Playing Nice
Maddie and I were both silent in the car, while Theo chuntered quietly in the back. He hadn’t been happy about going to our neighbor the day before—when we collected him, she’d told us he’d deliberately kicked her son’s prized model of the moon across the room, breaking it. Theo, listening, had only said mutinously, “Want to go to Moles’s house.” Now, when he recognized the buildings on our route, he started chanting. “Moles’s house! Moles’s house! I like Moles’s house!”
“Moles is not as nice as we thought,” I said to shut him up. Maddie gave me a warning glance.
“Why?” Theo demanded. “Why, Daddy?”
“Long story.”
Theo was silent. He liked stories, but not long ones.
When we climbed the steps to the Lamberts’ front door, it felt almost like a rerun of our first visit. But this time, it wasn’t Miles who opened the door, but Tania.
“Good morning, good morning, Theo,” she said in her heavily accented English. For a moment I thought Lucy must have sent her to the door deliberately, to avoid meeting us, but then Lucy herself appeared in the hallway behind her, elegantly dressed as always in a pair of designer jeans and a black pashmina.
“Hello Pete. Maddie. How nice to see you. And Theo, of course. Are you coming in?”
Maddie said firmly, “Yes. I’d like to see David.”
“Of course. He’s in the playroom.” Lucy indicated the way.
“Lucy…” I said, lingering behind.
“Yes?”
I said quietly, “How can you behave as if nothing has happened? You’ve served Notice of Proceedings on us.”
Her vague smile didn’t waver. “Well, it’s just legal stuff, isn’t it? I’m sure you understand. Miles said we have to go through the proper process and it’ll all come out in the wash. I’m not really thinking about that side of things, actually,” she added nervously as she gestured me toward the playroom. “And as you’ve always said, we should all try to be nice to each other, whatever’s going on.”
“That’s not what I said, Lucy. And I don’t think trying to take our son away from us is being nice.”
Just for a moment, the smile crumbled. She said in a small voice, “If you’d only been a bit more receptive to the school thing. And then Cornwall. Miles—he’s very fair. He just doesn’t like it when people aren’t straight with him.”
“ ‘The school thing’?” I stared at her. “That’s what this is about? He’s going to all this effort to take Theo away from us, just so he can pack him off to boarding school?” I actually found myself laughing, a short hollow bark at the irony of it all. “Well, it isn’t going to happen.”
“Miles says…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I’m sure you’ll love the Dragon School when Theo actually goes there. Miles is usually right about these things. And anyway, the decision’s made now, isn’t it? We’ve got parental authority or whatever it’s called. So really, there’s not much point in getting worked up about it. Would you like some tea?”
I sighed. “No. I really wouldn’t like some tea.”
Maddie reappeared. She had tears on her cheeks, which she flicked away angrily. “Let’s go.”
Outside, we lingered on the pavement, delaying the moment when I’d get in the car and she’d head for the Tube station. “Incredible,” I said, shaking my head. “Incredible. It’s like he’s brainwashed her.”
“I guess if you’re married to Miles Lambert, you have to give him your absolute loyalty,” Maddie said drily.
My phone pinged and I checked the screen. “Who’s that?” she asked.
“Greg, seeing if we can meet up. I’ll tell him no. I want to spend the morning researching CAFCASS.”
“Makes sense. I’ll see you tonight, then. Love you.”
“Love you,” I echoed.
She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek and was gone. I called after her, “Have a good day,” even though I knew that wasn’t possible, not with everything that was going on.
Then I lifted my phone and replied to the text from Bronagh.
52
Case no. 12675/PU78B65, Exhibit 26: deleted texts from Peter Riley’s iPhone, (a) from Bronagh Walsh to Peter Riley, and (b) from Peter Riley to Bronagh Walsh in reply.
Pete, it’s me. You probably don’t want to see me right now but I really need to see you. It’s all gone to s**te at St A’s and I’ve been suspended pending investigation. Can we meet? x
Just dropped Theo off, so I can do this morning. Say the Pret near Great Portland St station? At ten?
53
Case no. 12675/PU78B65, Incident Report, submitted by Miles Lambert to CAFCASS as part of Applicants’ Supporting Documents bundle, pp 32–36.
The following day, the respondents brought Theo to our house to use our nanny and facilities as usual. In response to a comment from my wife that we should try to be civil to each other during the legal process, Mr. Riley’s response was to shout that she was “trying to take our son away from us,” and that our choice of school “wasn’t going to happen.” (8:47 A.M., captured on tape.) My wife offered them tea, which they forcefully declined.
54
PETE
“THAT JOB’S EVERYTHING TO me. Everything. Ah, shite. There goes my makeup, for the fifteenth time today.” Bronagh attempted to slide the tears out of her eyes with her knuckle.
“You’re good at it, too. I don’t know how we’d have gotten through those first weeks without you. What the hospital’s doing to you is just plain wrong.”
Bronagh looked at me fondly. “There you go, Pete. Always thinking of someone else. When what you’ve been through is ten times worse.”
I shrugged. “I was made redundant eighteen months ago. So I know what it’s like, thinking your bosses appreciate what you do, then discovering that actually they’ll kick you out without a second thought if it helps save their own skins.”
She nodded ruefully. “It’s like one of my friends always says—Love your job, but don’t expect it to love you back.”
I stirred my cappuccino. “But why have they suspended you? I mean, I get that they have to investigate what happened, but how does the finger of blame end up getting pointed at you? There were two babies, after all, and you were only responsible for one of them.” I was hoping Bronagh’s suspension wasn’t anything to do with me giving Miles her name, but since he seemed to have an almost magical ability to make things happen the way he wanted, perhaps it was. Or was I simply becoming paranoid about him?