The Testament of Jessie Lamb (29 page)

In the morning I made myself get up as soon as I heard him moving about. I went into the kitchen and he looked up from the paper with a huge grin on his face. ‘Morning Jesseroon! And how's my nut brown maid?'

I was gobsmacked. I'd forgotten how nice he can be! I looked at his monkey-grin and his standing-on-end hair and had a sudden joyous thought that Mum had told him about going to Scarborough and won him over.

‘Got something to show you!' he said, before I had time to speak. And he lifted up the paper to show me the front page. The headline was
EMBRYO EMBARGO!
I stared at it not knowing what it meant. ‘An end to all this nonsense,' he said, ‘Sanity has prevailed.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘There will be a halt in all embryo implantation. In response to those shenanigans down in Cheshire last week.'

‘But they can't stop Sleeping Beaut–'

‘They can't stop women who get pregnant naturally. Obviously. They're stopping implants.'

‘But there haven't been any implants into women yet.'

‘D'you think Golding's the only one? Now the vaccine's made it possible there'll be clinics poised up and down the country.'

‘So why stop them?'

‘Consent. The current legislation on consent doesn't begin to cover it.'

‘Explain.'

‘OK. Before all this, a stored embryo legally belonged to its biological parents, the ones who asked for it to be created. If it came from donated egg or sperm then the donors also had a say in it. And now there'll be the young surrogate who dies to bear the child, whose parents will feel they also have a stake in it. That's six potential parents for each baby. Common sense dictates the biological parents take precedence. But quite a few of them have up to ten stored embryos. What would they do with ten children? So who decides which ones they keep? And why should the surrogates' families come away with nothing? Some people are saying
none
of these should get them–that the babies are so precious they should be assigned to approved foster-parents.' He laughed and rubbed his hands. ‘Cath was right, it's a minefield. And the
Mothers For Life
squabbles over Sleeping Beauty babies are
as nothing.'
He pushed the paper across the table to me and got up. ‘I'm making a pot of coffee. Want some?'

The whole first three pages was taken up with it. There were pictures of
Mothers For Life
and Embryo Donors. And a grainy picture of a sheep from the animal rights website. There was an aerial photo of the Wettenhall riot. There was a list of bullet points headed
Draft Proposals:

Dad being so happy about it made me fear the worst, but when I read that I realised it wasn't so bad. Why shouldn't my baby's biological parents bring her up? And biological parents would still need a surrogate. Surely they'd be glad to agree to someone a clinic had already vetted? I said that to Dad and he laughed.

‘These are people whose embryos are still frozen because they couldn't decide what to do with them three, six, ten years ago. Now they'll get up to a year longer. I don't think they'll be rushing after volunteers tomorrow!' He took a mug of coffee upstairs to Mum. I read a statement from a
Mothers For Life
spokeswoman, which said they would continue to fight for the rights of surrogates and their families. Dad came back.

‘They'll wait till the last minute because they
can
but also because they'll be hoping for some scientific breakthrough. The longer they wait the more likely that is.'

‘But if there isn't any scientific breakthrough–'

‘Then you can do your volunteering next year,' he said smugly.

I turned on the TV. It was the same. FLAME women were greeting the news happily and talking about how they would organise an egg donation programme for animal implantation research.
Mothers for Life
were organising protests. Scientists were worrying about losing a year, and politicians were talking about taking time to get it right.

The phone rang. It was the clinic asking me to come in for a meeting with Mr Golding that afternoon. It was true, then. The phone rang again–Sal. Going on about how pleased she was, that she couldn't bear it if I threw my life away. She said FLAME were going to focus their attacks on Sleeping Beauty clinics, their aim was to take women out of the research entirely. ‘I couldn't bear it if you got tangled up in any of that stuff,' she said. ‘I want to know you're safe.'

I thanked her and hung up. I checked my lucky nun was in my bag.

When I got to the clinic the FLAME pickets were outside the main doors with their banners.
NO MORE SLEEPING BEAUTIES. NO MORE DEGRADATION OF WOMEN
. One of them came towards me as I went up the steps. She looked embarrassed. ‘Excuse me–'

‘I've only come to see my Dad–he works here.'

‘On Sleeping Beauties?'

‘No. He grows embryos for MDS research. For animals.'

The girl nodded, relieved, and I shoved the revolving door. The security guard grinned and pressed the buzzer. When I was through the double doors I went to the blue outpatients room where we'd had the first meeting for volunteers. Needless to say, Rosa was already there, and the shy girl, Theresa. I nodded at Theresa. I didn't want to look at Rosa and see whatever was on her face. Gloating, I supposed. I could feel I was bright red. Before anyone could speak, Mr Golding and a nurse came in. He was as plump and smiling and dapper as ever, it made me feel happier just to see him. He pulled up a chair and sat next to the three of us. The nurse started her tape recorder.

‘They make life very difficult for me!' he said and smiled ruefully.

‘Have we got to stop?' asked Rosa. I made myself glance at her. She was pretty, with her pale skin and dark hair. Prettier than me, if you didn't mind the strangeness of her eye. But if Baz liked her, why had he pretended to like me?

‘Ah-ha! That's what they like you to think. But we have a secret weapon up the sleeve!' He pulled his chair a bit closer and looked at each of us carefully. ‘What do you think about this news?'

‘It's no good. We'll be too old in a year,' I said. Rosa nodded.

‘And Theresa?' he said kindly. He was wearing a little navy blue bow tie with yellow spots on it, it was comical; underneath his bald head it made him look like an Easter egg.

