Playing Nice

“First of all, I think it’s wonderful that you’re all taking such a positive view of what could clearly be a very difficult situation,” she said when I’d finished. “But I have to tell you that this is not a good reason to have a child baptized, or indeed to choose a godparent. Godparents have very specific responsibilities—appointing one isn’t simply a gesture of friendship, even if it sometimes seems that way. And I’m very concerned that it will give Theo, not to mention yourselves, no protection if anything goes wrong.”

“We’re very much hoping nothing does go wrong. That’s one reason we want to formalize things—to show our commitment. And we’d been intending to have Theo christened anyway.”

“Hmm.” Reverend Sheila still looked unconvinced. “How about a prayer of blessing for the six of you—Theo, David, and the two sets of parents? That would seem a much more appropriate way of inviting God into this particular relationship.”

“We don’t actually have many other people we can ask to be godparents,” I said. “And I’m certain that Miles and Lucy are religious.” I had absolutely no idea if that was the case, of course, but I was pretty sure Miles wouldn’t mind telling a small white lie.

“Well, given that it’s a highly unusual situation, I’ll speak to them before I make a decision.” Reverend Sheila reached for a pad. “What’s their number?”

32

PETE

ON THE WAY HOME Theo demanded a diversion to the park, and then it was time for us to make his tea—arancini balls, baked not fried, made with homemade breadcrumbs—so it was a while before I had a chance to phone Miles and warn him.

“Pete!” he said cheerfully as he picked up. He clearly had my name stored as a contact now. “How’s things?”

“Good, thank you. Look, this is just a heads-up. Someone called Reverend Sheila Lewis might call—”

“Too late. She’s already done it.”

“Really?” That was quick. “How did it go?”

“All sorted. She’s actually doing a couple of baptisms during the service this coming Sunday, so I said we’d muck in with those. That all right for you?”

“Er—I think so. I’d probably better—”

“Check with Maddie,” he finished for me. “Of course. You’ve got a great vicar, by the way. Really liked her.”

* * *

—

“IT WAS EXTRAORDINARY,” I told Maddie when she got home. “With me, she was almost disapproving. But Miles seems to have had her eating out of his hand.”

“Well, he’s very charming. And for all we know, he is religious.”

“Or just very good at lying.”

“Persuading people to see things your way isn’t necessarily lying. Besides, I thought you really like Miles. The two of you are thick as thieves at the moment.”

“I do like him,” I said. “I like him a lot. I’m just slightly in awe of how effective he is at getting his own way.”

“Have you told him yet we’re not going to Cornwall for Easter?”

“Not yet. It never seems the right moment.”

Maddie raised her eyebrows.

“I know, I know,” I said with a sigh. “I suppose I keep putting it off because I feel bad about it. I think I gave him the impression we were definitely up for it.”

“Why not say my brother and his family are coming over from Australia? He can hardly object to that. But don’t leave it too long. He may need time to find someone else.”

33

MADDIE

I FIND THE CHRISTENING awkward. Because it’s a joint baptism with three other families, regular members of the congregation who know one another well, it feels like our group are interlopers. It doesn’t help, either, that the other children are all babies, only one of whom is even grizzling slightly. Whereas Theo…Theo simply doesn’t do keeping a low profile.

The church is one of those trendy ones that pride itself on having a box of books to keep kids entertained—there’s even a poster advertising something called Messy Church, every third week—but because this is a christening, everything is slightly more formal. Theo is overexcited from the start. As soon as he sees Lucy and Miles he shouts “Moles!” before running at them and trying to rugby-tackle Miles. Miles just laughs and ruffles his hair. Our friends Keith and Andy are with us—Andy has agreed to be the third godparent—so there are muttered introductions and handshakes, and I notice some of the regulars turning around to see who’s making all this noise.

Lucy is carrying David. He lies in her arms very quietly, looking around with a slightly fearful expression. I reach out and stroke his fine, soft hair, itching to hold him myself. Like last time, he doesn’t react, just looks at me with his big, solemn eyes. But I like to think he’s a little less anxious after that.

