I understood his logic, but it had been agony. When the policeman—a pleasant, cheerful man who introduced himself as Detective Inspector Richards—cautioned me, and got to the words, “If you do not mention now something which you mention later, a court might ask you why you didn’t mention it at the first opportunity,” I shot Mark an anguished glance. He only shook his head warningly.
When the caution was out of the way, DI Richards asked the first question. “I understand that you transferred to St. Alexander’s with your premature baby in an ambulance. That must have been a very difficult time for you.”
“On the advice of my solicitor, I am answering, ‘No comment.’ ”
DI Richards looked pained. “We’ve agreed to speak to you today to hear your side of the story, Pete. I’m neutral in this—I’m just trying to see what’s happened.”
“On the advice of my solicitor, I am answering, ‘No comment.’ ”
“No one’s currently accused you of any crime, Pete. We just want to make sure we’ve got your version of events as well as NHS Resolution’s.”
“On the advice of my solicitor, I am answering, ‘No comment.’ ”
DI Richards shrugged and picked up a document. “You told the NHS investigators you were in a state of complete panic when you got to the intensive care unit. Does that sound right to you, that you were panicking?”
I hesitated. Had I really said that? “On the advice of my solicitor, I am answering, ‘No comment.’ ”
“I can understand why you’d be anxious, Pete. You’d had a conversation with the paramedics in the ambulance, hadn’t you? They’d told you your little boy was probably going to be brain-damaged. That must have been hard.”
“On the advice of my solicitor, I am answering, ‘No comment.’ ”
And so it went on. Even when he asked about Bronagh, and whether I’d been in touch with her since leaving the NICU. I blinked but managed to say, “On the advice of my solicitor, I am answering, ‘No comment.’ ”
And then there’d been the moment, near the end of the interview, when he’d sprung on me that they’d gotten a warrant to examine my computer. I must have looked anxious, because then he asked whether they’d find anything on it that related to the investigation.
I started to shake my head, then remembered. “On the advice of my solicitor, I am answering, ‘No comment.’ ” But inwardly, I was already thinking of what I would now have to tell Maddie.
Finally, he got to the end of his questions. Since I wasn’t answering, it hadn’t taken long—no more than fifteen minutes. “That’s it,” he said with a sigh. Then, as I relaxed, “Oh, just one last thing. We’ve been contacted by a Miles Lambert, who says he has information that may be relevant to our inquiries. Is there anything you’d like to tell me first?”
I tried very hard not to react, but whatever he read in my face—fear, perhaps, or despair, or even loathing—it evidently satisfied him, because he nodded.
“On the advice of my solicitor, I am answering, ‘No comment,’ ” I mumbled, but DI Richards was no longer listening.
* * *
—
GREG AND KATE HAD replaced their downstairs curtains with blinds, which lit up with every car that passed. Sleep was impossible. I lay on their narrow sofa, my mind churning. Theo. I’d told him I was going away for a few days. He’d barely reacted, just asked who was going to take him to Moles’s house tomorrow. Maddie. I couldn’t help thinking she didn’t seem desperately upset by the social worker’s demand that I move out. She’d seemed distant, almost wary of me as I packed my things. Perhaps she needed time to process what I’d told her. Did she despise me now? Did I disgust her? I’d tried so hard to be the person she wanted me to be, but the truth is, I wasn’t, and never had been. I was a fraud.
Which was ironic, because if I was convicted of child abduction, I would almost certainly be charged with fraud as well. Everything had gone wrong, and our family was going to pay the price.
And with that thought, finally, I allowed myself to weep; in the darkness, quietly, so as not to wake Greg’s sleeping kids upstairs.
73
Case no. 12675/PU78B65, Exhibit 38: Extract from CAFCASS safeguarding letter regarding Theo Riley, addendum to previous recommendations, presented to the family court by Lyn Edwards, Family Court Adviser.
CONCLUSION
In the light of these revised circumstances, the court should direct CAFCASS to complete a Section 7 report to further explore the issues raised, including:
The possibility of child abduction and any subsequent psychological implications for the child.
The possibility of alcohol abuse. Madelyn Wilson has stated that she regularly drinks more than double the maximum of ten units per week recommended by NHS guidelines for women.
Madelyn Wilson’s mental health and how it could impact on the child. In addition to a history of psychosis, she has stated that she is no longer taking the medication she was prescribed for her condition, a fact of which her GP was unaware.
What the child’s wishes are. Although Theo is very young, CAFCASS advisers are trained to use indirect techniques to elicit a young child’s feelings in situations such as these.
Acrimony from Mr. Riley and Ms. Wilson toward the applicants, and how it may alienate or otherwise affect the child.
The report should conclude by making recommendations to the court regarding the child’s long-term situation.
Lyn Edwards,
Family Court Adviser
74
MADDIE
THAT NIGHT, I GET drunk—properly, mind-numbingly drunk. With Theo asleep and no Pete to give me disapproving looks every time I top up my glass, I drink myself into a miserable oblivion.
I wake up next morning with a stinking hangover, made worse by having to get Theo dressed, breakfasted, and off to the Lamberts’ on my own. Usually, I slink off to the Tube in silence, leaving Pete to do all this. I hadn’t really appreciated just how draining Theo can be at this hour.
“Daddy cuts my toast inter soljers.”
“Daddy isn’t here today, Theo.”
“Daddy gets my toofbrush all ready.”