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Back The Dead Line Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. By the Same Author
  3. Dedication Page
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. Acknowledgements
  86. Also Available by Holly Watt
  87. The Hunt and the Kill

Ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome, when a woman’s ovaries are forced into such chaos by all the drugs that they swell catastrophically. It can kill, and gets mentioned in passing, quite casually, in the long list of side effects.

‘I’m sorry.’ Greystone made a note. ‘It must have been very hard for you.’

Miranda nudged forward.

‘Really, after all that, I am most interested in surrogacy. My husband and I have considered all the options, and we have decided it’s the best way for us. It’s been . . . a struggle.’

He had nodded, glancing just for a second out of the window across Harley Street.

‘And we would be delighted to enable you in that, Mrs Lancaster.’

The smooth explanation followed, punctuated with the occasional discreet nod. Dr Greystone took off his gold-rimmed glasses when he was being especially reassuring.

‘It’s all quite straightforward, I assure you,’ he ended.

‘And where?’ Miranda asked. ‘It would obviously be very important to me to know as much as possible about the person carrying my child. It’s such a crucial thing.’

‘Of course,’ he smiled. ‘I can promise you that every precaution would be taken at every step.’

‘Which country would the child be born in?’ Miranda persisted. ‘I know it is all becoming more complicated, these days.’

He had a habit of steepling his fingers and pressing his thumbs to his mouth. Somewhere between a prayer, and a gesture to silence. He did it now, eyes fixed on hers. Wily, she thought. Cautious.

‘I can take you through it all, Mrs Lancaster, as we go along.’ He changed the subject smoothly. ‘Surrogacy is such an excellent solution. And the money you give is so gratefully received abroad. It makes a huge difference to the people there. You’ll have heard the phrase, it takes a village to raise a child?’ He was smiling, as if at a private joke. ‘Well, now, they say, it takes a child to raise a village.’

‘Wonderful,’ said Miranda. ‘I am so glad you are able to help.’

‘We don’t have any real proof,’ Miranda said now, in the cold little street in Bath. ‘Greystone would deny everything, and what do we have? A scrap of silk? Some blue embroidery? An angry mother, out in the camps. Greystone wouldn’t even name the country to me.’

‘But the Burton-Smiths are happy now,’ said Casey. ‘And they just want this baby. And they will give their child a beautiful life.’

‘That happiness is built on someone else’s misery,’ said Miranda.

Casey took a deep breath. ‘Miranda, are you sure we are doing this for the right reasons?’

Miranda twisted away from her, long black coat swirling. ‘Casey . . .’

They stood there, for a few minutes, next to the old Roman Baths. The crowds pottered around them, oblivious. One woman was carrying the Post, tucked neatly under her arm.

‘Come on,’ said Miranda. ‘You know what we have to do.’

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