Theo is a charming little boy who does not seem in the least malevolent or ill tempered, merely boisterous. I suspect he would simply benefit from a more consistent parenting style. This is an opinion I have formed over several visits by him to my church, as Mr. Riley and Ms. Wilson have become regular members of my congregation.

I have also been made aware by Mr. Lambert why this may be. The vicar here at All Souls’ is able to make available to long-standing churchgoers a small number of places at the local Church of England primary school, which has been rated Excellent by school inspectors. Mr. Lambert tells me that Mr. Riley used the phrase On your knees to save the fees in this context. While I have no way of knowing if this was indeed what Mr. Riley said, and would in any case encourage people to come and worship with us whatever their true purpose, it saddens me to learn that some members of our community may have a cynical motive for doing so.

57

   PETE

   “IF YOU COULD JUST tell us in your own words what happened that day,” Grace Matthews said.

Resisting the urge to ask who else’s words I might be tempted to use, I said, “You have to understand, it was all a blur. I’d had to abandon Maddie after an emergency operation. It was clearly touch and go whether our baby would live, and if he did live, whether he’d be brain-damaged. I had no idea what was going on or how I could help.” I looked over at Maddie. “To be honest, I was in a complete panic.”

We were in an interview room at NHS Resolution, a surprisingly striking modern office building in Buckingham Palace Road. Grace Matthews had asked us in for what she described as an evidence-gathering meeting. We wouldn’t be discussing any potential compensation, she emphasized, merely contributing our recollections to the initial investigation.

   The lawyer Justin Watts had told us this was normal. “At this stage, they simply want to find out what happened. There’s no arguing with the fact that a swap did take place, but from their perspective, finding out how it occurred is the most urgent priority.”

“Will you be there?” I asked.

“I really shouldn’t need to be. And I’m trying to keep our time costs down as much as possible.”

Now Grace Matthews nodded in response to my explanation. She looked more like the floor manager of a midlevel department store than a high-flying investigator—dumpy, wearing an ill-fitting suit and matching skirt, with boxy glasses that kept slipping down her nose. “But at some point, you presumably became aware of the tag on Theo’s leg. That is, on the leg of the infant you thought was Theo.”

“I suppose so. But there were so many things on him by then—intravenous lines, an oxygen sensor, the cooling suit…The security tag was the least dramatic of them all.”

“Can you say when you did first notice it?”

I shrugged helplessly. “Not really. When we got to St. Alexander’s, I went with the paramedics who were wheeling the portable incubator. We shared the lift with two more paramedics who also had a mobile cot with them—I suppose that was the one with Theo in, although of course I didn’t know that at the time. Then they were both rushed into the NICU, where the doctors were waiting. I got pushed out of the way—”

“Where was Mr. Lambert at this point?” Grace Matthews interjected. “Had he been with you in the lift?”

I shook my head. “I’d have remembered if there was another dad in there. I don’t think I saw him at all that day.”

Grace Matthews made a note on a lined yellow pad, even though her male colleague was silently transcribing everything I said on his laptop, his fingers flying across the keys without him needing to look at either the keyboard or screen. Grace had a proper pen, I noticed, an old-fashioned one with a nib, which somehow seemed out of kilter with her dowdy appearance. Perhaps it was a present from someone. “Sorry for interrupting,” she said as she wrote. “Go on.”

   “And then they worked on both babies simultaneously. I think the first thing was getting the umbilical lines in. The ambulance staff were doing their handover reports, and people were coming and going—it was pretty chaotic, and the doctors and nurses were turning from cot to cot, doing whatever it was they needed to do. I couldn’t get close—I didn’t really try to, in case I got in the way. Then there was a bit of a lull, and when the medical team was happy, they took Theo’s mobile incubator over to a much bigger one in the corner and transferred him. That’s when I met Bronagh—the main nurse responsible for Theo. She looked after the incubators in that area, so she hadn’t really been involved before.”

Grace Matthews nodded. “And you got a pretty good look at Theo then, presumably? When all the initial interventions were done?”

I thought back. “Yes. I remember thinking I hadn’t really been able to see his face before.”

“And can you recall seeing a tag on him at that point?”

“I think so,” I said cautiously. “I mean, I couldn’t absolutely swear to it, but when I try to picture it, it seems to me he had the security tag on his right ankle.” I nodded slowly. “In fact, I’m sure that’s right—that Theo had a tag on when I saw him in the larger incubator.”

A frown touched Grace Matthews’s face. “But you didn’t actually see the nurse put it on?”

“No. But…” I stopped. “This is hard for me to admit. But the moment I found myself in a quiet corner and it felt like the immediate emergency was over, I broke down. I was crying for several minutes. She must have done it then, as soon as she took over. But I literally couldn’t see in front of my own nose.”

   “Of course,” Grace Matthews said. “I do understand, Mr. Riley. Seeing your child—or rather, the child you think is yours—being admitted to intensive care is obviously very stressful.” She pushed the cap onto her fountain pen and placed it on her yellow pad. “Thank you for speaking to us today.”

58

   MADDIE

   I KEEP QUIET DURING Pete’s interview with Grace Matthews. It’s him they want to talk to, after all, the person at the scene, and I didn’t even get to the NICU until long after the mix-up had happened.

Afterward, we get an Uber home, too exhausted to face the Tube. As we crawl through the traffic, I look across at him. “I didn’t realize you saw the tag on Theo’s leg so soon.”

He goes on looking out the window. “Well, I said I couldn’t swear to it.”

“Yes. But after that, you said you were certain. You told her you could picture it.”

He doesn’t reply at first, and for a moment I think he’s going to say something else. But all he says is, “Pretty certain, yes.”