The Two Week Wait (8 page)

‘I should also point out that since 2005, every child conceived by egg or sperm donation has the legal right to find out who his or her donor parent is when he or she hits eighteen years
of age. Clearly, this can have a big impact on a donor’s life, not to mention the young adult involved. But you can rest assured that on our egg-sharing programme, our donors are thoroughly
checked out. They also undergo counselling to ensure they are fully aware of this risk and are prepared – insofar as is humanly possible – to take full responsibility should a child
come knocking on their door in two decades’ time.’

Sofia’s eyes are growing accustomed to the dark. The auditorium is nearly full, but even so she thinks she can make out the familiar spikes of Lou’s crop silhouetted several rows in
front of her, and, unless Sofia is mistaken, the smooth, sleek bob of the woman she is leaning towards looks like Anna. Of course, Lou wouldn’t have been able to get this far by public
transport, and she’s not allowed to drive. Sofia has another stab of remorse. It would be typically generous of Anna to step in. Sofia can’t suppress a touch of jealousy.

Meanwhile, a slide of a Petri dish under a microscope appears on the screen.

‘Another benefit of egg sharing,’ says Dr Hassan, ‘is that it reduces strain on the National Health Service or similar public funding bodies in other countries.’

Anyone would think this old man was running a charity, Sofia thinks, not making thousands of pounds from each woman he treats.

At that moment, as if spooked by her inner criticism, the speaker drops his microphone. While he retrieves it from the floor, Sofia acts fast.

‘I’m just going to find my friends,’ she whispers to the woman with the clipboard, and scoots down the central aisle.

*  *  *

‘Excuse me.’

Cath looks up. There’s a woman standing at the end of the row, a few seats away. In the half-light, Cath can just make out dark hair and a denim jacket.

‘Do you mind if I squeeze in?’ The woman points, clearly embarrassed, and Cath sees there is an empty chair on the far side of Rich.

All the people in the row stand to make room, Cath included. As the woman passes (treading on Cath’s toe) Cath observes she is quite young and pretty, with the sort of thick, wavy hair
Cath would dearly love to have herself. Once the woman is seated, she taps on the shoulder a parka-clad woman directly in front.

‘Lou?’

A swivel of a head, a gasp: ‘Sofia! Thank God you’re here!’ and Cath recognizes Lou from the queue. ‘What the bloody hell happened to you last night?’

‘I’ll tell you later. Don’t want to interrupt the talk.’

Dr Hassan is reunited with his microphone and is poised to resume.

‘Humph.’ Lou turns to face the front again. There’s something about the line of her shoulders and tone of voice that make Cath conclude she is annoyed in the way a partner
would be. What is the story there? she wonders. I thought she was with the woman with the bob. But much as she savours working out the dynamics of strangers’ lives, she wants to hear what Dr
Hassan is saying.

‘So, as I’ve mentioned, with egg sharing, the egg recipient bears the cost of treatment for the donor. It’s here I’d like to explain more about the benefits of IVF. It
goes without saying that if you’re looking to get pregnant without a male partner, you’ll need a sperm donor. Many gay and single women might therefore think that a sperm donor is all
they will need, and there’s no requirement for IVF. Whereas IVF can play a big part in making it easier – and surprisingly less expensive – to conceive in the long run.

‘Let me take you back a stage. IVF or “in vitro fertilization” means the egg cells are fertilized by sperm outside of the body. “In vitro” literally translates as
“within the glass” and involves hormonally controlling ovulation, removing eggs from a woman’s ovaries and letting sperm fertilize them in a fluid. The fertilized egg is then
transferred to the uterus to try and establish pregnancy. Every time a woman undergoes IVF, several eggs will be harvested from her ovaries to maximize the chance of success, some of which will not
be used. With egg sharing, she will donate these eggs to another woman whose eggs are too poor to be used in her own IVF cycle.’

That’s me, thinks Cath. I don’t have any eggs at all.

‘Next, let me show you what I find to be a very interesting chart.’ The doctor points at a fresh slide. ‘If we take a closer look you’ll see donor insemination has a
success rate of just over 25 per cent. However, if you combine donor insemination with IVF, the success rates go up to 69 per cent. That’s quite a difference. Moreover, if you’re a gay
or single woman looking to become pregnant, if you choose to go the egg-sharing route, in return for donating some of your eggs you can enjoy
free
IVF. Which means a greater chance of
conceiving a baby, and for egg donors, no extra expense at all.’

