“It’s not that. He can’t digest it. He has a reflux condition that’s triggered by any kind of fat. When he gets an attack he has to go straight back on oxygen, which he hates.”

“I’ll take that, Theo,” I said quickly, plucking the bag from his hand. He rounded on me, his eyes expressing his outrage, but I’d already pocketed it. I was probably going to make his own snatching problem worse by grabbing it like that, I reflected, but it wasn’t the moment to worry about that. “Why don’t you ask David to show you some of his toys?” I added.

Miles gently set David down. He was unsteady on his feet, teetering wide-legged like a baby. From the bulkiness of his trousers, it was clear he was still wearing a regular nappy rather than pull-ups or pants.

“Michaela?” Miles called.

“Yes, Mr. Lambert?” A girl of about twenty appeared in the doorway. She, too, was blond, although her hair had black showing at the roots. She sounded Eastern European.

“Could you take David, and show Theo where to find some toys?”

“Of course. Come with me, Theo, they’re all in here.”

“What toys do you like, David?” Maddie asked gently as Michaela picked him up. He didn’t reply, although his head turned toward her curiously. With a stab of horror I realized he hadn’t understood the question.

He was brain-damaged. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise—the possibility had been drummed into us in the NICU, over and over. But week by week, as Theo had thrived and prematurity slowly lost its grip, we’d started taking normality for granted. Forgetting just how lucky we’d been.

Or rather, how lucky Theo had been. Because—I now realized—the doctor who’d told Maddie how poorly our son was, and how he might not survive that initial episode of oxygen starvation unscathed, had been right. The child he had been talking about was David, and his mind was clearly impaired.

“David’s not very chatty,” Lucy said nervously. “He’s not nearly so advanced as Theo.”

I looked at her, aghast. Was it possible she didn’t know? Or was she just using a euphemistic understatement for her son’s condition? The latter, I decided. It must be. She would have spent the last two years talking to doctors on an almost daily basis.

But then I remembered how, even in the NICU, the doctors had always shrugged and said, We just can’t tell the future. It’s impossible to make a long-term prognosis until around the third birthday.

Either way, I reflected, this was going to make the conversation we’d come here to have a whole lot more difficult.

14

    MADDIE

LUCY POURS US ALL tea, and then we stand and watch the children through the doorway of the playroom. They don’t play together. David sits on the floor with a baby gym, repetitively spinning the plastic animals around and around the pole, while Theo stomps around, pulling things off shelves and inspecting them. Eventually Michaela finds him a wooden train and he settles down to make it crash into mountains that he constructs from piles of Duplo, while she scurries around picking up the pieces.

I can’t stop looking at David. My son. When I’d first seen him in Miles’s arms and reached for him, it hadn’t even been a conscious gesture. And although he’d shrunk back, my hands had briefly made contact with his ribs. The memory of that touch seems to linger in the ends of my fingers, like the sting after an electric shock.

I glance at Miles and Lucy. Miles is watching Theo the same way I’ve been looking at David—devouring him with his eyes, a half smile playing across his face every time the train smashes into the Duplo. Lucy…Lucy is harder to read, her gaze flitting from one child to the other. When she looks at Theo she smiles, amused by his antics, but she seems anxious, too. And when she looks at David, there’s something altogether different in her eyes. Sadness, perhaps.

Eventually Miles says, “Shall we…?” and we all turn back to the kitchen. Pete and I sit on high stools on one side of the enormous island, with Miles and Lucy on the other. It feels weirdly like a business meeting at some trendy production company.

“So,” Miles begins, “thank you for coming today. And please don’t feel there’s any pressure from us to make any long-term plans yet. As far as we’re concerned, we just wanted the boys to meet, and for us adults to say a proper hello.” He pushes the lock of black hair back out of his eyes. “The important thing is, we’re talking. In itself, that’s a good first step.”

