“A choice you wouldn’t have made had circumstances been different. Don’t go easy on the hospital, Jane. The more you cost them, the more likely they are to change.”

She’s magnificent, I realize. Strange how you can think you know someone, and not really know them at all. In the Still Hope offices, sharing a desk, I’d seen a funny, lively woman with an easy laugh and a penchant for office gossip. Here in this dingy meeting room, I see a seasoned warrior, evading the hospital managers’ parries with practiced ease.

“It sounds to me,” she says now, “as if you’re trying to morally blackmail Ms. Cavendish by telling her that other babies will die if she pursues her case. Duly noted. But a more responsible position would be to increase staffing levels, not reduce them, at least until the outcome of the SUI review is clear.”

The faces opposite look at us stonily.

Finally, Dr. Gifford speaks. “Ms. Cavendish…Jane. I just want to say, first, that I am truly sorry for your loss. And second, I want to apologize for the mistakes that were made. Opportunities to intervene were missed. I can’t tell you whether Isabel would be alive today if we’d spotted the problems sooner. But she would certainly have had a better chance.” He’s speaking to the surface of the table, choosing his words, but now he looks up and meets my gaze. His eyes are bloodshot with fatigue. “I was the senior doctor on call. I take full responsibility.”

There is a long silence. Derek the administrator makes a face and throws his hands up in the air, as if to say, Now we’re screwed. It’s Linda who says carefully, “Well, I think we’ll all want a period of time to reflect on that. As well as on all the other good points that have been made today.”

—

“It was harrowing,” I tell Edward later. “But not in the way I’d expected. I suddenly realized that if I go ahead with this, I’m going to destroy a man’s career. When what happened isn’t remotely his fault. I think he’s a genuinely nice person.”

“Perhaps if he wasn’t so nice, and his staff were more frightened of him, the midwife would have double-checked the scan in the first place.”

“I can hardly destroy him for being a kind boss.”

“Why not? If he’s a mediocrity, he deserves it.”

I know, of course, that to create buildings as perfect as Edward’s requires a certain ruthlessness. He’s told me how he once battled the planning authorities for six months to avoid putting a smoke alarm on a kitchen ceiling. The planning officer had a nervous breakdown, and Edward got away with no alarm. But I suppose I’ve never liked to think about that side of him.

Unbidden, I hear Carol Younson’s voice. All the traits of the narcissistic sociopath…

“Tell me about Tessa,” Edward suggests, pouring himself some wine. He never fills the glass more than half full, I’ve noticed. He offers me some, but I shake my head.

“She sounds passionate,” he comments when I’ve finished my verbal portrait.

“She is. That is, she takes no shit from anybody. But she has a sense of humor too.”

“And what does she think about your Dr. Gifford?”

“She thinks his speech was scripted,” I admit. It’s the difference between responsibility and liability, Jane, she’d told me afterward, over biscuits and lattes in Starbucks. Between one doctor’s mistake and an organization’s institutional failures. They’ll do anything they can to keep the hospital management out of it.

“So now you have to decide whether you want your dead daughter to become part of this woman’s personal crusade,” Edward says thoughtfully.

I look at him, surprised. “You think I should drop it?”

“Well, it’s your decision, of course. But your friend certainly seems intent on fighting this battle at any cost.”

I consider. It’s true—I’m fairly sure that in Tessa I have made a friend. I enjoy her company, but most of all I admire her toughness. I want her to like me back and, of course, if I were to withdraw from the case I might forfeit that.

Separating Emma from her friends and family…

“You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” I say.

“Of course not,” he says easily. “I just want you to be happy, that’s all. Incidentally, I’m going to change this sofa.”

“Why?” The sofa is beautiful: a long, low expanse of heavy cream linen.