The Last Lie: The must-read new thriller from the Sunday Times bestselling author - Alex Lake

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her face.’

      ‘Yeah, he should. But that doesn’t help me. She was up at five this morning, which meant I was too, ready for another few hours of speculation about why Henry Bryant had broken up with her. What am I going to do?’

      ‘It’ll pass. She’ll get over it.’

      ‘But in the meantime it’s torture.’

      ‘Take her out. Meet some new guys.’

      ‘I’d feel bad inflicting her on them.’

      Claire laughed. ‘Then you’ll just have to get her to move out in a kind and gentle way. Tell her she’s welcome to stay for a while longer but you’re busy at work and you need your space. Don’t do it by text, though.’

      Jodie gave a sardonic laugh. ‘Maybe I should. It might work. Or I’ll tell her I’m going on a business trip and come to stay with you guys.’

      ‘Sure. Do whatever you need.’ Claire checked the time on her phone. ‘Anyway, I have to run. I have a meeting.’

      ‘OK. And thanks for the advice, although I’m not sure I’m much closer to a solution. I feel better for venting though. By the way, I’ve got some good photos of us at the party. I’ll send them over.’

      They hung up and, a few seconds later, Claire’s phone buzzed. Jodie had sent two photos from her birthday party: one of her and Jodie and Alfie standing together and one of Alfie singing the song he’d written, with her dad in the background looking at him in mild disgust.

      Here you go, the message said. Look at your dad! Not sure what he thinks of the song! I’m sure he likes Alfie, but they’re so different. Anyway, thought you’d get a kick out of this.

      Claire laughed and walked towards the office. As she turned on to Haymarket there was a busker singing ‘Father and Son’. She stopped to listen. She’d forgotten about Alfie but the song reminded her where he was. It was a good omen, a sign the appointment was going well. She smiled and reached into her bag for some change. All she had was a twenty-pound note. For a second she hesitated, but then she bent down and threw it into the guitar case. She had to. She had a sudden sense that it was all linked and she couldn’t ignore the fact there was a busker singing a song about a father right at the point Alfie was with Dr Singh. She had to give to receive.

      The busker looked at the note lying among a scattering of coins. He grinned at her.

      ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘And good luck.’

      She turned away and headed up the street, smiling so much it was almost painful.

      This was it. This was the day it all fell into place.

       Alfie

      Dr Singh folded his arms and looked at Alfie. He had a puzzled expression on his face.

      ‘So,’ he said. ‘I have some results. Before we discuss them, I must say I am a little surprised.’

      Alfie had no doubt that he was, but he frowned, then widened his eyes as though he was worried. ‘What kind of surprise?’

      Dr Singh sat back in his chair. ‘Mr Daniels,’ he said. ‘Your sperm count is zero. There are no sperm.’

      Alfie let his mouth drop open. ‘But,’ he stammered, ‘but I took a test. It was OK.’

      ‘I don’t know how. Unless you read it incorrectly. Tell me, did you refrain from sex and masturbation for forty-eight hours before coming here?’

      Alfie nodded. He’d made a big thing of it, telling Claire how hard it was to resist her.

      ‘Then there can be no doubt. You are not producing sperm.’

      ‘I can’t believe it,’ Alfie said. ‘I really can’t believe it.’

      The doctor’s bedside manner could use some work, Alfie thought. He’d just blurted out the news that a man would never be a father. He wasn’t to know Alfie was perfectly aware of that already. For all Dr Singh knew, Alfie’s devastation was genuine.

      ‘I want to discuss something else with you,’ Dr Singh said. ‘There are some other avenues we could explore.’

      ‘Oh?’ Alfie said. ‘Please. Anything.’

      ‘Normally we would do two or three tests to get a good sense of the quality and quantity of sperm being produced over a period of time, but since there are no sperm at all I’m not sure it makes sense.’

      ‘I get it,’ Alfie said. ‘If there are none then I have no chance.’ He looked down, focusing on his fingernails. ‘I can’t believe it’s come to this. It seems so hopeless.’

      ‘Maybe not,’ Dr Singh said. ‘I’d like to do further tests. It’s possible there is a blockage which is stopping the sperm from getting from the testes into the ejaculate. In fact, since there are no sperm at all, I’d like to check for this.’

      ‘How would you do that?’

      ‘We could do an ultrasound as a first step. We can do it now, if you like? We’ll have results right away.’

      Alfie looked at the doctor. He felt a violent hatred for him but he bit it back. He had to stay calm. If he let the doctor do this then it would be obvious he had had a vasectomy. It would be equally obvious he had lied about it. That said, Dr Singh would have to keep quiet – he couldn’t reveal anything to Claire because of confidentiality. Still, it was better not to have anyone know.

      He shook his head. ‘There’s no point,’ he said. ‘I’ll know more about why I have no sperm, but it won’t help.’

      ‘Oh, it will,’ Dr Singh said. ‘It’ll make all the difference in the world.’

      Alfie straightened in his chair. ‘Oh? How so?’

      ‘Because if there is a blockage then that means you may well be producing plenty of healthy sperm. We can then either fix it, and you’ll be able to get pregnant in the traditional fashion, or we can harvest those sperm and use them for IVF, or other such treatments.’

      ‘I’m not sure,’ Alfie said. ‘It might be better to let it be. Accept the situation.’

      Dr Singh frowned. ‘Mr Daniels! This is a very simple procedure and it could change everything. You should at least discuss it with your wife. I’m sure she would be keen to pursue this option.’

      ‘She wouldn’t need to know, would she?’ Alfie said. ‘I mean, you can’t tell her any of this, can you?’

      Dr Singh did not reply for a long time. When he did, his voice was low and guarded. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I can’t.’

      ‘Good. Then I’d like it if you didn’t.’

      ‘May I ask a question, Mr Daniels?’

      Alfie nodded.

      ‘Do you intend to tell your wife that everything is normal with your sperm test?’

      Alfie thought for a moment. ‘Yes, I do. But you can’t say anything.’

      ‘No,’ Dr Singh said. ‘I can’t. But I will have no choice but to stop treating her.’

      Alfie looked at him. That could be a problem. ‘Why?’ he said.

      ‘Because I will know – even though I will say nothing – that the real cause of her not conceiving is your sperm. Knowing that, I cannot continue to act as though the problem might be her, not to mention the ethics of charging for treatment I know will be ineffective.’

      ‘What will you tell her?’

      ‘That an ethical concern has arisen and I can no longer be her doctor.’

      ‘She’ll

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