A Special Relationship

by Douglas Kennedy

  Tony had anticipated this question and was completely prepared for it.

  ‘I think that is a profoundly unfair interpretation of the situation. After Sally lost her job …’

  ‘Didn’t your wife have no choice but to give up work because of a medical condition which threatened her pregnancy?’

  ‘All right. After my wife was forced to give up work, I was the family’s only source of income. I was putting in nine – to ten-hour days at the Chronicle, a newspaper at which I was no longer happy, and I was also attempting to fulfil a long-standing ambition to write fiction. On top of that, I was also coping with my highly unstable wife who was in the throes of a major depression …’

  ‘But who was still coping with all the difficult business of child care. You didn’t have a nanny at home, did you Mr Hobbs?’

  ‘No – but that’s because finances were a little tight.’

  ‘So your wife had to handle all that herself. And for someone in the throes of a major postnatal depression, she handled all that rather remarkably, wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘She spent nearly two months in a psychiatric ward.’

  ‘Where your son was looked after as well. Leaving you plenty of time to develop your friendship with Ms Dexter into something else …’

  Traynor let out one of his exasperated sighs.

  ‘Miss Doherty, please resist the temptation to conjecture.’

  ‘Apologies, My Lord. Now when your wife did leave hospital – and it should be pointed out that, recognizing she did have a problem, she remained in that psychiatric unit of her own accord – did you not find her a calmer, more rational person?’

  ‘From time to time, yes. But she was also prone to terrible mood swings.’

  ‘As befitting anyone battling with clinical depression.’

  ‘She worried me constantly.’

  ‘Even though there wasn’t a specific incident in which you thought that the child’s life was in danger?’

  ‘You don’t think that breastfeeding a child while on an extremely high dosage of sedatives is endangering a child?’

  ‘Mr Hobbs,’ the Judge said, ‘you are not asking the questions here.’

  ‘Nevertheless I will answer it, My Lord,’ Maeve said. ‘Though it is true that your son ended up in hospital after this incident, it’s also very clear that a mistake had been made on the part of your wife. A mistake made when she was suffering from both depression and extreme sleep deprivation. A mistake she made while you were getting your eight hours, fast asleep on the sofa in your study.’

  She paused for emphasis. Then her voice lost its steely chill and she became dangerously pleasant again.

  ‘A very simple question, sir: did Ms Goodchild do anything after her return from hospital to make you fear that the child’s life was in danger?’

  ‘As I said before, she suffered from severe mood swings which made me fear that she might lash out.’

  ‘But she didn’t lash out, did she?’

  ‘No, but …’

  ‘And on the subject of her earlier outbursts, let me ask you this: have you never said something foolish in anger? An anger fuelled by post-operative shock and clinical depression?’

  ‘I’ve never suffered from either of those conditions.’

  ‘That is fortunate. But you’ve never said something in anger?’

  ‘Of course I have. But I’ve never threatened a child’s life …’

  ‘Returning to your book …’

  This sudden veering away from the subject immediately worried me. It showed that Maeve had conceded a point to him, and was trying to cover her tracks by moving on as quickly as possible.

  ‘Now, I gather you have received an advance for your novel?’

  Tony looked surprised that she knew this information.

  ‘Yes, I’ve recently signed a contract with a publisher.’

  ‘Recently – as in four months ago?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So, up until that point, what did you do for income?’

  ‘I had very little income.’

  ‘But you did have Ms Dexter …’

  ‘When she knew that Jack was in danger, Ms Dexter ... Diane ... did offer to take us in. Then when I decided to look after Jack full-time, she offered to take care of our day-to-day running expenses.’

  ‘Now you say you’re looking after Jack “full-time”. But isn’t it true that Ms Dexter has hired a full-time nanny to look after Jack?’

  ‘Well, I do need time to work on my book.’

  ‘But you said the nanny is full-time. So how many hours a day do you write?’

