Douglas Kennedy - A Special Relationship

But it is another, more pressing matter that compels me to write you. I am troubled by the fact that, as Jack's mother, I have been deliberately kept in the dark as to who is looking after him, whether he is being properly cared for, and if he is getting the proper maternal attention that an infant needs.

There are also questions about his upbringing - no matter what the final custody arrangements turn out to be - which we must decide together.

That is what I want to most emphasize now - the fact that, despite the desperate anguish I feel by being unfairly separated from my son, and despite my anger at your terrible betrayal - my primary concern is Jack's welfare and his future happiness. For this reason, I am willing to put aside my anguish to sit down with you for the first of what must be an ongoing series of conversations about our son and his future. For his sake, we should put all our animosities to one side and talk.

I look forward to hearing from you shortly, proposing a time and place when we should meet.

Yours

'My, you are clever', Julia said after I showed her the final draft.

'You can thank Mr Clapp for that. He made me write three different drafts before he was happy with the letter'.

'Are you serious? Mr Clapp - the original Mr Tentative - actually edited you?'

'Not only that - but he kept emailing me back with assorted suggestions as to how we could push the knife in deeper... though, of course, he would never be so crude as to suggest that we were attempting to trip up my estranged husband, even though that was precisely the object of this exercise'.

'Well, I must say that it is a most cunning letter. Because it points up your victimization without falling into self-pity. At the same time, it sticks it to him about two-timing you, and also raises all sorts of questions about his real motivations behind all this. And you then show tremendous graciousness about putting your anger to one side in order to do what's best for your son...'

Three days later, I received a letter from Tony.

Dear Sally

Considering the threats you made against the life of our son - and considering your complete lack of maternal interest in him following his birth - I find it rather extraordinary that you write me now, speaking about how I betrayed you. Especially when it is you who so betrayed an innocent baby.

As to your accusation that I was betraying you while pregnant, you should know that Diane Dexter has been a close friend of mine for years. And I turned to her as a friend for support when your mental health began to decline during your pregnancy. Our friendship only turned into something else after your breakdown and your irresponsible, endangering behaviour against our son.

She could not be a better surrogate mother to my son - and has provided Jack the safe, calm environment he needs in these early days of his life. I am most certainly aware of the fact that you - as Jack's mother - should have an important input into decisions about his future. But until I am certain that you are no longer a danger to him, I cannot sit down with you to 'talk things out'. I do hope that you are on the road to mental recovery - and have begun to face up to your injurious behaviour against our son. Do understand: I hold no grudge against you whatsoever. And I only wish you the best for the future.

Yours sincerely

Tony

c.c. Jessica Law, Wandsworth DHSS.

The letter shook in my hands as I read it. I immediately faxed a copy to Nigel Clapp, and then knocked on Julia's door. She offered coffee and commiseration.

'You know a lawyer worked with him on this', she said.

'Just like my letter'.

'Only yours was, at least, in your own voice. This missive... it sounds downright Victorian in places. "Your injurious behaviour against our son." Who uses language like that nowadays?'

'It's certainly not Tony's prose style - which is tight and clipped. And he never goes in for touchy-feely stuff, like: "I hold no ill will against you whatsoever. And I only wish you the best for the future." He holds complete ill will against me, and hopes I'll walk under a bus at the earliest possible convenience'.

'It's a divorce. And in a divorce, it always turns ugly. Especially when the stakes are so high'.

Late that afternoon, Mr Clapp rang me.

'Uhm... about your husband's letter...'

'It has me worried', I said.

'Oh, really?'

'Because it's allowed that bastard to refute everything I said in the first letter. And because it also allowed him to put on the record his contention that she "saved" my son... which besides being a total lie is also totally offensive'.

'I could see how... uhm... you might be upset by such a comment. But as regards the damage the letter might do... it's what I expected'.

'Seriously?'

'Oh yes, I am being quite serious. It's what I expected and wanted'.

'You wanted this sort of reply?'

'Uh, yes'.

Then there was another of his signature pauses, hinting that he wanted to move on to another topic of conversation.

'May I ask you if you've had any further success finding work?'

'I've been trying, but I just don't seem to be having much luck'.

'I spoke with Dr Rodale, your... uhm...'

He cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to say the embarrassing word. So I helped him out.

'Psychiatrist'.

'Yes, your psychiatrist. She told me that she will write a report, stating that, in light of your... uhm...'

'Depression'.

'Yes, your depression, she considers you still unfit for full-time employment. That will, at the very least, cover us in case your husband's barrister raises the issue of your lack of work at the hearing. But if you could find some sort of job, it would reflect favourably on your recovery from the... uhm...'

'Depression'.

'That's the word'.

A couple of days later, I received a phone call from Julia. She explained that she was in the office of an editor friend. I'd mentioned to her in one of our early chats that I had spent my summer holidays during college working as a proofreader at a Boston publishing house.

'And when my editor friend here said he urgently needed a proofreader for a big job - and his two usual proofreaders were otherwise engaged - I immediately thought of you. If, that is, you're interested...'

'Oh, I'm interested...'

The next day, I took the tube to Kensington High Street and spent an hour in the office of an editor named Stanley Shaw - a thin, quiet, rather courtly man in his mid-fifties. He worked in the non-fiction division of a major publisher and largely handled big reference volumes, including their 'Guide to Classical CDs', which was published every other year and was a vast doorstopping paperback of some fifteen hundred pages.

'Are you at all knowledgeable about classical music?' he asked me.

'I can tell the difference between Mozart and Mahler', I said.

'Well, that's a start', he said with a smile, then quizzed me about my proofreading background - and whether I could adjust to Anglicisms, and technical musical terminology, and an extensive number of abbreviations that were a component part of the guide. I assured him that I was a fast learner.

'That's good - because we're going to need the entire guide proofread within the next two months. It is going to be technically demanding - as it is a critical compendium of the best recordings available of works by just about every major and minor composer imaginable. Put baldly, it's a huge job - and, to be honest about it, not one which I would hand over to someone who's been out-of-practice as a proofreader as long as you have been. But I am desperate - and if Julia Frank believes you can do it, then I believe you can. That is, if you believe you can do it, and can have it all to me within two months'.