‘I’m sorry. If I’d known, I would have told you, given you some warning.’
She sighed and eased out of his arms. ‘Don’t be silly. You can’t protect me from every pregnant woman in Cornwall, Mike.’ Although there did seem to be an extraordinary number of them. It just seemed so hard, when they wanted a baby so much, and they hadn’t done anything wrong. Surely they deserved a baby of their own as much as anyone else?
She looked up and met Mike’s worried eyes and smiled, but the honeymoon was over, and the yearning was back in spades.
Mike saw the change in her eyes, saw the fragile happiness of the past few days recede and the longing take its place, and he felt a flicker of dread return.
And now it had all caught up with them again.
It came to a head later, after they’d made love and were lying in each other’s arms. He was stroking her, his hand running lightly up and down her spine, and he could feel the tension in her, the determination in every line of her body, and he knew it was coming.
Her voice was just a murmur. ‘Mike?’
‘Mmm?’
‘I want to try again,’ she said softly.
He didn’t pretend not to understand. ‘Maybe we should persevere with this diet for another few months,’ he suggested, stalling because he couldn’t bear to lose this newfound closeness, and he was afraid that when they started the awful business of the injections and whatever all over again, that was exactly what would happen. ‘Really give it time to work.’
‘Maybe. I’ll talk to Kate,’ she said, but although she was lying still against him, he could sense the restlessness in her, the urge to do something now, and he knew she wouldn’t be stalled, that this was it.
‘Fran?’ he prompted. ‘Talk to me.’
She shifted slightly, sighed. ‘Oh, Mike, I want a baby—I need a baby—and I can’t afford to waste time. I’m thirty-four—my clock’s ticking. I’m getting old for this, and if we can get the money from Ben and Lucy—I think we have to try.’
‘Are you sure, my love?’ he said quietly. ‘It’s so hard on you—the hormones made you so sick before, the headaches…’
‘I don’t mind,’ she said, her voice soft but firm. ‘I can do this, Mike. I’m not looking forward to it, and I won’t pretend I’m not scared that it’ll all go wrong again, but I’ll do it, and if it ends in a baby, I’d go through it ten times. Fifty.’
Oh, lord. So much courage. He’d seen what it had done to her, the side-effects of the treatment, the indignity and invasion of personal space—it had nearly cost them their marriage, and then when she’d lost it…
‘Mike?’
Her voice was tentative now, seeking reassurance, and he pressed his lips to her hair and held her close. ‘I’m here,’ he promised. ‘I’ll always be here. There’s not much else I can do to help you, but I can do that. I can be here for you, and support you, and we’ll do whatever you feel you can bear.’
He just hoped Ben’s surveyor came up with the goods.
CHAPTER TEN
‘I’VE got Fran and Mike Trevellyan coming in to see me on Monday.’
Nick cocked his head on one side and raised a brow slightly. ‘Any idea why?’
‘They didn’t say, but I suspect they want to talk about trying another cycle of IVF,’ Kate said. ‘You know I gave Fran the fertility-boosting diet sheet and lots of other advice and information?’
‘Mmm—that was the day of his accident, wasn’t it? They’ll need longer that that. It was only a few weeks ago—three, wasn’t it?’
‘Something like that. It’s certainly not long enough to have made a great deal of difference, and if they want to go ahead I’ll encourage them to wait a bit longer, but I don’t know if that’s what they want.’
‘Well, we know she’s not pregnant,’ Nick told her, lounging back in his chair and fiddling with his pen. ‘Lucy told me she made a bit of a faux pas the other day—Sophie said she was going to have a baby brother or sister and Lucy assumed it was Mike and Fran having the baby and congratulated
‘I can imagine. Poor Fran.’ Kate sighed softly. ‘She said to me last time how it was funny that everyone seemed to be pregnant. And now Lucy and Kirsten are pregnant as well. Oh, dear.’
‘And Joe and Sarah, although I don’t know if Mike and Fran know that yet.’
Kate sat down, deeply troubled. ‘I hope this isn’t going to push them into a hasty decision.’