  ‘Four to five.’

  ‘And what does the nanny do the rest of the time?’

  ‘All the other duties associated with child care.’

  ‘And so, after the four to five hours of writing time, you’re with your son.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So you really didn’t leave the Chronicle to look after your son full-time. You left the Chronicle to write your novel. And Ms Dexter was there to conveniently subsidize that endeavour. Now, Mr Hobbs: your advance for this novel of yours. It was £20,000 if I’m not mistaken?’

  Again, Tony looked thrown by the fact that she knew this sum.

  ‘That’s right,’ he said.

  ‘Not a vast sum – but about average for a first novel. And if I’m not mistaken, Ms Dexter hired Jack’s nanny from a firm called Annie’s Nannies, just down the road from you in Battersea.’

  ‘I think that was the name of the firm, yes.’

  ‘You think? Surely a committed father like yourself would have been in on this nannying decision from the start. Now I checked with Annie’s Nannies – and it seems that the average cost of a full-time nanny is, before tax, around £20,000 per annum. Which means your advance just about covers the cost of your son’s child care, but nothing else. Ms Dexter does all that, doesn’t she?’

  Tony looked at Lucinda Fforde for guidance. She indicated that he had to answer.

  ‘Well … I suppose Diane does cover the bulk of the costs.’

  ‘But you yourself bought your wife’s air ticket to the States when she had to rush back after her brother-in-law’s death.’

  ‘Ex brother-in-law,’ Tony said.

  ‘Indeed. But your wife rushed back to comfort her sister, is that not right?’

  ‘Yes, that’s true.’

  ‘Did you encourage her to return to the States?’

  ‘I thought her sister needed her, yes.’

  ‘Did you encourage her, Mr Hobbs?’

  ‘Like I said, it was a family emergency, so I thought that Sally should be there.’

  ‘Even though she was very worried about being away from her son for several days?’

  ‘We had child care … our housekeeper.’

  ‘Answer the question, please. Was she concerned about being away from her son for several days?’

  Another nervous glance towards Lucinda Fforde.

  ‘Yes, she was.’

  ‘But you encouraged her to go. You bought her ticket. And while she was out of the country, you went to court and obtained the ex parte court order that temporarily granted you residence of your son. Is that the correct sequence of events, Mr Hobbs?’

  Tony looked deeply uncomfortable.

  ‘Please answer the question,’ Traynor said.

  ‘Yes,’ Tony said, in a low voice, ‘that’s the correct sequence of events.’

  ‘One final question. Did you buy your wife an Economy class ticket to Boston?’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘Really? Because I have the ticket here, and it’s a higher priced Premium Economy ticket. You don’t remember buying her this more comfortable class of travel?’

  ‘I let my travel agent handle the details.’

  ‘But surely you instructed him about which class she should travel in? I mean, the difference between an Economy and a Premium Economy ticket is over three hundred pounds.’

/>   ‘He might have offered me the Premium Economy ticket as an option, and—’

  ‘Because you wanted her to be comfortable on her flight to and from Boston, you approved the extra expenditure?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘And having flown her Premium Economy to the States, you then went to court to obtain the order effectively barring her from seeing her son … ?’

  Lucinda Fforde was on her feet. But before she could say anything, Maeve cut her off.

  ‘No further questions,’ she said.

  Tony did not look happy. Though he’d managed to deflect a few of her attacks, he was also someone who hated to be wrong-footed. And I thought she’d done a rather good job of that.

  ‘Re-examination?’ Traynor asked in that slightly bored voice of his.

  ‘Yes, My Lord,’ Lucinda Fforde said. ‘And it is just one question, Mr Hobbs. Please remind us again why you felt it necessary to seek an emergency order, taking residence of your son.’

  ‘Because I feared that she might fall into one of her dangerous moods again and, this time, actually carry out her threat to kill him.’

