Writing in the Sand (26 page)

He picks up the kettle. “And you wanted to ask about a special guardianship for Robbie?” He pauses. “And you can do. First though, I thought you and me could look at it on our own.”

“Right.”

“It's like this,” he says slowly, and pours water into the mugs. “If Susie were granted a special guardianship order for young Robbie, it would last until he's eighteen.” A clock ticks in the silence. “You didn't realize that?”

“No.”

“It's a fair few years, isn't it?” He waits for me to agree, and I nod. “But even so, my wonderful wife would like to go ahead.” Hearing him say this, I have to remember to keep breathing. “Me,” he says, “I'm Mr Sensible, and I want to make sure any decisions made now are the right ones.”

I nod again.

“Milk?” he says.

“Yes, please.”

He puts the mugs on the table and sits opposite me. “Can you see where I'm coming from?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“What we decide at the present time – and that includes you – might look just the job. But we still have to guard against misunderstandings cropping up in the future.”

He pushes the sugar towards me. “Help yourself.” I take a spoonful and he takes two heaped ones. “Biscuit?” he says, and opens the tin. I shake my head.

He takes two digestives. “Don't tell me you're watching your weight.” He crunches on a biscuit. “Last night me and Susie were chewing all this over – the question of Robbie's future.”

I wonder where they were when they were talking about me and my child. In bed? Or still up, emptying the dishwasher and putting things away.

He's looking at me intently, and I wonder if it shows – how my insides are playing up. I say, “I just love it – the way the kids here are so happy. I know how hard Mrs Kelly works – and you – and there must be times you want to put your feet up and tell them to get their own tea.”

He laughs. “Not while they're still at the Lego stage.”

“I meant, I so love the life the kids have with you.”

“It's not all happy families, Amy.”

I relax. “Well, it can't be – but you know what I mean.”

I think of Robbie's sweet face – his blue eyes and the funny smile he gave me yesterday when I visited – and I think that if I'm not able to bring him up, I would like him to be here. Until he's eighteen, though? This is a bit of a shock. It's more than my whole life so far.

I drink more of my coffee and Mr Kelly drains his. “Apart from the timescale,” he says, “you'd have to understand that Susie would have complete control.”

“How do you mean?”

“She would be the decision-maker.” He makes sure I'm listening. “On the other side of the coin,” he says, “Robbie would grow up knowing you're his mum; he'd see you often, see his grandma, see Lisa. He'd know he's part of your family, as well as part of ours.” He pauses. “But you'd need to understand that decisions would be down to Susie.”

“What kind of decisions?”

“It could be anything. Routine stuff like what Robbie has to eat, his bedtime, who takes him out – where to, and for how long. Later on there'd be other decisions, which hopefully you'd all agree on. Though if you didn't, Susie would have the casting vote.” He pauses. “For instance, deciding where Robbie should go to school, or possible health problems… You and your mum would always be in on any discussion; it's just that if there were serious disagreements, Susie would have the last word, not you or your mum.”

I sit, taking this in. Mr Kelly asks if I understand. Have I any questions?

“I can't think of any. Not at the moment.”

He says, “I'll put my cards on the table, Amy.
All
our cards, because you have to realize that if Susie were granted a special guardianship order there'd be no going back, and that's a big, big undertaking. One that would affect me, too. And Kirsty, of course.”

I feel I should say something, but I can't think what. Besides, it doesn't feel right to interrupt. The look on his face says there's more going on in his head.

“No disrespect, Amy, to you or Robbie – but I won't pretend I jumped at the idea immediately. My first consideration, as always – where the kids and fostering are concerned – is my wife and family.”

“But this isn't fostering.”

“Precisely. And it isn't adoption either. I'll cut to the chase… We're all very, very fond of Robbie. It's not going too far to say the little guy's eaten his way into our hearts. And we think a lot of you, Amy—” He rolls his shoulders, like he wants to release tension. “Though I have to remember I'm looking at a young lady who's done some pretty crazy things. A bit of a wild child, eh?”

“I never used to be.”

