by Melissa Hill
I had to pray it would be mine, because if this got to court, I needed Lucy to testify that Madeleine had indeed sent Clara to school knowing she was ill.
I had yet to broach the subject with her and I knew it would be a very hard thing to ask.
I didn’t get to ponder that line of thought too much, though, because suddenly I realized I wasn’t alone. There was a soft knock at the door and I looked up with surprise to see that it was Declan. I was expecting contact from him about next steps soon, but I certainly hadn’t expected him to show up here.
And he must have read it on my face. “I’m sorry, I hope I’m not being too forward popping in unannounced. It’s just, I’ve had some thoughts, and I wanted to save you from having to leave Rosie’s side for any of this stuff. I also figured I’d try to meet the medical team while I’m here. But I appreciate that I’m intruding, I should go...” He started to edge toward the door, and I motioned for him to stop.
“No, really. It’s fine. I was just...talking to her.” I nodded toward the bed. This would be the first time Declan “met” Rosie, and I couldn’t shake a sense of weirdness about this situation. This was awkward—and I knew that he must feel it, too. He had to.
“May I say hello to her?” he asked softly.
The tense knot that had found a permanent home in my shoulders seemed to disappear and I felt myself offering a grateful smile. Far from being awkward or uncomfortable, Declan was treating this like a normal situation, and he wasn’t making those clucking noises of concern and sympathy that so many others did.
“Of course. I’m sure she’d like that.” I was telling the truth. Rosie was an old soul, and she hated when adults tried to talk around her or over her simply because she was a kid. She liked to be involved in conversations, no matter if the participants were old or young.
I turned back to the bed. “Sweetheart, I want to introduce you to someone. This is Declan Roe. He’s going to be helping me with some things.” I didn’t expect a response, of course, but since this was about her, I felt it appropriate for Rosie to “know” the man who was representing her...our...interests.
Declan walked to the other side of the bed and sat down in a chair without invitation. He met my gaze and somehow gave me a look that conveyed immediate comfort, as if willing me to believe everything would be OK.
I don’t know why I thought that. He just had that type of presence.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Rosie. I wish it was under better circumstances,” he said, returning his attention to my little girl. “I want to let you know that I am going to do everything in my power to help you and your mum. She’s really worried about you. Everyone is.” He sounded so unexpectedly tender—this complete stranger talking to my daughter like he truly cared about her—that I felt a lump in my throat. “But I am going to try to help. Because I think your mum would like someone to help her while you’re in here, and that’s me. I’m going to help take care of your mum for you until you’re again ready to take over.”
With that, I felt my eyes well up with tears. I sniffed, trying to hold them back, but then a huge wave of emotion overcame me and I lost it. Seriously lost it.
Declan’s head shot up and he looked startled. He obviously wasn’t expecting to hear me sobbing. Immediately, he stood and rushed around to my side of the bed. He crouched down next to me and put a supportive arm around my shoulders.
“Hey...I’m so sorry,” he said gently. “If I said or did something wrong, I’m sorry. Really, I didn’t mean to.”
He thinks he’s done something wrong...
I snorted an ugly laugh in the midst of my crying. My unkempt hair was stuck to the side of my face, and I was pretty sure there was snot coming out of my nose. I was the definition of a mess.
“No. You didn’t say anything wrong. Please,” I stuttered. “It’s just...this is stupid, and please don’t take it the wrong way, but I suppose it’s been a while since somebody’s done that—been in my corner, I mean. Don’t get me wrong, I have my friends, Lucy and Christine, of course, who’ve been wonderful. And I know you meant help in a professional sense. It’s just that... Oh, I’m rambling. I’m sorry. It’s just that hearing you say that you’ve got my back, I feel for the first time that maybe there’s some fight left in me, after all...”
It was like the legal action was something to aim for, a light at the end of a very dark tunnel that I had been stumbling around in for so long. I was no longer a victim.
Declan offered a small smile. “That’s good. That’s how you should feel. And, for what it’s worth, I meant every word, Kate. I’m going to think of every angle with this thing.”
I sniffled, wondering what I must look like at that moment.
“Do you need a tissue?” he asked, eyes twinkling.
I felt myself flush and a semi-hysterical giggle escaped my mouth. “Right. You really do think of every angle. Yes, please. A tissue would be great.”
He stood and crossed to a table upon which a box of Kleenex was perched. Bringing the entire box back, he offered it to me and grinned. “You might need more than one.”
I laughed, a real one this time. It was probably one of the first genuine laughs I had had in weeks, months even.
“Now, if you wouldn’t mind, once you’ve finished blowing your nose, do you think I could possibly speak to Rosie’s doctor? It’s time to get this show on the road.”
* * *
Madeleine winced as she listened to Tom banging around in the kitchen. She had no idea what he was doing and, frankly, she wished that she could take the kids and head to Harriet’s or Fiona’s for the night, but she was well aware of how that would look. Not to mention that she wouldn’t dream of disrupting their home life.