  I gripped my hands tightly together, trying to force myself to stay silent. I had to admire Lucinda Fforde’s supremely clever tactical logic: after all the palaver of a cross-examination, return to just one central point and undermine all the other points scored earlier against her client by one reiteration of an absolute fucking lie.

  When Tony was told he could step down, he returned to his seat next to the Dexter woman. She gave him a little hug and whispered something into his ear. Then her name was called to enter the witness box.

  She looked very impressive, standing up there. Poised, assured, just a little regal. I could understand what Tony saw in her. She possessed a certain glamour quotient which I knew he always craved. Just as I also knew that he probably took one look at her property portfolio – and her taste in interior decor – and realized that she was a great catch. Just as she – a woman who had recently edged into fifty – would have admired his professional accomplishments, his worldliness, his sardonic wit, and his need to flee the entrapments of home and office. And then there was the little fact that he came accompanied by a child…

  But as Lucinda Fforde took her through a review of her witness statement, it was clear how she was playing this game: the great friend who found herself falling in love with her great friend, but knew she couldn’t break up his marriage (especially right after he-and-his had just had a baby). But then, his wife had her ‘mental crisis’, Tony was desperately worried about little Jack’s safety, she offered a room in her house, one thing led to another, and…

  ‘I must emphasize,’ she said, ‘that this wasn’t a coup de foudre. I think I can speak for Tony when I say that we both had these feelings for each other for quite a number of years. Only we never had the opportunity for involvement before now.’

  Then Lucinda Fforde took her through these newfound maternal feelings: how she felt completely committed to Jack, how she only wanted the best for him, and how she was taking a considerable amount of time off work to be with him.

  ‘This is possibly the central reason why I decided to relocate to Sydney for several years. My company is opening a new office there. I could have farmed out the job of getting it up-and-running to one of several colleagues. But I felt that it would be good to take myself out of the London rat race for a few years, and also give Jack the opportunity of being raised in Sydney.’

  She would also be working her schedule to make sure that she would have ample time with him. And she went on to describe the house she had rented in Point Piper – right on the water and near excellent schools (when that time came). As she went on in this estate agent vein, I found myself clutching my hands together again in an attempt to keep myself under control. Because I wanted to tell her just what a lying bitch I thought she was.

  But then, finally, she came around to the subject of me.

  ‘I’ve never met Sally Goodchild. I certainly hold nothing against her. On the contrary, I feel so desperately sorry for her, and can only imagine what the horror of the past few months must have been like. I’m certain that she regrets her actions. And God knows, I do believe in rehabilitation and forgiveness. Which is why I would never bar her from Jack, and would welcome an open visiting arrangement in the future.’

  As soon as she said that, I had a picture of myself, jet-lagged out of my brains after a twenty-six-hour flight to the bottom of the world, staying in some flea-bag motel, then taking a bus out to her palatial harbourside house, to be greeted by a little boy with a thick Aussie accent, turning to the Dexter woman and saying, ‘But mum, I don’t want to go off with her for the day.’

  Diane Dexter finished off her testimony for Lucinda Fforde with the statement: ‘I do hope that Ms Goodchild will make a full recovery – and that, one day in the future, perhaps we can be friends.’

  Absolutely. In fact I’ll tell you exactly when we can be friends. On the twelfth of never.

  Maeve Doherty stood up and smiled evenly at the woman in the witness stand.

  ‘You’ve been married twice in the past, haven’t you, Ms Dexter?’

  She didn’t like that question and it showed.

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said.

  ‘And did you try to have children during these marriages?’

  ‘Yes, of course I tried to have children during these marriages.’

  ‘And you did have a miscarriage around 1990?’

  ‘Yes – I did. And I know what your next question will be and I’d like to answer it…’

  The Judge came in here. ‘But you must first let Ms Doherty pose the question.’

  ‘I’m sorry, My Lord.’

  ‘But yes, I would be very pleased to know what you thought my next question would be?’ Maeve said.

