Playing Nice
And then Pete came back.
He’d abandoned the ride in York and boarded a train to London. He found me curled up on the kitchen floor, lying on sheets of tinfoil to protect myself from the doctors’ messages. Theo was on his back a few feet away, nappyless. Nearby, I’d lined up twenty full bottles of milk, ready to feed him with. The radio was on to drown the sound of his crying, and I’d hooked up a calculator to the microwave so I could monitor his vital signs.
* * *
—
WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THAT is fuzzy. It didn’t take Pete long to realize he had to call an ambulance, and the paramedics arranged an emergency mental health assessment. I was admitted to a psychiatric ward and given antipsychotics and mood stabilizers. There were no spaces in a mother-and-baby unit, so Pete looked after Theo until I was well enough to come home. It took three weeks, and even then they only let me out when I agreed to join the support group I’d spurned before and do a course of cognitive therapy. When I got home, tired but calm again, I found the house full of flowers and a banner over the front door that read WELCOME HOME MUMMY. Pete had tidied and cleaned—he told me later it had taken two bottles of bleach to get rid of the smell of the soiled nappies I’d been storing under beds and sofas in case the doctors needed to examine them—and even bought Theo a bigger set of babygrows. When I lifted him from Pete’s arms into mine, he smelled of fabric conditioner and warm milk and love.
“I’m sorry about the bike ride,” Pete said softly.
I shook my head. “Don’t be. Besides, how could you have known what was wrong with me? Even the health visitor didn’t realize.” I looked around. “This place looks great.”
“We’ve been having a good time.” Pete stroked Theo’s cheek, now plump and full like a baby’s should be. “Though he’s missed his mummy, of course,” he added quickly.
“You don’t have to tiptoe around me now, Pete. I left Horrible Angry Maddie back in the psych ward.”
He nodded. “I’ve arranged to work from home for a while, even so.”
“Won’t Karen mind?” Karen was his editor, a woman Pete professed to admire but who I always thought sounded petulant and passive-aggressive when Pete described their interactions.
“She’s really supportive. It’ll mean doing more roundups, but…” Pete shrugged. As newspaper budgets were cut, lists—as opposed to actual assignments—were taking up more and more of the travel section. There was even a weekly feature: Twelve Traveltastic…In the past few months, Pete had compiled “Twelve Traveltastic Beaches,” “Twelve Traveltastic Christmas Markets,” “Twelve Traveltastic Tapas Bars,” and “Twelve Traveltastic Tuscan Villas.” There was no actual travel involved, of course—the recommendations were sourced entirely from the internet, reviews from TripAdvisor lightly disguised with the word expect, as in “Expect pale-cream rooms and a poolside barbecue,” to cover the fact that the journalist hadn’t actually been there. It was dispiriting, mechanical work, and the fact that Pete was volunteering to do more of it in order to spend more time with me and our baby filled me with gratitude.
“Saint Peter. Bronagh was right. I’m so lucky to have you.”
“I’m the lucky one, Mads. I’ve got you and Theo.” He stroked Theo’s head, then glanced at me. “One of the dads who organized the ride—Greg—isn’t going back to work. He’s planning on being a stay-at-home dad.”
“That’s brave.”
“Funnily enough, he says everyone uses that word. He said to me when we were cycling, ‘What’s brave about it? No one calls a woman brave when she stops work.’ ” Pete paused. “He and Kate are in a similar position to us, actually. She earns more than he does.”
I frowned. “I’d always assumed we’d both have to work. The mortgage is pretty steep.”
“Well…I did a few rough calculations, and it’s not impossible.” He added quickly, “But look, now isn’t the time to go into all that. I just thought it was an interesting idea, that’s all.”
17
Case no. 12675/PU78B65, Exhibit 14C: email from Miles Lambert to Peter Riley.
Dear Pete and Maddie,
Lucy and I just wanted to say what a pleasure it was meeting you this morning—and of course, Theo too. To be honest, we’d been somewhat apprehensive about what sort of family our birth son would turn out to be living with. I think we can say for sure that both Theo and ourselves have been incredibly fortunate. We really feel we haven’t lost a son but gained some new friends.
We were deeply touched by your suggestion that we become Theo’s godparents. That’s a definite yes from us, if you’re sure.
And Pete, I meant to say—let’s go out for a beer sometime. Maybe this Wednesday after work? I think Lucy is going to get in touch with Maddie, too.
Very best,
Miles
18
PETE
THE EMAIL FROM MILES was waiting next time I checked my inbox. It had been sent at two P.M., just a couple of hours after we’d left them.
“He’s keen,” Maddie commented when I showed her.
“Should I? Go for a beer with him, I mean?”
“Why not? You always say you miss going out with your mates after work. And Wednesday evening’s a good time—I can be back by six, so you won’t need a sitter.”
* * *
—
NEXT MORNING, WE HAD a Skype call booked with Maddie’s parents. We were both slightly apprehensive—her father is a big character, and the relationship between him and Maddie is definitely a complicated one. They used to clash when she was a teenager—she was impulsive and headstrong, he was authoritarian and domineering—but she talks about him a lot and he’s very important to her. I sometimes wonder if part of my own appeal for her is that I’m about as far away from him as she could possibly get, both geographically and personally.
The call started well. Theo was in good form, taking Maddie’s iPad and proudly showing his grandparents a tower he’d made from Duplo. Then he used both feet to kick it all apart.
“Pow! Pow! Pick up, Mika!” he told them.
Jack laughed. “Who’s Mika?”
“He means Michaela. She’s the nanny for some people we visited yesterday.” I took a deep breath. “Jack, Carol, there’s something we need to tell you. Just hang on a minute while I take the iPad upstairs.” Our bedroom was the only place in the house where Theo wouldn’t overhear, although unfortunately it meant I was now going to have to break the news to them on my own.