Theo spots the box of books and makes a beeline for it. But since he can’t read, to him it’s just a big box of stories that require an adult to read them aloud. “Daddy! Daddy!” he calls eagerly, but Pete only puts his finger to his lips. The vicar has started her introduction now, something about the continued relevance of the Church and how important it is to welcome the next generation of worshippers. Theo takes out some books and starts throwing them at a side chapel like a knife-thrower, using the metal crucifix as his target. When he hits it, it gives an audible clang! and the vicar looks over, perturbed.

“Yeah!” Theo shouts happily.

Pete excuses his way out of the pew and goes to deal with him. After a moment, Miles follows. Theo must think it’s a game, or perhaps something in Pete’s grim expression warns him he’s in trouble, because he decides to make himself scarce. Diving beneath the backmost pew, he wriggles between the feet of the people in it and then keeps going, on to the pews in front. Because he’s coming from behind, the first anyone knows of it is when a small body pushes its way through their legs. By the time they’ve realized what’s happening, he’s gone.

Pete always hates it when Theo doesn’t behave well in public—as if it’s a reflection on his parenting skills. “Theo!” he says, in a voice that tries to balance sternness with not shouting over the vicar. “Come here! Now!” Theo just chortles and commando-crawls his way onward.

“Sorry, chaps. Ball coming through!” Miles contributes cheerfully, keeping pace alongside Theo in the aisle, but not actually able to get to him.

Pete goes to stand at the front, ready to grab Theo when he comes out, but Theo spots him and simply reverses direction. Luckily a woman four rows back has the good sense to clap her legs together, trapping him long enough for Pete, by now red with anger and embarrassment, to make his way along the pew and haul him out.

“Our Lord Jesus Christ has told us that to enter the kingdom of heaven, we must be born again of water and the Spirit,” the vicar is saying.

“Naughty step. Now!” Pete hisses, dragging a wriggling Theo toward the door of the church. Then he stops and looks around.

His problem, I realize, is that if he takes Theo outside, he won’t know when they’re needed for the baptism. So he improvises, putting Theo down on the big stone step that leads from the church door into the nave.

Pete’s a big believer in the naughty step. It was invented by some TV supernanny who insists it only works if you follow a set of very precise instructions, which Pete always does, to the letter. First, you take the child to the step in silence and sit them down. Second, you explain to them what they’ve done wrong. Third, you walk away and set a timer for one minute per year of the child’s age. When the timer goes off, you explain a second time why they’re on the naughty step. Then they have to apologize before they can get up, at which point you give them hugs and kisses as a reward for apologizing.

Personally, I think Pete believes in the naughty step mainly because it offers some kind of reassurance that he’s disciplining Theo the right way, when all the evidence seems to suggest that actually, Theo is almost completely impervious to discipline of any kind. But Pete claims it works, so I never interfere.

Pete bodily pushes Theo down onto the step, then starts to explain. “This is a church, Theo. In church people are quiet so they can listen to God—”

“Bababababababab!” Theo yells, putting his hands over his ears.

“Here we are clothed with Christ, dying to sin that we may live his risen life,” the vicar intones.

Theo drums his shoes on the stone floor, making a satisfying echo. “Babababab!”

“As children of God, we have a new dignity, and God calls us to fullness of life—”

“…so we have to sit still, without talking or playing, just like all these other people are…”

“Let us now pray, in silent contemplation—”

“Sowwy, Daddy.”

“It’s not time to say sorry yet. You have to wait for the timer. Two minutes.”

“I’m sowwy, Daddy.”

Miles laughs. “Oh, come on, Pete. Little beggar’s said he’s sorry.” He opens his arms. “C’mon, big man. Give me a hug.”

Theo jumps up from the step and runs into Miles’s arms. “Huh-hay!” Miles says, swinging him up so their heads are level. “You going to come and sit quietly with me now?”

“Yesss!” Theo says, very loud in the contemplative silence.

* * *