Playing Nice Page 13

  * * *

  —

  I WENT HOME, BUT it was hard to concentrate. Driving across London had been more tiring than the stroll to the nursery used to be. But it wasn’t just that. I kept thinking of David, sitting in that massive playroom, surrounded by shelves of toys he couldn’t play with. There’d been something shut-in about him, something passive. It would be so easy to ignore a child like that, particularly with a fireball like Theo around.

  Our house is small, so once Theo’s grown out of a toy we tend to put it in the attic. I went and found a crate of books he’d enjoyed at eighteen months. Julia Donaldson’s Toddle Waddle, Eric Hill’s Spot stories, Chris Haughton’s Shh! We Have a Plan. I pulled out some with sliders, flaps, and other gizmos, too.

  When I went back that afternoon, I showed Lucy. “Theo doesn’t read these anymore, but I thought David might like them.”

  She looked at them doubtfully. “He’s not a big reader, I’m afraid.”

  “Of course not,” I said patiently. “But he might like me to read to him.”

  I went and sat down next to David in the playroom.

  “Look, David,” I said gently, holding up We’re Going on a Bear Hunt. His eyes turned toward it. Theo would have snatched it out of my hands in an instant, as a prelude to either hurling it away, if he wasn’t interested, or hitting me with it until I read it, if he was. David did neither. Instead, he reached out and touched it experimentally with his fingers.

  Opening it, I started at the first page. “ ‘We’re going on a—’ ”

  “Mnnneow,” yelled Theo, charging into the playroom with a Lego rocket in each hand, followed by Tania.

  “Hi, Theo. I’m just going to read this with David. You can watch if you want.”

  “Neow-neow.” Theo crashed the rockets into my head, one after the other.

  “Tania, could you take Theo into the other room and help him rebuild his rockets? I just want to finish this story with David.”

  “Of course. Come on, Theo.” She led him away.

  “ ‘We’re going on a bear hunt,’ ” I repeated, turning the page.

  * * *

  —

  DAVID SAT RIVETED TO We’re Going on a Bear Hunt, followed by Each Peach Pear Plum and Where’s Spot? When I brought out Dear Zoo he eagerly reached out and turned the flaps to reveal the animals behind them as I read.

  “ ‘The end,’ ” I said at last, closing Dear Zoo and putting it down. I’d done all the noises, though I’d kept the lion’s roar to a quiet purr so as not to startle him.

  “That was wonderful,” Lucy’s voice said. “Simply wonderful.”

  I looked up. She was filming me on her phone. “Pete, you’re a marvel,” she added.

  39

  PETE

  “PETE, YOU’RE A MARVEL,” Maddie said drily.

  I laughed into my phone. “Of course. But how did you know?”

  “Lucy’s put a video of you reading to David on Facebook. You can hear her voice behind the camera.”

  It was barely four o’clock. “That was quick.”

  “Well, I guess one has to do something while the nanny’s getting tea.”

  “The nanny looked pretty shell-shocked, actually, after a whole morning of Theo. Speaking of which, Mika’s gone. This one’s called Tania.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “Seems all right,” I said guardedly. “Theo’s dubbed her Tanner.”

  “Well, it’s only a temporary arrangement. I’d better go, my meeting’s about to start.” She paused. “It was lovely seeing you read to David, though. It made me want to reach out and put my arms around you both.”

  * * *

  —

  AT HALF SIX THE doorbell rang. Deliveroo or Miles? I wondered.

  It was Miles.

  “I left work early this time,” he said cheerfully, stepping through the door. “Hope that’s all right. Ah! There you are, big man. Still up, I see.”

  “Only just,” I said. Theo was on the sofa in his pajamas, watching a cartoon.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t razz him up. We’ll just sit quietly for a bit. Here. This is for you.” Miles handed me a square package.

  “You don’t have to bring us gifts,” I said automatically.

  “You gave us all those books. Small gesture of gratitude.”

