“Mads…” Pete says. “Are you really sure about this? Bear in mind how complex David’s needs are. Could we really cope with that?”

I look at him steadily. “I know what I’m asking is unfair, because as the primary carer you’ll be the one who has to do the most for him. Don’t forget, we should have access to the money from his hospital settlement, which will help. But even without that, you’re a brilliant dad and a really caring person. I think you can do it. But it’s got to be a joint decision. If you don’t want to, we won’t.”

   After a moment, Pete blows out his cheeks. “All right. Let’s beat the bastard at his own game. Christ, I can’t believe I’m saying that. But you’re right. We need to rescue David, too.” He turns back to Anita. “Is there anything else?”

“The final document here is an application for child maintenance for David. Again, you could reciprocate by making a similar claim for Theo, but of course David has significant extra expenses associated with his special needs, including a full-time nanny.” Anita looks up from the papers. “Given what you’ve told me about the Lamberts’ situation, I imagine they’re just trying to add an element of financial pressure on top of everything else. Speaking of which, you should be aware that fighting for custody of both children is going to be a lot more expensive than arguing for the status quo.”

“How much?” Pete asks.

“If the case is straightforward, I’d estimate between fifteen and twenty thousand pounds. But something tells me this one won’t be—straightforward, that is. The other side is already throwing everything they’ve got at it. I think they’ll take every opportunity to escalate it further. So really, the sky’s the limit.”

“I don’t suppose you’d act on a no-win no-fee basis,” Pete says hopefully.

Anita shakes her head. “My time costs are three hundred pounds an hour plus VAT. And starting from the moment you ask me to act for you, you’ll need to pay me weekly. If you get into arrears, I’ll have to stop work. I’m sorry if that sounds brutal, but this is a small practice and we’re good at what we do. If you need to take out a second mortgage on your home, which is what many of our clients do, I have a colleague who can help with that.”

Pete looks at me. “We’d better speak to your dad.”

* * *

—

   THAT NIGHT, I SKYPE my parents. I do it in the bedroom, leaving Pete downstairs. He doesn’t object. We both know my dad is going to point out that we were bloody fools for not taking his advice sooner.

To be fair, he hears me out. Telling him what’s happened, I find myself crying, almost for the first time since the Lamberts’ legal bundle arrived. Pete and I are still trying to be positive for each other, reassuring each other that the Lamberts’ lies won’t be believed. But now, putting everything that’s happened into words, I sob like a little girl.

“Okay,” Dad says when I finally get to the end. “So what’s the plan?”

I smile through the tears. It had been a catchphrase of my childhood—What’s the plan, Madelyn?—said every time I got into trouble or faced some knotty problem. “We need money. We’re going to fight for them both.”

There’s a long silence before he says, “There is another option.”

“Such as?”

“Pack a bag for you and Theo, go to the airport first thing tomorrow, and come home.”

I shake my head. “I can’t do that. Besides, I think they’re going to notify the passport people.”

“The judge won’t rule on that until the first hearing, though, will he? If you leave tomorrow, you’ll be fine. And once you’re home, there’ll be nothing they can do. We’ll tie them up with lawyers if necessary. By the time they get anywhere, Theo will be at school here in Australia and it won’t be in his interests to be uprooted again.”

“And Pete?” I say gently. “What about him?”

“Well, that’s between the two of you. But if he loves you, he’ll follow you. It’s not like he’s leaving behind some high-flying career, is it?”

   Just for a moment, I’m tempted. To walk out of this mess, to leave everything behind and flit back to my family on the other side of the world. I’ll get another job in advertising, and Pete will be in a foreign country, as a travel journalist should be. Perhaps he can even work for a newspaper again. But I can’t do it.

“I can’t leave David,” I say. “If I came home, I’d be abandoning your grandson.”

Dad doesn’t reply for a moment. “You were always headstrong, Madelyn.”

I start crying again. “Like father, like daughter, then. Will you lend us the money?”

He sighs. “I’m a businessman, girl. A bloody tough one at that. If I’m going to lend you money, I want a return on my investment.”

I don’t understand. “What do you mean?”

“A time limit on how long you’ll stay in the UK.”

I stare at his grainy face on the iPad screen.

“I love you,” he adds. “And I miss my little girl. I miss you like hell.” His own voice cracks. “I can stand another year of this, but then I want you back for good. You can even bring that bludger you’ve shacked up with—I’ll find him a good job in my company if needs be, something to make himself useful. It’s not much to ask, is it?”

“I know you love me, Dad,” I whisper. “I’ve always known that.”

“Well, then. Let me know how much you need, and I’ll wire it to you.”

* * *

—

AFTER THE CALL IS over, I cry some more, then wash my eyes with cold water before going downstairs.

“How’d it go?” Pete asks softly.

“It was fine,” I say shortly. “We’re remortgaging the house.”

51

   PETE

   WE BOTH TOOK THEO to the Lamberts’ next morning. We’d talked long into the night about whether to go at all, but, as Maddie pointed out, it would be crazy to pay a lawyer three hundred pounds an hour and then ignore her advice.

I was apprehensive but determined. I’d been awake early, even before Theo came into our bed, running through different versions of the scene in my mind. If Miles was there, I’d decided, I’d be icy but polite. I certainly wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d managed to frighten us.