Pete says icily, “If I looked at child porn, it would make me a monster. But I don’t.”
“But you have visited websites that feature sexualized images of children. And were interviewed under caution by the police as a result, isn’t that right?”
Pete explains that the image was an advertisement on an adult site, that the police were just trying to put pressure on him and no charges were ever brought. But his explanation sounds tortuous and self-justifying even to me. I steal a glance at the judge, trying to gauge her reaction. But she’s impossible to read.
“Thank you,” the barrister says, and just like that, it’s over.
Next it’s my turn. I’m ready for a repeat of the same attack on our parenting roles, but the barrister must think he’s already made that point, or perhaps he’s too clever to have a go at me for being a working mother in front of a female judge.
“How long have you known Mr. Riley?” he asks.
“Four years.”
“Would you say yours is a stable relationship?”
For a moment I just stare at him, outraged by the implication. Then I recover. “We own a house together. We had a child together. I left Australia to be with him. Of course it’s a stable relationship.”
“But you’re not actually married, are you?”
“What does that have to do with anything? It’s a personal choice.”
“Is it a choice you made because you don’t want to commit to this relationship for the long term?” the barrister asks mildly.
I look at the judge, furious. Surely he can’t be allowed to ask questions like these? But she only looks back, waiting for my answer. I take a breath. “No, it’s because I find the idea of marriage outdated and patriarchal.” My motives are actually far more complex than that, but I’m certainly not going to start unpacking them here and now.
“Has Pete ever proposed marriage to you?” the barrister asks.
“No, but…” I pause. “He knows my views, so he wouldn’t.”
“Or is it that he doesn’t want to commit to you?”
I blink. Strangely enough, it’s a question I’ve never actually asked myself. I’ve always taken Pete, and his commitment to me, for granted. “Being married wouldn’t make us better parents,” I say at last. “Or make our relationship more stable.”
“Have you and Pete been to a relationship counselor in the last two years?” the barrister inquires pleasantly.
I gape at him. How the hell does he know about that? Then I realize. Miles must have had his private investigator nosing around, digging up dirt. “We have, yes,” I say wearily.
“Why was that?”
“Theo’s premature birth was hard on us. We were never in any danger of separating, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Yet the fact is, if you did separate, Pete couldn’t afford to go on being Theo’s carer, could he?”
“We’ve never done the sums, because it’s not going to happen.”
The barrister looks down at his notes. “You travel a lot for work, is that correct?”
“I make television commercials. Mostly they’re filmed in this country. Four or five times a year, I have to go abroad. But never for more than a few days.”
“Have you had affairs during the time you’ve been with Pete?”
For a moment there’s a ringing in my ears and the room seems to shrink. “No.”
“So you’ve never slept with members of the film crew when you were away?”
I freeze. What should I say? Does he already know the answer? Is he trying to trap me in a lie? My mind’s whirring but I can’t decide which is the least bad option.
Anita says, “Madam, my client has already denied having affairs, so the question is redundant. And even if she had, it wouldn’t be relevant to the issue of whether or not she’s a good mother to Theo.”
“My point is that the respondents’ domestic situation is inherently far less stable than the applicants’ is, madam,” the Lamberts’ barrister says meekly.
“And you have made it,” the judge says wryly. “Shall we move on?”
After that, the expected attack on my drinking seems tame by comparison. When I eventually go back to my chair, my cheeks are burning. Pete passes me a note. That was outrageous. Well done.
* * *
—
THERE’S A LONG BACK-AND-FORTH between the lawyers about the European Human Rights Act and whether the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child—“A child has the right to be cared for by his or her parents”—applies here. It’s a vital point, but I’m hardly listening. The barrister’s question is still spinning