“I’ve found a clinic,” she said.
Lucy looked startled at the change in tack. “What?”
“I’ve found a clinic. To carry out the donor insemination.”
“I thought you’d given up on that idea?”
“No. I just didn’t like the thought of an anonymous donor. But I phoned the HFEA, and they said that although clinics have to keep their own donors’ identity confidential, there are some that’ll let you use a “known donor” instead. Someone that you know, that you’ve picked yourself.”
“Like who?” Lucy sounded appalled.
“I don’t know yet.” It was enough for the moment that she knew it was possible.
“For God’s sake, Kate, I thought the whole idea was that you didn’t want the father involved!”
“I still don’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care who he is.”
“Yes, but the point is he’ll know who you are as well, won’t he? I thought an anonymous donor was bad enough, but at least then you don’t have to worry about what he’s going to do afterwards! Supposing he changes his mind and decides it’s his baby as much as yours? You’re leaving yourself open for all sorts of problems!”
“Not if I’m careful who I choose. And he’ll only have the same standing as an ordinary donor. He won’t be recognised as the legal father, so he won’t have any rights to custody or anything. I’ll just have to make sure that’s clear from the start.”
Lucy bit off whatever she had been going to say. “So have you actually found a clinic that’ll do it?”
“There’s one in Birmingham — “
“Birmingham!”
“I know it’s a long way, but they seem pretty good.” That wasn’t the only reason. Kate had phoned a good portion of the clinics listed in the HFEA’s brochure — including the one she had already been to — before eventually finding one that was prepared both to treat a single woman and use a known donor.
Lucy was tight-lipped with silent criticism. “So what do you do now?”
“I’ve made an appointment to see the counsellor. I suppose I’ll take it from there.”
Angus had begun to fidget. Lucy slid him off her knee. Sniffling, he tottered back to his fire engine. “Don’t you think this is all getting a bit out of hand?”
“Why? You said yourself there was no harm in talking to somebody about it.”
“Yes, but you’ve already done that.” Lucy watched Angus sit down heavily on the grass and pick up the red plastic toy. “This isn’t just talking any more, is it? You’re acting like you’re planning to actually go ahead with it.”
“You mean you thought I wasn’t serious.” Kate heard the acerbic note creep into her voice.
“No, but …” Lucy stopped.
“What?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. What?”
Lucy sighed, as though she found the entire subject tiresome. “Well, I just know what you’re like. If you get your mind set on anything, you’re like a dog with a bone. You won’t let go, and I can see this turning into something like that. Another ‘project’ you’ve got to see through. And I think you’re making a big mistake.”
Kate could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. “And that’s all it is, is it? Another project?”
Lucy wore the expression of someone who wanted to talk about something else, but wasn’t prepared to let go of their point. “No, I’m not saying that’s all it is, but — “
“Yes, you are!” Kate could feel the last strings of her temper slipping through her fingers. “You act like this is just some sort of — of whim you can talk me out of!”
A flush had begun to creep up Lucy’s neck to her cheeks, which were still red from earlier. “Look, Kate, it’s your life. If you’re serious about wanting a baby like this, then I’m not stopping you. But I still think you’re digging a hole for yourself, and you’re not going to get me to change my mind, so you might as well stop whingeing on about it.”
The words hung in the air between them. The silence grew, broken by distant laughter in the park and the sound of Angus pulling the fire engine’s ladder up, then down.
“I’d better go,” Kate said.
Lucy gave a terse nod. Neither of them mentioned the lunch they were supposed to be having. Kate walked away without looking back.
Her anger barely diminished during the tube ride back to the agency. Even there the conversation still left her raw enough to snap at Caroline for failing to find a file quickly enough. She went upstairs to her office. It was stuffy and close, so she opened a window and turned on the fan before sitting down to work.
The breeze from the fan stroked her face as she called up the Parker Trust file. But the concentration wouldn’t come. She found herself either staring out of the window or doodling on her notepad while the laptop’s curser blinked, waiting.
When the phone rang, she answered it, irritatedly. It was Lucy. “Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have had a go at you.”
Kate’s sense of umbrage lingered a moment longer, then collapsed. “It’s okay. I was a bit touchy myself.”
“Fancy coming round for dinner some time this week? We can have a proper talk then. And I promise I won’t let Jack anywhere near the kitchen.”
Smiling, Kate accepted, glad the near-argument had been patched up before it could begin to fester. But Lucy’s words stayed with her, pricking at her thoughts like a splinter. Am I doing the right thing?
There was a commotion from downstairs. Kate hoped a drunk hadn’t wandered in. It sometimes happened. She pushed herself back from her desk, and as she did so the raised voices were drowned by sudden thuds and bangs.
There was a scream, and then Kate was out of her office and running downstairs.
The door at the bottom of the stairs opened before she reached it and Caroline ran out. From behind her it sounded as though the office was being wrecked.
“They’re fighting! They’re fighting!” Caroline yelled, wide-eyed.
Kate pushed past her. Josefina was at the other side of the office, white-faced. A desk was tipped on its side. Chairs were scattered, and in the middle of the room two figures wrestled. One was Clive. The other was Paul.
“Stop it!” she shouted. They took no notice. Clive flicked her a quick glance, and then grunted as they slammed into a filing cabinet. It rocked, almost falling. Kate ran down to the basement kitchen. A heavy red fire-extinguisher was clipped to the wall. She tugged it free and staggered back upstairs with it. There was another crash from the office.
The two men had fallen onto a second desk, still clutching each other. Hugging the extinguisher under one arm, she pointed the nozzle at them and set it going. A jet of water shot out, and Kate moved nearer, directing it into their faces. They spluttered, shielding their eyes, but Kate kept it on them until they broke apart.
“Get away from him, Clive!” she ordered, still keeping the spray on them. Clive hesitated. “I said get away! Now!”
Reluctantly, Clive moved back. Kate struggled to turn the extinguisher off. The water finally died to a dribble, then stopped. She glared at where Paul and Clive stood, both panting, water plastering their shirts to their chests and dripping off their faces. Around them, the office was in turmoil. At least one chair was broken, and a leg had snapped off the desk they had overturned. Kate glared at them. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
She was shaking, not from fear but with an incandescent anger.