The Two Week Wait (15 page)

Lou wants to applaud: he seems such a kindred spirit. Clever old Howie, she thinks.

He continues, ‘I don’t really see myself being just a mere sperm donor – though I know there’s a shortage – that’s too clinical. I’m not that
altruistic, I’m afraid.’

Lou knows she mustn’t seem too eager. If he’s not into the idea with her it could be embarrassing. She ventures, ‘How about if you
could
have a more active role in a
child’s life?’

‘Depends on the situation, who with, where, when . . . ’

‘I understand – it’s a massive decision.’

‘I have googled several times, to see what else is out there.’

‘Really?’

‘Not that I got anywhere much. It seemed too haphazard, doing it that way. Mind you, this is a pretty weird conversation to be having in a car . . . ’ There’s another long
pause. This is when he says no, thinks Lou. ‘I take it you’re asking if I’d like to be a father?’

‘Um, er . . . Yes.’ No sooner has she said it, than she wishes she could back-pedal. ‘Or at least discuss it, if you’d be willing, as a possibility. I’m like you,
in some ways; using the Internet seems a bit clinical, such an unknown quantity. Like dating but worse . . . ’ Shut up, Lou, she thinks. Adam may be online in that capacity himself; as far as
she can remember he’s been single a while. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’ve nothing against meeting people that way; I’ve done it – I just mean imagine if it went wrong
and you ended up tethered to someone dreadful for the rest of your life. That wouldn’t be great for the child either.’

‘Happens to a lot of people.’

‘Yes, I know.’

Lou can hear the engine has stopped.

‘Listen, I could talk to you about this for ages, but I really must go,’ says Adam. Lou’s heart sinks; he is going to turn her down. Of course he is. He barely knows her, and
he may not have liked her that much when they did meet. Maybe she imagined they got on. ‘I’ve been running late all afternoon. I’m so sorry. Though yes, to answer your question, I
would be interested in at least discussing it, though of course I can’t say this quickly if I definitely would go through with it. Why don’t we hook up?’

Inside, Lou dances a jig. ‘That’d be great.’

‘Tell you what. You live in Kemptown, don’t you?’

‘Yes, on Magdalen Street.’

‘I come past your road on my way home from Saltdean. How about we meet for a drink at the Crown tonight, if you’re free?’

‘Ah,
there
you are,’ says Sukey, opening the door. ‘I wondered where on earth you’d got to.’

‘Sorry.’ I said half five, Cath thinks. It’s only ten to six, and when you have to get across London, I call that on time. And a ‘hello’ would be nice. But she
refrains from saying anything.

As Cath follows Sukey down the hall, she recalls Rich’s first impression of her sister-in-law. ‘Blimey, she looks high maintenance,’ he’d said. Given that Rich had merely
glimpsed her going up the stairs, Cath had been impressed. ‘How do you know?’ ‘High-maintenance arse,’ he’d nodded. It’s true: Sukey is always immaculately
made-up and turned out; even after giving birth to twins, she plunged back to a size 10 within weeks as if she were an elastic band. ‘You wait,’ she’d said. ‘Her real talent
is for making you feel you’re always wrong.’ Here they are, barely two sentences exchanged, and Cath is seemingly at fault again.

She enters the kitchen and gasps. Since she was last in Twickenham, Mike and Sukey have had an extension built. It all looks so expensive, so pristine, so well organized that she’s first
impressed, then jealous, then self-critical. While her and Rich’s kitchen is neither small nor Spartan, it is ill planned. Recipe books, spice jars, mismatched crockery, postcards from
friends, houseplants in need of re-potting, olive oil bottles that are too tall for any of the cupboards – their kitchen has evolved, whereas this vast arena has clearly been conceived by an
architect. It shines with polished chrome and white laminate; everything is neatly away, out of sight. If Cath found it hard to imagine children living in the house before (and she did), she now
finds it impossible. She wonders if perhaps Sukey has put out the twins with the recycling by mistake.

‘Have a seat.’ A flick of the wrist conveys that Cath should sit at the breakfast bar, not the main table. ‘I’ll make us some tea. What kind would you like?’ Sukey
opens a cupboard, removes a large wicker basket.

Cath climbs onto a high stool and sees what’s being proffered. There is every manner of fruit and herbal infusion – Sukey is as meticulous about her diet as her home. ‘Just
builders’ is fine.’

‘Ha! You’re so like Mike,’ laughs Sukey.

