As a child, Madeleine was tough on her step-mum. Now she’s one herself

The close bond between barrister Peter Gray, 70, and his novelist daughter Madeleine Gray, 30, has been challenged over the years. But a mutual love of the silly has always got them through.

Peter and Madeleine Gray: “When I told Maddy, in 2002, that [I was remarrying], she was miffed … I appealed to her sense of fairness,” Peter says. Credit: James Brickwood

Madeleine: My parents separated in 1999 when I was five, and I lived five days with Mum, then five days with Dad. He’d get me dressed, take me to school, pick me up from swimming lessons – always with a brownie – and we’d watch The Simpsons. When I was seven, he introduced me to his new girlfriend, Helen. I liked her at first because she was fun and glamorous, but when Dad told me they were getting married, I was jealous. I whinged, said bitchy things to Helen and became clingy with Dad, but he was always very measured. At their wedding [in November 2002] when the celebrant said, “Does anyone object?” I said quietly, “I do.” Now, of course, Helly and I are very close.

Dad absolutely believed that one day I’d feel better, which made me believe it, too.

Madeleine Gray

I was bullied in high school, became very depressed and developed an eating disorder. And, at 15, I moved in with Dad and Helen full-time. He encouraged me to eat by giving me food he knew I could manage: muesli, yoghurt, fruit, salads. He knew to work with me, not against me.

When you’re a teenager dealing with depression and anorexia, you need to be reminded that there’s laughter in the world – and Dad encouraged silliness. We’d watch [the UK TV sitcom] Black Books, sing Roy Orbison songs at the top of our lungs while drying the dishes and spend whole days talking in an Irish accent – Dad’s family is Irish. He absolutely believed that one day I’d feel better, which made me believe it, too.

In 2010, at the beginning of year 11, I came home from school distraught. It was a new school year but nothing had changed: I was still being ignored by my classmates and knew I couldn’t take two more years of the loneliness. By the following Monday, Dad had enrolled me at St Vincent’s [College, Sydney]. I started making friends and, with his help – he’d read my essays – started doing well at school for the first time.

I came out at 18. I brought my girlfriend home from uni for Christmas, telling Dad she was just a friend, but my cousins knew we were dating, so I thought, “I may as well kiss her.” Dad said nothing. When I asked him a week later if he wanted to discuss it, he said, “Only if you want to talk about it.” It was a non-issue.

In 2021-22, Dad was Senior Counsel Assisting in the NSW Special Commission of Inquiry into LGBTIQ hate crimes; it was very special for me to see him working with trans and non-binary people. It’s rare for me to meet a straight man who educates himself about issues that don’t strictly pertain to him. One of the many reasons I admire Dad is because he shows that straight men can be good and kind and just and politically engaged in struggles not their own.

When I was a kid, if I had to make myself cry, I’d think about Dad dying; it still works. I know it will happen one day. I just want to hang out with him as much as I can so I never feel that I wish we’d done more together.

“When you’re a teenager dealing with depression and anorexia, you need to be reminded that there’s laughter in the world – and Dad encouraged silliness,” Madeleine says.Credit: James Brickwood

Peter: Maddy was a lively child, inquisitive and a lot of fun. I loved having her live with me after my marriage broke up, and we became very close. Then I met Helen. When I told Maddy, in 2002, that we were getting married, she was miffed and pretty tough on Helen for a while; she was hurt that our special relationship was going to change. I appealed to her sense of fairness, saying, “I’m surprised you have these reservations because you know Helen is a beautiful person.” After a couple of years, it was fine.

When she developed the eating disorder at 14, I felt very protective of her and did my best to help. Eventually, she changed schools and was much happier. She took off like a rocket academically and it was exhilarating to watch.

In 2012, when she told me she was queer, I was taken by surprise – I hadn’t considered her sexuality – and then I just thought, “Great”, because it was clear to me that she was happy. Later, when I did the special commission of inquiry, having Maddy in my life made me better attuned to the prejudices faced by LGBTIQ people. I was increasingly struck by how much it meant to her that I was doing this work.

We rarely argue, but if there’s tension between us, it’s inevitably defused by one of us being silly.

Peter Gray

Maddy is highly imaginative. If she gives you a birthday present, it won’t matter as much as the card she makes, which is always a little work of art. Alongside the heartfelt sentiments, there’ll be a note in a different key along the lines of, “You need to chill out about the dishwasher-stacking.”

I’m delighted and proud that she’s such a great stepmum to her partner Bertie’s four-year-old; she talks to him, plays games with him, reads to him. I’m also touched by the fact that, having been a stepchild who was once tough on her stepmother, she’s now acutely aware of what a tough gig it is.

Maddy’s highly principled. When she was working at a bookshop in Sydney’s Newtown, the staff were being underpaid and she was one of the instigators of a successful campaign to change that. It was brave of her because it was something that would really only benefit future staff, as she wasn’t there for long. Sometimes her principles can lead to inflexibility, though; you wouldn’t get far, for example, arguing that patriarchy has its good points!

We rarely argue, but if there’s tension between us, it’s inevitably defused by one of us being silly. We find the same things weirdly hilarious. When she was 12, I took the family to India and we went on a camel safari for a few days. She thought riding a camel was the worst punishment that could be inflicted on someone, whereas I found the camel’s nautical gait quite therapeutic. There were some sardonic exchanges about what a terrific time we were having.

Being a father is the best thing I’ve ever done; it yields unimaginable rewards. I’m enormously proud of the person Maddy has become. Our relationship is loving and based on deep trust; it’s as solid as eternity.

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