think it's exactly the opposite: it's being utterly committed to Robbie, to his care and happiness, that made me act like someone gone mad.

Mrs Kelly is understanding enough to let me come home for the night. So – okay – I'm a coward: I don't have to see Kirsty just yet. Luckily, Lisa's indoors with Toffee and acting like a reasonable human being.

Next morning, when we get to the hospital, Mrs Kelly attracts the attention of the sister at the nurses' station. “We'd like to speak to Mrs Preston – in private, please.”

The sister nods, puts a tick on the paperwork she's dealing with, and strides off to the ward.

I say to Mrs Kelly, “Mum was in a side room before, they must have moved her.”

Mrs Kelly frowns. “That's a shame.”

The sister returns. “You can go in, there's no one with her.” She smiles. “All being well, she'll be able to go home tomorrow.”

Mrs Kelly says, “Oh, marvellous.”

I say, “Is she well enough?”

The sister looks serious. “Let's keep our fingers crossed.” Tears prick my eyes – which she notices. “Of course she's well enough,” she says, “we wouldn't let her go if she wasn't.” As I move away, she pats my arm.

We stand in the doorway to the ward. There are six beds, three on each side. Mum's is on the left at the end, nearest the window. She spots us and smiles happily. I feel like the biggest traitor that ever lived. I hurry to the bed and kiss her. “So you're coming home!”

“Yes, tomorrow, all being well – I can't wait. Mind you, by the time the doctor's been, and all the forms have been filled out, it won't be till the afternoon. They say getting out of here takes for ever.”

Mrs Kelly says, “Lindy – d'you mind if I pull the curtains round?”

Mum smiles. “Not if you'd like to.”

Mrs Kelly draws the curtains. “Amy,” she says, “bring that chair over. I'll sit on this one.”

I bring the chair across and sit down. The three of us are in a cocoon of pink and green tartan, and I have no idea how we're going to tell Mum about Robbie. I'm still waiting for Mrs Kelly to start, when Mum says, “What's this then, a mothers' meeting?”

Mrs Kelly says, “Lindy. I've come with Amy…because we need to talk about something important… Something difficult.”

Mum's face loses its brightness. “Have Social Services been nosing about?”

Mrs Kelly looks puzzled. “No. Why would they?”

Then – just in time – Mum remembers Mrs Kelly believes Lisa lives with us permanently. Mum says, “Don't mind me, it's just my imagination running riot.”

I take a breath, and when I say, “…Mum?” something in my voice alerts her.

“What is it, Amy?”

I look at Mrs Kelly. Her eyes are saying,
Be brave, go ahead,
and I say, “Mum, it's about little Robbie—”

Mum interrupts. “Oh, Amy, he's been found! Hadn't you heard?”

“Yes – I—”

“Safe and well. Isn't it wonderful? I felt absolutely sick—”

“Mum—”

“Do we know
where
he was found?”

My mouth's too dry to let me swallow properly. “…On Dune Terrace—”

“Good heavens! Whereabouts?”

“…At ours.”

She's mystified. “Surely not at our house?”

I wish there was a less shocking way of telling her. “Yes, at our house.” My heart thumps like it's trying to find a way out. “Mum…Robbie's…a special baby.”

“Every baby's special, Amy.” She frowns. “However did he get to be at our house?”

“I took him there.”

She says, “I don't understand.”

“It was me. I took him from outside the post office.” I want to tell her why, but there aren't the words.

Mrs Kelly feels for Mum's hand. She clears her throat. “Amy took Robbie home because…”

“Because what?”

“Because he's mine, Mum.”

“
Your
baby?” Mum looks at Mrs Kelly, like there's a private joke between them. “I think we all know how fond you are of him, but—”

I stop her. “Mum – I really do mean
mine
. Robbie's my baby.” With my next breath my voice cracks: “I didn't know I was pregnant. I'm sorry, Mum. So sorry. I know this is terrible for you.” Tears sting my eyelids. “Terrible for everyone.”

Mum opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

Mrs Kelly strokes Mum's hand. “Lindy – Amy is a wonderful girl.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Amy, you are.”

“I'm
not
.”

Mum takes a proper breath again. She says, “Make up your minds.” And…we kind of laugh. This is hard to believe, but we do. All three of us. Not happy laughs, just nervous relieved sounds, like we're letting air out of a balloon that would have burst any second.