“Of course. That’s a really healthy attitude, Mads. Let’s look to the future.”

I’d read that, for some women, the maternal bond came slowly. So I assumed that was what would happen in my case. And it did start kicking in more when Theo was about three months. I’d gotten used to the half smiles and grimaces he made when he was trying to poo—Pete always seized on them as evidence of his affectionate nature, though to me they were simply an indication that Theo found pooing very satisfying. But one time, after I’d given him a bath, I’d wrapped him in a towel and laid him on the floor as usual when he looked up at me and grinned. A part of me knew he was just pleased to be warm and dry again, but that look, the mischief and contentment in his little blue-gray eyes…For the first time, I felt a relationship with him. I wasn’t just a milk machine. I was the center of his universe, and even if he wasn’t yet the center of mine, we were definitely in some kind of planetary orbit, locked into a relationship that would last forever. I thought: When I am old and gray, you will be my adult son, and the sudden sense of permanence made me gasp.

Looking back, it wasn’t surprising it took so long. I’m not someone who falls in love at the drop of a hat. It took me almost a year to fall for Pete—we used to joke that he didn’t so much date me as lay siege to me. Why would I fall in love with a stranger in a plastic box, one who was probably only passing through my life for a few short weeks? If there had been any maternal reflex in me at all, it was the one telling me not to risk getting emotionally involved. I had to wait for him to move on from being in danger, to become a person with a future, before I could allow myself the luxury of loving him.

12

Case no. 12675/PU78B65, Exhibit 14B: Email from Peter Riley to Miles Lambert.

Dear Miles and Lucy,

First, thank you for your email, Miles, and for coming to see me in person before that, which can’t have been an easy thing to do. As you say, this is a very difficult situation that none of us chose to be in, but we really appreciate that you’re trying to deal with it in a civilized way. We fully intend to do the same.

Having discussed it, we would be very pleased to take up your offer of getting together at your house, and we think it would be good for Theo and David to meet as well. Maddie remembers Lucy from the NICU and says hello.

We’re free all day Saturday. Theo tends to be at his best in the mornings, so shall we aim for about 10:30?

Best wishes,

Pete

13

    PETE

COME SATURDAY, WE PACKED Theo into the back of our Golf and headed over to Highgate. I’d allowed plenty of time to find somewhere to park, but as it turned out, I needn’t have. Where we lived, it was always a scramble to find a space, but the roads in Miles and Lucy’s neck of the woods hardly had any cars parked in them at all. It was because the houses were so big and far apart, I realized—fine, wide Victorian villas, with large sash windows and raised ground floors. Very few had been turned into flats, either, which meant even fewer vehicles competing for spaces, while some, like the Lamberts’, had off-road parking. We pulled up a few yards from their house and sat waiting for the clock on the dashboard to reach ten thirty, while behind us Theo puffed tunelessly on a plastic kazoo.

“On reflection, that might not have been the best toy to bring,” Maddie said after a while.

“I didn’t bring it, he found it on the backseat,” I pointed out. “And it’s good for his speech to use his fine mouth muscles. But I’m sure David will have lots of other toys to play with.”

We were both silent. The truth was, we were wrung out. The days since Miles had knocked on the door with his bombshell had been exhausting. We’d veered between hope and fear—hope that we could somehow make this work, and fear at what might happen if we couldn’t. Sometimes, in the depths of the night, I’d jolt awake, gasping with adrenaline. I could almost feel our family, our little unit, being pulled apart, like the segments of an orange. But then I’d tell myself it was going to be all right, that we had a plan. And that, after all, Miles and Lucy must be feeling exactly the same terror as us.

“Why are we doing this?” Maddie said suddenly.

I gave her a sideways look. “Meeting today? Or meeting them at all?”

“Both. Any of it. Perhaps we should just have—I don’t know, politely refused to engage. Perhaps that would have been the best thing for everyone, in the long run.”

“It’s not too late. We could make an excuse—”

She shook her head. “I don’t really mean it. And sorry for snapping about the toy. I’m just nervous, I suppose.”

“About the meeting? Or seeing Theo’s cousin?” We’d agreed not to use the words our son in front of Theo. He probably wouldn’t understand, but it was best to be careful.

“Both. But mainly David. I just can’t help thinking—he’s our, our offspring. I carried him. And we have absolutely no idea what sort of person he is. That’s just crazy, isn’t it?”

“Big car,” Theo said. I looked around. He was pointing at the four-wheel-drive BMW parked in the Lamberts’ drive.

“Very big car,” I agreed. “But big cars aren’t always better. They put lots of dirt into the air, for one thing.”

“Come on, let’s do this.” Maddie reached down and squeezed my hand, then unbuckled her seatbelt.

* * *

—

WHAT DO YOU TAKE as a gift in that situation? We’d opted for flowers for Lucy, and we’d let Theo choose a small packet of sweets for David. He’d decided on chocolate buttons. I’d mentally run through all the objections Lucy might raise—some mothers were funny about sweets of any kind—but these were only 160 calories, the chocolate was Fairtrade, and, most important, I knew there were exactly ten buttons in every bag, so they were eminently shareable.

We climbed the steps to the front door, which Theo managed by himself; rang the bell—more complicated than it sounds: It turned out the entry intercom was back by the gate into the drive—and then the door opened and there was Miles, casual in a patterned shirt, chinos, and deck shoes without socks. “Come in, come in, good to see you,” he said to me and Maddie, before eagerly crouching down to Theo and putting his hand up, palm out, in the universal gesture that means “high five.”

“Hey there, Theo,” he said gently.

Theo, for reasons of his own, chose to interpret Miles’s flat hand as a target to be punched. “Bouff!” he said as he hit him. Miles laughed and stood up.

“Lucy’s through here.”

He led us to the rear of the house, into a slate-floored kitchen the size of our entire ground floor. The blond woman I’d last seen outside the nursery was standing by a red Aga, making tea. Once again she was stylishly dressed, in tight white jeans and a shawl made of mohair or angora. “Hello!” she said brightly, coming over and kissing us both on the cheek. I sensed she was just as nervous as we were. “Oh, how kind.” She took the flowers and reached under the big ceramic sink for a vase.

“And this is David,” Miles said behind us. Maddie and I turned as one.

Miles had carried David in from an adjoining room, so he was at our height. He was smaller than Theo—a lot smaller—and in the flesh, you could tell at once there was something fragile about him. His fair hair was very fine, and his features were elfin, almost girlish, which made the resemblance to Maddie even stronger. He looked at us anxiously, a little dull-eyed, as if he’d just woken up.

“Hi,” I said, stepping forward and shaking his little hand gently by the wrist. “I’m Pete.”

“And I’m Maddie.” Maddie reached toward him eagerly with both hands, as if to take him, and David shrank back.

“He’s quite a shy little chap, I’m afraid.” Miles squatted down, still holding David, so David was in Theo’s eyeline. “We weren’t allowed to have other children around at all until a couple of months ago—he’s still very immunosuppressed. You’re just about the first visitors who Lucy hasn’t made scrub their arms with alcohol gel.”

“Theo,” I began, meaning to prompt him to say hello, but Theo had already stepped forward. Being at nursery had made him confident with other children, and now he held up his hand dramatically, thrusting the bag of chocolate buttons at David for inspection like a policeman’s badge. “Ho!” he said proudly. David stared at him, uncomprehending.

“He’s not allowed chocolate, I’m afraid,” Lucy said.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said apologetically. “I thought, since it was a special occasion…”