Come on, said Kim. Theres nothing we can do.
Theres your brother, said Bec, and Josie saw Paul carrying Helen Smith on his shoulders, like she was a prize hed won on one of the stalls. She turned full circle, watching the rides and the games and the flags of the big top flying. She wanted to see a flash of a red Liverpool shirt, just to tell her that the orange-haired boy called Dylan was okay, even though, somehow, she knew he wasnt.
Chapter 1
Jo tried to ignore the vibration in her jacket pocket and concentrate on what Dr Kasparian was saying.
the cost of the vitrification starts at three thousand pounds for one harvesting procedure, but there are discounted rates for subsequent treatments.
And would you recommend that?
The doctor well-tanned, athletic, expensive-looking wire-rimmed spectacles spread his hands.
In most cases, the initial hormone boost should allow us to harvest more than one egg. Of course, probability-wise, you are more likely to conceive the more cycles of fertilisation you undertake. He looked at the papers in front of him. Based on your age, any single attempt yields a twenty-two per cent chance of a successful pregnancy.
One in five, said Jo flatly.
A little better that that, replied the doctor.
Not great odds either way. Her phone stopped ringing.
The doctor cocked his head sympathetically and removed his glasses.
Ms Masters, I realise this is a big decision for anyone, whether a woman of twenty years, or someone older. No fertility treatment is foolproof. But I can assure you that here at Bright Futures, we are solely concerned with providing you with the best possible care and outcomes. Our protocols are designed to the highest medical technology standards in the field. Our results reflect that were in the top ten percentile points of success.
So three grand? said Jo. If she got the promotion to Detective Inspector, it wouldnt be a problem. Do the eggs have a best before date?
The doctor smiled. Not in practical terms, no.
And can I pay in instalments?
He looked taken aback. Erm that isnt something we usually do.
Jo stared at him. Told herself not to get flustered. Just be straight.
Right, but can you?
Christ, I sound desperate.
The doctor looked away first. There may be ethical considerations, he said. If we were to freeze your eggs, then subsequently, through no fault of your own, the payments were to fall into default
Is that a no then?
The doctor placed his glasses back on. Perhaps you could excuse me for a moment? Hopefully I can discuss the matter with my colleague.
Jo nodded and watched him stand up and walk out, leaving her alone in the plush room.
She let her gaze travel around the dark wood furniture, clean lines, books neatly stacked. Perfect, sanitised order. She wondered how much a gynaecological consultant earned. Probably a hell of a lot more than a DS for Avon and Somerset Police. There was a single photo frame on the desk, facing partly away. Jo leant forward to look. It showed Dr Kasparian with a man who must be his partner dark-haired, well-groomed facial hair, maybe fifty, but with a carefree face that looked ten years younger and two teenage boys. All hanging off each other on a leather
sofa. They looked perfect too.
Good for them.
The door opened and she sat back in her chair.
Good news, said the doctor. Monthly payments for six months should be fine. Would you like my secretary to start the paperwork, or would you like to go away and think about it? Theres really no rush.
Isnt there? thought Jo. Easy for you to say.
Shed have preferred a year of payments, just to be safe, but she could probably afford it over half a dozen instalments.
Yes, please, she said, and though it galled her to add it, Thank you.
The phone in her pocket was ringing again.
Just leave me alone, Ben. Just for ten fucking minutes.
* * *
The paperwork didnt take long, but the questions got more personal as they went along.
First, the basics. Name (Josephine Masters); address (she gave the rented place in the south of the city; didnt need Ben somehow getting mail about this); DOB (as if she needed reminding); occupation (copper). Then medical history. Clean bill of health, apart from the scare last year; alcohol unit intake (everyone lied, right?); do you smoke (no, but gagging for one right now); last period (the 18th); last instance of sexual intercourse (regrettable); last pregnancy (she paused a moment, wondering whether it was the conception date they wanted, or the date of the miscarriage, then opted for the latter). The secretary tapped deftly at the keyboard with manicured fingers. She was perhaps early twenties, a pretty, natural blonde, combining elegance and amiability in a way Jo could never have managed at that age.
Jo wondered what the young woman thought of her. Did she judge? What did she think of the going-on-forty-year-old sitting opposite, her hair needing a colour, her crows feet obvious, her sensible shoes and middle-of-the-range navy suit? Did she wonder why Jo was here, why she didnt have a partner, if