“Some crazy things we don't need to go into – that personally I don't think you're likely to repeat.”

“I wouldn't, I wouldn't.” I need him to believe me. “I'd be able to finish school. I might even go to college.”

“Yes, you might. With hopes of getting a good career going.”

“Really?”

“Well, of course. You'd have time for all that while Robbie's with us.” He pauses. “And we'd help you look into the question of care for Mum. It's something she wouldn't want you to worry about. She knows you've got your own life to lead.” He looks me in the eye. “But getting back to the present…”

“Yes?”

“You're a busy girl,” he says, “we know that—”

I interrupt. “Our Lisa helps…”

“I think we'll take that with a pinch of salt, shall we?”

I feel the blush rising up my neck.

“I respect your loyalty, Amy. Let's just say your sister's input looks to be a bit sporadic.” He pauses. “I don't think we need a crystal ball to get an idea of life on Dune Terrace.”

Hearing him say that makes me wonder if Kirsty guessed more than I realised. It's like he reads my mind. “Our Kirsty,” he says, “never says a dicky bird…your secrets are safe with her.”

I'm keen to reassure him about Lisa. “Lisa lives at home now. She's helping quite a lot.”

He crosses his arms and I notice he's getting a bit of a pot belly. “I want you to realize,” he says, “that if things go ahead, you'd be expected to lend a hand.”

“Of course! I'd do anything.”

“Babysitting. That sort of thing.”

“Of course I would. I'd love to. Mrs Kelly knows I'm familiar with all sorts of things now.” I reel off my skills: “Changing nappies, mixing formula, bathing Robbie.” I pause. “I'd be able to see Robbie often, wouldn't I? And Mum – she would, too?”

“Definitely. It's not the purpose of the guardianship order to take the child away from its family. Quite the opposite. The only hard-and-fast rule is the guardian having rights over the parent.”

I say, “I can't imagine disagreeing with Mrs Kelly.”

He chuckles. “You'd have plenty of time to put that to the test.”

I smile, and look at the clock. I want to get home and talk things over with Mum.

“Before you go,” he says, “in case you're fretting over the Australian question…”

I swallow hard. “I've been kind of sticking my head in the sand.”

He cracks his knuckles. “Susie made enquiries about residency being awarded to Liam, should he apply for it, and has been told, unofficially, that it would be unlikely to be approved. They say that in view of Liam's family background, a special guardianship order for Robbie in the UK is likely to be looked on as a better option.”

I can't think what to say. I'd like to kiss him, but I don't think I ought to. Instead I say, “Would you give Mrs Kelly the orange creams, and tell her they're to say thank you.”

He pushes back his chair. “No problem,” he says. “She might let me have one.”

Glancing at the chocolates, I think how they're nowhere near a big enough thank you for what Mrs Kelly's prepared to do for me. For Robbie.

When I get in, I'm relieved to find Mum alone. Lisa's out with Toffee – doubtless taking him past the smokehouse.

While I get a snack ready, we talk and talk.

I don't leave anything out. I'm as accurate as I can be – though of course I don't know every last detail. Mum's eyes fix on me as I list conditions attached to a special guardianship, particularly that they would last until Robbie is eighteen. For me, pouring it out like this underlines how tough the arrangement would be. But I'm happy to pay any price. Robbie would belong to me. We'd be close, emotionally and physically, and I'd see him grow up.

The change in Mum is extraordinary. The worry cloud hanging over her head looks ready to disappear. A shiver goes up my spine when I ask her what she honestly thinks. She takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly: “I think it's the way forward.”

I want to run out of the house right away. Race along the beach to the Kellys' and tell Robbie myself. Instead, deciding we won't wait for Lisa, I dish up two plates of baked beans on toast and peel a banana for Mum.

“Won't you have one?” she says.

“Mum,” I say, “it'll be hard enough forcing down the baked beans!”

“Amy, you must
eat
properly.”

