“Traditionally, a daughter is named by the mother,” said Mullbrook, “and a son is named by the father. You may choose not to follow such traditions…” His tone said he would much rather we did.
“You didn’t tell me it was my choice,” I said to Blackbird.
“I’m sure I must have mentioned it at some point,” she said, her words jarring to my sensitive ear. “I’m sure I told you that we don’t name our children until they reach six months,” she said. “I possibly neglected to mention who gets to choose the name.”
I gave her a long look.
“I would have told you,” she said. “I’ve been busy.”
I sat down. “So I get to choose? Can I ask around for ideas, or does it have to be done by me alone?”
“You may consult with whomever you choose,” said Mullbrook, “but the final say is yours alone. Perhaps a family name might be nice?” he suggested.
“My Dad’s name is Marcus,” I said.
“I went to bed with a Marcus, once,” said Blackbird. “He had golden hair all the way down to…”
“Maybe not Marcus, then.” I said, giving her a stern look. I tried to figure out whether she was winding me up, but her words at least were true.
“Stephen’s a nice name,” Lesley suggested.
“I’m not keen on Stephen.” I said.
“I think what Lesley was trying to tell you,” said Blackbird, “is that Stephen is Mullbrook’s name.”
“Ah,” I said. “I didn’t mean…”
“No matter,” said Mullbrook. “As I said, the choice is yours, but also the responsibility. You must choose a name that will suit your son, that he will carry with pride and honour, and that he will thank you for in years to come.”
“No pressure, then?” I said. Lesley and Blackbird exchanged a look that was too brief to interpret. “Are you two plotting something?”
Blackbird shook her head innocently, while Lesley shared a smile with Mullbrook.
“I quite fancy something different,” I said, “something distinguished. What about Julius?”
“A fine idea,” said Blackbird. “Then we can call him Julie for short.”
“Are you intending to torpedo every suggestion I make?” I asked her.
“If we don’t call him Julie,” she said, “the other children will.”
“What other children?” I asked her.
Again, there was a look that passed between Lesley and Blackbird. What was going on between these two? “You’re not pregnant again, are you?” I asked Blackbird. She shook her head, but it wasn’t quite a no. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” I asked her.
“I am,” said Lesley.
“You are what?” I asked her.
“Pregnant,” she said.
For a moment my mouth fell open, and then I recovered and kissed her cheek and told her what delightful news that was.
“Dave and I have been keeping it a secret, but as soon as it starts to show, everyone will know, I suppose.”
“Dave?” I said. I felt a kick under the table while Blackbird looked entirely innocent. “He’s a lovely guy,” I said, realising I had strayed into potentially hazardous territory. “I’m delighted for both of you.”
My son stretched out his arms to me, wanting to be part of whatever was happening, and it gave me an excuse to recover myself and lift him from Blackbird, sitting him in my arms where he could see what was going on. “So Lesley was suggesting we might need stewards for the Eighth Court,” I remarked to Mullbrook, “though we’re a little ahead of ourselves perhaps?”
“It often pays to plan ahead,” said Mullbrook. In the periphery of my vision, Lesley was giving me meaningful looks while trying to avoid catching Mullbrook’s eye.
“It’s up to Blackbird, of course,” I said to Mullbrook, “but I wondered if there was anyone you might recommend we should talk to?” I felt another kick on my ankle, but from the opposite direction. In this case I ignored it.
The faintest of smiles crossed Mullbrook’s lips, and vanished so quickly that I wondered if it had been there at all. “Well,” he said, “there are one or two names that come to mind, but you must understand that it would be a great loss to the courts. That kind of person would be very difficult to replace. We might need to go through a long selection and appointment process, and then there would be a handover, and maybe after five or six years…”
“Years?” said Lesley.
“Unless there’s someone who would be willing to take on such duties who happened to be willing — someone I trust implicitly who has both the confidence of the courts and of Blackbird herself?” The smile played across his lips again.
She glanced between Blackbird and Mullbrook. “You’re teasing me,” she said to him.
“In part,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not serious too. It is a big commitment, and you have a baby on the way. You may want to consider whether this is the right time?”
“There’ll never be another chance like this,” she said.
“I find that at my age, Lesley, never is a word I hardly use at all,” he said. “Take some time to consider it carefully. There will be other opportunities in due course, I’m sure, and if you decide that it’s too much to take on at once then that can be accommodated. The important thing is to make the right decision.” He laid his hand over hers and gave her a warm smile and a nod. “There’s no rush.”
“I think I’ve already decided,” she said, glancing between Blackbird and Mullbrook. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, but I didn’t know how to ask.”
“Let’s take that as a statement of intent,” said Blackbird, “and sleep on it. In the morning we will go to Grey’s Court and see what we can see.” She took out a large bronze key and held it up, turning it so that it caught the light in a dull gleam. “If you would like to come with me, Lesley, I would value your thoughts?”
She smiled. “I’d be delighted.”
“I’ll come too,” I said.
“I was thinking you might do a spot of baby-sitting,” said Blackbird. “Spend some quality time with your son?”
“I will spend some time with him,” I said, “but I think it would be a good idea if someone went with you to Grey's Court. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something…”
“We are not in a position to look gift horses in the mouth,” said Blackbird.
“Yes,” I agreed, “but gift horses do have a habit of kicking you just when you least expect it, don’t they?”
“I’m not taking the baby with us,” said Blackbird. “We don’t know what sort of state it’s in. It could be a ruin.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll ask Alex to look after him for a few hours. She’ll be OK with that.”
“Ah, yes,” said Blackbird
“Did I miss something?” I asked.
“She’s actually been very helpful,” said Lesley. “I didn’t even have to ask.”
“There you are then,” I said to Blackbird. The look she gave me said she was sceptical as to whether it would continue.
Alex was quite pleased with herself. It had been surprisingly easy to find out which room was Tate’s. A few offers to help here, a bit of assistance there, and with a little gentle prompting, people would chatter away to you about all sorts of things. It had all been so easy. Now she was approaching his room, she could feel her resolve faltering. This had been a great idea when she’d been back in her own space, but outside his door it was a different matter.
All she had to do was talk to him about it. It was probably accidental — he probably didn’t even know he was doing it. All she had to do was fix things between them, and she would be gone — no hurt, no foul. She could be grown up about it, and she was sure he could too. Even so, she stepped lightly, knowing it would do her no good because he would hear her anyway.
She tapped lightly on the door, her stomach squirming into knots. She mustn’t be tongue-tied. She must be confident, assertive and straight. At the same time she prayed there would be no answer. She tapped again louder. No one answered. OK, if he wasn’t there she couldn’t talk to him. She turned away, but then hesitated. What if it wasn’t accidental? What if he had some charm, or talisman that was doing this to her?