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sorry.’ Niall looked contrite. ‘That was uncalled for. I know you could never be accused of being unprofessional. Forgive me?’ He smiled at her, and her heart flipped.

      ‘Anyway,’ Niall said, looking serious again, ‘please remember if you are planning to come into Theatre you can’t wear perfume or make-up. Not even deodorant. Is that clear? We don’t want to risk affecting the embryos in any way.’

      ‘Clear as crystal,’ Robina replied, before turning on her heel and going in search of her team.

      Later, in Theatre, Robina watched from a safe distance while the staff prepared Christine for the transfer.

      The clinic hadn’t stinted on equipment, Robina thought approvingly, taking in the latest high-tech anaesthetic monitor and ultrasound scanner. Niall, dressed as all the staff were, including Robina and John as well as Mr Strain, in blue scrubs, slowly and carefully replaced the embryo into Mrs Strain’s uterus. The procedure didn’t take long, but although Christine joked with Sally, there was an undercurrent of tension in the room. All anyone could do now was wait.

      ‘Patients tell us the next couple of weeks are the worst time of the whole process.’ Sally addressed Robina while looking at Mrs Strain. ‘Up until this point it’s all still possible. They see us regularly, but when they go away from here after the ET—the embryo transfer—there is nothing more they, or we, can do. Whether the embryo implants or not is in the lap of the gods. Patients tell us it’s the longest wait of their lives.’

      Niall half smiled at Christine. ‘I wish we could make this part easier, but we can’t. If you do want to speak to us—if you have any worries at all—you get on the phone. Don’t worry that we’ll think your question is trivial, we’d rather you asked. Okay?’

      Christine nodded.

      ‘We’ll let you rest for half an hour or so, then you’re free to go,’ Sally said. ‘We’ll see you when you come back for your urine test. In the meantime, we’ll all be thinking of you.’

      Once again, Robina marvelled at the way that the staff genuinely seemed to care about every one of their patients. It was as if every pregnancy mattered personally to every member of staff. Niall had managed to gather the best possible team around him. No wonder he was so wrapped up in his work.

      Later that evening, Robina was getting Ella ready for bed. Niall had telephoned to say he would be late as he had a paper to finish but he wanted to say goodnight to Ella. Robina couldn’t help a pang of disappointment. Despite everything that had happened, she still missed him when he wasn’t there and she had been looking forward to discussing the day’s events with him.

      They had come close to talking back in the clinic. Maybe there was still a chance they could start talking again—maybe even find a way back to each other.

      She handed the phone to Ella. ‘It’s Daddy, he wants to speak to you.’

      Robina busied herself setting the table, smiling to herself as she caught Ella’s side of the conversation. ‘I love you too, Daddy, and I’m sending you a big kiss down the phone.’ She puckered her lips and blew down the mouthpiece. She giggled at something Niall said. ‘I got your kiss, Daddy, but what about one for Mummy? She needs one too. Hold on a minute, I’ll get her for you.’ Ella turned to Robina. ‘Here, Mummy, Daddy wants to send you a kiss goodnight.’

      Robina stared at the receiver, horrified. What could she do? She couldn’t very well refuse—what would Ella think? With a thudding heart, she held the phone to her ear.

      ‘Well,’ Niall said dryly, ‘are you going to blow me a kiss?’

      ‘You first, darling,’ Robina replied, forcing her tone to remain light, painfully aware of Ella watching her with delight.

      ‘This is ridiculous,’ Niall replied, his voice echoing his embarrassment down the wire. ‘That daughter of mine is too smart for her own good. Okay—here goes.’ He made a smacking noise. ‘Now your turn—and remember you’ve got an audience.’

      Robina couldn’t help smiling. Niall was right, it was ridiculous, but there was something bitter-sweet about it too. She pursed her lips, emphasising the required smacking sound, playing up to the watching Ella. ‘Mmmmmwhah!’

      They both laughed and for the first time in months Robina felt her sadness ease.

      When she put the phone down, Ella asked, ‘When will Daddy be home?’

      ‘After you’re asleep, darling,’ Robina answered. ‘But he’ll be here when you get up in the morning. We both will, so we can have breakfast together.’

      ‘Then after that can we go ice-skating? Please, Mummy. Sophie went with her mummy and daddy and they had so much fun.’

      Robina kissed the top of her stepdaughter’s curly blonde head. She was so like her father it made her heart ache. But her blonde hair must have come from her mother. The sloe-eyed Mairead. Beautiful, maternal Mairead who had been everything she wasn’t.

      ‘Sure we can, as long as Daddy doesn’t have to work. I know tomorrow is Saturday, but sometimes his patients need him.’

      ‘I need him,’ Ella persisted. ‘He’s my daddy, not theirs.’

      Robina hid a smile. ‘But he’s helping lots of people become mummies and daddies—you understand that, don’t you? People who without his help would never know how wonderful it is to have a lovely little girl like you.’

      ‘I s’pose,’ Ella said, settling herself in the crook of Robina’s arm. ‘But I need some time with my daddy. They can’t have him all the time. Just some of the time.’

      Robina’s heart ached for the little girl. Although their work made enormous demands on both of them, they had to find time to spend with Ella. They had promised her and it was about time they made good on their word. Although Mrs Tobin was great and Ella loved her to bits, it wasn’t the same as having her parents around.

      Robina made up her mind. The documentary would take three months, including the follow-up of patients in nine months’ time. The new season of her show wasn’t due to start for a couple of months. Her last book was selling well, and she had almost finished the proofs of her latest. She would put off starting a new one until after the summer. That way she’d have more time to spend with Ella. Robina sucked in her breath. She couldn’t blame Niall for everything that had gone wrong with their marriage. She had, as he had pointed out, been so immersed in her new career she hadn’t given her new marriage, or Niall, the time and attention it had needed. When things had started to go wrong, had she been too quick to lay the blame at Niall’s feet? One thing was for sure, she couldn’t keep going the way she was with a show and book tours and still have enough time for Ella, let alone her marriage. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered why she hadn’t seen it before.

      ‘Why don’t we ask Daddy whether we can do something next weekend? Just the three of us? We can do anything you like,’ she suggested to Ella.

      ‘Could we really?’ Ella said, looking up at her with achingly familiar blue eyes. ‘Daddy too?’

      ‘Yes, darling,’ Robina promised. ‘Daddy too.’

      But Robina didn’t get the chance to discuss it with Niall that night. She waited up, reading a book on the sofa of her small sitting room. The room was still exactly the way Mairead had left it, all pale walls and deep rugs. Even the overfilled sofas were pale and there was a wood-burning stove for the cool evenings. The only item Robina had brought with her from her old life was an African stool. She stretched out a finger and felt the deep grooves of the intricate carving. Her father had given her the stool when she had graduated. It had belonged to his father, who had been a master wood cutter, and Robina cherished it. Every time she touched it, she thought of the village where her father had been raised in the old African traditions and could almost feel the heat of the sun and hear the undulating voices of the women as they called to each other. How she missed Africa and especially her mother and grandmother.

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