Although he seems diffident, even nervous, it strikes me how good at this he is. Charming without coming across as narcissistic, confident without being arrogant. Good-looking, too, but in a boyish, engaging way that stops it being threatening. I can see how he might be worth the enormous salary he’s presumably paid, in order to afford such a spectacular house. And he has some of Theo’s pent-up energy, too.

The subtext of his words is, That’s enough emotion for one day. Let’s leave it there, shall we? He’s thinking of Lucy, I suspect—she still seems very tense; much more so than she ever did two years ago in the NICU. I’ve noticed he’s very protective of her. When they were handing out the tea, for example, I saw how he quietly corrected her when she forgot whether Pete or I was the one who took milk, but under his breath, without making a big deal of it.

For a moment I feel disappointed. When I’ve geared myself up for a tricky conversation, I find it frustrating not to have it. But Miles is probably right—no point in rushing things.

Pete doesn’t read the situation the same way, though, or perhaps he’s simply so tense he can’t help himself. He glances at me, then back at Miles and Lucy. “You’ve had longer than us to think about this,” he says bluntly. “You must have some idea what you think the right course of action is.”

There’s a long silence. Miles and Lucy don’t look at each other.

“Of course, if you don’t want to say…” he adds.

“No, it’s not—” Miles begins, just as Lucy says, “Well, to us—”

They both stop. “You go,” Miles says, turning to her.

“I couldn’t bear to lose him,” Lucy says in a rush. She looks directly at me, mother-to-mother. “It doesn’t really matter which of our wombs they came out of, does it? It’s being the one who cares for them day after day that counts. And when they have problems, like David…well, some people say it makes you overprotective. Perhaps that’s part of it.” She glances at her husband. “It certainly makes the bond even more special.”

“Actually, darling, it’s Pete who’s Theo’s main carer,” Miles says quietly.

“Well, then you both must know what I’m talking about.” She looks defiantly from me to Pete and back. “Miles and I would love to be part of Theo’s life. We would love for the two of them to see each other as family. As for the details, we haven’t gotten that far. But we couldn’t bear to swap them back. Just couldn’t bear it.”

“We feel exactly the same,” Pete says. He looks at me, and I nod to show I’m right behind him. “Both of us do.”

Lucy puts one hand to her chest. “Oh, thank God. I thought for a moment I might be ruining everything, blurting it out like that—”

Miles puts his hand on her knee. “You did very well.”

“We’ve talked about it, too,” Pete says. He lowers his voice so that Theo, in the playroom, won’t overhear. “We were trying not to rush the decision, just like you said, but we both feel—instinctively—that it’s the right thing for Theo and David not to be ejected from their current families. But we absolutely second what you said about the two of them being part of each other’s lives. We wondered if you’d like to be Theo’s godparents, for example. And we could be David’s.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Lucy says.

“Although actually, David already has godparents,” Miles interjects apologetically. “Billy Cortauld—the Saracens captain—and Lucy’s friend Gemma. And I’m pretty sure the Church of England doesn’t allow you to add more after the christening. Lifelong commitment and all that. I can check, though…” He’s tapping his phone screen as he speaks. “No, you can’t. Sorry to be the voice of practicality. But we’d be honored to be Theo’s, if you haven’t chosen any yet.”

Pete nods. “And we were thinking about setting up regular playdates, and telling Theo that David’s his cousin. We don’t have much in the way of family here in London—Maddie’s are all in Australia, and mine are up north. So this could actually be a blessing, or at least a silver lining. It’s Easter soon—maybe we could all spend the day together. That’s just an example, obviously. I mean, it’s all got to be worked out properly, hasn’t it, but the point is, we can sort this.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Miles says. He looks at Lucy. “Lucy-loo?”

“Absolutely.” She clasps her hands. “You know, really we’re so lucky. That it’s us and you, I mean. Someone else might not have seen it the same way.”

“Well,” Miles says. He looks at his watch. “I know it’s early, but I think this calls for a glass of something special.”

* * *