Chapters (82)
- Cover
- Dedication
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- Suggested topics for reading-group discussion
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- About the Author
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- About the Publisher
At the same time as Jan and Chris were being shown to a candlelit table in Bon Appetit, a fine-dining restaurant in Coleshaw, Emma and Ian were sitting at their kitchen table, having just eaten egg on toast. It was all they’d wanted as neither of them was hungry. Ian had cooked it. He was calmer and more reasonable now he could see why Emma hadn’t ever told him she’d been conceived using donor sperm. Quite simply it hadn’t mattered to her. The man who had brought her up was her father and that was that.
Emma, for her part, now accepted that in order for Ian to continue his research into their genetic history – which was important to him – he needed to know who the donor was. She had agreed in principle to finding out but was reluctant to take the first step – to ask her mother for the details of the clinic they’d used. Emma knew she’d be upset.
‘Phone her rather than go there again,’ Ian said. ‘It will be easier than facing her in person.’
‘I might,’ Emma said, nervously fiddling with her fork.
‘Or I could phone her?’ Ian offered.
‘No, I should. But I know it’s going to upset her again.’
‘It might not. I mean, you’ve already told her why I need the information – to trace our genetic history. It’s not such a big step for her to realize we need the details of the donor.’
‘I think she’s hoping we’ll forget about it and you won’t continue with your research and just let the matter go.’
‘Emma,’ Ian said, reaching for her hand. ‘I thought we’d agreed we needed to know, whatever the outcome.’
She gave a small nod and slid her hand away.
‘Let’s phone her now,’ Ian said enthusiastically. ‘It’ll be easier for you if I’m here. If you get upset, I can take over and speak to her.’
‘No, Dad will be there. Mum won’t discuss it in front of him. She won’t have told him I’ve been asking about the donor. It’s never mentioned in my family.’
‘OK. So phone and ask her to call you back. All we want is the name of the clinic and I can do the rest. Please, Emma. It’s better to do it now and get it out of the way or you won’t sleep tonight.’
‘All right!’ Emma said.
Ian left the table and fetched Emma’s phone. Handing it to her, he sat opposite and watched as she pressed the number for her parents’ landline. They preferred using the landline to their mobiles if they were at home. A few rings and her father answered. Emma’s heart sank.
‘Hello, Dad. How are you?’ she asked, immediately feeling deceitful.
‘I’m good, thanks, pet. How are you?’
‘Not too bad.’