by Delaney, JP
We return to the court. I make sure I walk in front of Pete rather than Miles.
“Well? How did you get on?” the judge asks.
“My clients don’t believe this proposal would be in either child’s interests, madam,” the Lamberts’ barrister says. “The parenting styles of the two families are very different.”
“Very well,” the judge says briskly. “Let us proceed.”
The hearing will begin, Anita has told us, with an opening statement from each side’s lawyer, followed by the professional witnesses and CAFCASS. After that, Miles and Lucy will take questions on their written statements. Then it’ll be our turn, before each side makes a final summing-up. It’s possible the judge will decide to wait and give her judgment at a later date. But Anita thinks it’s more likely she’ll come to a decision today. This really is the point of no return.
Harvey Taylor, the psychologist, is up first. He comes to the witness box—which is simply a chair and table at the front, sideways on to both the judge and us—and talks through his assessment of Theo in a calm, neutral tone. When he gets to the bit about Theo’s callous and unemotional traits, the judge interrupts.
“Are you effectively saying that Theo has special educational needs?”
Harvey nods. “Yes. They may not be comparable to David’s in severity, but in their own way they’re just as challenging.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Miles mutters. The judge looks over at him sharply, but ignores the interruption. She turns back to Harvey Taylor.
“And could you describe what this means for his development?”
“Essentially, he needs a very particular parenting style—what we call warm parenting.” The psychologist goes on to explain what that means.
“And can this type of parenting be learned?” the judge asks.
“It can, yes,” the psychologist says cautiously. “But, because there can be a hereditary component to CU traits, sometimes the parents of a CU child are the very ones who find it hardest.” He hesitates. “I would say, incidentally, that Mr. Riley has grasped it very well.”
The Lamberts’ barrister says immediately, “Madam, Mr. Harvey was asked by the court to assess whether Theo would be negatively impacted by a permanent move to the applicants’ family. His conclusion is that Theo will cope admirably. He wasn’t asked to assess either party’s parenting capability.”
“Mr. Harvey was answering my question,” Judge Wakefield says mildly. “And his professional expertise is relevant to the issue of parenting style, which you yourself raised just a short while ago.”
Bless you Bless you Bless you, I think.
“The applicants are of course willing to adapt their parenting in whatever way Theo’s needs dictate,” the barrister says.
“I’m sure they are,” the judge says. “Thank you.” She nods at Harvey Taylor, and the moment is over.
* * *
—
IT’S ONE SMALL PLUS in a long list of minuses. And, I realize, not even a very significant one. We might know that Miles is incapable of warm parenting, but why should the judge be able to tell that? I let my gaze slide toward him. He looks so relaxed, so confident, while beside me, Pete sits slumped in his chair biting his nails, looking like the nervous wreck he is. If I were choosing parents for Theo, which ones would I go for? The well-dressed, good-looking, well-heeled ones, or the ones with a string of criminal investigations, mental health issues, and allegations of alcohol abuse swirling around their heads?
Miles catches me looking at him and smiles.
It really is no contest, I think wearily. Even I would be hard-pressed to decide in our favor. I glance sideways at Pete, wondering if there’s anything I can do to prepare him for the worst.
After the psychologist, it’s Lyn Edwards’s turn. She seems nervous as she comes to the witness box. I’m surprised by that: Court appearances must be a regular part of her job.
“Ms. Edwards,” the judge says when Lyn has read out the affirmation, “is there anything you’d like to add to your written report before you take questions?”
Lyn says hesitantly, “There is, actually, madam. But I’m not absolutely sure whether the rules of disclosure allow me to.”
The judge raises her eyebrows. “Does it have a direct bearing on the interests of the child?”
Lyn nods. “I believe it does, madam. It concerns some video footage I was sent last night.”
“Then I’m going to ask both parties to leave the courtroom, while their representatives discuss whether or not it’s admissible.” The judge nods at us, then the Lamberts. “If you’d be so kind as to wait outside. The usher will call you back when we’re ready.”
* * *
—
FOR THE SECOND TIME, we all troop out. This must be some last trick Miles has pulled, I think, some theatrical flourish to round off the proceedings. I look over to where he sits on the other side of the foyer. His face is blank, which seems strange. If this is something he’s planned, wouldn’t he be savoring the moment? But he just seems impatient to get back inside.
Next to him, Lucy fiddles nervously with her pearls.
“Any idea what it can be?” I ask Pete.
“Beats me,” he says, mystified. “But Miles has been leaking stuff to Lyn all along, so it must be him.”
Eventually the usher calls us back and we resume our seats. “Thank you for bearing with us,” Marion Wakefield says pleasantly. She looks at Lucy. “Mrs. Lambert, I’m going to allow Ms. Edwards to describe the video clip that she referred to earlier. If at any time you want a break to discuss this matter with your legal representatives, or to see the video, feel free to ask. But please bear in mind that if you do request to see it, then the other side, as well as myself, will necessarily be shown it, too.” She nods at Lyn. “Please proceed.”
