He took his glasses out of their pouch and looked down at them. ‘I am afraid not.’

I stopped. For a second my mind whirled. ‘But I was. I had morning sickness. My husband, he’s a GP. He did a test and told me I was definitely pregnant.’

‘An hCG test?’

‘Yes, yes, that’s what he called it.’

‘Perhaps he said that he thought you were, and you misunderstood.’

But, no – Nick had assured me I was expecting. I recalled how he had kept monitoring my temperature and blood pressure. ‘I was pregnant!’ I stood up and thrust the chair behind me. He watched me without moving. ‘I had a mis–’ I couldn’t complete the word. The sheer pain of that night hit me like a wave. I sank back in the chair and put my hands over my face. I was going through it all over again: the feeling of having a part of me taken away. ‘If I wasn’t pregnant, what was that?’ I insisted.

He put his hand on my shoulder. It felt gentle. ‘I do not think you had a miscarriage. I think that was your period,’ he said. ‘For some reason we do not know, they stopped for a time; so it was more heavy than usual when they started again.’

My mind began to throb. My cycle had always been very regular, so when it stopped, I had been certain it could only be one thing. I tried to speak, to make sense, to know what this meant for Nick and me. ‘Are you saying I’ll never be pregnant?’

He seemed to relax a little. ‘Well, the good news is that there is much research going on into collecting or synthesizing hormones. We have extracted oestrogens from urine; already created a synthetic progesterone – norethisterone – and soon –’

Something leaped into my brain. ‘Norethisterone?’ I asked, interrupting him.

‘Yes,’ he said, looking at me curiously. ‘You have heard if it?’

‘Nick mentioned it once.’ That unknown voice on the telephone had asked if Nick could get more of it. It was right after Nick had said he would do his best to prevent me from finding something out.

‘Well, as I said, it is a synthetic form of progesterone, which is another of the hormones you make during your menstrual cycle.’ He hesitated. ‘Have you come into contact with it?’

‘No. Why? What would it do?’ He moved his glasses to another part of the desk and considered. ‘Dr Clement?’ I waited for an answer.

After a while he spoke, cautiously. ‘I believe it …’ He trailed off.

‘Please.’

He looked at me curiously. ‘Well, I believe it would stop your periods. But …’

My mind was hot. ‘What else?’ I interrupted him. ‘What else would it do?’

‘It could … produce nausea, cramps. Other effects too, probably.’ He returned to that searching look I had seen.