Bromley, London.
Rebecca held the phone to her ear. This was it, the news she’s been waiting for.
‘Hi there. I’m calling with your results, Rebecca.’ Quentin Alsop said.
‘Yes, go on.’
‘First, I should tell you that the chromosomal abnormalities that affect at least half of the human embryos created for in vitro fertilisation . . .’
What? What was that? Abnormalities!
‘. . . can now be predicted within the second day of development, long before we need to transfer the embryos to your womb.’
‘Sorry, I’m not grasping what you’re saying.’ Rebecca couldn’t disguise the alarm in her voice. She wasn’t able to make sense of the specialist’s words. ‘Will you run that by me again? Is something wrong?’
‘No, no, Rebecca. Just the opposite. The bottom line is that we have four eggs positively fertilised into embryos. Everything looks good. We’ll select the strongest two for transfer on Wednesday. I’ve booked you in for 3 p.m.’ There was a lengthy pause. ‘Is that all right, Rebecca?’
*
Fritz was in Earl’s Court for a three-day exhibition. Rebecca didn’t understand exactly what it was about, having hardly seen him all week. His advertising agency – amalgamating with one of the largest companies in America – kept him at the office far too long.
She recalled a time, after their wedding, when life was full of laughter, dinner parties, and plans. At weekends, they’d take a champagne hamper to a car rally, buff paintwork and polish chrome alongside their fellow enthusiasts. Fritz, manly and proud; she, pretty in flouncy Monsoon dresses and wide-brimmed hats.
‘Let’s make the most of our time alone, before the babies arrive,’ he would say, holding the door of his latest vintage auto open, and bowing slightly. She would primp and flirt and play the part.
Now, when he was home, he paced, hypothesised, phoned, analysed. Over breakfast, he spouted figures and expansion plans. She tried to rustle up interest, but in truth she hardly cared. All she thought about was the small, round Petri dish that contained her eggs and his sperm – their babies – in the clinic, fifteen miles away. It wasn’t what they’d envisioned all those years ago, but the IVF clinic served as a means to an end. They would have their perfect family.
The morning after Fritz returned from Earl’s Court, she asked if he could take a few hours away from the office. He swung around and looked her in the eye, and in a heartbeat of confusion she turned and fiddled with a flower arrangement on the table.
‘No way, darling. This week’s manic. Why? Was there something important?’ he said.
She recognised a glimmer of panic so slight no one else would notice. Fritz could hide his emotions behind a boardroom exterior. Nevertheless, he was astute. He’d guessed she wanted him to attend the clinic with her. Surely he had an obligation to hold her hand while the fertilised eggs were returned to her womb.
She shook her head. ‘No, nothing I can’t deal with,’ she said lightly. She wrapped her arms around him wanting to bind him to her. ‘I love you,’ she whispered.
His shoulders relaxed, confirming her suspicion. ‘I’ve a presentation this afternoon. Their director’s organised dinner to celebrate our new partnership. Sorry, darling. I doubt I’ll be home before ten.’
*
Five days after having her eggs taken, Rebecca found herself back in the IVF waiting room, slightly embarrassed to find it busy. A middle-aged man in white dungarees, up a ladder, fitted what appeared to be a smoke alarm. She caught a curious glance from him. An attractive couple’s body language opposite made it clear they were deeply in love. They sat close, touching hands, peering into each other’s eyes. Rebecca had an urge to explain why she was alone, but what would they care?
The man up the ladder started whistling an Adele tune. Rebecca studied the young couple and guessed this was their first or second visit.
‘That’s done it,’ the workman said, climbing down the ladder and dragging it into the corridor.
The nurse came into the waiting room. ‘We’re ready for you,’ she said to the couple, holding the door open. She nodded at Rebecca. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’
The workman came back for his tool bag. ‘One more to fit, a quick test, then I’m done,’ he said grinning. ‘Nothing to be alarmed about, people.’
The nurse rolled her eyes.
