only correct responses to a problem like ours. But I could see Miles’s point, and in any case pitching it as an update to my successful mental health article made it easier to place. The Daily Mail picked it up immediately, although they couldn’t say when they’d run it. When the sub who was fact-checking it emailed me back with some queries, I saw they’d added a headline: TWO YEARS AGO, A BOTCHED BIRTH LEFT MY WIFE PSYCHOTIC. NOW A DNA TEST REVEALS: IT ISN’T EVEN OUR BABY.
I went to see a solicitor at the medical malpractice firm Miles was using, at their gleaming office with a view over Tower Bridge. I’d had a vague idea that no-win no-fee lawyers were all hustlers, but Justin Watts was bright and personable and charming, clearly a product of the kind of expensive private school Miles would have liked Theo to attend.
He made me go through the whole story again. “Well,” he said when I was done, “as actions go, this one seems pretty straightforward—legally speaking, that is. I’ll get a letter of claim off and we’ll see what they come back with. Presumably you’re aware that St. Alexander’s has had its NICU downgraded to Level Two?”
I hadn’t been. “Why? What happened?”
“Their mortality rate last year was nearly two percent higher than the national average. That might sound small, but it equates to a jump from four deaths a year to nine. Something’s not right over there, so Level Three services have been transferred to Guy’s while an investigation’s carried out. It’s good news for you, though. The trust will be hoping they can reopen as a Level Three as quickly as possible, so the last thing they’ll want is you kicking up a stink. This has quick settlement written all over it.” He tapped my article, lying on his desk. “But hold off getting this published for now, yes? The hospital might well prefer to keep the whole episode quiet, in which case this is only useful leverage until you actually run it.”
I nodded. It would annoy the Mail to be told they couldn’t print the piece yet, but every editor is used to being told that articles are sub judice. “And I really don’t have to pay you anything?”
“Well, there’ll be some expenses that’ll need to be covered as they arise. But once we enter into the Conditional Fee Arrangement, you won’t pay for my time unless we win. At that point, we’ll charge our fees in full plus a success fee, both of which will get settled by the other side as costs. They’ll have to pay back your expenses, too.”
“And if we lose?”
“If we lose, in theory the boot’s on the other foot and you have to pay their costs. In practice, you’ll take out what’s called after-the-event insurance to cover that possibility. And you can add the insurance premium to the costs the other side has to pay if you win.”
It all sounded too good to be true. I had to remind myself that this was how things worked, that it was someone else’s fault we were in this situation in the first place. “And do you know…” I hesitated. It seemed poor taste to ask How much, but Justin was ahead of me.
“We’ll ask for two million. I doubt we’ll get quite that much, but it’s good to start high. Of course, that’s nothing to what the Lamberts will be asking for.”
“Why’s that?” I’d assumed we’d get roughly the same.
“Because of David’s disabilities. Maddie was told by the doctor who performed her cesarean that her baby might have been starved of oxygen—correct?”
I nodded.
“And later, when you sent her that picture from the NICU, it was of Theo being treated for possible oxygen starvation with a cooling blanket. But, assuming the babies had already been swapped by then, it was the wrong baby who was being cooled. The Lamberts can make a good case that David’s problems were exacerbated by negligence—and with those like him now living longer and costing more, the payout could potentially be in the very high tens of millions.”
* * *
—
MY SECOND MEETING THAT day was with our local vicar, to talk about the christening. The Reverend Sheila Lewis lived in a tiny modern rectory next to the church, a complete contrast with Justin Watts’s sleek office. As it was the afternoon, I had Theo with me, but for once he was on his best behavior, happily playing on the floor with