The Cottage

by Lisa Stone

  ‘That’s not possible on any level!’ Ian snapped. Lowering his feet to the floor, he sat upright and faced Anne. The room tilted slightly. ‘Emma and I can’t continue our life together. We’re half brother and sister! And I’m not taking your word for it that those children are upstairs asleep. Who are they? You told Emma you don’t have children. I want answers, Anne. I already know a lot more than you think. I know you’re involved with Moller and his clinic and that the two of you are responsible for babies dying.’

  ‘No, that’s not true!’ Anne cried, visibly upset. ‘How could you believe that? I’m a nurse, a midwife, I save lives.’

  ‘Then tell me the truth.’

  Anne was silent for a moment, then, bringing her gaze back to Ian, she said, ‘If I tell you, you must promise never to repeat it to anyone, not even Emma. Especially not Emma. Or you will regret it.’

  Ian felt a rush of fear. ‘I’m not making any promises until I know what it is you and Moller have been doing.’

  ‘Then at least keep an open mind.’ Anne took a deep breath, as if summoning the courage to begin. ‘Ian, you already know that you and Emma share the same donor, but do you know who it is?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s Carstan Moller. He is your biological father.’

  ‘No, he’s not!’ Ian gasped. ‘That’s not possible.’

  ‘It’s true, Ian. He is your and Emma’s biological father, as he is to thousands of others, probably going back to when the clinic started.’

  Ian stared at her, stunned, and felt sick to the core. ‘But how? How is that possible? Both our parents were given details about their donors.’

  Anne shook her head. ‘He made them up. All the babies conceived by donor sperm at his clinic came from him. There were never any donors. It was all him.’

  Ian stared at her as he struggled to take in what he was being told. ‘So that’s why I couldn’t find details of donors in his records.’

  ‘You’ve been able to see Moller’s records?’ Anne asked.

  ‘Yes, although he doesn’t know. That’s how I came to link you to him and the clinic. Your initials are beside some of the entries I’ve seen, and in each case it seems the baby was born dead.’

  ‘So that’s why you thought I was responsible for babies dying?’ she asked, her face sad.

  ‘Yes. Aren’t you?’

  ‘No, and they weren’t born dead, Ian.’

  He continued to stare at her.

  ‘I haven’t seen the clinic’s records, but if Carstan has been putting my initials beside babies’ names it will be for those who were born alive but with a life-limiting condition. I told the parents they were stillborn and took them away to save them the trauma, just as I did for you and Emma. Many don’t live long.’

  ‘You what!’ Ian cried, his hand instinctively going to his throbbing head. ‘I don’t believe you. Why are you lying?’

  ‘I’m not. I’m telling you the truth. I did it to save the parents the agony they would otherwise have endured. Think about it, Ian. You caught sight of David just after the birth, and you were grateful I took him. You didn’t want any fuss or an autopsy. You just wanted me to deal with it, which I did.’

  ‘But that’s when I thought he was stillborn. It’s different now.’

  ‘How? I saved you and Emma the pain and heartache of the truth. You wouldn’t have coped. Remember the looks on the faces of the nurses who delivered your first baby? Emma told me the senior nurse managed to just about hold it together, but the younger nurse couldn’t hide her shock. That would have been the reaction of everyone who came into contact with David if I hadn’t falsified the records to show him as stillborn.’

  Ian held her gaze as he remembered the horror of that first birth, and that he and Emma had been grateful to Anne for taking David away and seeing to everything. He supposed there was some truth in what she said.

  ‘If you are telling me the truth, then Moller is responsible for all of this. He’s pure evil. But I don’t understand – we’re normal. We don’t have any condition.’

  ‘The children born from his donor sperm are usually healthy; the only give-away is that they often look similar, as half siblings do. The defects only began to appear in the second generation. Moller got away with it for years, tricking parents into believing they were buying donor sperm when it was him all along. But then some of their children began forming relationships with each other, as you and Emma did. It was inevitable with so many sharing the same biological father that this would start to happen. Unaware they were related, they began having babies and that’s when this condition began to appear.’

  ‘My God! And Moller did this for money?’

  ‘Maybe in part, but he and Edie can’t have children and he became obsessed with his line carrying on. He’s very arrogant and believes his genes are superior.’

  ‘That’s ironic,’ Ian said bitterly. ‘When he’s responsible for deformed babies.’

  ‘Except they’re not deformed, as such.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’ Ian asked, touching his head again.

  Anne paused. ‘Have you ever heard of atavism?’