  I opened the box. Inside was an iBaby monitor, one of the expensive ones with a remote-controlled camera.

  “It’s the dog’s knackers,” he added. “I have the same model for David. Wi-Fi, 4G, omnidirectional microphone, night vision…It claims the humidity sensor can even alert you when there’s a wet nappy, though I guess that’s not something you need with Theo anymore.”

  I lifted the camera out of the box. It was satisfyingly heavy, sleek, and rounded, with the lens part mounted in a kind of gyroscope. “It’s great, Miles, but…Those books were only sitting in the attic.”

  “That monitor you’ve got would have been out of date in the Dark Ages. I’ve set it all up for you—just put in your Wi-Fi password and you’re away. It’s nothing, really. And Lucy’s been raving about how good you were with David today. She sent me a link to the video.”

  “It was a pleasure,” I said, shrugging.

  “Mind you, Theo looked quite put out when you sent him away like that,” he added. He sat down next to Theo, ruffling his hair. “Poor little chap.”

  “Theo gets plenty of attention.”

  “He’s not used to sharing you, though, is he?” Miles took off his tie and put it in his suit pocket. “You could tell he was—what do they call it?—acting out a bit. What are we watching this evening, Theo?”

  “Po’man Pat.”

  “I love Postman Pat. Do you know, they had it when I was your age? I bet I already know this one.”

  * * *

  —

  MILES WAS STILL THERE, watching TV, when Maddie got back from work. Theo, sleepy now, had collapsed against him, thumb in mouth. Miles beamed at her.

  “Hi Maddie,” he said in a stage whisper. “Our boy’s tired.”

  “So I see,” she said in her normal voice. She went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle.

  “Do you want to put him down and read his story?” I asked.

  She nodded. “When I’ve had a glass of wine. Long day.”

  “I’ll do it,” Miles said immediately.

  “No, really—” I began, but he cut me off.

  “You stay here and talk to Maddie. First chance you two have had to talk to each other all day, I bet. I’ll just read Theo a story and then I’ll be off.”

  It was the words “I’ll be off” that persuaded me. It had been a long day for me, too. “All right. Thank you.”

  Miles slid his arms under a limp, sleepy Theo, who allowed himself to be carried upstairs.

  It was odd, but as they went up the stairs, with Theo draped crosswise over Miles’s arms, I couldn’t help thinking of a man carrying his bride over a threshold.

  * * *

  —

  “MI CASA ES SU casa again?” Maddie said when they were upstairs.

  “Yup,” I agreed.

  “And what’s this?” She indicated the iBaby.

  “It’s an internet-enabled baby monitor. A present from Miles.”

  “Well…I suppose you have been complaining about ours for ages.”

  “Yes. It’s very generous of him.” I hesitated. “Lucy told me earlier that Miles fired Michaela because he saw her on a nannycam, infringing one of his rules.”

  “Miles has rules? Who knew?”

  I nodded. “Surprisingly strict ones. And a one-strike-and-you’re-out policy.”

  Maddie took another swig and topped up her glass. She did that a lot these days, I noticed: drink-and-refill, so her glass was never empty. A
nd she filled it closer to the top than I did. “So?”

  “Miles said he’s already set it up. All we have to do is enter our Wi-Fi password. Maybe I’m being overcautious, but…”

  She was silent a moment. “You think he might be technical enough to hack it?”

  “I don’t think he’d even need to be very technical. Look.” I typed some words into my laptop’s search engine and showed her. The search Are baby monitors easy to hack? gave over ten thousand results, and from what I could see, the answer from all of them was a resounding yes. “But if I’m being paranoid, tell me,” I added.

  “I don’t think you are being paranoid,” she said slowly. “I mean, he may justify it to himself by saying that it’s his son, so why can’t he watch him sleeping. But there have to be limits, don’t there? When he comes down, I’m going to say something. About Easter, too. It’s time we got this sorted.”

