Days Like These

by Sue Margolis

  Then he hugs me. “I love you, too, Grandma.”

  • • •

  I meet Sam as he is coming out of the school dining hall. “Did you eat?”

  He shakes his head. “Not much. I’m too nervous.”

  “I know, sweetheart. It’ll be over soon. But try to remember what I said. No matter what happens, there is to be no punching.”

  “What if I can’t help it?”

  “You have to help it. If you lash out at Seb, it will make you look like a thug.”

  “No, it won’t. It’ll make me look angry and innocent.”

  I do my best to explain that’s not how it works.

  We’re the first to arrive. Mrs. S.J. is polite but cool and directs us to a row of chairs arranged in front of her desk. We make pleasantries—agree that the weather is much improved. She asks if I would like her to open the window. A cup of tea maybe? I decline both offers.

  There’s a knock on the door. Seb comes into the room first, looking pretty sheepish. Claudia is behind him, all smiles and ostentatious greeting for Mrs. S.J. “A little bird told me that you didn’t get your signed copy of my book. I can only apologize. I can’t think what happened.” She places a hardback copy of How to Parent on Mrs. S.J.’s desk.

  I’m thinking all is lost and await Mrs. S.J.’s simpering genuflection. But to my surprise it doesn’t come. Mrs. S.J. barely breaks a smile. “Thank you, Dr. Connell. That’s very kind of you. Now, if you and Seb would like to take a seat …”

  “Yes … of course.” The ebullience has vanished. Mrs. S.J.’s reserve has thrown Claudia off balance. I’m aware that Sam may not come out of this meeting the victor, but he will get a fair hearing.

  Claudia and I exchange the briefest of glances. The boys don’t make eye contact.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Claudia says to Mrs. S.J., “but my husband is away, and so I’ve brought my father along for moral support. He’ll be here any moment. He’s just popped to the loo.”

  “Of course. He’s most welcome.”

  Claudia looks at me, her face full of smug, infantile satisfaction. The message is clear. She is the one with the power. She controls her father, not me. He loves her the best. So there. If she had a pigtail, she would flick it.

  In walks Mike, full of apologies for being late. The man who swore he would never hurt me has just declared war. I sense him glancing in my direction. If he’s looking for forgiveness, he can forget it. I stare straight ahead and take Sam’s hand. I am unaware that I am gripping it so hard until he pulls away with a grimace and starts rubbing it.

  Mrs. S.J. fetches an extra chair for Mike. “Right, I know this is difficult for everybody, but what I would like to do is hear from each of the boys without any interruption from the adults… . Sebastian, if you would start.”

  He shrugs and says there isn’t much to tell. “It was lunchtime. I’d gone upstairs to get a sweater, and I saw Sam coming out of Ben’s room with the iPad. That’s all.” I am aware that he’s looking down, refusing to make eye contact with Mrs. S.J.

  “Sebastian … look at me. Are you sure there’s nothing else you’d like to say?”

  He looks up. “I’m sure.”

  “He’s lying,” Sam yells. “He’s lying. He won’t even look at her. That proves he’s lying.”

  “Sam, please,” I whisper-shout. “What did I tell you?”

  Mrs. S.J. suggests Sam take a breath and tell his side of the story.

  “I wasn’t even upstairs when Seb says I was. I was in the toilet. I’d finished lunch, and I had spaghetti sauce down my T-shirt. I went to clean it off.”

  “Did you ask permission to leave the table?”

  “No.”

  “Did anybody see you leave?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Was there anybody else in the loo?”

  “No, people were still having lunch.”

  “I see.” She pauses and takes off her glasses. “The thing is, Sam, much as I want to believe you, I have a problem. It’s not just Sebastian who saw you. Somebody else did, too.”

  “Who?” I bark.

  It’s a boy called Felix. He’s in Sam’s year, but I’ve never heard of him.

  “Felix was fetching something from his room, just like Sebastian.”

  I want to know why this Felix has waited until now to say anything.