  Dexter looked at her with calm, steely anger: ‘“Did you, Ms Dexter, miscarry the baby because of drug abuse?” To which my answer would be: Yes. I was seriously abusing cocaine at the time, and it provoked a miscarriage. I sought professional help after this tragedy. I spent two months at the Priory Clinic. I have not used or abused drugs since then. If I now drink a glass of wine in the course of an evening, it’s an event. And my charitable work on drug education in schools is well-known.’

  ‘And you also attempted several IVF treatments in 1992 and 1993, both of which failed?’

  Again, Dexter was taken aback by the revelation of this information. ‘I don’t know how you found out those facts, but they are correct.’

  ‘Just as it’s also correct that the Harley Street specialist you were seeing at the time then told you there was no chance of you conceiving again?’

  She looked downwards. ‘Yes, he did tell me that.’

  ‘And since then, you did try to adopt in … when was it? … 1996, but were turned down because of your age and your single status?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  ‘And then Tony Hobbs appeared in your life again, now back in London, now a new father with an infant child, and a wife who was suffering from profound clinical depression…’

  Dexter looked at Maeve with barely contained rage.

  ‘As I made clear earlier…’

  ‘Now let me ask you this, Ms Dexter: if an acquaintance was to run into you on the street where you live, and saw you pushing Jack along in his pram, and ask: “Is he your child?” how would you respond?’

  ‘I’d say: yes, I’m his mother.’

  Maeve folded her hands across her chest, and said nothing, letting that comment fill the silence in the courtroom. A silence that the judge broke.

  ‘But you are not his mother, Ms Dexter,’ he said.

  ‘Of course I’m not his biological mother. But I have become his surrogate mother.’

  The judge peered at her over his half-moon spectacles, and spoke in that half-weary voice he so preferred.

  ‘No, you haven’t. Because it has yet to be legall
y determined whether or not you will be assuming the role of surrogate mother. The child in question has a mother and a father. You happen to live with the father. But that does not give you the right to state that you are the child’s mother, surrogate or otherwise.’

  ‘Any further questions, Ms Doherty?’

  ‘No, My Lord.’

  ‘Re-examination, Ms Fforde?’

  She looked seriously disconcerted. ‘No, My Lord.’

  ‘Then we’ll reconvene after a ten-minute adjournment.’

  Once he was out of the court, Maeve sat down next to Nigel and myself and said, ‘Well, that wasn’t bad at all.’

  ‘Why did the judge so jump on her comment about considering herself his mother?’ I asked.

  ‘Because if there’s one thing Charles Traynor hates more than barristers who try to attack a CAFCASS report, it’s the new partner of someone in a divorce dispute, going on as if she’s the new-found parent. It goes completely against his sense of propriety or familial fair play, and he always jumps on anyone who tries to play that card.’

  ‘Which is why you walked her into it?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  Sandy came down and joined us.

  ‘You were brilliant,’ she said to Maeve. ‘You really shoved it in the face of that nasty little—’

  ‘That’s fine, Sandy’ I said, cutting her off.

  ‘Sorry, sorry’ she said. ‘I think I’m suffering from Tourette’s today.’

  ‘Otherwise known as jet-lag,’ I said.

  Maeve turned to Nigel and said, ‘Hobbs did score one off me, didn’t he?’

  ‘I think you actually … uhm … did rather well there, considering…’

  ‘That he won the point with that “I’ve never threatened a child’s life” comment.’

  ‘I don’t think it was a hugely damaging blow,’ he said. ‘Especially after what you did to Ms Dexter.’

  ‘What now?’ I asked.

  ‘I … uhm … think that’s it for the witnesses. So I presume the judge will reconvene just to formally end the proceedings and tell us all to be here at nine tomorrow morning.’

  But when the judge returned, Lucinda Fforde had a little surprise for us.

  ‘My Lord, we have a last-minute witness we would like to call.’