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James slides his hands into his pockets. “Low. She’s been suffering from postnatal depression, and she’s been unwell. I think that made it difficult for her to bond with Leia.”
“Did she ever talk about harming herself or the baby?” the constable asks gently.
He shakes his head. “But last night… she asked me to go over. She said she was lonely. I was tired, and I’d been with her all over Christmas, and I was going to drive over Friday night, so I hesitated, and she apologized and said not to worry about it. I talked about her coming to live with me again, but she said no, she didn’t want to cramp my style.” His brows draw together. “She talked about the fact that I don’t want kids.” His back stiffens beneath my hand, and I lower it slowly. “She said I needed someone, and that it was no fun being alone. And then she said she loved me.” He swallows hard. “She wasn’t the soppy sort. She rarely said that. It was almost as if…” He stops talking, his chest heaving, then he turns and walks across the boardroom and out of the sliding doors onto the terrace. He runs down the steps, then stops at the bottom and sinks onto the bottom step, his face in his hands.
“Leave him for a minute,” Henry says to nobody in particular.
Alex looks at the sergeant, who purses his lips. “That doesn’t sound good,” Alex says.
“No,” the sergeant replies.
“Do you think she went up to the cliffs to do it?” Tyson asks.
“Possibly not,” the sergeant says. “I’m sure she would have left the baby with someone if that was the case. Asked a friend to look after her or something.”
“James said she didn’t really have any,” I say. “She moved after she found out she was pregnant.”
“Postnatal depression is harsh,” the constable says. “It’s not uncommon for a new mum who’s suffering to have thoughts of harming herself or the baby.”
We all fall quiet as we think about that. God, at least Leia is okay.
“Where’s the baby now?” I ask.
“Social services have taken her to a temporary foster home until everything’s sorted,” the constable says.
“What’s the situation with the father?” the sergeant asks.
“I don’t think he’s on the scene,” Henry says.
I shake my head. “James said he was a lowlife, and Maddie hadn’t seen him since she got pregnant.”
“They weren’t married or living together?”
“I don’t think so,” I say, and Henry agrees.
“What about other family?” the sergeant asks.
“Leia’s grandfather lives in Australia,” Henry says. “He has a large family over there. James and Maddie’s mother died six years ago. She had a couple of brothers—one lives in Auckland, the other in Napier, I believe. James isn’t close to them, but I guess they’ll come to the funeral.”
I look out at James. He’s on the phone now. Maybe he’s calling his father. What a horrible conversation to have.
“What are the legal ramifications?” Alex asks. “James would automatically get custody, right?”
“It’s complicated,” the sergeant says. “He needs to get advice from a lawyer.”
We all exchange a look. He told us only minutes ago that he doesn’t want children. Maybe he won’t want the responsibility of bringing up his niece. So what would that mean, if the father didn’t want her either? Adoption, I guess. There’s nothing wrong with being adopted, and at least she’d eventually get parents who loved her, but awww… the poor baby.
We look toward the terrace. James is still sitting on the bottom step, near the river, his head in his hands.
“Henry,” Alex says, “have you got any brandy in your office?”
Henry nods. “I’ll go and get it.” He goes out.
“Regardless of whether James ends up wanting custody of Leia,” Alex says, “will he be able to take her home tonight?”
The sergeant nods. “At times like this, we always assume that immediate care of a child will pass to the family until guardianship is sorted. The foster mum will bring her into the station, and he can pick her up there.”
Henry comes back in with the bottle of brandy. He pours some into a glass, then goes out and descends the steps to James. He lowers down next to him, and we watch him pass the glass to James.