I'm about to tell her I'll have a banana later, when the phone rings. It's Mrs Kelly, wanting to talk to me and Mum. By the time we've had what amounts to a three-sided conversation – Mum and I taking turns to speak to her – Mrs Kelly has promised to apply to be Robbie's special guardian. Which, when everything is in place, she would become in a few months' time. For me, each moment I think about this is like a glow of pure joy flooding through me.

Sunday, and I'm getting Mum's breakfast. I'm on autopilot – kippers again, then leaving her to have a lie-in. Later I'll help her dress before I go to see Robbie. Kirsty called to say we can take him out. We'll have
such a lot
to talk about.

In my head, I keep going over yesterday: my hour with Mr Kelly, then Mrs Kelly calling Mum and me.

But also, how can I forget the makings of that perfect nursery? And Mrs Smith in her husband's arms.

With my mind darting from one thing to another, I barely notice Lisa slopping about in her pink dressing gown. Apparently she can't find her copy of
Heat
. She goes into the front room to look behind the cushions. The next minute she's charging back into the hallway like a pack of wolves are after her.

She tears off the dreadful dressing gown. “He can't see me like this! Don't you dare open the door till I'm upstairs!”

I can see why she wouldn't want anyone to see her – she's a total mess. I ask, “Who can't see you like this?”

She pounds up the stairs. “I don't know! But he's bleedin' gorgeous!”

There's a knock at the front door. Toffee barks. I open it.

“Morning, Amy.”

“Mr Smith…”

“All right if I come in?”

I open the door wider and he steps into the hallway. He looks serious. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“We can go in the front room.”

“Are you on your own?”

My heart thumps hard. Is he here for his wife's sake – confirming her promise to love Robbie all their lives? Is it down to me to tell him that, almost certainly, this won't happen? For a second it crosses my mind to ask Mum to tell him, but I know this would be unfair all round.

If it's not about Robbie, why does he want to know if I'm on my own? I tell him I'm not alone. “Mum's upstairs, and Lisa's coming down any minute.”

He sniffs the air. “Delicious smell of kippers.”

We make for the front room. I can see Lisa's
Heat
sticking out from under the settee. She'll be up there, trying to make herself look good. It's obvious Mr Smith hears her padding backwards and forwards over our heads. Now she's in Mum's room, maybe hoping to find something half-decent to wear.

There are raised voices – mostly Lisa's. Mr Smith says, “D'you suppose we could take Toffee for a walk?”

I'll be grateful to get out of the house before Lisa puts in an appearance. “He'd love that,” I say.

Mr Smith laughs at Toffee's antics in the dunes, and – like it's something he does every day – takes the frisbee out of my hand and throws it. Toffee hurtles after it, and we amble off in the same direction. The tide's coming in, but there's still enough sand for a walk.

Mr Smith says, “How are you?”

“I'm okay.”

He looks out to sea while he tells me that for my sake, and Mum's, he's relieved to hear my news. He says, “Mrs Kelly came to see Gina and me last night, to let us know that in all probability she'll take up the reins as Robbie's special guardian. It won't have been easy for her. She knew how we'd feel.” His Adam's apple moves as he swallows hard. “Gina was – still is – very upset.”

So this is why he's here: to tell me he knows about Mrs Kelly's decision. He looks tired, and I say, “I'm sorry, really I am.” I wish he'd look at me. I add, “All your hopes built up like that.”

Now he looks at me. He has to, so his words aren't snatched away by the wind. “I'm sorry, too,” he says. “Extremely sorry…about the time you spent with Gina.”

We walk along together. Toffee comes back with the frisbee and Mr Smith hurls it again.

My voice has to fight the wind. “I'd been trying to convince myself I could part with Robbie.” I hesitate. “If he had you as his dad.”

His hair is blowing in his eyes. He pushes it back and says, “Amy – Robbie belongs to you.”

Toffee comes bounding back to drop the frisbee. Mr Smith says, “Good boy,” and keeps hold of it while we carry on walking.

In the distance, high up, I notice a kite. Yellow and red. I'm still watching it when he turns to face me. “Make the most of these next few years, Amy. You've got a lot going for you.”