Doesn’t sound as if it would be cheaper for us though, thinks Cath, if we have to pay for someone else’s treatment as well as our own. Privately funded IVF is hideously expensive as
it is. She shudders at the prospect. She and Rich have virtually no savings . . . Focus, Cath, focus, she tells herself, you can work that out later. She peers at the screen. She had been confused
as to why an egg donor would put herself through the trauma of IVF if she didn’t have to have it, even if it were free, but if the conception rate with IVF is nearly three times higher than
without, that explains it. She’s beginning to see how it works, but figures aren’t her strong point, and when the woman with the bob swivels round to shoot the woman next to Rich
– apparently named Sofia – an unmistakably vicious look, she is distracted again.

‘We’ve been so worried about you!’ the bob woman hisses.

‘I’m sorry, Anna.’ Sofia looks guilty.

‘Where have you been, for crying out loud?’

‘Shhh!’ hisses another member of the audience.

Wow, she’s scary, thinks Cath. I’d hate to be on the wrong side of her. She reaches for Rich’s hand, appreciating how even-tempered he is. They’ve had their share of
tough times and painful conversations, but their lines of communication are relatively untangled, and given the journey they may be about to embark upon, she is hugely grateful for that.

*  *  *

‘So where
have
you been?’ Lou asks Sofia the moment the talk finishes. The people around them are yet to leave, but she doesn’t care if they hear. After
what Sofia has put her through, she actively wants to humiliate her. She is pleased when Sofia blushes.

‘
Lo siento
—’

‘Yes?’

‘I got drunk so I stayed with a friend.’

Anna touches Lou’s shoulder. ‘Told you. Er, I think I’ll go and have a look at the rest of the exhibition for a bit. Give me a buzz when you’ve finished telling her
off.’ Sofia blushes a deeper crimson. ‘You’re bloody lucky it’s not me you’re dealing with,’ Anna says to her. ‘Lou is more of a softie than me, but I hope
she gives you a tough time.’

‘Sorry, Anna,’ says Sofia. ‘And thank you for bringing her here.’

‘I did it for Lou, not you,’ says Anna.

Lou watches as Anna pushes past the people in front of her, then turns to her girlfriend. Sofia looks dreadful, thinks Lou, far from her usual confident self. Not only does she appear hungover
and tired, she’s sheepish. Yet Lou is not going to let up. ‘So?’

Sofia can’t meet her gaze. ‘We went out to Soho, like I said. Some colleagues went with me to a club by Old Compton Street. When I saw the time, I had missed the last train. I am
very, very sorry – it was an accident.’

‘
Accident!
An “accident” is what happens when you can’t control your circumstances. You could have rung me.’

‘My phone ran out of charging.’

‘Why didn’t you use someone else’s?’

‘I did not know your number.’

‘Jesus!’ In truth, Lou doesn’t know Sofia’s either; it’s a hazard of technology, precious contacts on speed dial. But that’s not the point.
‘Couldn’t you have rung the landline? You know that.’

‘I suppose so. I’m very sorry, really.’

‘You made me feel such an idiot!’ Now Lou is fighting back tears. Damn her topsy-turvy hormones. ‘You knew how important today was to me.’

‘I don’t know what else to say.’

‘Nor do I, frankly. Who were you with, some girl?’

‘No, no.’

‘Well, who?’

‘A friend from work hosted me.’

‘Who?’

‘Her name is Rosetta.’

‘Is she gay?’

‘No! She lives with her boyfriend. They share a flat. You can ring her if you do not believe me.’

‘Hmm.’

Presently Lou is aware there is still a man sitting next to her, busy writing notes. She noticed him earlier. She reckons he is some kind of journalist. This should give him good copy, she
thinks.

She shakes her head, despairing. ‘I’m not stupid. It’s clear you’ve got some kind of issue with this whole thing. It’s classic avoidance.’

‘I wish you would not . . . be like a counsellor with me,’ mutters Sofia, eyes fixed on the floor.

‘What else am I supposed to do, when you can’t be honest enough to tell me what you’re really thinking? You won’t even look at me, for God’s sake.’

Sofia glances up. Those big brown eyes . . . Lou is so susceptible to them, but she’s determined to resist.

‘Why do we not go to look at the show?’ suggests Sofia. ‘We are here now.’

