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another woman, fertilise them with your sperm, Luke, and then place one of the embryos back in you, Patricia.’

      Patricia glanced at her husband and then back at Niall. ‘But it wouldn’t be my baby.’

      ‘Not genetically, no. It would, of course, have half of Luke’s genes, but, no, none of yours. The positive thing about using donor eggs is that the chances of achieving and maintaining a pregnancy are the same as if you were the donor’s age. And since we don’t accept donors over thirty-five, there is a greater than fifty per cent chance of you falling pregnant on your first cycle.’

      ‘I don’t know,’ Patricia said slowly. ‘It’s all so much to take in. I never imagined for one moment that I wasn’t going to be able to have children of my own. I guess I knew it wouldn’t happen naturally, but I wasn’t prepared to find out that it wouldn’t happen at all except with another woman’s eggs.’

      ‘I don’t expect you to make a decision right away,’ Niall said. ‘In fact, I would actively encourage you to have a long hard think about it. As I said, it’s not for everyone. But if you think it is something you might consider, I suggest you put your name on our waiting list. I’m afraid it’s about a year’s wait at the moment.’

      ‘A year! As long as that?’ Patricia’s face fell. Then she looked curious. ‘Do these women sell their eggs? Is that how it works? Maybe if we paid someone more…’

      Niall shook his head. ‘I’m afraid that’s illegal. There is no money involved. The women either donate their eggs because they have had their families and want to help someone else achieve their dream, or they are women who donate a proportion of their eggs in order to help fund their treatment. There are very strict regulations around all of this. No clinic in the country can try and get around them without running the risk of losing its licence. The regulations are there to prevent women, who are often pretty desperate, from exploiting or being exploited.’

      Robina was conscious of leaning forward in her chair. Of course she knew that couples could use donated eggs or donated sperm, she had written about it in her book after all, but that had been before…before she had known that there was every possibility she had joined their ranks. Listening to Niall talk to the couple was almost as if he was talking to her.

      ‘There is one other option, and I am not necessarily recommending it either, but I think you have the right to know. There are other clinics, overseas, that have more donated eggs than we do in this country. Not all of these clinics are above board, but there is one which I’d be happy to refer you to, if you want. You need to think about it. Speak to the nursing staff who will be able to put you in touch with others who are going through the same thing. Most people find that it helps. Then, if you think you may want to go forward, make an appointment to chat things over with the counsellor. She’ll help you decide whether it’s the right thing for you.’

      After answering several other questions from the shaken couple, Niall showed them out to where one of the nurses was waiting to talk to them.

      By the time he returned, Robina had managed to get her trembling hands under control. How on earth was she going to manage another couple of months of this? When every patient’s story left her feeling like a wrung-out rag. But over the last couple of weeks Robina had known that something was shifting inside her. Seeing the way couples were able to deal with their grief and move on with their lives—together—was planting the tiniest seed of optimism inside her. Maybe, in time, she too could come to terms with her loss. And if she was too scared to risk another pregnancy, or if her tubes had been damaged by the infection, there were other options. None of which she’d even considered. But then, unlike her, all these women had loving, supportive marriages. And that made all the difference.

      ‘So you are saying that women are encouraged to donate a proportion of their eggs in order to fund their treatment?’ she said, signalling to John to keep filming.

      Niall sat down in his chair and stretched his long legs in front of him before regarding her steadily over steepled fingers.

      ‘You’d prefer women not to have the opportunity?’ he said quietly. ‘Do you have any idea how short the supply of donor eggs is? There are so many women, like Patricia, whose only hope of having a child is through the generosity of those women who are prepared to donate their eggs.’

      ‘I can see the point when it comes to altruistic donors…’ Robina replied. ‘Those women who have nothing to gain except the satisfaction of helping someone else, but these other women, the egg sharers—aren’t they under impossible pressure to donate in order to fund their own treatment? Is that morally correct?’

      Niall brought his brows together. ‘Don’t you think we’ve considered all that?’ Underlying his calm tone was a thread of steel. ‘Do you think for one moment that any of us here would force women, or even steer them, towards a decision that wasn’t right for them? And as I explained to Patricia, it’s not only the recipients who have to undergo counselling. The donors aren’t permitted to donate unless we are absolutely convinced that they know exactly what they are letting themselves in for.’

      ‘But,’ Robina persisted, ‘I can see how desperate these women are to have children. Surely you are taking advantage of that?’

      Niall stood. He towered over her, his eyes glinting. He signalled to the cameraman to stop filming. ‘Could you leave us for a moment, John?’ He waited until John, after a nod from Robina, left the room.

      ‘Don’t make this about us, Robina,’ he said. When she opened her mouth to protest he held up his hand. ‘I told you that I thought this was too close to home for you, but you wouldn’t listen.’

      ‘It isn’t about us,’ Robina retorted. ‘There is no us. Oh, we may be married but we both know it’s in name only. We haven’t been married, not truly, since…’ She broke off, unable to bring herself to say the words. ‘Actually, I can’t even remember if I ever felt married.’ Furious with herself, she tried to blink away the tears before Niall could see, but it was too late.

      He crouched down by her side and touched her arm. She looked into his diamond eyes. ‘Are you sure?’ he said quietly. ‘We were happy once. We can be happy again. If we are both prepared to try.’

      Robina’s skin burnt at his touch and she desperately wanted to say, Yes, let’s start again, go back to where we were, before it all went so badly wrong. But she couldn’t. She was no longer the woman he’d married.

      She shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Niall. So much has happened. You know you want more children, but I don’t. I won’t risk it.’

      ‘We could adopt.’

      ‘We could. But do you think having children would sort what’s wrong with our marriage? Because I don’t.’

      He dropped his arm and turned away, but not before she saw the flash of disappointment in his eyes. Despite herself she felt a flicker of hope. Was there a chance? Did he still care? Even after everything?

      ‘But maybe,’ she said tentatively, ‘maybe we can be friends. Not just pretend like we do around Ella but really try. Maybe make a start this weekend. Like we promised Ella. Do you know how long it’s been since we did something all together?’

      Niall’s expression was hooded. ‘You know I’d do anything to make my child happy. And if having you and me spend time with her together makes her happy then naturally I’ll do whatever she wants. You know that.’

      And just like that the flicker of hope was snuffed out. Whatever Niall said, the reason he wanted her in his life was to be a mother to his child. And she’d do well not to forget that, even for a moment.

      ‘Come on, Daddy,’ Ella demanded. ‘Robina’s programme is about to start.’

      Niall switched on the TV and sank into the leather sofa. Richard Christchurch had phoned Robina the Monday after the charity dinner, explaining that a scheduled guest had been unable to appear on the show later that week due to a family crisis. The presenter had wheedled and begged

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