As I lay there, half naked, my legs in stirrups, I stared at the ceiling while the doctor delved around my uterine cavity and a sonographer made encouraging chirps by my side.

At last my discomfort was broken by the sonographer announcing: ‘Super. Well done, Lucy. I’m very pleased with how the transfer has gone. So all that’s left for you to do now is get dressed and go home and rest. You don’t need to do anything in particular, just take it easy for a few days – try to avoid any sharp jolts, speed bumps, sex – and then you can get back to normal life. Stick to the rules of course.’

She handed me a sheet of paper with a list of things that it was sensible to avoid if you might be pregnant, including caffeine, alcohol and raw fish. I put the paper straight into my bag. I knew it all already. She placed a hand on my shoulder to stop me getting up just yet. ‘Wait at least twelve days before taking a pregnancy test. Here’s one for you.’ She produced a long, unmarked white box from a draw and handed it over. ‘Do you know how to use it?’

I nodded; I’d done more than my share of pregnancy tests over the years.

‘We’ll call you back after fourteen days anyway for a blood test, to double-check the result. If you can’t wait that long, you can come in for a test at twelve days and we’ll give you the result then.’

She smiled. ‘Everything looks good on screen, so now we just have to hope your body will do the rest. Do you want to go and see Amelia?’

‘No, I’m good,’ I shook my head resolutely, refusing the counselling session again. ‘But thanks.’

‘You take care and we’ll be in touch.’

She handed over the papers in an unmarked envelope. And that was it. In under an hour, in a very matter-of-fact, clinical way, we had just, potentially, made a baby.

I got dressed quickly, keen to leave the clinic as soon as possible. Stepping back into the roasting sunshine gave me a little lift; I felt warm in my jeans, my cheeks still flushed both from the procedure and the alcohol still in my body. It was hard not to feel like a piece of meat in there. But I had done all I could do now; it was time for Mother Nature to pick up the reins, and although hungover, heaven knew I’d given her a reasonable head start.

I hailed a cab – the Tube was far too hectic for my head to cope with again today – and on the journey home I tried to distract myself from wondering whether I felt any different already.

I had imagined the sensation of having a tiny foetus inside me so many times in recent years, when I had willed my body to be pregnant, only to face disappointment, over and over again. And now look. The synergy of what had happened last night was so bizarre. The last time I had had a fertilized embryo inside me I was 19. And now, twenty years later, I had a fertilized egg inside me with a real possibility of a successful pregnancy. This didn’t feel real. I closed my eyes and willed the taxi to get me home as quickly as possible.