The Cottage

by Lisa Stone

  FORTY-ONE

  Ian woke before their alarm. He looked at Emma sleeping peacefully beside him and felt envious. Ignorance is bliss, he thought. How he would have liked to take her in his arms, gently kiss her awake and then make love. But that would never happen again, now he knew they were related. It seemed she and her mother had been right when they’d said no good would come of delving into the past. He wished he’d listened to them, for what he’d learnt could not be unlearnt. It was a burden he would carry forever.

  Carefully moving away from Emma, Ian slowly lifted his side of the duvet and slipped from the bed without waking her. He silently gathered together his office clothes and went into the bathroom to shower and dress. As he finished, he heard their alarm go and then a few minutes later Emma on the landing. ‘You’re up early,’ she called.

  ‘Yes, I have an eight o’clock meeting at work,’ he lied.

  ‘Do you want coffee and toast?’

  ‘No, thanks, I’ll pick up something en route.’

  Ian waited until Emma was downstairs in the kitchen so he wouldn’t have to see her before he came out of the bathroom. He collected his suit jacket from their bedroom, then went quietly downstairs, picked up his briefcase from the living room and called goodbye as he let himself out.

  The crisp, cold air hit him. He got into his car and then sat for a minute with the engine running, waiting for the windscreen to defrost. Their neighbour, Mrs Slater, appeared at her bedroom window. He nodded politely, but she turned away. She still wasn’t speaking to them, which Ian thought was probably for the best. Heaven forbid she got wind of what he’d found out. They’d be reviled, the subject of local gossip, and ostracized for being unnatural.

  It was eight o’clock as Ian pulled into the car park of Wetherby Security. It was largely empty at this time of the morning as the majority of employees started work at nine. Nevertheless, he parked away from the entrance and exit, took out his phone and then searched online for the phone number of Coleshaw CID.

  ‘I’d like to speak to a detective constable there,’ he said as soon as the call handler answered. ‘My name is Ian Jennings. The officer visited my wife and me a few weeks ago. I’m sure her first name was Beth, but I can’t remember her surname.’

  ‘DC Beth Mayes?’

  ‘Yes. That’s her. Can I speak to her, please?’

  ‘I’ll see if she’s in. What is it in connection with?’

  Ian hesitated and swallowed hard. ‘Our baby. I’m sure she’ll remember if you tell her it’s Ian Jennings. I live in Booth Lane and she saw my wife, Emma, twice.’

  ‘Hold the line, please, and I’ll check if she’s here.’

  It was a minute or so before he came back on the line. ‘I’ll put you through now.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Good morning, Mr Jennings,’ Beth said. ‘How are you and your wife?’

  ‘All right. Well, actually we’re not. We’ve just had some awful news and I need your help. You see, I’ve discovered that my wife and I are the children of donor sperm. Do you know what that is?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘To make matters worse, I’ve just found out that we share the same donor. We’re related! Emma and I have the same biological father.’

  ‘I didn’t think that was allowed.’

  ‘It’s not. And the man who runs the clinic where the sperm came from lied to me. He told me we couldn’t possibly have the same donor. But I’ve had our DNA tested and we most certainly do. There’s no doubt about it.’

  ‘I see,’ Beth said gently.

  ‘This must be the reason Emma and I can’t have healthy children, although we don’t appear to have any inherited conditions.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Beth said. ‘This must have come as a huge shock to you and your wife, but I’m not sure I can help. How is it a police matter?’

  ‘Carstan Moller, who owns and runs the clinic, lied to me. I’d like you to find out why.’ Ian heard Beth’s hesitation before she replied.

  ‘From what you’ve told me, Ian, I don’t think it’s a police matter. But if you wait a moment, I’ll check.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  It was a few minutes before Beth came back on the phone.

  ‘As I thought, it isn’t really a police matter. In the first instance you will need to raise your complaint with the practice manager at the clinic.’

  ‘There isn’t a practice manager,’ Ian said. ‘It’s just Carstan Moller and his wife.’