Her own was disrupted enough.
She and her husband had barely spoken since they had gotten home from their solicitor’s office. She thought that some of his fury would wear off, but, if anything, the situation had gotten worse. It seemed that the longer he had to stew, the more upset Tom became.
And it was obvious, despite his early reassurances, that he was now beginning to blame her for much of what had happened. “Why didn’t you keep her home from school that day when you knew she wasn’t well?” he’d muttered on the car journey home. “Did you really have to do that stupid TV interview?”
“Do you think I would have ever dreamed of sending her anywhere if I truly thought she had measles?” Madeleine shot back, stung. “You had a choice yourself, Tom—you were the very one who pointed out that we couldn’t have known. She’s your daughter, too, and you could have just as easily made the decision to keep her home.”
“I know that. But, for God’s sake, Maddie, you’re the one who’s supposed to be—”
“Supposed to be what? The twenty-four-hour on-call parent? You were at the accountant’s meeting last month, you heard the pretax profit figures for my stupid little hobby. And have you already conveniently forgotten what happened only last week with the book deal? You know that my business is no longer just some kitchen-table thing, Tom, and Clara is your daughter, too. You basically made the same call, but the difference is, you’re not beating yourself up about it.”
Now Madeleine recalled the look that Rebecca Kelly, one of the other Applewood mothers, had given her outside the school that very morning, as Clara and Jake jumped out of the car. She had been just about to call out a hello but then decided not to—due to the outright disdain she’d seen written all over the woman’s face.
Had word already gotten out about Kate’s lawsuit? Surely not.
Then her thoughts drifted to Lucy. Madeleine had been keeping a distance from her friend these last few days. Firstly, because she needed a little space to process her own thoughts about the lawsuit, and, secondly, because she couldn’t be sure whose side Lucy was actually on. She must have been the one who’d told
Kate or Christine Campbell that she had intentionally sent a feverish Clara to school.
She recalled, too, how her friend had played down her early suggestions about contacting Kate or visiting her daughter, protesting that it wasn’t the best time. Had Lucy known all along that Rosie’s mum was intending to make a case against her and Tom?
Madeleine was well aware that Tom certainly felt an amount of prejudice against Lucy at the moment. Primarily because she knew that he knew she was not only Madeleine’s friend, but also a close confidante of Kate’s.
But would her friend truly land her in it like that? Madeleine didn’t think so. Lucy wasn’t the type to stir up trouble. More likely it was Christine who had been in Kate’s ear—especially when it seemed Kate’s solicitor was Christine’s younger cousin. Madeleine didn’t know the guy personally, given that the family weren’t from town, but surely the cousin wasn’t so stupid as to waste the court’s time by issuing nonsensical lawsuits.
And maybe Rebecca’s reaction that morning had nothing at all to do with Rosie’s situation; maybe the woman was just having a bad day.
In fact, it was very likely Madeleine’s own mind was playing tricks on her at the moment because she was extra sensitive. No, Lucy would never betray her like that, she was sure of it, and right now she had to trust the people who were close to her, not push them away.
She opened her laptop and logged into her blog with a relieved sigh. Here at least was a space she felt more in control, and where the stress and strains of the outside world didn’t seem to penetrate.
Given the fallout with the summons, it had been several days since she had updated anything on Mad Mum’s blog or social media, and she felt guilty about that.
As expected, her notifications and messages were through the roof and, for once, she felt happy to throw herself into the effort of attending to them all and immersing herself in her audience.
Madeleine was again so grateful that, as always, she had this outlet to blow off steam and just...lose herself in the mundane.
Thank goodness for the internet.
23
Emotional distress. Discriminatory treatment. Loss of enjoyment. Recklessness. Those were just the general damages. Then there were the special damages. Medical costs. Lost income. Out-of-pocket expenses. Defamation.
Defamation! My mouth dropped in shock and I looked at Declan. It was barely a week since he’d issued the summons and subsequently the official claim’s bill, but already the Coopers had hit back. “Defamation: are you joking me? Loss of enjoyment: seriously?” I exclaimed. I shook the paper I was holding so hard I felt it crinkle and crackle in my grip. I was seeing red, that was how angry I was.
Declan leaned across his desk and gently took the offending document out of my hand. In their counterclaim, the Coopers had essentially copied every single item in our original Statement of Claim document and then thrown other—seemingly frivolous—claims in for good measure.
How dare they? It was ridiculous. And downright insulting, too.
I’m not sure what reaction I expected exactly, but I certainly didn’t anticipate this. Christine was right all along: Tom and Madeleine Cooper were unapologetic, arrogant and completely deluded!
The nerve of them...
“I don’t think we want to rip that up,” Declan said, laying the document on his desk and smoothing it.
“But, Declan,” I said, “they have essentially made a mockery of our claim. We also mention pain and suffering, emotional distress, loss of income and out-of-pocket expenses. All of that is correct and reasonable, considering. We didn’t go overboard or be frivolous and I feel like this is just throwing those valid concerns right back in my face.”
