Playing Nice

“HE DIDN’T MEAN IT,” Maddie whispered.

I looked across at Theo, now engrossed in a wildlife documentary in which wolves were tearing a deer to pieces. It probably wasn’t very age-appropriate, but for once he was actually looking quite peaceful, sitting cross-legged in front of the TV in his pajamas, sucking his thumb. “I know. Miles almost certainly taught him to say it. Bribed him with sweets or something.” I paused. “But I could count on one hand the number of times Theo’s spontaneously said that to me. And what if the CAFCASS people hear him and assume he does mean it?”

“So we’ll tell them. Add it to the list: Miles Lambert has been coaching our son to say, ‘I love you.’?”

I watched Theo for a few moments. “Why doesn’t he say it to us?”

“He’s a boy. An unusually confident little boy. Which is a credit to your parenting.”

“Maybe. Or…”

“What?”

The wolves, having brought down the deer, were now defending their meal from a bear three times their size. I said quietly, “Could he be a bit like his father? His biological father, I mean?”

Maddie replied immediately, which is how I knew she’d already thought about this. “In what way?”

“Nasty.” There, I’d said it now. “Is Theo going to grow up to be a horrible bastard like Miles?”

Maddie put her hand on mine. “Of course not. Because, unlike Miles, Theo has you for a role model. Which is another reason we can’t let the Lamberts get hold of him. If he were raised by them, then sent away to boarding school, he probably would turn into a nasty bastard. But here…it’s like you said to Miles when you went for a drink. Here he’ll get the best of both worlds.”

“Perhaps.” I didn’t say that it increasingly felt as if the two worlds couldn’t possibly coexist. That at some point they would simply crash into each other and explode. “Miles threatened to kill me today.”

“Seriously? Was he angry?”

I shook my head. “Deadly calm. Like he always is when he drops the nice-guy act.”

Maddie looked horrified. “He wouldn’t dare try anything violent. Not in the middle of a court case.”

“Let’s hope not. But I think we should both be careful. Just in case. There was something about the way he said it…It gave me the creeps, put it that way.”

I looked over at Theo, engrossed in the standoff between the wolf-pack leader and the bear. The leader, a she-wolf, was trying to wear the bear down, circling so it could never get a decent bite of the dead deer, but at the same time trying to stay out of range of the bear’s claws.

As I looked at him, for the second time that day I felt an unfamiliar emotion. I looked at my son’s face and felt, just for a moment, some of the visceral, all-consuming hatred I’d felt for his father.

* * *

—

I HAD MY OWN CAFCASS call the next day. At precisely eleven o’clock, my phone rang and Lyn Edwards introduced herself.

Maddie had already run me through the questions she’d been asked, so I knew roughly what to expect. No contact with social workers, no. No allegations of abuse. I tried to remain calm, even when Lyn asked me whether Maddie’s mental health issues could affect Theo’s safety.

“Maddie doesn’t have mental health issues,” I said politely. “Any more than someone who had a broken leg two years ago still has a broken leg.”

“But someone who broke their leg might still have difficulty walking,” Lyn pointed out, still in the same insurance-call-center voice. “Does Maddie, Peter?”

“Have difficulty walking? No.”

Lyn didn’t respond to my feeble attempt at a joke. “So there are no mental health issues currently, in your opinion.”

“None whatsoever,” I said firmly.

“And I understand that you’re the primary carer?”

“That’s correct.”

“How would you describe your parenting style, Peter? Are you more of a structured person, do you see, or child-centered?”

“Well,” I said carefully, sensing a verbal trap, “I don’t really see a distinction between the two. We have boundaries, obviously, and Theo’s aware that there are consequences for crossing them. But I also try to listen to his suggestions and opinions.”

“I’ll put ‘both,’ shall I? Oh, it won’t let me do that. I’m afraid you’ll have to choose.”

I sighed. “Child-centered.”

“Because there have been some concerns, Peter, haven’t there? I understand Theo was asked to leave his nursery.”

“He’s a little late in learning to share toys, take turns, that sort of thing. Sometimes he hits or bites in order to get his own way. It’s something we’re working on, for example by using the naughty step.”

“And what do you think Theo’s wishes are in this situation, Peter? What are the outcomes he would like to see?”

“We haven’t asked him,” I said firmly. “Not because we don’t want to take his feelings into account, but because this is much too momentous a decision for a two-year-old to take. It would cause him immense anxiety even to think about it.”

“Yes, your partner said the same thing.”

“Well, we’ve obviously discussed it.”

“And is there anything you want to tell me, Peter?”

“Pete, please. And yes, there is actually. I want to remove Theo from the nanny share with the other party. I think it’s holding his development back—he can’t really take turns with David, and the nanny has a strong French accent, which isn’t good for his delayed speech.”

“I think we’d need to see what the court recommends before we make a big change like that, Peter. What would you do with him instead?”

“He’s on the waiting list for a different local nursery.”

“And have you asked Theo what his wishes are about going to a nursery?”

I hadn’t, of course, mainly because I knew what he’d say. At the Lamberts’ he was treated like a little prince. He never needed to share a toy. Why would he want to learn to take turns when he could have a well-stocked playroom all to himself, not to mention a nanny to fetch the toys and tidy up after him? I could tell him that nursery would be more fun because there’d be other children there, but the truth was, Theo didn’t particularly like other children, not unless they were the meek, pliable kind who could be relied on to hand over their toys whenever he wanted them.

“Theo’s wishes are mixed,” I said at last. “He loved his last nursery, and it was definitely good for him to learn how to socialize with other children. I also have concerns that he’s being overindulged by the current arrangement. For example, they’ve been coaching him to say ‘I love you’ to them.”

“Have they now?” Lyn said. “And how would you know that?”

“He said it to Miles yesterday, when I collected him.”

“But how do you know it was the result of being coached?”

“Well, it stands to reason,” I said, exasperated. I was about to add, Because he hardly ever says it to me, when I thought better of it.

“I don’t think we should make any assumptions when it comes to ascertaining Theo’s feelings,” Lyn was saying. “I’ll write down that you think that, if you like, but also that there’s no evidence to back it up.”

62

Case no. 12675/PU78B65, Exhibit 32: Report by Susy Carson, proprietor, Acol Road Nursery and Preschool.

I have been asked to write something about the circumstances that led to Theo Riley leaving Acol Road Nursery. Asking a parent to remove a child is not something we take lightly, we would only do it after a sustained pattern of behavior that has the potential to negatively impact the other children. In line with government guidelines half our staff either hold NVQ or BTech qualifications or are working toward them. We always aim to maintain the recommended staff–child ratios and at the current time are actively recruiting to achieve this. However, in line with many local facilities we do find it hard to retain staff, at the time under discussion we were down from eight persons to six. I was heavily involved in covering the shortfall myself, but providing an individual child with one-to-one shadowing to prevent harm was unfortunately not an option we were able to pursue.

The specific incident that led to Theo’s removal was that he hit another two-year-old with a tumbler, leading to a large bruise and bleeding on Zack’s forehead. Even had there not been bleeding, we would have written it in the Incident Book and discussed it with both sets of parents. However, this was the fourth hitting/biting incident in five weeks and it was clear previous efforts to teach Theo to play safely with other children were not working. We had previously had several conversations with the father about the situation and the need for consistent strategies including the home. Whether Mr. Riley followed through on these is not known, however Theo’s behavior clearly had not improved. When I informed Mr. Riley that Theo would be leaving us he did not take it well and I was forced to ask him to moderate his language.