  ‘In that case, if it’s an NHS clinic then you could contact the ombudsman.’

  ‘It’s not. It’s private,’ Ian replied, struggling to hide his impatience.

  ‘I think you’ll need to take it up with the independent adjudication service then. There’s information about their organization online.’

  ‘So you definitely can’t investigate?’ Ian asked, disappointed.

  ‘Not unless a crime has been committed, and from what you’ve told me it hasn’t been. I am sorry, but I don’t see how I can help you.’

  Frustrated and feeling let down, Ian said goodbye and ended the call.

  Now what? he thought.

  He stayed in his car, staring out of his side window. If he took DC Beth Mayes’s advice and contacted the adjudication service, he’d have to go through everything that had happened all over again, and then wait for the outcome of any investigation. How long would that take? Probably forever, especially if Moller prevaricated or lied again. He needed answers now. Perhaps he should return to his first plan and visit Carstan Moller in person. He had the DNA evidence now and that couldn’t be ignored. If he showed him the results, Moller would have to tell him the truth, wouldn’t he?

  Ian couldn’t think of a better plan. He’d go now. But before he started his car he sent an email to his boss: I have a doctor’s appointment today so I’ll be working from home. He then switched on his satnav and drove out of the office’s car park. The DNA test results proved Moller had lied and Ian was ready for a fight.

  FORTY-TWO

  It was 9.15 a.m. as Ian passed the village shop with its advertising easel outside. Wound up and ready to confront Carstan Moller, he drove up the hill and parked in the road at the front of the clinic. There were two cars on the driveway, a BMW he’d seen there before and a Vauxhall Corsa. Ian wondered if that belonged to Edie or a patient. If it was a patient it could work in his favour. Moller wouldn’t want him creating a scene if he had someone with him.

  Ian took his briefcase containing his laptop from the passenger seat and got out of the car. He walked purposefully up the path to the front door. He turned his back on the CCTV as he pressed the bell, although he had little doubt he could still be identified. He waited and pressed the bell again, for longer this time. He’d stay there pressing their damn doorbell for as long as it took them to answer. He wasn’t going to be fobbed off again. He had evidence now.

  The door opened and Edie Moller appeared, face set to a professional smile. ‘Yes, Mr Jennings, how can I help you?’

  ‘I want to speak to Carstan,’ Ian said.

  ‘Yes, of course, come in,’ Edie replied, to Ian’s surprise. He had been expecting excuses. ‘Carstan has someone with him,’ Edie continued as she showed him into the waiting room. ‘Please take a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here. There are some magazines on the table. Hopefully he won’t be long. Would you like a coffee?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ Ian replied stiffly, and sat in one of the chairs.

  With another polite smile, Edie left the room. Ian glanced around, absently drumming his fingers on the wooden arm rest. He needed to calm down so he could think rationally when he presented his case to Moller. He doubted Carstan would readily admit to his mistake, so Ian would need to prove it. He took out his laptop and opened the file containing the DNA results so it was ready, then returned his laptop to his briefcase. He picked up a magazine and put it down again.

  He heard a door open and slam shut in the hall, followed by footsteps hurr
ying down the hall. The front door opened and slammed shut. Interesting. Whoever it was had left in a hurry and, from the sound of it, angry. Ian would have liked to know the reason.

  The door to the waiting room opened and Edie Moller appeared, looking slightly flustered. ‘Mr Moller will see you now,’ she said tightly.

  Ian stood and followed her into Moller’s office where he’d seen him before. He was standing beside his desk, apparently not fully recovered from his previous encounter.

  ‘Yes, Mr Jennings?’ he said rather sharply. ‘You wished to see me.’

  Ian took a deep breath. Going over, he stood beside Moller and set his laptop on the desk, angling the screen so they both could see it. Edie Moller was waiting by the door.

  ‘When I asked you before to check if Emma and I shared the same donor you told me we didn’t,’ Ian began, immediately hot and flustered. ‘I now have absolute proof we do. I’ve had Emma’s and my DNA analysed and there is no doubt. We have the same biological father. Here are the results.’

