Playing Nice

I turn back to Anita. “And David? What does this mean for him?”

“David’s case is completely different from Theo’s. The Lamberts are asking the court’s permission to apply for a Special Guardianship Order. SGOs are quite a recent invention—they’re sometimes called super guardianships, because once you have one, you can overrule the wishes of everyone else connected with the child, even the natural parents—in other words, you. However, it’s not clear whether the Lamberts actually qualify as potential guardians under the Children Act—just as you have very few legal rights over Theo, they have very few over David. They’re arguing that, as he has such complex needs, they’re already his de facto guardians and it’s in his best interests for that to be recognized in law. Again, I think the social worker’s report will be crucial.”

My head is swimming, but I force myself to remain calm. “Will we still be allowed to see him? If they get what they want, I mean?”

Anita consults the bundle. “To a certain extent. One of the things the judge has to consider is whether the natural parents can meet the child’s needs. The Lamberts have written a statement to address that point.” She reads aloud, “?‘The respondents have consistently shown little interest in their birth son, visiting him only when pressed to do so, or when dropping the applicants’ birth son off for free childcare. They have displayed little awareness of his medical condition, on one occasion giving him chocolate, which would have necessitated hospital treatment had we not intervened. They have never bought him gifts, apart from some secondhand books the applicants’ birth son had grown out of that were stored in their attic. The books were later found to be moldy, causing a chest infection which required hospital treatment. Nevertheless, recognizing the importance which the courts place on parental contact, the applicants will offer the respondents access to David by means of a supervised two-hour session at a registered contact center once a month.’?”

“Unbelievable,” Pete says furiously. “They’ve twisted everything. That chocolate was before we even knew David had a medical condition. And I swear those books weren’t moldy.” He snaps his fingers. “Wait a minute. There’s proof we care about David. A film of me reading to him on Facebook. And Lucy calling me a marvel.”

He gets out his phone and starts scrolling. After a few moments his shoulders sag. “She’s deleted it.”

“Or rather, Miles has,” I say slowly. “He has access to her Facebook account.”

“I’m afraid that kind of thing’s to be expected,” Anita says. “The family courts are, quite literally, a law unto themselves. Everything hinges on the interests of the child—and, since that’s a call usually made by a judge sitting on his or her own without a jury, tiny scraps of evidence can become quite significant. But don’t despair. They’re also pretty good at seeing through all the chaff and focusing on the real issues. And just as with Theo, we’ll argue the no order principle with David—that the status quo is best for all concerned. If we can get the social workers on board with that, the court is likely to agree.”

Pete nods. “That makes sense. Any social worker worth their salt is bound to see through this nonsense.”

I say slowly, “I don’t want to do that.”

They both turn to me—Pete surprised, Anita concerned.

I add, “We’ve got to fight for Theo, obviously. But we can’t abandon David. Yes, I think Lucy loves him in her own way, but Miles—deep down, I think Miles despises him. I think he only wants to keep him for Lucy’s sake, and because he’s hoping for a massive payout if his lawsuit’s successful. And he’s our son. I won’t leave my child to be brought up by a man like that. I can’t. I want to fight for David, too.”

50

MADDIE

PETE LOOKS AT ME, aghast. I stare back at him defiantly.

“It’ll be harder to argue,” Anita says mildly. “Effectively, you’ll have to mirror what the Lamberts are doing—a Declaration of Parentage Order, a Child Arrangements Order, and a Special Guardianship Order. But you’re eight weeks behind them—which means the first hearings in Theo’s case will take place before you’re even off the starting blocks with David.”

“He’s my child,” I repeat. “I can’t leave him to be brought up by that—that monster. All along, we’ve let Miles push us around. Well, it stops now. He’s picked the wrong family to bully. If he can fight for both kids, so can we.”

“Mads…” Pete says. “Are you really sure about this? Bear in mind how complex David’s needs are. Could we really cope with that?”

I look at him steadily. “I know what I’m asking is unfair, because as the primary carer you’ll be the one who has to do the most for him. Don’t forget, we should have access to the money from his hospital settlement, which will help. But even without that, you’re a brilliant dad and a really caring person. I think you can do it. But it’s got to be a joint decision. If you don’t want to, we won’t.”

After a moment, Pete blows out his cheeks. “All right. Let’s beat the bastard at his own game. Christ, I can’t believe I’m saying that. But you’re right. We need to rescue David, too.” He turns back to Anita. “Is there anything else?”

“The final document here is an application for child maintenance for David. Again, you could reciprocate by making a similar claim for Theo, but of course David has significant extra expenses associated with his special needs, including a full-time nanny.” Anita looks up from the papers. “Given what you’ve told me about the Lamberts’ situation, I imagine they’re just trying to add an element of financial pressure on top of everything else. Speaking of which, you should be aware that fighting for custody of both children is going to be a lot more expensive than arguing for the status quo.”

“How much?” Pete asks.

“If the case is straightforward, I’d estimate between fifteen and twenty thousand pounds. But something tells me this one won’t be—straightforward, that is. The other side is already throwing everything they’ve got at it. I think they’ll take every opportunity to escalate it further. So really, the sky’s the limit.”

“I don’t suppose you’d act on a no-win no-fee basis,” Pete says hopefully.

Anita shakes her head. “My time costs are three hundred pounds an hour plus VAT. And starting from the moment you ask me to act for you, you’ll need to pay me weekly. If you get into arrears, I’ll have to stop work. I’m sorry if that sounds brutal, but this is a small practice and we’re good at what we do. If you need to take out a second mortgage on your home, which is what many of our clients do, I have a colleague who can help with that.”

Pete looks at me. “We’d better speak to your dad.”

* * *

—

THAT NIGHT, I SKYPE my parents. I do it in the bedroom, leaving Pete downstairs. He doesn’t object. We both know my dad is going to point out that we were bloody fools for not taking his advice sooner.

To be fair, he hears me out. Telling him what’s happened, I find myself crying, almost for the first time since the Lamberts’ legal bundle arrived. Pete and I are still trying to be positive for each other, reassuring each other that the Lamberts’ lies won’t be believed. But now, putting everything that’s happened into words, I sob like a little girl.

“Okay,” Dad says when I finally get to the end. “So what’s the plan?”

I smile through the tears. It had been a catchphrase of my childhood—What’s the plan, Madelyn?—said every time I got into trouble or faced some knotty problem. “We need money. We’re going to fight for them both.”

There’s a long silence before he says, “There is another option.”

“Such as?”

“Pack a bag for you and Theo, go to the airport first thing tomorrow, and come home.”

I shake my head. “I can’t do that. Besides, I think they’re going to notify the passport people.”

“The judge won’t rule on that until the first hearing, though, will he? If you leave tomorrow, you’ll be fine. And once you’re home, there’ll be nothing they can do. We’ll tie them up with lawyers if necessary. By the time they get anywhere, Theo will be at school here in Australia and it won’t be in his interests to be uprooted again.”

“And Pete?” I say gently. “What about him?”

“Well, that’s between the two of you. But if he loves you, he’ll follow you. It’s not like he’s leaving behind some high-flying career, is it?”

Just for a moment, I’m tempted. To walk out of this mess, to leave everything behind and flit back to my family on the other side of the world. I’ll get another job in advertising, and Pete will be in a foreign country, as a travel journalist should be. Perhaps he can even work for a newspaper again. But I can’t do it.

“I can’t leave David,” I say. “If I came home, I’d be abandoning your grandson.”

Dad doesn’t reply for a moment. “You were always headstrong, Madelyn.”