‘I don't know,' she said. ‘I don't know what to think.'

He reached out and patted her hand. ‘I am not surprised, my dear. Many of us no longer know what to think. Well, I shall tell you what I know and then we decide how to proceed, yes?' He began to talk about the pre-MDS embryos. He made it sound like a fairy story. He said the human race is lost in a dangerous forest. And the frozen embryos are one clear path. There may be other paths that twist and turn through the dark trees, that scale ravines and plunge through rivers and lead eventually to a future. But this is the one mapped path. ‘We know how to look after Sleeping Beauties, and get live births,' he told us. ‘And we know how to vaccinate embryos. You can hear rumours of other cures, miracle drugs, who knows whatnot. But a scientist must look for the answer that adds up in here–' he tapped his shiny head and twinkled at us–‘and my onboard computer tells me this path is the real hope. Every day we delay–' he shrugged–‘it will be harder for these children. There will be so many old, so few young.'

‘But
why
have they said we must wait?' demanded Rosa.

‘What is precious in this world now? Only these embryos. Money cannot help you, land cannot help you, a brilliant mind or the body of an athlete cannot help you. The rich are those who inherit the future. You understand? Survival of the fittest.'

We nodded although to begin with I barely understood.

‘The fittest now are those with frozen embryos. Only their genes survive. Parents of these embryos have power and if we do not yield it to them, they will fight. This is the one instinct without which we
all
die, our race dies–the instinct to safeguard our young.'

I thought of Mum and Dad, and how unhelpful that instinct can be. Dr Humpty Dumpty Golding leaned back in his chair and stretched. Even his shoes were shinier than new. ‘So,' he said. ‘It grieves me to admit but the politicians get it right. We must proceed by due course of law. We hope so much for these children, they do not need to be the bone every dog is trying to seize in his teeth. Now, tell me. You still wish to volunteer?'

‘Yes,' said Rosa and I, together. I glanced at Theresa. She looked as if she was going to cry.

‘Thank you,' he said gravely. ‘Theresa, you must not be anxious. All the world is rushing but you are one person and you can be still.' He smiled at Theresa and she did begin to cry. He patted her hand gently, and took from his breast pocket a folded pale blue handkerchief, which he shook out and gave to her. He asked her if she wanted to stay while he talked to us, and she nodded. ‘I tell you now,' he said. ‘It is possible. We have some embryos with no parents.' He looked at us expectantly, pleased with his riddle. ‘Sometimes in the old days when we carry out a procedure such as hysterectomy, we have asked the patient permission to take her eggs. Those she has not need of. She already has her children, or has embryos stored. Her surplus eggs can be used for benefit of other women. But–but but but! We cannot freeze an egg!' I remembered about not being able to freeze eggs, I'd heard it from Dad before. ‘OK. So we have fine eggs, donated. But how to keep them?'

Neither of us knew.

‘We have to fertilise,' he said. ‘If we fertilise in vitro, the egg is happy, the egg grows. The ovum, the sperm, the zygote, the embryo. All is well and we can freeze.' He looked at us triumphantly and I was glad it was Rosa who asked,

‘How do they get fertilised?'

‘In house. The embryo is anonymous.' I noticed the nurse, who was sitting by the window listening to all this. She had a little smile on her face.

‘What does in house mean?' asked Rosa.

‘Here, at the clinic,' said Mr Golding simply.

Rosa was still looking blank, so he patiently explained it to her. But I remembered Father of Wisdom telling me about his heroes in the early days of IVF. They didn't know how to freeze anything back then, so they always had to use fresh sperm–their own. Rosa finally got it. ‘The egg and sperm donors don't even know they've made an embryo together.'

‘The sperm donors know,' he told her. ‘But they also know these are embryos only for research.'

‘They don't belong to anyone.'

‘Correct.' It was like a heavy door being unlocked. First a crack of sunlight had appeared, then it widened into a wedge, and now a whole radiant doorway swung open before us.

‘Won't you get in trouble?' said Rosa. ‘If everyone's waiting a year? Won't you get in trouble when they find out we're pregnant?'

‘Orphan embryos.' He shrugged. ‘In clinics this is common practice. At Charing Cross Hospital they already prepare first pre-MDS implantations from anonymous donors. My colleagues in Birmingham are also ready. The only ones we displease are the ladies picketing our doorstep.'

‘FLAME doesn't know?' I asked.

He put his finger to his lips and smiled. ‘The lack of named biological parents makes our life more simple,' he said. ‘If you and your parents wish it, they will receive your child. You must discuss with them.'

‘What if I don't wish it?' said Rosa aggressively.

‘There is no shortfall of persons wishing to adopt.'

‘Can I sign something? Giving the baby up for adoption?'

He said she could, then he turned to me. I said I would discuss it with Mum and Dad. I had already imagined them as the parents. Mr Golding pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘So, my dears. Now you have time to digest.' He shook each of our hands very seriously, and then he held the door open. Theresa went out first. I saw that Rosa was hanging back and I waited to see what she had to say. She wasn't going to know more than me.

‘Mr Golding, can I stay here?'

‘Here?'

‘In the clinic.'

‘One moment.' He called to the nurse who was already walking away down the corridor, and asked her to come back into the room with us and restart the tape. I could already guess what Rosa meant and it made my heart race. Mr Golding shut the door. ‘Rosa?' he said.

‘I don't need any time to think. And my date's really soon. If I don't go ahead now then I have to wait another month.'

‘I'm the same,' I chipped in.

He looked from Rosa to me and back again. ‘Can you both come in on Monday?'