  ‘No,’ Ian admitted.

  ‘It’s the term for what is sometimes called a throwback – when a trait from our ancient ancestors reappears in the modern day. The most common example of atavism is the human tail. It formed part of the storyline in the film Shallow Hal.’

  Ian nodded. ‘I saw that film.’

  ‘Although rare, there are examples of atavism all over the world. Including excessive body hair or fur, skulls shaped like Neanderthals, exceptionally large teeth reminiscent of primates, reptilian hearts, and so on. It happens in animals too. These features are hidden deep in our genes and usually remain dormant but can resurface or mutate. In the case of Moller, it happened because the babies of the second generation shared too much of the same DNA. Had you and Emma had children with a different partner who didn’t share the same DNA, it would have been lost in the genetic pool and remained dormant. You would have had normal children.’

  Ian shook his head in dismay. ‘But why haven’t you reported Moller?’

  ‘To begin with it was just a suspicion I had that something odd was going on at the clinic. I began keeping records of babies who’d been born with the condition. It took many years to build up enough evidence to confront Moller. He laughed in my face, said I was delusional, and then reminded me of the part I’d played in an illegal abortion. Some years before, a woman came to me, miscarrying after she’d tried to get rid of it herself. I helped her, and I should have reported her, but she begged me not to. She said her brothers would arrange to have her killed to save their family honour if they found out. I don’t know how Moller knew, but if he had reported me it would have put her in danger and been the end of my career. Moller promised he would stop what he was doing and use donated sperm. And think about it, Ian, what would happen to the infants if the news got out? They would be considered freaks. The press wouldn’t leave them alone and neither would scientists. They don’t live long, and I try to make their short lives as happy and comfortable as possible.’

  ‘I saw your car at the clinic.’

  ‘I’ve been there a few times recently. I wanted proof he’d kept his word and was now using donor sperm as he’d promised. We argued and I left.’

  ‘You left a review online,’ Ian said, remembering. ‘“Don’t go anywhere near this place. They are in it for their own selfish ends.”’

  ‘Yes, for what it’s worth,’ Anne said wearily. ‘I’m worn out by all this – the guilt, secrecy, lies and trying to protect the children.’

  ‘But how do you know when one of these babies is going to be born?’ Ian asked. ‘You weren’t our midwife to begin with.’

  ‘If Moller knows in advance, he tells me. He agreed. It was one of the conditions for not reporting him. He notifies me so I can provide the antenatal care, then I take the baby and look after it for as long as necessary. It’s difficult,
working as well, but specializing in home deliveries gives me flexibility.’

  ‘How many are there?’ Ian asked, still struggling to accept what he was being told.

  ‘I have three at present. That’s the most I’ve ever had at one time. Sometimes I don’t have any. The numbers fluctuate. Some of them only live for a few months, others years.’ Her eyes filled. ‘They are my children, Ian. I love and care for them, and when they die I mourn their passing. I pray for them and bury them in Coleshaw Woods.’

  ‘Is that why you were in the woods tonight?’

  ‘No. We go there for a walk. They can’t be seen so have to stay indoors during the day, but they need fresh air and exercise, just as all children do. I take them in the van after dark to the deepest part of the forest where they can run and play freely. There is nowhere else for them to go.’

  ‘And they really are upstairs now?’

  ‘Yes. I’m telling you the truth, Ian. They’ll be asleep, worn out. They’re like children, just different. They can be very mischievous sometimes, but they mean no harm. They love to run and can move very quickly. They can’t talk, but they understand in different ways. They like to have fun. I can’t always keep up as they’re too fast. I live in dread of them being discovered. A couple of times when they’ve run off into the woods it’s taken me hours to persuade them to come back. My neighbours believe I have dangerous dogs, which keeps them away. But there’s a tenant in Ivy Cottage, which backs onto the woods, who knows far too much. I think she’s heard me calling them, and she’s been encouraging them into her garden with food.’

  Ian fell silent as he tried to come to terms with what he’d been told. He was still struggling. ‘So they’re genetic throwbacks from our ancient ancestors,’ he said at last.

  ‘Yes, although I prefer to call them outsiders, as they live outside the human race and animal kingdom.’

  Ian fell quiet again, then said, ‘I suppose I should thank you for taking David and looking after him. When did he die?’

  ‘He hasn’t yet. Your son is still alive.’

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  Ian held his head in his hands as the room spun and a buzzing noise filled his ears. He thought he was going to faint. ‘David is still alive?’ he asked incredulously, finally looking up, his voice far off and unreal.