‘Hardly hasty. They’ve been trying for years.’
‘But they weren’t ready, Nick. Only weeks ago when she came to see me their marriage was in ruins.’
‘Well, not now. Not according to Lucy. They were there on Monday for a barbeque, and she said the air between them was sizzling.’
‘Interesting.’ Kate frowned. ‘So maybe they just want to chat through the next stage in the process.’
‘What time are they coming? I could drop in if I’m free.’
She gave a dry chuckle. ‘I think I can manage to counsel a couple trying for a baby rather better than you,’ she pointed out.
‘Why do you say that?’ he protested, bristling, and she gave him a wry look.
‘Because I spent six years trying to have a baby and so I know where they’re coming from?’ she said softly. ‘Because—correct me if I’m wrong—not one of your four children was planned or anticipated in any way, and infertility just doesn’t even cross your mind? And neither, apparently, does your fertility, so if it’s all the same with
She got up and walked out, his growl of frustration clearly audible, then his barked ‘Shut the door, then!’ followed her down the corridor.
‘Pretty please,’ she said, sticking her head back round it, and got a sour look for her pains.
‘I can’t believe you think I’d be so bad at this,’ he muttered, scowling. Oh, dear, poor Nick. He obviously felt insulted, but she didn’t care. Her feelings were all with Mike and Fran, and Nick was big enough and ugly enough to take care of himself.
‘Get over it,’ she advised, and shut the door.
It was the longest week of Fran’s life.
Well, no, it wasn’t. Waiting to hear that she was pregnant after their IVF at the beginning of the year had been dreadful. This, waiting for their appointment with Kate to find out when they could start the process again, was different, but she felt so impatient to be getting on with it that every day dragged.
Mike was doing a bit more on the farm now, serving in the farm shop and doing the dreaded paperwork, but he didn’t start at stupid o’clock in the morning and he wasn’t coming to bed late, so they had plenty of time together to reinforce their new-found closeness.
With his gentleness and passion he’d repossessed her body from the grip of the medical profession, and their relationship was stronger and better than it had ever been. And it would have been wonderful if it wasn’t for the suspense.
A few things broke it up. Amber had her calf, and
‘It’s nature—she needs to know,’ he said when Sophie was out of earshot.
‘And I’m pregnant, and I don’t want all sorts of embarrassing questions!’ Kirsten protested. ‘I can hear them all now—Oh, God, I could kill you sometimes, Mike.’
‘Feel free to try,’ he said blandly. ‘She’s my daughter, too, and I grew up knowing where babies come from. It didn’t do me any harm. It was just one of those things. Better to know from the start than to be totally grossed out by the idea when you’re twelve or so.’
‘But to see it!’
‘It was lovely,’ Fran chipped in in his defence. ‘She was captivated. Believe me, Kirsten, I teach in a rural area, and the kids that see animals reproduce have a much greater acceptance of sexual matters and their parents’ subsequent pregnancies than those who don’t. They just accept it as normal and natural and part of everyday life.’
‘And what about my pregnancy? Did she say anything? Anything about my baby and where it’s going to come from?’
‘Actually, yes,’ Mike confesse
d, looking a little uncomfortable. ‘She asked if you’d stood up too when you had her, or if you were lying down, and what you’d do with the new baby.’
Kirsten closed her eyes and made a tiny screaming sound. ‘And?’
‘And I said people were all different, and it depended on how you felt at the time. I told her you walked round and round till the end then lay down to have her, but you might not feel like doing that with this baby.’
Mike opened his mouth, then shut it, and Fran wondered if he’d thought better of telling Kirsten how fascinated Sophie had been with the afterbirth and the fact that Amber had eaten it. But then Sophie came back into the room with Brodie in tow and the subject was swiftly dropped.
‘All ready to go?’ Kirsten said, and Sophie nodded reluctantly.
‘I want to stay and see Amber’s calf some more. She’s really cute—she’s called Ama—something.’
