Maisie
the present
Sam had called me from the Leisure Centre to let me know what had happened with the poor little boy and of course what Frankie had said. I swear he was crying, or had been, because his voice was thick and full of emotion and he kept sniffing.
I couldn’t help but wonder how Frankie knew, wondering if Josh had told him in a spate of temper on the day he’d taken him, but I would have thought Josh would have let that one slip at the police station. I supposed all the time Sam had spent with us must have made Frankie wonder why he was doing it, but I never for one minute expected him to guess the truth.
When we spoke, Sam and I agreed that we no longer had a choice and when they got back we’d sit Frankie down and talk to him. Which was why I was sitting on the arm of a chair and looking through the lounge window, waiting for Sam’s car to appear. I didn’t have to wait long, because within a couple of minutes the big, black Range Rover came along the road.
Sam pulled up onto the drive and in an almost synchronised movement, father and son stepped out of the car and with a similar gait to each other walked up the driveway to the door. I stood and turned, waiting for them to come in.
“Why is the front door unlocked?” Sam asked, barely in the lounge.
I rolled my eyes. “I knew you were on the way back.”
Preferring to speak to Frankie than argue with Sam about whether my doors were locked or not, I looked past him to Frankie who was trailing in behind him.
“Hey, you okay?” I asked, going to him and pulling him against me. “I bet it was scary, wasn’t it?”
Frankie nodded his head against my stomach. “Yeah, but Sam was amazing.”
Sam drew in a breath and rubbed a hand down his face.
“Has he said anymore?” I mouthed silently.
Sam shook his head and nodded toward the sofa.
“Hey,” I said, lifting Frankie’s chin so he was looking up at me. “You think we’d better talk?”
His eyes darted to Sam and then back to me. “Yes please.”
I moved to the sofa, taking Frankie’s hand and pulling him with me. Sam took the chair opposite and cleared his throat.
“So what you said at the pool,” he started. “What made you say it?”
“Is it not true?” Frankie asked, looking at me.
“No sweetheart, it’s true.” I grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “How did you find out?”
Frankie shrugged. “I guessed.”
“What helped you to guess?” Sam asked, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees.
Pulling his hand from mine, Frankie got up and stood in front of Sam. He didn’t speak but lifted his hand and pointed a finger at Sam’s eyes and then his own. As silence hung in the air Frankie’s finger went to Sam’s ears before moving to his. Father and son stared at each other and I felt as though my heart was going burst through my chest, it was beating so hard. Frankie was so young yet stood himself as tall as he could while pointing out all his likenesses to Sam with a shaky finge,r and it was evident they shared something else - vulnerability; Sam was scared of failing while Frankie was scared of rejection and was plainly worried that Sam might push him away, despite how much he looked like him. Finally, very slowly Frankie pointed at Sam’s lips and then touched his own as I let out a ragged breath. How I wished things could have been different and that Sam had had more faith in himself so they could have shared the joy of being father and son for the last eight years.
“We look the same,” Frankie stated, looking over his shoulder at me. “We like the same music and we’re both brilliant swimmers.”
Mine and Sam’s eyes met over the top of ours son’s dark head and we both smiled widely, Sam shaking his head at the same time. That was another thing; my son had his father’s confidence too.
“And how do you feel about it?” Sam asked, reaching forward and taking Frankie’s hand.
Frankie’s attention went back to Sam and he shrugged. “I don’t know, how do you feel about it?”
Sam looked to me.
“I know I always told you that your Dad went away and didn’t know about you.” I wondered whether my lie would hold up now, or whether we should come clean with Frankie. I didn’t want him to feel animosity toward Sam, purely for his sake because I knew he was at a point in his life when he needed his father. I only hoped Sam held up his end of the bargain.
“That’s not true though, is it?” My little brainbox replied, still looking at Sam.