“The video appears to be taken with a camera placed on a shelf in Mr. and Mrs. Lambert’s playroom,” Lyn begins. “It shows Mrs. Lambert sitting with Theo at the table. She’s doing a drawing with him—a drawing of what she describes as a safe place. She tells him that really, there’s no safer place than their house, because of its thick walls. And she tells him that, if he’s ever asked to draw a picture of a place where he feels safe, he should draw the house where she and Miles live, and put the three of them inside it. And finally she says, if he draws a picture like that, his daddy Moles will be proud of him.”
There’s a short silence. “And what conclusion do you draw from this?” the judge asks.
“I believe she was coaching him in preparation for my visit.” Lyn has the grace to look shamefaced. “It is possible to find old CAFCASS reports online, if you look hard enough—they’re meant to be confidential, but parents sometimes ignore that and post them on various forums. And of course, there are only a small number of techniques you can use to elicit very young children’s feelings, so it’s not hard to work out how we might do it.” She looks from the judge to Pete. “Mr. Riley did tell me once that the applicants had been coaching Theo. At the time I assumed he was exaggerating.”
“Thank you, Ms. Edwards.” The judge looks at Lucy again. “Mrs. Lambert, ordinarily you would give your evidence toward the end of the proceedings, but given what Ms. Edwards has just told us, I’m going to ask you to come to the witness box now.”
Lucy’s hands are shaking so much, she can barely hold the card with the oath on it, and her voice is little more than a whisper.
“Do you have any comment to make on what Ms. Edwards has described?” Judge Wakefield asks when she’s managed to reach the end.
“Well.” Lucy touches her pearls. She looks anguished. “I wasn’t coaching him, not exactly. I just wanted him to do well. I mean, he only gets one chance with CAFCASS, doesn’t he, and it would be awful, just awful, if he didn’t manage to say the things I know he really wanted to. So I simply tried to give him
as much help as possible.” She shoots Miles a desperate glance, but his face is impassive. “Because we do want his daddy to be proud of him, don’t we? Really, it’s no different from getting some private tutoring before you take an entrance exam.”
This time the silence seems to stretch out forever. Marion Wakefield doesn’t say no, it’s very different, it’s falsifying evidence and contempt of court and probably a whole bunch of other things, too. Neither does she ask a follow-up question. She just leaves Lucy sitting there, stewing, while she writes herself a lengthy note.
Eventually she looks at Anita. “Unless you have questions for Mrs. Lambert about this specific issue, Ms. Chowdry, I suggest we move on.”
* * *
—
IT MUST HAVE BEEN one of the nannies, I realize. Tania, most likely. Once Michaela had warned her about the nannycam, Tania must have found a way to access the footage. Perhaps initially it was just to make sure there were no incriminating shots of her drinking coffee or scrolling through Facebook. But when she was abruptly fired to make way for Jill, she must have started looking for something that would allow her to take revenge.
For her own sake, I hope she’s safely back in France.
The next part of the hearing is strangely subdued, as if nobody wants to start being bombastic when Lucy still looks as if she might burst into tears. The Lamberts’ barrister has clearly decided that the best thing he can do is to carry on as if nothing has happened. And after a while, it almost seems to work. Even I find myself wondering if what Lucy did really makes much difference. After all, trying to work out Theo’s wishes from one hastily scribbled drawing was always going to be a nonsense. And all the other factors—my drinking, the accusations against Pete, the fact Theo was thrown out of nursery on our watch—are still there.
But I can’t help feeling that, while things looked completely hopeless before, now we have a chance.
98
MADDIE
NEXT, MILES IS CROSS-EXAMINED by Anita. She’s good, but she makes little headway. He’s unflappable and courteous—the very model of a cooperative witness. And it’s hard to argue with the main thrust of his argument—that he and Lucy love Theo, and as his natural parents, believe they’re best placed to make decisions about his future. What loving parent wouldn’t want the same?
Then it’s Pete’s turn. The Lamberts’ barrister dives straight in. “Can you tell us why you became Theo’s full-time carer?”
“Because I enjoy it and I think I’m good at it,” Pete replies evenly.
“It wasn’t because you lost your job?”
Pete’s eyes widen slightly, but his voice stays calm. “No.”
“But you were made redundant soon after he was born? And then failed to find another position?”
Pete hesitates fractionally. “I went freelance.”
“And how many freelance commissions would you say you get each year?”
“Half a dozen?” Pete mutters.
“According to the National Union of Journalists’ database, last year it was three.” The barrister pauses for that to sink in. “Realistically, could the two of you afford for Ms. Wilson to give up her job?”
“Probably not,” Pete admits.
“So becoming Theo’s full-time carer was, ultimately, a decision forced on you by economic necessity?”
Pete takes a deep breath. “It was a choice I wanted to make, which also made economic sense. I’m aware I’m very privileged to be doing something I enjoy so much.”
“And yet,” the barrister says smoothly, “your privilege comes at a cost, doesn’t it—it deprives Theo of a full-time mother.”
