Chapter 13
Sam held the chair as Catherine sat down and then sat beside her. He took a sip of his drink and then spluttered and coughed with embarrassment he suddenly realised she did not have one.
"I'm so sorry, let me get you a drink." He hurried towards the bar then turned around, "I'm sorry, what would you like?"
Catherine smiled up at him and put her hand over her eyes to shade them from the sun. "A dry white wine please."
Sam spent a while longer at the bar than necessary as he thought about Toby's advice. 'Don't go in all upset. You'll start mumbling lunatic things, probably knock a glass over, embark on an apology-rant and frighten the hell out of Mrs Walsh'. Sam picked up the two glasses, took a deep breath and made his way back to the table.
Catherine was reading the menu. She had put on her glasses and peered over them to look at Sam as he placed the drinks down. "Have you eaten, Mr Seaborn?"
"It's Sam and I'm fine but if you want something…"
"No, no I was just reading this and making myself hungry," she laughed nervously, placing the menu down on the empty chair beside her. Sam took his phone from his pocket and switched it off.
"I would switch mine off too but nobody ever phones me," Catherine laughed again but this time there were no nerves. "Stephen insisted I have one but I don't think I've used it more than twice since I got it."
Sam wondered if she had used it on the day her daughter had died, if Stephen had phoned her to tell her, if she had phoned Stephen from the hospital on it.
"Mr Seaborn-"
"Sam."
"Sam, I appreciate you agreeing to meet me. I'm sure this cannot be easy for you," Catherine stopped talking and Sam dragged his gaze away from the intricately designed metal table top. "I asked you to meet me because I want to know, no, I need to know what happened. Now that a little time has passed it will be bearable for me to hear and I hope less painful for you to say."
Sam clasped his hands and rested them on the table. "Mrs Walsh-"
"Catherine," she interrupted. The two of them exchanged a smile at the awkwardness of the situation.
"Catherine," Sam began again, "before I tell you, are you sure that's what you want? Because once I've said the words you'll have the pictures in your head and I just wondered if you're sure you want the pictures."
"I've read police reports, I've listened to her friend's description, I've spoken to the doctors at the hospital and I've read endless numbers of eye-witness accounts and each time the reality has been far less horrific than the nightmares which are keeping me awake. I only have one nightmare now and it's relentless; I dream about what happened when she died because it's the only part of that day that I have no pictures for."
Sam was relieved that Catherine had made it clear that she didn't expect him to lie but at the same time he was filled with a sense of dread at the thought of finally having to talk about what had happened in those few moments on a rainy day two months ago.
He clasped his hands and placed them in his lap. "I don't remember much before it happened. I was just driving. Toby- he's my boss, the one you spoke to," Catherine nodded, "he was waiting for me. I had some notes he needed. They were on the seat next to me. It was sunny and it started to rain. I remember thinking there would be a rainbow."
"There was," Catherine told him, "I was in my garden looking at it when the phone rang." Sam moved his hands off the table and onto his lap. "You don't need to tell me that part of it. Claire's friend has told me that."
"How is she?" Sam asked. He had often wondered about the other girl who had stood screaming as she had pointed in horror at the scene beside Sam's car.
"She's doing," if he was going to tell the truth Catherine realised he deserved to be told it too, "She's not doing too well. She has gone to stay with her mother in Queens. When I spoke to her last it was like talking to a stranger."
"She was screaming," Sam spoke too quietly for her to hear.
"I'm sorry?"
He placed his clasped hands back on the table and leant forward. "She was screaming and pointing and I looked, then I saw her, and I didn't understand because I thought it was Claire's friend that I had hit."
"Sam."
"-and I was thinking it was okay because she was just screaming, that was all."
"Sam."
"Then I saw her and I-"
"Sam!" Finally Catherine's voice broke through to Sam. He stared at the floor although he seemed to be viewing the image of a different scene. He felt her hand close around his and he turned to face her.
"You haven't spoken about this before have you."
Sam shook his head and Catherine waited. He didn't remove his hands from beneath hers.
"When I saw her I went over and she was… They say not to move someone don't they so I didn't. I held her hand."
"Did she see you? I mean did she know you were there?"
"Yes, I asked her what her name was and told her mine. That's when I moved her so that her head was on my lap. I wanted her to know she wasn't alone. She looked at me and she squeezed my hand."
"She knew you were there?"
"Yes she knew. She looked at me. She was looking at me when…" Sam took a deep breath. "She squeezed my hand and we were looking at each other, then her hand went limp. She breathed out, like a sigh. Then her eyes closed."
They sat in silence for a long time, holding hands, letting the gentle murmur of conversation drift over them. Eventually Catherine tightened her hold on Sam's hands forcing him to look at her. "Thank you," she said.
Sam nodded in response, he had no words left.