  * * *

  —

  “HE’S ASLEEP.” MILES CAME downstairs smiling. “God, he looks peaceful when he closes his eyes, doesn’t he? Like a little cherub.”

  “It’s the only time he does,” Maddie said drily. “Incidentally, Miles…”

  “Yes?”

  “There are a couple of things we’ve been meaning to mention. I’m afraid I can’t take any time off at Easter—I’m just too busy at work. And one of my brothers and his family are coming over from Australia on the Saturday, so it would be almost impossible to get all the way to Cornwall and back just for one night. I’m really sorry—I think we’re going to have to bail.”

  “No need,” Miles said cheerfully. “Bring them, too. The house sleeps ten, so there’s plenty of room at the inn.”

  “I’m sure you’d rather fill it with your own friends.”

  Miles’s smile died. “I said, bring your brother’s family, too. Easter was your idea, after all. And the house is booked and paid for. I can’t cancel it now.”

  Maddie looked at me, puzzled. “I thought it could easily be canceled?”

  “Well, it can’t.” Miles sounded peeved.

  “Miles—it’s my fault. I should have said something earlier,” I said. “But Maddie hardly ever gets a chance to see her family—”

  “Fine.” He gestured at Maddie, a slicing movement of his hand. “Maddie can stay in London and see her brother. You and Theo can come to Cornwall.”

  “We’ll want to spend Easter together,” Maddie pointed out. “And my brother will want to see Theo.”

  “Well, how else are you going to sort this?” Miles demanded. “I want to see Theo, too.”

  He looked so exactly like Theo when Theo was denied something—mutinous and truculent, his lower lip thrust out—that without thinking I spoke in the same tone I used with my two-year-old. “We can’t always have what we want, though, can we?”

  I realized as soon as the words were out that it sounded horribly patronizing, but Miles didn’t give me time to say so.

  “That’s so true, Pete. So very true.” He sounded strangely distant and unemotional, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

  And then he was gone, a blast of cold air from the door he’d left open behind him chilling our little sitting room.

  40

  Case no. 12675/PU78B65, Exhibit 21, email from Justin Watts, Fox Atkins LLP, to Peter Riley.

  Your Matter

  Dear Pete,

  This is just to confirm that I have submitted our letters of claim and have received a holding response. I will let you know when I have further news.

  Kind regards,

  Justin Watts

  Associate Partner

  Fox Atkins LLP

  41

  PETE

  I TOOK THEO TO the Lamberts’ next morning feeling slightly apprehensive. The change in Miles’s manner had been so abrupt—the cheeriness and bonhomie visibly draining from him—that I was sure he must have been genuinely offended. Not that I regretted what Maddie had said—it was only what I’d been struggling to say myself—but I did regret my own tactless intervention.

  On the other hand, I decided, if Miles had taken offense, it was a chance to talk it all through and thrash out some details—a weekly timetable of visits, say, or at the very least agreeing to check by text before we turned up at each other’s houses. It was becoming increasingly clear that Miles was going to need quite careful handling if we were to keep relations as smooth as they’d been initially.

  But in the event, Miles wasn’t home, and Lucy seemed her usual friendly, if high-strung, self. “Oh, hello, Pete,” she said in her vague way, as if it was a surprise that I’d managed to find my way to Highgate at all, let alone bang on nine A.M. “And Theo. How lovely to see you.”

  I’d taken an old play mat of Theo’s, a quilt with various insects and animals sewn on it—a ladybird, a frog, a caterpillar that squeaked when you squeezed it, a spider hiding under a leaf. I lifted David onto it and read him The Very Hungry Caterpillar while he ate some grapes that Tania had washed and cut in half. When I’d finished, I put the book behind me and said gently, “Can you see a hungry caterpillar anywhere on the mat, David?” He looked around, and I pointed toward the caterpillar, then squeezed it, making it squeak. He laughed. I suddenly realized I’d never seen him laugh before. It lit up his whole face, and just for a moment he didn’t look brain-damaged. He just looked like any little kid having a good time.