Cath is usually pleased to be compared with her younger brother, but suspects a backhanded compliment
.
Surely most people drink regular tea, she thinks, and after hours of being poked and
prodded I’ve earned one? She wishes Rich were here to witness the nuances of the encounter, but he’ll get here after his meeting; she’ll have to cope as best she can.

While the kettle boils, Cath notices Sukey doesn’t ask how her day has gone.

‘Where are the children?’ Cath is weary, but has been looking forward to seeing her nephews.

‘Doing their homework. Perhaps it’s best not to interrupt.’ The boys go to a private school with exacting academic standards.

‘And Mike?’

‘Upstairs in his office.’

Before Sukey can prohibit that too, Cath says, ‘I’ll just go and say hello,’ and gets down from her stool to hunt him out. On the way she can’t resist sneaking a peek at
the twins. They’re in the dining room, heads down, focused on their notebooks. Alfie glances up and sees her.

‘Auntie Cath!’ he exclaims.

‘Shh,’ she says, putting a finger to her lips. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’ And she blows him a kiss, even though she knows it’ll make him cringe.

Mike works in a converted loft at the top of the house. She taps on the door and he swivels around in his leather chair.

‘Sis! Hello, sorry, I didn’t hear you arrive – I’d have come down.’

‘It’s OK.’ She plants a kiss atop his receding pate. ‘You busy?’

‘Boring figures; nothing that won’t wait.’ Mike runs his own business, importing wine. He leans back in his chair, folds his arms behind his head. He looks older, thinks Cath,
even though it’s only a few months since she’s seen him. Maybe he’s put on weight. It’s hard to tell: no matter how healthy the menu Sukey urges him to adopt, he remains big
and bear-like. ‘So, how was the hospital?’

‘Clinic.’ Cath wrinkles her nose. ‘Bit of an ordeal, to be honest. I mean, they were perfectly nice, really understanding in fact, but there’s an awful lot for us both to
get our heads round. So many tests. Plus it’s so expensive. It’s nine and a half grand a pop. If you’ll forgive the pun.’

‘Bloody hell.’ Mike lets out a long breath. ‘Isn’t it cheaper up north?’

‘Actually, no. The nearest clinic that offers egg sharing is Newcastle – still a schlep. There’s little between them all cost-wise, but more choice of donors here. The best
alternative would probably be to go abroad, though that’s got drawbacks too. Still, I hadn’t quite realized how much we’ll have to be up and down to London – it’s a
big commitment. We might need to stay again soon, if that’s OK.’

‘Um, I’d need to check with Sukey but—’

‘It’d be a real help. There’s no way we can afford to stay at a hotel each time. Though’ – Cath grins, feeling a swell of optimism – ‘it’ll be
worth it. I know it’s dear, but, well, you’d have paid nine and a half grand for the boys, wouldn’t you?’

‘Of course.’

Cath and Rich think the twins are somewhat spoilt, but there’s no denying Mike and Sukey adore their kids. ‘And at least this way we’re not relying on my crappy old
body.’ Cath gestures at her middle. She can say this to Mike; he’s similarly derisive about his own physique: Rich would protest she’s being hard on herself. ‘We’ll
get nice new eggs from a woman in her twenties or early thirties.’

‘So what happens next?’

‘We have to be synched with our donor.’

‘We . . . ?’

‘Yes, Rich too. We need his sperm, don’t forget. They’ve taken a sample to test it.’

‘Oh yes.’ Mike looks embarrassed. ‘It sounds very complicated.’

‘It’s far more complicated for the woman who’s donating. She has to take these drugs to make her produce lots of eggs, whereas I’ve three weeks of taking pills and one
injection. That’s it.’

‘Long as it works. What are the odds of it not?’

Cath can feel him studying her reaction. She doesn’t want to think about that. ‘I believe it will.’

‘I know other people who’ve been through IVF and they’ve had to have several goes.’

‘But it’s been successful in the end.’

‘Mm, but at nearly ten grand a throw, can you afford to do it more than once?’

‘Nine and a half.’ Cath wishes Mike wouldn’t bring her down. It was one of the reasons that attracted her to Rich initially – he reminded her of her little brother. Not
physically, but when she met Rich she could imagine him being friends with Mike, and that seemed to bode well. Time has proved her right, but she wishes Mike would adopt a different tone.
She’s had her enthusiasm tempered by Rich already; only yesterday her mother was the same. Don’t they understand how much this means to her?

