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best option for treating polycystic ovary syndrome when all other factors have been ruled out.’

      Veronique crossed and uncrossed her legs. ‘About the other option you mentioned…’

      ‘What does Guillaume think?’

      ‘We’re not together any longer.’

      ‘I’m sorry.’ Mingxia removed her glasses and closed the file. ‘I can’t pretend that it would be easy, but I can certainly put you in touch with someone who would be able to give you a better idea of how it all works.’

      ‘And what about my past?’

      ‘What about your past?’

      ‘Does it put me at a disadvantage?’

      ‘I’ve told you before, I’m not qualified in this area, but a person’s background should have no legal basis on which you could be disqualified from applying. If anything I would think it would put you at an advantage, being able to identify with a child about the care system, explaining how you overcame the difficulties of your upbringing.’

      ‘Meaning I’d have to go and see a shrink.’ Another person asking questions Veronique herself didn’t know the answers to.

      ‘A psychological assessment is a legal requirement, yes. But this is the same for everyone.’

      How could she teach a child to dream? To wish, to aim for the stars when she herself had never had someone to show her the endless opportunities life had to offer? If only you were willing to take a chance, to risk it all, safe in the knowledge that there would be someone to catch you if you fell.

      ‘I don’t know how to be a mother.’

      Mingxia reached across the table for Veronique’s hand. ‘Does anyone? Mine pushed me as far as she could. Wanted to prove that her own upbringing wouldn’t restrict the ambitions she had for me.’

      ‘She loved you.’

      ‘Yes, but as a child I wanted bedtime stories and fairy cakes we’d baked together rather than another teacher. It means that one day I will be different with my own children, because I choose to show them how much I love them. You have that choice too.’ Mingxia looked at the clock on the wall behind Veronique’s head. ‘I’m sorry, but I have a meeting to get to.’

      ‘I know, I was late. I’m not usually late.’

      Mingxia stood and pulled Veronique in for a hug. ‘Don’t be a stranger, Veronique. Just because I’m your doctor doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends.’

      ‘Thank you, Mingxia.’

      She released Veronique, eyes flitting over her scar. ‘Think about what I said before. If you let me carry out the procedure there’s no medical reason why you couldn’t conceive naturally.’

      ***

      The sound of an approaching tram followed Veronique as she crossed the road, sparks catching on overhead cables stretching the length of the boulevard as it sped towards the city.

      Christophe was leaning with one foot propped against the railings, all skinny jeans and lurid red high-tops. He held out his arm and she tucked herself safely underneath as they made their way into the park.

      ‘Remind you of anyone?’ Christophe pointed to a child sat astride the top of a climbing frame, shouting down to others in the sandpit below.

      ‘You were always too busy burying dolls in the sand and then digging them back up again, saying you were an angel taking them to heaven.’

      ‘And you were too busy picking fights with the older kids to help me.’

      ‘No doubt due to my elevated levels of testosterone.’

      ‘Some would argue I don’t have enough, which is why we make the perfect couple.’ He planted a kiss on her head.

      ‘Do you know…’ Veronique looked up at him ‘…most people probably think we are a couple.’

      ‘If I were ever interested in a woman it would be you, ma Chérie. But you’re avoiding the subject.’

      Veronique kicked away a stone. ‘Not much to say.’

      ‘I take it the lovely Mingxia didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear?’

      ‘I don’t know what I want. That’s half the problem.’

      ‘The other half being a certain police captain I’m not supposed to talk about?’

      Veronique pulled away from him. ‘No, it’s not that. I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own if necessary, but…’

      ‘But?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ She trailed her hand along the railing surrounding the playground. A railing she used to walk along, arms wide to the sky. ‘It’s this place, it holds too many memories.’

      ‘Not all of them bad.’ Christophe took her hand, leading her in the direction of the lake beyond the trees. ‘We had our fair share of awesome times, did we not?’

      ‘Yes and for that I will be forever grateful, but it affected us, both of us, perhaps in ways we still don’t understand.’

      ‘That bastard should pay for what he did to you.’

      ‘I know.’ Veronique gave his hand a squeeze. ‘But even he doesn’t have the balls to come back and I can’t keep using him as an excuse.’

      ‘Excuse for what?’

      ‘Everything? Nothing at all? How else do you explain my situation?’ She stretched her hand out, allowing a child on a scooter to pass underneath their arms.

      ‘I thought you liked being by yourself?’ Christophe twirled her back against him, draping his arm over her shoulder. ‘Wasn’t that part of the reason you left Guillaume?’

      Even she didn’t know the real reason. He asked her why she wouldn’t let him in, refused to share her life with him. But she had never dared to show anyone the real her, the one who lurked in the shadows of her mind, who wanted to rip and tear and bring pain to those who did her wrong. How could he ever understand that part of her, forgive her for what she had done?

      ‘I guess you get to a certain age and questions begin to surface.’

      ‘Certain age? Now you’re making me feel old.’ He banged his hip against hers. ‘You’re not even thirty-five!’

      ‘Medicine doesn’t lie. Past thirty the chances of conceiving fall off considerably. Add to that the PCOS…’

      ‘I understand the medical odds, but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen.’

      ‘And who’s to say I even want it to happen or that it should happen? I mean, I’d hardly consider myself ideal mother material. Which way?’

      Christophe pointed towards a wooden bridge at the edge of the lake. ‘Define ideal? Neither of us even had a mother and we’ve turned out all right. More than all right I’d say.’

      Veronique knew very little about her mother. She was barely out of her teens when she had given birth to Veronique, after which it was as if she had disappeared altogether, which in Veronique’s experience meant she had a very good reason to stay hidden. Why her mother ran in the first place, chose to abandon her child the very moment she was born, Veronique didn’t think she would ever know.

      As for her father, he was a ghost, no name on her birth certificate, no clue as to where she came from. It was the complete lack of information that frustrated her more than anything else. Was her impulsiveness, her mistrust of everyone around her, due to circumstance or genetics? Would she still rebel, rock the system and disobey all the rules if she had been raised in a safe, loving household, or was it inherent in her DNA to be an outsider, indifferent to the status quo?

      ‘Everyone deserves the best possible start

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