  A little kid with Maddie’s eyes.

  “Squeak squeak!” I said. “I’m still hungry! Give me some grapes!”

  I pretended to feed the caterpillar one of the grapes. “Squeak squeak! That means ‘thank you’ in caterpillar.”

  “You’re so good with him,” Lucy said, watching.

  “Well, he’s sweet.”

  “Miles thinks he might be musical when he’s older. Because he’s sensitive, and he listens a lot.”

  I nodded. I tried to think whether Maddie and I had ever had a conversation about what Theo might do as an adult. But perhaps it was different when your child had a condition like David’s.

  I patted David’s head and got up. “Incidentally, Lucy…”

  “Yes?”

  “Did Miles say anything about last night? Only I think I might have spoken a bit tactlessly.”

  “Last night?” She looked bemused. “I didn’t even know you two were meeting up last night. Did you go for a drink? He didn’t say anything when he got home. And I’m afraid I was asleep when he left this morning—he likes to get off to work early, after his run.”

  “I’m probably overthinking it,” I said. “I’ll send him a text or something.”

  * * *

  —

  AROUND LUNCHTIME I LOOKED at Facebook. Lucy and Tania had taken the children to the zoo. Lucy had already posted half a dozen pictures—Theo at the penguin pool, Theo petting a snake, Theo standing next to a giraffe’s leg. David was in a stroller, so there were fewer of him.

  The problem with this arrangement, I reflected, was that Theo was never going to learn to share better while he was with a child so much less advanced than him. If anything, he was just going to get used to having the undivided attention of two adults at once. And what was having a nanny with limited English going to do to his speech delay? It really was only a stopgap solution.

  But I suspected Miles and Lucy didn’t see it that way. I wondered how long it would take to get some kind of payout from the hospital. After that, hopefully, we’d be able to sort out our own childcare again.

  * * *

  —

  THE REST OF THE week passed without incident, and without word from Miles. And on the plus side, now that Theo was no longer at nursery I didn’t have to bother with a costume for World Book Day. It gave me quiet pleasure when I bumped into one of the nursery mums by the organic fruit and veg in Sainsbury’s and spotted a Where’s Wally? costume in
her trolley. I remembered her name: Sally Russell. She’d been one of the prime movers behind the group I’d dubbed “the motherhood,” constantly making snide remarks to the effect that full-time dads made clueless carers.

  “How lovely,” I said, glancing down. “Harry will look so cute in that.”

  Sally flushed. “I was going to make one, but he absolutely refused to be a mouse again. And it’s only seven pounds fifty.”

  “So it is,” I agreed. “Makes you wonder where they source it, doesn’t it? Long-sleeved shirt, trousers, and hat. Is it Fairtrade cotton?” I leaned down to look. “Oh. Polyester. Cambodia. Shame.”

  I shouldn’t have been enjoying myself so much, but if the boot had been on the other foot, she’d have shown no mercy. And it didn’t take her long to come back swinging.

  “And how’s poor old Theo?” she said, her voice dripping with concern. “We were all so upset to hear he’d been excluded. Where did you manage to place him, in the end?”

  “Theo’s fallen on his feet, actually. We’ve found a really good nanny share with”—I hesitated—“with friends.”

  “That’s great. He probably wasn’t quite ready for preschool, was he?”

  “Probably not,” I agreed. I really wasn’t bothered by her barbed comments, which was nice as I was fairly sure she was bothered by mine. “Good to see you, anyway.”

  As I moved off she said suddenly, “Did you hear about Jane Tigman?”

  I turned. “No. What happened?”

  “She got knocked off her bike and broke her leg.”

  “Knocked off how?”

  Sally shook her head. “She can’t remember anything about it. She thinks it was a car, rather than a van or bus, but she’s not absolutely sure. It must have just touched her back wheel, she thinks, and sent her flying. Whoever it was, they didn’t stop. Luckily it was just after she’d dropped Zack off, or he’d have been on the bike with her.”