Mike coughs. ‘There is one thing I wanted to, um, say . . . ’ He looks down at the floor, swivels his chair to and fro. The action reminds her of the way he used to scuff his shoes
when he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t as a child.

‘What?’

‘I’m glad we got the chance to talk just you and me, as, well, er . . . I know this is a bit awkward, but . . . ’

‘Yes?’

He coughs again. ‘It might be easier if you didn’t mention it in front of Sukey.’

‘Oh.’ Cath frowns, immediately wary. ‘Why?’

Mike scratches his head, appearing to hunt for the right words. ‘It’s only she seems to have a bit of a thing about it.’ His mouth contorts.

‘About what – my having a baby?’ Cath is shocked, has to lean back against the door frame. She and Sukey don’t get on that well, she knows, though she and Mike have never
admitted this to one another. But Sukey not wanting her to have a child?

‘It’s not your having a baby as such . . . ’

‘So what is it, then?’ Anger mounting, Cath has an urge to go back downstairs and have it out with Sukey there and then. How dare she? When Cath has always been so attentive towards
her children!

‘Hold on a minute—’ Sensing her reaction, Mike gets to his feet. ‘It’s not that simple. It’s the whole egg-sharing issue, you see. She doesn’t agree
with it, um . . . morally. Doesn’t think it’s natural. Or right.’

‘Then I want to talk to her about it.’

Mike shakes his head. ‘I wouldn’t. You don’t know how much I’ve tried, honestly.’

Maybe that’s what’s ageing him – he’s bottling up so much tension. He spends a lot of time smoothing things in the wake of Sukey’s rigidity, Cath has seen it
countless times.

‘Let me chat it through with her, Mike. I can explain the ins and outs so much better than you.’

She turns to go and find her, but he follows, grabs her arm. ‘Really, Cath, it’s best left alone.’ His voice is firm.

‘I don’t want to leave it alone, it matters too much to me.’

‘Do you think I don’t know that?’

‘So all the more reason. You understand, she should too.’

‘Sukey doesn’t work that way – I often have to let things go that I get and she doesn’t.’

How awful, thinks Cath. The desire to defend her brother only makes her more determined. ‘Honestly, I’ll talk her round.’

But Mike steps in front of her, barring the way. ‘Cath, I don’t think you get it: this is a no-go area. Seriously. She’s like a dog with a bone about it.’

‘In what way?’

Finally, he comes out with it. ‘I had to push to make her let you stay.’

Momentarily Cath is speechless. Then she says, ‘But I’m your sister!’

Again he looks at the floor, his shoes; his lips twist. Finally, he admits, ‘She says any baby of yours will be no relative of ours – or the boys’ – and no matter how
hard I try to make her see otherwise, that’s her view.’

‘You’re kidding!’

‘I’m not. You
can
stay here with us – I managed to persuade her that was only reasonable, though I’m not sure it would be next time. I’m really sorry, truly
I am. I didn’t want to tell you, but I guess I had to.’

It seems there’s nothing she can say or do just then, so Cath heads downstairs after her brother, seething.

Forget tea, she thinks. What I need is a stiff drink.

It’s early evening; the Crown is almost empty. Adam is propping up the bar. He waves her over.

‘Lou, how lovely to see you.’ He pecks her on each cheek. He smells of aftershave. It’s not to Lou’s taste, but she can’t have everything.

Discreetly, she takes in his appearance. His face is very round, she thinks, a bit Munchkinish . . . In fact, he’s pretty round all over – he’s got a definite belly on him
– and hmm . . . he’s not that tall. He’s probably only the same height as she is: about five foot six. He may be five foot seven, but no more than that. That really is a bit
short. Though his hair is good. It’s rich auburn, thick and fluffy, not bad for a man of – what? She’d guess he’s forty. And he’s got nice skin too. He’s
unlined, has a healthy glow to him. So he should – he’s a doctor. Not that it always follows.

‘Great to see you, Adam.’ She wonders if he’s assessing her in the same vein.

He steps back and smiles. She can see laughter creasing up his eyes; they’re deep brown, like berries. His expression seems to say
we’re in this together.
He is wearing an
olive-green jacket and cords, his shirt is unbuttoned at the neck. His style reminds her of a geography teacher; she can almost picture him with children already.

‘So, can I get you a drink?’ she asks. His glass is nearly empty. Perhaps he’s not entirely clean-living.

‘I could murder another bitter. I’ve had a heck of a day. But better not, I’m driving. Packet of salt and vinegar crisps would be good, though.’