  “Like Sebastian, he didn’t want to get Sam into trouble. Apparently he’s been fretting ever since it happened.”

  “Right, I think we’re done,” Claudia says, picking her bag up from the floor. “Sam stole the iPad. There’s nothing else to say.”

  I catch Mike giving me a beseeching look. All I can do is shake my head at him.

  “But I didn’t. I didn’t. Seb is lying. Everybody’s lying.”

  Claudia, who is already out of her seat, places a hand on Sam’s head. “Sweetheart, none of this is your fault. You are unhappy and angry. People do bad things when they’re upset. There are special people who can help you—”

  “Shut up and take your hand off my grandson!”

  She does as I say. “It’s not too late to fix this, Judy,” she says by way of a parting shot. “Please. I beg you. Just get him the help he needs.”

  I’m biting my lip in an effort to stop myself from crying.

  She and Seb turn to go. Mike hangs back and touches my arm. “I’m so sorry,” he says.

  I ignore him, stare out of the window and keep biting.

  The door closes. Mrs. S.J. steeples her hands. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Devlin. I know this has been an ordeal, but I do think the evidence is overwhelming.”

  “But they’re lying.” Sam is in tears. “I didn’t do it.”

  “Well, I think you did. I think you did a very wicked thing, and what’s worse is that you are refusing to take responsibility for it.”

  Sam’s heard enough. “You can expel me if you want. I don’t care… . Right now I’m going back to my class.” He gets up and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

  “Your grandson is a very willful young man.”

  “I’m not sure it’s willfulness. He just knows he’s innocent. Mrs. S.J., has it occurred to you that Sam is being set up?”

  “It has. But we’re talking about nine-and ten-year-olds. I’m not sure they’re capable of being that manipulative. And Sebastian and Felix are good kids.”

  “So is Sam.”

  “I agree. And for that reason I won’t be asking his parents to remove him from the school. There is, however, one proviso. I must insist that they take Dr. Connell’s advice and make an appointment for him with a child psychotherapist. I am in no doubt that Sam has some underlying issues that he needs to work through. I am also aware that he stole his sister’s necklace and took it to Dorset with him. We need to understand what’s going on.”

  I see no point in telling her that Sam has apologized to his sister about stealing the Star of David. She won’t be interested. “And if his parents refuse to send him to a therapist?”

  “In that case, I would have no choice. Sam would have to leave. I can’t have pupils stealing. I have other children—not to mention their parents—to think about.”

  “Fine. I’ll let you know what they decide.”

  “Tell them not to leave it too long.”

  • • •

  “But what if Sam did steal the iPad?” I hear myself saying to my mother. “What if I’ve been wrong all along? Now that this Felix kid has come out of the woodwork to support Seb’s story, the evidence is overwhelming.”

  I’m slumped over the kitchen table—sad, angry and defeated. But mostly I feel doubt. I am the defense lawyer who has reached a cul-de-sac. Having believed in her client and advocated for him with such passion, she has reached a point where she is starting to believe the prosecution has a case. All she can do is recommend that her client accept a plea bargain and do his time.

  “How can you say that about your own grandchild? Of course he didn’t do it.”r />
  “But a second kid saw him.”

  “He could be lying.”

  “Why would he lie? It’s taken him days to come forward.”

  “I don’t know. Kids lie for all sorts of reasons.”

  I’m shaking my head. “But Sam stole the Star of David.”

  “That was different.”

  “Maybe, but it shows he’s capable of stealing.”

  “Judy, stop it. You mustn’t lose faith in him.”

  “I’m trying not to, but I don’t know what to do for the best… . Maybe I should speak to him again.”

  “Why?”

  “I need to give him one last chance to own up.”

  “Don’t do that. I beg you. He needs you on his side. Who else has he got?”

  “I am on his side.”

  “I’m not sure he’ll see it like that.”