‘Amaryllis,’ Mike supplied. ‘And she’ll still be cute when you come next time. Maybe cuter, because Amber will let you get closer. Right, come on, into the car. Your mother’s in a hurry and we’ve got to go out.’
‘Where are you going?’ Sophie asked.
‘The memorial service at the church in Penhally,’ Mike told her. ‘You remember, I told you about it. Lots of people died in a storm, and it was ten years ago today, so we’re all gathering together to remember them.’
‘That was four years before I was born,’ Sophie said, counting on her fingers. ‘That’s ages ago.’
Not for the people who were still grieving, Fran thought, and wondered how Kate Althorp and the Tremayne family would be feeling. Had they moved on?
‘We’d better go,’ she said to Mike as soon as Kirsten and Sophie had gone.
There was standing room only, and Kate would rather have been outside with the majority of the villagers than trapped inside the pretty little church. At least outside she could
So she shut them down, sat quietly and still, and remembered him for the good man and loyal husband he’d been. She didn’t let herself think about Nick, sitting with the rest of his family in the pew to her right, there to remember his father and brother. And she certainly didn’t let herself think about that night ten years ago.
Reverend Kenner was leading the service, and when he read out the names of those lost, Jem leant closer to her, his hand in hers. For comfort, or to comfort her? She wasn’t sure any more. He was growing up, turning into a fine young man, and James would have been proud of him.
Except, of course, the boy who was here to mourn his father wasn’t that man’s son at all.
Dear lord, it was so complicated. So sad and veiled in secrecy. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.
Did he have the right to know who his real father was? She had no idea. No idea at all if it was better to mourn a man who had been a hero than to know that the man who really was your father was refusing to acknowledge your existence in his life.
The service moved outside and down to the beach, and as she and Jem stood on the rocks and threw their wreaths into the water and watched them carried away, as James had been, she blinked away threatening tears and straightened her shoulders.
They didn’t need Nick in their lives. They could manage without him.
And if sometimes, at night, she still cried herself to
‘Hello! Come on in and sit down. How are you, Mike?’
He gave a dry chuckle. ‘Better than the last time you saw me,’ he said, and Kate laughed.
‘Yes, I think I’d probably agree. And Fran. How are you?’
Fran smiled, not knowing quite where to start and what to say. ‘Um—good,’ she said in the end, because it was true. She felt good—a bit sick with nerves, because now they’d decided to go for this, she was having to face all her demons all over again, but she could do it.
She reached out, and Mike took her hand, folding it in his and holding it tight. ‘Um…we wanted to talk to you about the IVF. Trying again. We’ve spent a lot of time talking…’ Her voice faltered, but she could feel Mike’s fingers tightening on hers, and out of the corner of her eye she could see his reassuring smile.
‘Anyway,’ she said, firming her voice, ‘we’ve been talking and thinking and we’ve been sticking to the diet and all the other things you said—the boxers and the showers and so on—and—’
‘Boxers?’ Mike said, frowning in puzzlement, then the light dawned. ‘I thought they were because of the cast,’ he murmured, but she could see a smile lurking in his eyes, and she smiled back.
‘Sorry. And the coffee and alcohol and so on have all been strictly rationed.’
‘And are you feeling better?’ Kate asked, looking at them both.
‘Probably, yes,’ Mike said, looking thoughtful. ‘I’m
‘Looks like your broken leg’s been quite useful, then,’ Kate said with a smile, and turned to Fran. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Scared. Sick. Dreading the injections and all the intrusive stuff, but…’ She shrugged and tried for a smile. ‘Generally better. Like Mike. Sleeping better, more energy, happier—but there are lots of reasons for that.’
Kate smiled again. ‘I’m so glad you’re both happier,’ she said quietly. ‘An unhappy relationship is never a good start to this journey, and I must say from my point of view you both look light years better.’
‘We feel it, and we were wondering if you could check us over,’ Mike said. ‘You know, run a ruler over us and make sure everything’s up to scratch before we start again.’