‘Yeah, guess we could.’ Lou picks up her bag, feels a twinge across her tummy. ‘I want to find out more about sperm donation.’

‘
Si, si
.’

There’s a limit to how much Lou can deal with in such a public place.

‘So, do you seriously think you’re going to do this egg-sharing thing, then?’ asks Anna.

Lou doesn’t wish to commit so fast. ‘Maybe.’

She is sitting in the passenger seat of Anna’s Saab: a spacious convertible with an expensive stereo and upholstery that still smells new. The dashboard before her is so futuristic Lou
can’t begin to work out what all the lights, dials and numbers mean.

Sofia leans between the two front seats to join in the conversation. ‘Your mother will . . . what is that word you use to describe when she gets upset?’

‘Freak,’ says Lou. You seem pretty freaked too, she thinks, but lets it go.

‘Would you tell your mother?’ asks Anna.

‘I don’t even know if I’m going to go that route.’ She wishes Anna hadn’t brought the subject up.

‘I think it’s a weird thing to do,’ says Sofia.

‘I don’t think it’s weird at all,’ says Anna. The traffic has been stop-start since they left the West End; they’ve come to another halt at the junction by Harrods.
Dozens of people hurry to cross the road while the lights are red. ‘I think it’s rather lovely.’

‘OK, maybe “weird” is not the right word, sometimes my English is not so good . . . But imagine if you share your eggs then a child comes to find you when they are
eighteen.’

‘That’s a long way in the future,’ says Anna. ‘What about the here and now?’

Lou fights to keep her voice steady. ‘Exactly. I like the idea of helping another woman have a baby.’ She wants to tackle her issues with Sofia once they’re alone, not heading
home on the A4 with Anna driving, yet she feels too strongly to keep silent. ‘Imagine what heartache some women must be experiencing if they can’t have a child. My eggs could change
someone’s life.’

‘I think you’re romanticizing it,’ says Sofia.

Lou is hurt. That she’s romantic is not something her girlfriend should object to.

‘Having children is not everything,’ Sofia continues.

‘I know it’s not the be-all and end-all, but nevertheless, for many women – and men – it’s a major part of being an adult.’ Lou uses the word pointedly.

‘Even if you don’t believe having children is the most important thing in life, and I don’t, actually – I mean, look at me – surely you can appreciate that for some
people it really matters?’ asks Anna. She edges the car forward to the next set of lights, where yet more shoppers are crossing the road. ‘You can’t write it off just because
it’s not
your
priority.’

‘I’m not,’ says Sofia.

‘It sounded like that,’ says Anna. ‘I think sharing eggs seems very altruistic.’

Perhaps the fact she initiated this conversation isn’t so awful, Lou thinks. Anna’s expressing what I feel without my having to say it myself.

‘It is still about the cost,’ says Sofia. ‘The donor may not be taking the money, but it means treatment that would otherwise be very expensive is free. Who is to say that
doctor is objective? Of course he is not. His suit looked very nice, yet there he is standing and telling everyone how wonderful this IVF is, whilst he’s getting richer himself. Sounds like a
good way around the law to me. It cannot be this simple.’

But this isn’t some intellectual debate, thinks Lou. It’s my body –
our
future – we’re talking about. Again she tries to keep the emotion out of her voice.
‘After having this fibroid removed, IVF would make it far easier for me to get pregnant, so it’d be to my benefit, too.’

‘Are you sure about that? How do you know?’

‘Yes. I talked to the surgeon about it when I went for my post-op check-up,’ Lou confesses.

‘Oh. Why you didn’t tell me?’

There’s an awkward silence. They both seem to have secrets. Lou is convinced Sofia isn’t being entirely honest about last night; equally, her own research was underhand. For the last
few weeks they’ve seemed to be growing away from each other; now they seem in danger of completely snapping apart. Yet she feels compelled to be honest: ‘Because you didn’t seem
at all interested.’

‘Well, it’s great you wouldn’t have to pay for IVF.’ Anna’s tone is forcedly bright.

‘I couldn’t afford it otherwise. I can’t just drum up several thousand pounds like that, on my salary. It would take me years. And years are something I don’t have,
apparently. Not only because of this stupid fibroid, but also, if I’m going to do egg sharing, I’ve got to hurry.’

‘I am very surprised how expensive this treatment is here,’ says Sofia. ‘I am sure IVF is a lot cheaper in Spain.’