  Sam is on the sofa, staring at the TV. Some high-octane, flash-bang cartoon is blaring, but I’m not sure he’s taking any of it in. On the way home he told me that today was the worst day of his life. After he went back to his class, some of the kids started calling him a thief. A couple of boys even attacked him during afternoon recess. A teacher had to drag them off. He’s come home with bruises on his arms and chest. How can I let him go back to school?

  “Darling, I need to speak to you. Can we turn the TV off?”

  He hits the remote but doesn’t bother looking at me. “Am I in more trouble?”

  “Of course not.” I make him budge up on the sofa so that I can sit down. “Sam, are you absolutely certain there’s nothing you want to tell me?”

  “Oh, great. Now you don’t believe me. Now the only person I have left on my side is Nana.”

  “I am on your side. But Felix says he saw you, too.”

  His eyes are wide with rage. “Read my lips: I. Did. Not. Take. It.”

  “Are you sure? Because if you did, it’s best you tell me now. We can talk about it. I will understand and so will your mum and dad. Sometimes good people do bad things. It happens all the time, particularly if they’re under stress. Is it possible you’ve been unhappy while Mum and Dad have been away and you haven’t felt able to tell me because you don’t want to upset me?”

  “No.”

  “No what?”

  “No, that isn’t possible.”

  “So why do you think Felix accused you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because Seb said he’d bash him up if he didn’t.”

  “Seb doesn’t bash people up. You know that.”

  “Fine—so you believe him and Felix over me?”

  “No … I believe you.”

  “No, you don’t. If you believed me you wouldn’t be asking me all this stuff about being unhappy. You think I did it.” Tears are tumbling down his cheeks.

  “I don’t. I just want to be sure.”

  “I’m going upstairs.”

  “Sam, please don’t walk away. Let’s talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk. Everybody hates me and thinks I’m a thief.”

  “Darling, nobody hates you.”

  “Seb does. The teachers and Mrs. S.J. do. My friends do. And now you do.”

  He disappears upstairs.

  A moment or two later, Mum brings me some tea. “Here, drink this.”

  I take the cup from her.

  “That went well,” she says.

  Sam refuses to come out of his room for dinner. When I go to his room he’s on the bed, lying on his stomach.

  “Sam, please. Let’s talk.”

  He throws a pillow at me. “I hate you. Go away. I hate you.”

  He’s not ready to be placated. I leave. Later on, Mum takes him meat loaf on a tray.

  “Sam didn’t do it,” Rosie says as we eat. “I know he didn’t. By not believing him, you’ve upset him.”

  “I know. But I need to be sure.”

  “Well, I’m sure—even though he stole my Star of David. But I know that he wouldn’t steal from his friends.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s wonderful that you’re so loyal, but you can’t be sure.”

  “What’s loyal?”

  I explain.

  “You should be loyal, too. You’re his grandma. Grandmas should stick up for grandchildren.”

  “I am sticking up for him.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I’m doing my best.” I’m close to tears.

  Mum tells Rosie that’s enough and to finish her meat loaf. “It’s nearly time for bed.”

  When I go to check on Sam, he’s asleep. He hasn’t touched his dinner or changed into his pajamas. I can’t see the point in waking him, so I pull up his duvet and kiss him on the forehead. “I’m sorry, darling. I love you so much. Let’s talk in the morning.”

  • • •

  Only I don’t get a chance to talk to him. At seven thirty, when I poke my head around his door to tell him breakfast is ready, his bed is empty. At first I don’t panic. I assume he’s in the bathroom or one of the other bedrooms. Then I see the note on the nightstand: It’s horrible when nobody beleavs you. I am running away because you all think I am a thief and I’m not and I don’t know how to proov it.

  Even though there’s no point, I tear round checking the bathrooms and bedrooms. Mum hears me thundering and yelling out Sam’s name. She calls up the stairs, demanding to know what’s going on.

  “Sam’s run off.”

  “What do you mean ‘run off’?”

  “He’s left a note. He’s gone.”

