who wish to appear on your documentary.’
Hiding the fact that her emotions were all over the place, Robina rifled through her papers and found their name. In total ten couples had agreed to be part of her programme. Most of them already knew her work from television and were keen to do anything to help other couples. One or two of them had even read her Guide to Infertility, the book that had started her new career.
‘Trevor and Christine. They are a lovely couple, I interviewed them yesterday to get their back story. I understand this is their first attempt?’
‘Yes, and I’m optimistic. This time the problem, if you can call it that, lies with Christine’s partner. He has a very low sperm count, so we did a procedure called ICSI. It is where we searched for and selected motile—that is swimming—sperm from Trevor’s semen sample and injected one directly into each of the eggs we retrieved from Christine. She responded well to the drug protocol we prescribed for her, and we managed to remove a good number of eggs. And because we injected the sperm directly into the egg, we managed to fertilise several embryos. You can go into the lab some time if you like to see how it’s done. It involves a high level of expertise and a very steady hand—so no drinking for our embryologists the night before.’ He grinned. ‘Anyway, they’ll be here about three for the transfer of their embryo back into the uterus. But I want to make it clear that if they change their mind about you being there, you must respect that. Even if they have given permission before.’
‘Of course!’ Robina replied, stung. ‘Niall, you need to remember that I was a GP—I still am. I have taken the Hippocratic Oath to do no harm. And that means psychological as well as physical.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Niall looked contrite. ‘That was uncalled for. I know you could never be accused of being unprofessional. Forgive me?’ He smiled at her, and her heart flipped.
‘Anyway,’ Niall said, looking serious again, ‘please remember if you are planning to come into Theatre you can’t wear perfume or make-up. Not even deodorant. Is that clear? We don’t want to risk affecting the embryos in any way.’
‘Clear as crystal,’ Robina replied, before turning on her heel and going in search of her team.
Later, in Theatre, Robina watched from a safe distance while the staff prepared Christine for the transfer.
The clinic hadn’t stinted on equipment, Robina thought approvingly, taking in the latest high-tech anaesthetic monitor and ultrasound scanner. Niall, dressed as all the staff were, including Robina and John as well as Mr Strain, in blue scrubs, slowly and carefully replaced the embryo into Mrs Strain’s uterus. The procedure didn’t take long, but although Christine joked with Sally, there was an undercurrent of tension in the room. All anyone could do now was wait.
‘Patients tell us the next couple of weeks are the worst time of the whole process.’ Sally addressed Robina while looking at Mrs Strain. ‘Up until this point it’s all still possible. They see us regularly, but when they go away from here after the ET—the embryo transfer—there is nothing more they, or we, can do. Whether the embryo implants or not is in the lap of the gods. Patients tell us it’s the longest wait of their lives.’
Niall half smiled at Christine. ‘I wish we could make this part easier, but we can’t. If you do want to speak to us—if you have any worries at all—you get on the phone. Don’t worry that we’ll think your question is trivial, we’d rather you asked. Okay?’
Christine nodded.
‘We’ll let you rest for half an hour or so, then you’re free to go,’ Sally said. ‘We’ll see you when you come back for your urine test. In the meantime, we’ll all be thinking of you.’
Once again, Robina marvelled at the way that the staff genuinely seemed to care about every one of their patients. It was as if every pregnancy mattered personally to every member of staff. Niall had managed to gather the best possible team around him. No wonder he was so wrapped up in his work.
Later that evening, Robina was getting Ella ready for bed. Niall had telephoned to say he would be late as he had a paper to finish but he wanted to say goodnight to Ella. Robina couldn’t help a pang of disappointment. Despite everything that had happened, she still missed him when he wasn’t there and she had been looking forward to discussing the day’s events with him.
They had come close to talking back in the clinic. Maybe there was still a chance they could start talking again—maybe even find a way back to each other.
She handed the phone to Ella. ‘It’s Daddy, he wants to speak to you.’
Robina busied herself setting the table, smiling to herself as she caught Ella’s side of the conversation. ‘I love you too, Daddy, and I’m sending you a big kiss down the phone.’ She puckered her lips and blew down the mouthpiece. She giggled at something Niall said. ‘I got your kiss, Daddy, but what about one for Mummy? She needs one too. Hold on a minute, I’ll get her for you.’ Ella turned to Robina. ‘Here, Mummy, Daddy wants to send you a kiss goodnight.’
Robina stared at the receiver, horrified. What could she do? She couldn’t very well refuse—what would Ella think? With a thudding heart, she held the phone to her ear.
‘Well,’ Niall said dryly, ‘are you going to blow me a kiss?’
‘You first, darling,’ Robina replied, forcing her tone to remain light, painfully aware of Ella watching her with delight.
‘This is ridiculous,’ Niall replied, his voice echoing his embarrassment down the wire. ‘That daughter of mine is too smart for her own good. Okay—here goes.’ He made a smacking noise. ‘Now your turn—and remember you’ve got an audience.’
Robina couldn’t help smiling. Niall was right, it was ridiculous, but there was something bitter-sweet about it too. She pursed her lips, emphasising the required smacking sound, playing up to the watching Ella. ‘Mmmmmwhah!’
They both laughed and for the first time in months Robina felt her sadness ease.
When she put the phone down, Ella asked, ‘When will Daddy be home?’
‘After you’re asleep, darling,’ Robina answered. ‘But he’ll be here when you get up in the morning. We both will, so we can have breakfast together.’
‘Then after that can we go ice-skating? Please, Mummy. Sophie went with her mummy and daddy and they had so much fun.’
Robina kissed the top of her stepdaughter’s curly blonde head. She was so like her father it made her heart ache. But her blonde hair must have come from her mother. The sloe-eyed Mairead. Beautiful, maternal Mairead who had been everything she wasn’t.
‘Sure we can, as long as Daddy doesn’t have to work. I know tomorrow is Saturday, but sometimes his patients need him.’
‘I need him,’ Ella persisted. ‘He’s my daddy, not theirs.’
Robina hid a smile. ‘But he’s helping lots of people become mummies and daddies—you understand that, don’t you? People who without his help would never know how wonderful it is to have a lovely little girl like you.’
‘I s’pose,’ Ella said, settling herself in the crook of Robina’s arm. ‘But I need some time with my daddy. They can’t have him all the time. Just some of the time.’
Robina’s