Sam was offering Catherine a ride home when the blast of a car horn made them both jump. Stephen was waving frantically to his mother, an exasperated look on his face. The car behind him started beeping continuously and Stephen shouted through the window, "I'll have to go around again, cross over to the other side, I can't stop here."
"Oh dear, poor Stephen he does get himself worked up. I told him it would be awkward to pick me up here." She was smiling as she spoke, shaking her head at her son. "He's become quite protective of me since Claire died."
The car horn sounded again and Stephen held his hands up in the air as he saw that his mother and Sam had failed to cross the road as he had instructed. Sam took Catherine by the arm and waited for a gap in the traffic before leading her across. The cars behind Stephen were already hooting and there was only time for them to shake hands before she clambered into the car. She waved at Sam as the car pulled away. As he passed, Stephen nodded. Sam returned the gesture. He turned quickly and walked back to his own car. Once inside he collapsed back in the seat. It had been light when he had parked but it was pitch black now. As he drove out of the parking rack his phone bleeped almost immediately. Toby, who had given up waiting patiently, had left four messages for Sam. He pulled up as soon as he could and called him back.
"Where are you?" Toby asked as soon as he picked up the phone.
"I'm just leaving. Can I come over?"
"Yeah, I'm just about to order something to eat. I can wait until you get here."
"Yeah that would be great. Thanks."
"It's the least I can do after you've had me sitting here worried sick all evening."
Sam smiled. "Sorry."
"Okay, hurry up I'm hungry," Toby grumbled and added as an afterthought, "You're coming straight here? I mean you're not going to get someone to beat you up on the way?"
"Just order something I like ready for when I get there," Sam hung up, not in the slightest way offended by Toby's comment. He had shown his concern and understanding for Sam in more ways than he could count over the past few weeks. He signaled, and slowly pulled back into the stream of traffic.
Toby's door was open when he arrived he was busy opening the Chinese food cartons and pouring some beers.
"I'm allowed beer?" Sam asked as he walked into the kitchen.
"You're allowed two beers."
"Excellent," Sam reached for one of the glasses.
They sat watching the football game. Toby knew Sam would talk about what had happened eventually and he became engrossed in the game allowing Sam to eat in silence. When he had finished he stood up and went to take Sam's plate and was just in time to catch it as it slipped from his lap. Sam was asleep and Toby was loathe to wake him from what he was sure was his first peaceful rest in the last few days. He washed up and then came and sat down again, watching the game and wondering how long it would be before Sam woke up.
It was two hours. The game had finished and Toby was catching up on emails when Sam finally woke, apologising profusely for inviting himself over and then falling asleep.
"Don't worry about it," Toby waved his hand in the air. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"
"Have I had my second beer yet?"
Toby fetched another two beers and sat down opposite Sam. It only took a few moments for Sam to start talking and once he did he couldn't stop. He told Toby everything that he had said to Catherine. How amazed he was at her composure, how relieved he was when Stephen acknowledged him. He then told him what had happened the morning of the crash. Toby didn't say a word, at one point he took Sam's beer from him and told him to slow down. Sam wasn't sure if he meant drinking or talking so he took a deep sigh and carried on. "I can't remember what happened between there and getting to the White House, I don't suppose I ever will. What happened in Leo's office?"
The question took Toby by surprise. He was so absorbed by Sam's account of that day that he wasn't expecting to have to give his own. It was Sam's turn to listen now. Josh had told him what had happened but he knew that he was leaving things out. Toby told him everything. He told Sam how he had strolled into the meeting and handed him the papers, how he had felt sick when he'd seen the blood on them and sicker still when he had seen it on Sam. He told him about the suspicious police officer and how Josh had threatened him, Leo's attempt to keep him in the White House and Josh's frustration at not being allowed to go to the hospital. He told Sam how he had cried out and how it had made him feel more helpless than when he'd found Josh. He explained that the President tried to get into Leo's office when he heard Sam wailing but the agents had heard it too and had burst into the Oval Office surrounding him until the source of the noise was identified and by then Sam was being led away by the paramedics.
When Toby had finished, Sam sat in silence. Toby thought he looked even more tired than he had before. Eventually he sat forward and rubbed his hands over his face. When he looked up again he raised his eyebrows and asked, "I suppose a small whiskey would be out of the question?"
Toby shook his head, "You know what, in this case, I actually think it might be the answer." He poured them both a small measure and they sat in silence drinking and watching a muted episode of Bilko.
"He's even funny with the sound turned down," Sam mused.
"Yeah." The two men smiled as Bilko huddled his men around him, concocting some ridiculous plan.
"I think I'm going to be alright," Sam said.
"I think you are too," Toby agreed, and he leaned over and held his glass out. Sam held his out to meet it and the two men looked at each other as their glasses chinked. Both of them smiled, one with a sense of peace that he hadn't known for weeks and the other with relief on seeing it on his friend's face.