Not only that, but they had, according to Declan, put me “on proof.” Most of the legal terms in relation to this went over my head, but he explained that basically Madeleine Cooper and her husband were denying that they were responsible for passing on the infection via Clara and putting the onus on us to prove it.
“Kate, try not to take it so personally. I told you that a counterclaim was a possibility and, honestly, I’m not in the least surprised by this. I know it can feel very personal and shocking, but really this is probably just the defendants’ solicitor throwing his weight around.”
I huffed indignantly. “But it comes across just so bloody...pompous!” I growled, folding my arms against my chest defensively. “Lost income? For real? Madeleine works from home and I doubt that Tom was forced to take parental leave because he couldn’t work while Clara was sick.” I felt myself getting worked up into even more of a lather. Rosie and I were the injured parties here!
And instead of apologizing or offering to help like any decent person would do, the Coopers had simply turned around and told us—me—to prove it.
All of this was borderline surreal.
Declan held up his hands. “Of course I agree with you, but—and I’m just playing devil’s advocate here—if the husband had to take up any of his annual leave, for instance...”
“But I wasn’t the one who sent my highly contagious daughter to school! And why was Madeleine leaving me apologetic messages or sending presents to the hospital if they seriously thought this was all my fault?”
Suddenly, I felt the energy drain from my body. What the hell had I been thinking? The Coopers had not only called my proverbial bluff, they had now completely upped the ante by countersuing me. I’d gotten a reaction from them all right, just not the one I’d hoped for, or expected.
Thinking about that alone made me feel ready to launch into a violent rage. How could any of this be considered my fault?
“Kate,” said Declan calmly. “Look at me. Please.”
Trying to breathe deeply, I looked up and met my solicitor’s gaze.
“I need you to understand that this is a very normal and all-too-common legal response. I would have honestly been shocked if the other solicitor hadn’t taken this course of action—though, to be fair, the defamation thing was a bit of a surprise.” He allowed a small reassuring smile to find its way onto his face.
I swallowed hard. “You aren’t just trying to make me feel better?”
He shook his head earnestly. “No. I’m not. I wouldn’t do that to you, I told you that before. We’re in this together. All we have here is the Coopers’ solicitor acting in their clients’ best interest. None of it means anything until we get into the nitty-gritty of the actual particulars. Does that make sense?”
I shrugged. Honestly, none of this made sense anymore.
“All of this is nothing more than legal posturing, believe me. We are going to reply to this and I’ll apply to get this counterclaim thrown out, which I’m sure any judge will do without blinking. By issuing a response like this, what their solicitor is doing is entering an appearance, which basically means that he’s replying on the Coopers’ behalf and entering a defense—an intent to defend our claims bill. The judge will look at both claims, assess in particular the duty of care issue and assess whether or not it stands. If he decides that it does, from there on it’s all guns blazing. We’ll then start the process of compiling evidence and recording witness information—basically building our case. Does that make sense?”
I nodded softly, but the truth was I was completely bamboozled.
“Of course, there is always the chance that they could be trying to call our bluff, too. There could even come a point where the Coopers may decide to mediate and settle before we even get to court.”
“And what happens if they don’t?”
“If the judge agrees on the duty of care claim,” Declan said confidently, “then we’ll have our day in court.”
He said this as if it was all so simple and straightforward.
“So what next?”
“I’m already on it,” he answered, automatically infusing in
me a confidence I didn’t feel. “Alison’s preparing all the documentation for the Motion to Dismiss hearing—we should have a date on that in a few weeks—and we are working on the authorizations for all of the medical records so we can establish the timelines. From the wording of the Coopers’ counterclaim, they’re putting us ‘on proof,’ basically putting the onus on us to prove that Clara infected her.”
I shook my head. “But Clara must have. She got sick first. No question.”
“True. But what they are implying is that Rosie could have just as easily caught the disease from anyone.”
I thought back to those first few days when everything happened just before our lives had been upended. Clara had been sent home from school one day, and Rosie had woken up feverish three days later.
It was a tight timeline but it was a timeline.
To say nothing of the fact that the Coopers had just taken a flight from a destination that had recently suffered a measles outbreak. Whereas where had Rosie been over Easter? At home in Knockroe, with me.
And unlike Clara, I thought, my mouth hardening into a thin line at yet another example of the Coopers’ blatant disregard for the rules, my daughter had returned to school when term resumed, unlike Clara, who was off enjoying herself in Florida, taking home a souvenir to her schoolmates that could still yet prove to be fatally dangerous.
I checked my watch, realizing I was wasting too much time seething at the Coopers when I should be at my daughter’s bedside. “I’d better go,” I told Declan, standing up suddenly. “I need to be at the hospital.”
He looked at me speculatively. “You sure you’re still OK with all of this, Kate? Like I said before, we can pull back at any time.”