  ‘I’ll call you if I need you,’ Moller told his wife. Ian saw a muscle twitch nervously in his neck. Edie Moller left the room.

  ‘Read this,’ Ian said, pointing to the paternity test results. ‘A 99 per cent chance that Emma and I share the same biological father. You can’t get a result higher than that. And the only way we share the same father is from donor sperm supplied by your clinic.’ Ian drew himself up to his full height and glared at Moller.

  Carstan Moller barely looked at the screen and certainly didn’t have time to read and digest the results before he sat behind his desk, outwardly composed. ‘Take a seat, please,’ he said, waving to the chair on the other side of the desk.

  Ian picked up his laptop and sat down.

  ‘If those results are correct —’ Moller began.

  ‘They are,’ Ian put in.

  ‘Then it would appear we have made a dreadful error here, unprecedented in the history of my clinic. Donors are allowed to donate more than once, but we work within the correct guidelines. Statistically there is a very slim chance of this happening, and to make matters worse, it seems I must have made a mistake in my record-keeping. I will of course look into it thoroughly, and if I find we are at fault you and your wife will be compensated.’

  Ian stared at him, confounded. He had come here expecting denial, then an ugly scene where he would have to force Moller to admit his mistake. But it seemed he was open to the idea.

  ‘If you could email me a copy of those results,’ Moller continued, ‘I’ll be able to compare them with my records.’

  Ian took a moment to connect his laptop to the Wi-Fi and emailed the file. ‘It should be in your inbox now.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Moller said. ‘I will study it this evening when I can give it my full attention and then contact you.’

  ‘How can you check?’ Ian asked suspiciously. ‘You won’t still have the donor sperm. All you’ve got are your records and if they’re incorrect, as they appear to be, what else can you do?’

  ‘Each donor is given a number and that is how they are identified. When I checked your and your wife’s records before it showed different numbers, indicating the sperm was from different donors. However, I will cross-check the numbers are correct by using the actual identity of the donors. It will take me a while, but it will be conclusive. Let me assure you, if I find the donor is the same, there will be no cover up. I will take full responsibility and compensate you as best I can.’

  ‘How can I be sure?’ Ian asked.

  ‘You have my word.’

  ‘I would like to see your records for myself,’ Ian said.

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible. They are confidential. But why would I risk the reputation of my clinic and lie to you? I’m not stupid. I know if you’re not satisfied you will go public, and that would be to the detriment of my practice after all these years. Please give me the chance to investigate and then we can discuss the matter further. It’s in my interest to make sure you’re satisfied, isn’t it?’

  Moller was being so reasonable Ian felt he had to give him time to look into it.

  ‘All right,’ Ian said. ‘Check your records, but I know my test results are correct.’

  ‘Quite possibly,’ Moller said in the same convivial manner. ‘I will be in touch as soon as I have investigated the matter. Will that be all?’ he asked politely.

  Ian nodded and, closing his laptop, returned it to his briefcase.

  ‘Thank you for bringing this to my attention,’ Moller said. He stood and came out from behind his desk. ‘I am sorry you’ve had all this worry. I will do my best to put it right, I promise you.’ He opened the door. Edie Moller was waiting on the other side to show Ian out.

  ‘Goodbye, Mr Jennings,’ Carstan said.

  ‘Bye,’ Ian mumbled, and followed Edie to the front door.

  Outside, Ian saw that the other car had gone. Deflated and confused by Moller’s reaction, Ian returned to his car. He’d arrived half expecting not to be let in and for Moller to then deny that any error could have occurred. Yet he’d admitted straight away that a mistake was possible and even mentioned compensation. Ian didn’t trust him, though. There was something shifty about the man, and he hadn’t been surprised by the DNA results. Indeed, he’d barely glanced at them, almost as if he’d known what they would show. Perhaps he had been using the same donor more than was allowed? How Ian would have liked to see Moller’s records for himself. Then it occurred to him – there was a way … but it was illegal. If he got caught, he would be prosecuted, lose his job and never work again.

