Chapter 5: The Petition

Marcello walked into the London family court at five to ten, reading a file as he came.

He had not slept on the plane.

I could tell by the way he held the paper close to his face.

The file was my petition.

He read the name at the top, and he stopped in the aisle.

Hargrove v. Ferraro.

He looked up and found me at the petitioner's table with my barrister beside me.

I did not look away.

His face emptied. For the first time in eight years, I watched Marcello Ferraro have no expression at all.

"Naomi."

He said it quietly, so the judge would not hear.

"This is a mistake."

"Sit down, Mr. Ferraro," my barrister said.

He sat on the respondent's side, alone, with no lawyer beside him.

The judge was a gray-haired woman with half-moon glasses. She read from her papers without hurry.

"Mr. Ferraro, you were served yesterday. You are an attorney. You understand what this is."

"I understand it," Marcello said. His voice was rough.

"The marriage was registered in this city eight years ago. The petitioner states it has broken down beyond repair. Do you agree?"

He did not answer right away.

Behind me, in the gallery, I heard a cardigan rustle.

Lucia had come with me.

She sat in the back row with her handbag in her lap.

Miles was at her house with her housekeeper, building a second model out of cereal boxes.

He had asked if his father would be in the building.

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