‘Yes,’ she hissed through clenched teeth. ‘How very clever of me to arrange for that man to have a cardiac arrest. Just for another photo opportunity. God, Niall, what kind of person do you take me for?’
‘A woman who would do anything to promote her career.’ His voice was gentle, almost caressing. ‘As we both know very well.’
Stunned, she edged even further away from him. ‘At least you know now who you married—just as I know the kind of man I married.’ Why had she thought even for a minute they could be friends when clearly he despised everything about her? It seemed the only way she could save her marriage was by giving up work and becoming some sort of earth mother. And there was no chance of that.
Niall closed his eyes as they sped towards home.
Why had he said that? It was grossly unfair and he knew it. But she got under his skin. When he had seen her dressed in a gown of simmering bronze that fell to her feet, her short black hair highlighting that impossibly beautiful face, the diamonds he had given her as a wedding present sparkling at the base of her long neck, she had taken his breath away.
He had needed every ounce of self-control he could muster to stop himself from picking her up and carrying her off to…to where? His bedroom? Hers? And there it was. She hadn’t spent a night in his bed since the night they’d argued before the miscarriage. She had made it perfectly clear that she couldn’t bear him to touch her. He had tried to be patient, hoping she just needed time. He smothered a groan, thinking back to the night he had gone into the room they had once shared, thinking—hoping—they could comfort each other. But when he had reached out for her, she had recoiled and the look of fear in her eyes had shocked him. He clenched his teeth, pushing away the bewilderment and pain of her rejection. Although he had known it would take time for her to recover from the miscarriage, that had gone deeper. He was sure of it. It was almost as if she hated him. Every day she had drawn further and further away from him, throwing herself back into her work. If he’d hoped that with time she would come round, he had been badly mistaken. All that time had done was to drive a wedge between them. A wedge the size of the Grand Canyon. And as far as he could see, there was no way across.
IT WAS the second week of filming and, once again, Robina was sitting in with Niall as he consulted with couples. At home, everything had carried on the same as it had before, with the two of them spending as little time together as possible, meeting only over breakfast or when Ella’s school functions demanded their presence. She had spoken to him about her promise to Ella and Niall had wholeheartedly agreed that they needed to make some time for the three of them to spend together. Despite this, they still hadn’t managed an outing as a family. Niall had been on call the day after the charity dinner and had spent the whole day seeing emergencies at the hospital.
The patients they were seeing today, the Davidsons, were an ordinary couple with an ordinary life. Patricia, an anxious looking woman with short brown hair, was a primary school teacher and her husband, Luke, was a farmer.
Niall introduced her as usual, although she had met the couple before, and reminded them that they could withdraw from the filming at any time. Then he leaned forward and asked them to explain why they had come to see him. Once again Robina was struck by his warm, encouraging manner with his patients. How could she have forgotten the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the way his mouth lifted when he smiled, how sympathetic he could be?
‘We’ve been trying for ages to have a baby,’ Patricia was saying. ‘We wanted to wait until my career was established first. Then one thing after another happened. My mother became very ill and I had to look after her as well as work full time, so we kept putting it off. Sadly she passed away just over a year ago, but as soon as everything settled down we started trying. But months have passed and nothing.’ She glanced over at Robina. ‘I saw you on the telly, talking about your book on infertility, and I went out and bought it. It made me realise we had to do something, and quickly. So that’s why we’re here. To see why it isn’t happening.’
‘I see from your notes that you are forty-three,’ Niall said gently.
‘That’s not too old, is it?’ replied Patricia anxiously. ‘I mean, I don’t feel old. I’m fit, I exercise regularly. I feel as good as I did in my twenties. Anyway, don’t they say your forties are the new thirties?’
‘Yeah, she even drags me to the gym,’ Luke added. ‘I don’t know where she gets her energy from.’ He smiled fondly at his wife. ‘She’ll be a great mother. We’re even looking forward to the sleepless nights.’
Robina felt a pang of envy. Whatever difficulties these couples were experiencing, it was obvious they loved and supported one another.
‘Unfortunately, people don’t realise that a woman’s fertility begins to tail off once they are thirty-five,’ Niall said quietly. He passed the couple a chart illustrating his point. ‘And once they get to forty, their fertility is dramatically reduced. It doesn’t really matter how fit and healthy they are, although for younger women, being a reasonable weight does help.’
‘What are you saying?’ Luke was frowning. ‘Are you telling us you can’t do anything for us, that you won’t treat us?’
‘Not at all,’ Niall said. ‘But I do have the results of your fertility tests here; the semen analysis from you, Luke, and the blood test we did on you, Patricia, at your first visit.’
Patricia grabbed Luke’s hand. It was clear to Robina that she was beginning to realise that she wasn’t going to like whatever it was that Niall had to tell her.
‘Go on,’ Patricia said quietly. Robina could hear the tremor in her voice.
‘Luke’s tests came back normal, but I’m afraid, Patricia, that your ovarian reserve is so low as to make the possibility of you falling pregnant, even with IVF, just about zero.’
Robina could tell he was choosing his words carefully, and that he knew he was giving the couple the worst possible news.
‘Just about zero?’ Patricia echoed, clearly shocked. ‘Are you sure?’ Her voice cracked. ‘No chance at all?’ Her eyes shimmered.
‘I’m sorry,’ Niall said. ‘There really is no point in going down the IVF route. It’s not just the number of eggs you have left, it’s the quality. In my opinion, even if we did manage to collect some eggs from you, and I think that is extremely unlikely, there is every chance that they won’t fertilise. And even if they do, the chance of you miscarrying is about sixty per cent. And lastly, even if a pregnancy were to continue, there is the much increased risk of foetal abnormality. I’m sorry if all this sounds harsh, but you need to know the truth.’
Patricia started crying in earnest, deep, racking sobs as if her heart was being shattered, which it very probably was, Robina thought sadly. Luke placed an arm around his wife’s shoulders. ‘Is that it then?’ he said. ‘We have to give up? Never have a family?’
Robina ached for them. She felt a lump the size of a pebble form in her throat. She knew only too well how the couple would be feeling, especially Patricia. It was a devastating blow to their hopes and dreams. She gripped her hands together tightly, not wanting to let Niall see how much she was affected.
‘I think it’s only fair to be brutally honest with you, no matter how difficult it is for you to hear. But there are other options.’
Patricia looked up and Robina shied away from the naked hope in her eyes. ‘But I’m warning you—what I am about to suggest is not for everyone. You would need to think about it very carefully, and before we went ahead, you would have to talk it through with