The workman also gave Rebecca a look, one that said, ‘I’m yours whenever you want.’
She turned her back on him and gazed out through the fine lace curtains.
On her own, she thought about her eggs, the cells dividing and multiplying into what would become her baby. Today, they’d place them in her womb. Last time, she’d miscarried six weeks after the transfer, but two years had passed, and science had improved a lot since.
Now she was healthier, fitter. She didn’t smoke or drink alcohol, she jogged, and only ate organic food. She deserved a successful pregnancy.
The nurse returned. ‘Hello, Rebecca. We’re ready for you.’ She smiled. ‘No need to be anxious; the egg transfer’s quite painless.’
Rebecca nodded.
The nurse continued as they walked down the hall together. ‘It’s an exciting day, don’t you think?’
Rebecca nodded again. She hung her clothes in the changing cubicle and put on the blue clinic gown before the nurse helped her onto the examination couch.
The specialist, Alsop, joined them, followed by a nurse. ‘Hello again, Rebecca,’ he said placing a clipboard on top of the screen. ‘This won’t take long. I’m going to transfer the two strongest embryos into your uterus. Do you understand?’
Rebecca said, ‘I’ve had this done before.’
‘So you know the procedure. Draw your heels up, and let your knees fall apart—’
Before he could say any more, a screeching fire alarm went off. Rebecca abandoned her position. A nurse stuck her head into the room. ‘Don’t panic, it’s just a test,’ she yelled. ‘There’s no fire. Sorry.’
Alsop stared at the door. ‘What the hell’s going on?!’ When the racket stopped, he regained his composure. ‘I do apologise, Rebecca. It’s a simple fire drill.’
‘No need. I saw the worker fitting an alarm when I arrived.’
The door opened again and the embryologist entered, a beautiful woman with coffee skin and raven hair. The nurse, pushing a trolley, followed. They appeared flustered, no doubt startled by the alarm. The embryologist smiled at Rebecca and nodded at the specialist.
Alsop took a breath and said, ‘Let’s get on then, shall we? Sorry about this contraption, Rebecca. It always feels cold. Try and relax.’
She concentrated on her breathing and hardly flinched when the stainless steel entered her. She imagined Fritz holding her hand.
‘Very good,’ the specialist said. ‘Now this may be a little uncomfortable, I’m going to stretch your vagina until I can see your cervix, the neck of your womb. If you experience any serious discomfort, tell me.’
‘Okay.’
The nurse took her hand and Rebecca realised she was clenching her fist. ‘Relax. You’re doing fine,’ the nurse said.
‘Enough!’ Rebecca cried, wondering if he intended to use a forklift truck to deliver the embryos.
‘Perfect,’ Alsop said. ‘Now the part you’ve been waiting for, Rebecca: you are about to get pregnant. This won’t take a moment and, once again, if you feel any discomfort, let me know.’ He glanced at the monitor. ‘We have the most up-to-date ultrasound here. You’ll be able to observe exactly what’s going on.’ The nurse smeared gel on Rebecca’s belly and slid the rectangular sensor back and forth.
Rebecca saw a speckled picture of her womb, a light triangle on the dark screen.
‘Now, here we go,’ the specialist said. ‘I’m inserting a very fine catheter, with your eggs held at the end, into your uterus . . . there, see?’
Rebecca watched the thin white line with a dot on the end move towards the centre of the screen.
‘I’m about to manoeuvre them into position.’ He squinted at the monitor. ‘There we are, perfect.’
Rebecca glanced at the specialist; his eyes sparkled. She twisted her neck and stared at the monitor again.
‘Now, here’s an amazing fact,’ he said. ‘Let’s zoom in. I want you to watch the screen very carefully. When I let the embryos go, you’ll notice a minute, but very distinct, flash come from the eggs.’ She heard the excitement in his voice. ‘So you see, Rebecca, sparks really do fly when a miracle happens.’
And then she saw it. The tiniest flash.