‘Of course. You probably haven’t given the diet and the other changes long enough yet, but if you really feel you can’t wait, we can start getting ready for the process of referral. You’ll have to go to a different centre for private treatment, but we can run a lot of the preliminary checks from here, to rule out anything that’s going to make them send you away. I’ll need blood from both of you, so can you roll your sleeves up? That’s great.’
She put a strap round Fran’s arm, slid a needle into the vein and took several vials of blood from it, then, giving Fran the swab to press down on the vein, she repeated the process with Mike. ‘You aren’t still on painkillers or anything, are you?’ she asked him, and he shook his head.
‘I’m not on anything at the moment. Neither of us are.’
‘It’s nothing,’ he said, pressing down on the swab. ‘Not compared to what’s at stake.’
‘Indeed. Right, let’s weigh you both.’
She noted down their weights, commenting on the fact that Fran had put on three much-needed kilos, and took their blood pressure.
‘OK. That’s that. And I’ll need a urine sample from each of you to make sure you haven’t got diabetes or any subclinical infections, and you know what we’re going to want from you,’ she said, sliding a little pot across the desk to Mike with a smile.
He gave a wry laugh. ‘Oh, yes. Do I ever. My favourite bit.’ He pushed the ominous little pot around, picked it up and tossed it in the air, then said, with a tension in his voice that probably only Fran would have noticed, ‘Will they be able to check for damaged sperm? Because if there’s any likelihood that it was my sperm quality that caused Fran to miscarry, I want to do something about it before we try again.’
Kate’s smile was reassuring. ‘Of course. If there’s a significant number of non-swimmers or sluggish ones, they’ll have a closer look. It might be that you have to persevere with the diet for longer, or there might be something more significant wrong, although I doubt it. That would have been spotted before, I’m sure, and if you remember they never did find anything significantly wrong with either of you last time. But let’s get the first tests out of the way and see what they come up with before we worry about what’s next.’
‘Then we refer you to the clinic in Exeter, and they take over from us.’ She finished labelling all the bottles of blood, slipped them into the plastic sleeves, filled in the various request forms and looked up. ‘The semen sample needs to be as fresh as possible, so I
would do it at the hospital, Mike, preferably near the beginning of the working day,’ she said. ‘Would you have time to do it this morning?’
He nodded, and Fran’s heart hitched.
‘Then I’ll give you all this stuff to take to the lab as well,’ she said, handing over all the blood samples and request envelopes, together with the urine sample bottles. ‘The sooner they get them, the better the results. And I’ll see you next week when they’re all back—I’ll give you a call when they’re in.’
She smiled and pushed back her chair, stood up and shook their hands and opened the door. ‘Good luck. I’ll see you next week.’
‘I can’t believe I’ve got to go into that ghastly room again,’ Mike muttered as they walked down the corridor towards the path lab. ‘It’s just awful, Fran—even thinking about it’s enough to put me off. The girly magazines and the smutty videos—it’s just horrible.’ He suppressed a shudder, and then without warning she got hold of his arm and yanked him through a doorway.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he asked as she shut the door and turned on the light. ‘Fran? Why are we in the loo?’
She pushed him against the wall, took the pot out of her
‘Fran, stop it! We can’t do this here!’ he hissed.
‘Why not? Why ever not?’
‘Because it’s a public toilet!’
‘Don’t be silly, it’s a single cubicle off the corridor and it’s a lot more private than that dreadful room. Now, stop fighting.’
She pinned his hands out of the way, grabbed his zip and slid it down, reaching inside and curling her fingers round him.
Dear God. He was already hard, the thought of her touching him enough to bring him to the edge even though they were both still laughing. But then she moved her hand, the firm, rhythmic strokes enough to bring him to his knees, and he dropped his head forwards on his chest and stared down at her, her hand curled round him, her lip caught between her teeth, her pupils darkening as she looked up and met his eyes.
‘God, you are so sexy, Trevellyan,’ she muttered, flicking her nail across the tip of his penis, and he fisted his hands in her T-shirt and closed his eyes.
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