“Your question seems to imply that a full-time father is inherently less competent than a full-time mother,” Pete says patiently. “I don’t think that’s the case. I think it depends on the individual.”
Good answer, I think.
The barrister smiles pleasantly. “What is your current ranking on the videogame Call of Duty?”
Pete blinks. “I’m not sure.”
“Let me refresh your memory. You are currently ranked number twenty-four thousand, two hundred and forty-seven of all players in the UK. Do you play often, to have achieved such a high position?”
Pete sighs. “Not often, no. I achieved that ranking before Theo came along. When I had a full-time job, incidentally.”
The barrister still looks skeptical. “Let me read a question you posted on the internet forum DadStuff, about the correct temperature at which to sterilize a baby’s bottle.” He reads out the post, then pauses. “That’s fairly basic information for a full-time parent, surely?”
“It was something I didn’t know. So I made sure I found out.” Pete grimaces. “Look, no parent gets everything right to begin with. Babies don’t come with a manual. But these days, they do come with the internet. And rather than assume I know all the answers, I think it’s better to check.”
He’s winning this exchange, I think. Against a professional inquisitor, Pete’s actually holding his own. I can’t help feeling proud of him.
The barrister says, “And speaking of the internet, do you look at pornography?”
Pete flinches. But he knows there’s no point denying something that’s now a matter of record. “I have, yes,” he says stiffly.
“And is that something the full-time parent of a small child should do?”
“I’m not proud of it. And I wouldn’t ever do it when Theo was in the house.”
“But the fact you might be tempted to rather defeats your argument that a mother and a father are interchangeable, doesn’t it?”
Pete opens his mouth to answer, but for a moment he can’t find the words. “It doesn’t make me a bad parent,” he says at last.
“What about child pornography? Would that make you a bad parent?” the barrister asks in the same reasonable tone.
Pete says icily, “If I looked at child porn, it would make me a monster. But I don’t.”
“But you have visited websites that feature sexualized images of children. And were interviewed under caution by the police as a result, isn’t that right?”
Pete explains that the image was an advertisement on an adult site, that the police were just trying to put pressure on him and no charges were ever brought. But his explanation sounds tortuous and self-justifying even to me. I steal a glance at the judge, trying to gauge her reaction. But she’s impossible to read.
“Thank you,” the barrister says, and just like that, it’s over.
Next it’s my turn. I’m ready for a repeat of the same attack on our parenting roles, but the barrister must think he’s already made that point, or perhaps he’s too clever to have a go at me for being a working mother in front of a female judge.
“How long have you known Mr. Riley?” he asks.
“Four years.”
“Would you say yours is a stable relationship?”
For a moment I just stare at him, outraged by the implication. Then I recover. “We own a house together. We had a child together. I left Australia to be with him. Of course it’s a stable relationship.”
“But you’re not actually married, are you?”
“What does that have to do with anything? It’s a personal choice.”
“Is it a choice you made because you don’t want to commit to this relationship for the long term?” the barrister asks mildly.
I look at the judge, furious. Surely he can’t be allowed to ask questions like these? But she only looks back, waiting for my answer. I take a breath. “No, it’s because I find the idea of marriage outdated and patriarchal.” My motives are actually far more complex than that, but I’m certainly not going to start unpacking them here and now.
“Has Pete ever proposed marriage to you?” the barrister asks.
“No, but…” I pause. “He knows my views,
so he wouldn’t.”
“Or is it that he doesn’t want to commit to you?”
I blink. Strangely enough, it’s a question I’ve never actually asked myself. I’ve always taken Pete, and his commitment to me, for granted. “Being married wouldn’t make us better parents,” I say at last. “Or make our relationship more stable.”
“Have you and Pete been to a relationship counselor in the last two years?” the barrister inquires pleasantly.
I gape at him. How the hell does he know about that? Then I realize. Miles must have had his private investigator nosing around, digging up dirt. “We have, yes,” I say wearily.
“Why was that?”
“Theo’s premature birth was hard on us. We were never in any danger of separating, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Yet the fact is, if you did separate, Pete couldn’t afford to go on being Theo’s carer, could he?”
“We’ve never done the sums, because it’s not going to happen.”
The barrister looks down at his notes. “You travel a lot for work, is that correct?”
“I make television commercials. Mostly they’re filmed in this country. Four or five times a year, I have to go abroad. But never for more than a few days.”
“Have you had affairs during the time you’ve been with Pete?”
For a moment there’s a ringing in my ears and the room seems to shrink. “No.”
“So you’ve never slept with members of the film crew when you were away?”
I freeze. What should I say? Does he already know the answer? Is he trying to trap me in a lie? My mind’s whirring but I can’t decide which is the least bad option.
Anita says, “Madam, my client has already denied having affairs, so the question is redundant. And even if she had, it wouldn’t be relevant to the issue of whether or not she’s a good mother to Theo.”
“My point is that the respondents’ domestic situation is inherently far less stable than the applicants’ is, madam,” the Lamberts’ barrister says meekly.
