Playing Nice
“No.”
“Rightio. Has there been any domestic violence at all?” Lyn might have been asking whether I’d prefer to pay by direct debit or card.
“No.”
“Have you ever taken any nonprescription or illegal drugs?”
“No, never.” Obviously I have, but the last time was three years ago, in Australia, and there’s no way they can possibly find out about it.
“Do you drink alcohol?”
“Sometimes, yes.”
“How often?”
“I sometimes have a glass of wine in the evenings.”
“And how many units would you say you drink a week? If a bottle of wine is, say, ten units?”
“Twenty units?” I know I’m grossly understating, but I suspect that if I tell the truth it might count against me.
“Has any family member been convicted of violence, or had an allegation of child abuse made against them?” Lyn’s questions are speeding up now.
“No.”
“Is the child exhibiting any concerning behaviors, such as poor performance at school, bedwetting, sexualized behavior, or being clingy?”
“No. Well,” I clarify, “there have been a couple of occasions where he’s been a bit rough with other kids—grabbed their toys, that kind of thing. But he’s two, so it’s to be expected to a certain extent. And he’s the very opposite of clingy.”
“Of course. These are just standard questions, do you see, so I have to ask them all. Has the child ever reported any abuse or harm to you personally?”
“No, never.”
“And finally, what do you think the child’s wishes are in this situation? Do you think he would rather stay with your partner or yourself?”
“I don’t think you understand,” I say, baffled. “Pete and I aren’t separating.”
“Are you not?” Lyn sounds surprised.
“No, it’s much more complicated than that.” Briefly I explain what’s going on.
“Well, that does sound tricky,” Lyn says when I’ve finished. “And yes, I see it does say something about that here, but I must have missed it.”
Or didn’t bother to read the paperwork properly in the first place, I think cynically.
“But I have to ask the question anyway,” Lyn continues. “What do you think Theo’s wishes are in this situation?”
“Well, he’s two, so we obviously don’t want to frighten him by telling him he might be forcibly taken away from the people he thinks of as Mummy and Daddy and handed over to another family,” I say patiently. “To that extent, he doesn’t even know there is a situation. And we’ve been careful to keep things with the other family as cordial as possible, so as not to upset him.”
“That sounds sensible. Let me just check I have everything…Oh yes. Do either of you have any mental health issues?”
“No,” I say. I take a deep breath. “That is, not recently. I had a brief episode of postpartum psychosis shortly after Theo came home from hospital. But that was two years ago and it resolved with treatment.”
I can hear Lyn’s keyboard clicking as she writes all this down. “It can’t affect this case, can it?” I add.
“Did it involve any harm or neglect to either the child or yourself, Maddie?”
“No. And in any case, it was triggered by my premature baby being in intensive care for five weeks. It’s relatively common after childbirth and there’s absolutely no possibility of it recurring. I’m not even Theo’s primary carer, for Christ’s sake—” I stop, conscious of the importance of not getting worked up. “Sorry. I mean ‘for goodness’ sake.’ I just don’t see how it can possibly be relevant to what’s happening now.”
“I don’t suppose it is. But I still have to write it all down, do you see? And are you still taking any medication for that condition?”
“No,” I say firmly. “I was prescribed antidepressants but I came off them over a year ago. I’m absolutely fine.”
“Would you have any objection to me contacting your GP for a copy of your medical notes? Just to confirm what you’ve told me? I can ask the court to make a formal order for them, but really, it’s so much easier if we’re all working together, isn’t it?”
“Yes, of course,” I say. Just for a moment, I feel dizzy. How did an ordinary professional couple come to have so many court cases going on simultaneously? Fighting for Theo, fighting for David, suing the hospitals…It feels like each one is a separate series of plates spinning on sticks, a forest of toppling, precarious crockery that has to be kept from smashing to the ground.
You can do this, I tell myself. After all, it’s no more complex than a major TV production, and I do a dozen of those every year.
Lyn is saying, “And is there anything you’d like to tell me, Maddie, about how you got into this situation, or how it might be resolved?”
I look down at my notes, all the pertinent facts I’d intended to work into the conversation. Suddenly they all seem irrelevant, a catalog of failed attempts at being reasonable in a situation where reason is redundant. “Yes,” I say shortly. “A man turned up on our doorstep one day with the intention of taking our son. How would you react to that? We didn’t want to end up here, but it was probably inevitable. And there’s only one way to resolve it. We need to beat him. He needs a court to tell him he’s lost and that he can’t have Theo, not ever. Otherwise, he’ll never stop trying.”
56
Case no. 12675/PU78B65, Exhibit 29: statement by Reverend Sheila Lewis, The Vicarage, Willesden Green, NW10 1AQ.
My name is Reverend Sheila Lewis and I am the vicar of All Souls’ Church, Willesden Green. I have been asked by Miles Lambert to write a brief note describing an incident that took place at Theo Riley’s baptism service.
From the start, Theo seemed agitated and was disruptive, hurling books at a side chapel and cheering when he succeeded in hitting the cross. We are accustomed these days to children being noisy during services and to some extent we tolerate it, but this went far beyond what I would have considered normal. I tried pausing in my liturgy and giving a meaningful glance in Theo’s direction, but the parents—that is, Peter Riley and Maddie Wilson—were slow to take the hint. When they did intervene, it became clear why this was: They had almost no control over Theo whatsoever. Theo then burrowed under the pews, a situation from which Mr. Riley seemed powerless to extricate him. When a member of the congregation finally apprehended the child, Mr. Riley was visibly angry and, under the guise of sitting Theo on “the naughty step,” pushed him down forcibly by the thighs. I am told by Mr. Lambert that this produced bruising on Theo’s legs, which is certainly consistent with what I saw. I understand Mr. Lambert has obtained phone footage of this incident from another member of the congregation.