  FORTY-THREE

  Shortly after three o’clock that Wednesday afternoon, Jan left Lillian’s shop in Merryless and returned to her car. Dropping the bag of groceries on the rear seat, she started the engine and headed back to the cottage. She was using her car now to visit the store as it felt safer than walking along Wood Lane. There’d been more muddy footprints on her car that morning and at the front door. They were getting braver and she wasn’t taking any risks. Tinder missed his walks, but he could go in the garden.

  She turned into Wood Lane and pressed the central locking system. As the car bumped along the uneven road surface, Jan maintained her vigilance and kept a look-out for any movement in the surrounding trees. It was a bright but cold day with good visibility, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to catch a glimpse of them if they were watching her, as she suspected they were. She looked through the windscreen, the side windows and in the rear-view mirror, but there was nothing so far. She was uncertain whether she should be relieved or more worried than ever.

  As she drew to a halt outside Ivy Cottage, her phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Chris: Have I been forgiven enough to take you to the cinema?

  She’d told him she’d think about it.

  I can’t this week, I’m busy, she replied.

  Next week? came his immediate reply before she’d even left the car.

  She didn’t text back.

  Taking the bag of groceries indoors, Jan put the cold food in the fridge and left the other items she’d bought for tonight on the counter in the kitchen. Food had enticed them to the window before and she hoped it would again. All she had to do now was keep her nerve until dark and be ready with her camera.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Ian spent most of Wednesday afternoon in a secluded corner of The Coffee Shop, laptop open and using their Wi-Fi to work. It was easier to come here than go home and have to explain to Emma why he was back early from the office. She always arrived home before him, so he would return at his usual time and let her assume he’d been at work all day.

  But it was proving impossible to concentrate. His thoughts kept wandering to Moller and their meeting that morning. The more Ian thought about it, the more he saw that Carstan Moller had got rid of him very easily by promising to check his records and offering compensation. Ian felt a sucker. He should have stood his ground and challenged him, asked him how many others had recei
ved the same donor sperm, demanded that Moller check his records in front of him and show him proof of his findings.

  Annoyed with himself for being so easily taken in, Ian finished his second cup of coffee and, staring at his laptop, tried again to concentrate on work. It was now four o’clock and there was at least an hour and a half before he could return home. But the thought of seeing Emma didn’t fill him with the joy it had just a few days ago. Before long he’d have to tell her what the paternity tests had revealed. It was going to be dreadful. It couldn’t be anything else.

  His phone vibrated with an incoming call, and as he picked it up he was surprised to see Moller’s number.

  ‘Good afternoon, Ian, Carstan here, phoning as promised.’ He sounded very upbeat.

  ‘Yes?’ Ian said warily.

  ‘I appreciated you needed an early response, so I cancelled my afternoon appointments to deal with your matter expeditiously. I am sorry to say that the test results you sent me are correct. I’ve cross-checked our records and a mistake was made. An incorrect donor number was recorded on your file, and I’m afraid you and your wife do share the same donor.’

  ‘I thought so,’ Ian said numbly.

  ‘I can only apologize,’ Moller continued. ‘I am assuming this is an isolated incident, but I will cross-check all my patients and donors right back to when I first opened the clinic. I will also implement a better system of record-keeping for the future.’

  ‘How many others share the same donor?’ Ian asked.

  ‘I work within the current guidelines, which is that one donor can be used by ten separate patients.’

  ‘So the odds are this should never have happened?’

  ‘The chances of the two of you ending up together were incredibly slim. But I am sorry.’

  ‘Is it the reason Emma and I can’t have healthy children?’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Moller said. ‘But it’s more likely due to a genetic defect passed down by one of your mothers that didn’t show on your DNA tests. They are never a hundred per cent accurate. I don’t know what else I can do but offer my sincere apologies and compensate you and your wife. I hope we can come to an agreement so the reputation of my clinic isn’t irreparably damaged. What do you think is a reasonable sum?’