  I charge downstairs, shoving the note into her hand as I pass and run into the street. Nothing. Mum is standing in the doorway, in her lavender fleece dressing gown, reading the note. She slaps her hand to her chest. “My God.”

  “What have I done? This is all my fault.” I’m trembling and crying and I don’t know what to do. “I’m going to take the car and look for him.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “But I have to. I can’t just sit here.”

  “We don’t know when he left. He could be miles away by now.”

  Mum pulls me back inside and says she’s going to call the police.

  CHAPTER

  twenty

  In less than an hour, the police have helicopters searching the area. There are officers scouring neighbors’ gardens, garages and sheds. Others are checking out parks, open spaces and waste ground.

  The first question they asked was whether Sam had a reason for running away. I showed them the note, told them the tale of the stolen iPad.

  “And then I stopped believing in him.”

  The two male officers who responded to the 999 call—both fathers—said they understood what I was going through, but I shouldn’t blame myself.

  I want to know who else I should blame.

  A family liaison officer called Lisa is keeping us plied with tea and optimism. She insists that because Sam has run away rather than been abducted, they will find him pretty quickly.

  “Sam is young. He isn’t streetwise. He’ll soon get tired and hungry and come home with his tail between his legs.”

  I’m not so sure. He’s taken thirty pounds from my purse. That could keep him in Big Macs for days.

  “People don’t have tails,” Rosie says, looking up from her coloring book. She’s not worried about Sam running off. She seems to think that he’s gone on some great adventure, which will somehow prove his innocence. Her big brother is a hero.

  Constable Lisa explains the tail-between-the-legs expression to Rosie. Then she wants to know if Sam said anything to her about his plan to run away.

  “Uh-uh.” She picks up a purple glitter pen.

  “You’re absolutely sure?”

  “Cross my heart. But Sam will be OK. He’s big.”

  The police want a recent photograph. Sam’s latest school portrait is sitting on the bookcase in its cardboard frame. I keep meaning to get a proper one. It’s not lost on me that those photographs of missing—usually found murdered—kids you see on TV and in the pape
rs are more often than not school portraits.

  They want to know if there’s anywhere Sam might have gone—favorite haunts, hangouts. There’s nowhere. He’s allowed to run the odd errand to the minimart on the corner, but that’s as far as he ever ventures alone.

  “What if he’s had an accident? Or somebody has hurt him? … What if some pedophile has got hold of him?”

  Constable Lisa says they can’t rule anything out.

  “I always thought,” Mum says, “that the worst thing in my life had already happened. And now this.”

  “Mum, please. Just for once can we have a crisis in this family without you comparing it to the Holocaust?”

  I want to join in the search, but the police won’t let me. They would rather I was at home in case Sam comes back. They want a copy of the class contact list.

  I can’t settle. Instead I pace and tidy magazines and rearrange apples in the fruit bowl. Finally I get round to calling Ginny and Tanya. They both want to come over, but I’m not sure what good it will do and I think I’d rather there weren’t too many people around. Tanya suggests it might be better for Rosie if she stayed with her.

  “She might be OK now, but all the anxiety and stress are going to get to her. She needs a bit of normality. Rick and I will take the girls out for pizza tonight. They can even have Coke. Rosie will love that.”

  I agree it might be for the best. Tanya says she’ll be over in twenty minutes.

  Rosie doesn’t want to go. She says it’s fun talking to the policemen about how they catch baddies. Plus Cybil’s at school and she’ll be on her own for the rest of the day.

  “She’ll be back in a few hours. Then later on Tanya and Rick are going to take you both out for pizza.”

  That swings it.

  Tanya arrives with hugs for Rosie, promises of fun and a chocolate bar that I’m not supposed to see. Once I’ve checked that Rosie has everything she needs, Tanya goes out to the car and puts Rosie’s bag in the trunk. Rosie and I walk a few paces behind. She’s holding my hand.

  “The police will find Sam, won’t they?” she says. The anxiety has finally set in.

  “Of course they will, darling. I promise.”