  ‘Yes, I left him wrapped up warm in his car seat in the back of the van while we took our walk. He’s asleep in his cot now with the other two. They’re a little older. I love them all for the short time they’re with me. Am I doing wrong?’

  Ian shook his head in despair. ‘I really don’t know. I can’t take all this in. I wish you hadn’t told me. It was easier not knowing. Who are the others?’

  ‘The boy, James, is the son of a single mother, Lydia Wren, and the daughter was born to Grant and Chelsea Ryan.’

  ‘I saw their names on Moller’s list. Emma spoke to Grant and Chelsea.’

  ‘Why?’ Anne asked, immediately anxious.

  ‘Because we were trying to establish what connection they had with the Moller Clinic.’

  ‘I see. Mr and Mrs Ryan don’t suspect anything, do they?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘If they found out, they would sell their story to the newspapers. They’re already suing the hospital for compensation because their baby’s body disappeared.’

  ‘So you took her from the hospital?’ Ian asked.

  ‘Yes. I had their permission at the time, but then they changed their minds. I’ve called her Kerris. It means love. She’ll miss him after he’s gone.’

  ‘Gone? Gone where?’ Ian asked.

  ‘When David passes, I mean,’ Anne said quietly.

  ‘He’s going to die soon?’ Ian asked, shocked.

  ‘A few months.’ Anne’s eyes filled again. ‘The gene mutation that gives them this condition means they mature more quickly and at different rates. It’s very evident in Kerris. But it also shortens their life expectancy. I know it’s nature taking its course, but each time one dies, it’s harder for me. I look forward to a time when there are no more being born.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have pressed you to tell me,’ Ian said remorsefully. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to deal with all of this.’

  ‘You don’t have to. You can go home and let me deal with it, just as I have been doing.’

  ‘I doubt that’s possible. Now I know, I can’t just walk away and forget.’

  ‘What other choice do you have, Ian?’

  He sighed. ‘I’ve no idea. I can’t share it with Emma, that’s for sure. She’d never cope. It’s better she believes David was born dead.’

  Anne nodded solemnly.

  ‘And you’ve told me everything now?’ Ian asked.

  ‘Yes. There is nothing else.’

  ‘I’ll go then,’ he said, standing. ‘I need to think about all this and then decide what to do.’

  ‘Put it behind you, that’s what you do. Go and get on with your life.’

  Ian took a couple of steps towards the door and stopped. ‘Does David look like me?’

  ‘Yes, he’s definitely your son,’ Anne said. She paused and then asked, ‘Would you like to see him before you go? There is nothing to be frightened of and it might help give you closure. Show you he’s not the monster you imagine, but a child in need of love and affection, one who won’t be with us for much longer.’

  Ian hesitated and then gave an imperceptible nod. ‘Yes,’ he replied quietly. ‘It might help.’

  Anne stood and led the way upstairs. Ian followed, full of trepidation and misgivings. Was this really wise? Shouldn’t he do as Anne had first suggested and leave now and get on with his life as best he could? Would seeing David really help or make it worse? He honestly didn’t know.

  They came to a halt outside a bedroom at the rear of the house. The door was bolted from the outside.

  ‘Is that necessary?’ Ian asked, concerned.

  ‘Yes. I daren’t give them the run of the house in case someone sees them at one of the windows. The glass in the window of this room is opaque, but the others aren’t. It would only take one sighting and that would be it.’

  Ian watched, his heart thumping, as Anne slid the bolt and slowly opened the door. A small night light cast a pattern of stars and a moon on the ceiling. It was like the outside come in.

  Ian followed Anne into the room. There were two small beds and a cot, a chest of drawers and a changing station, much as you’d find in any nursery, Ian thought. Only, of course, this wasn’t any nursery.

  ‘This is David,’ Anne said quietly, going to the cot.

  Ian went over and stood beside Anne as she leant over the side of the cot and adjusted the cover. He looked at the sleeping form. Curled on his side, with a blanket loosely over his body, only his head was visible, and one little hand that clutched the corner of the blanket. The back of his hand was covered in a fine down. So was the top of his head, but there was none on his face or neck as there had been when he’d been born. His features were more like that of an ordinary child too now, as was the outline of his body. After a few moments, Ian found he wasn’t experiencing the repulsion he’d thought he would – as he had at the birth – but compassion. David stirred in his sleep, and then turned onto his back. His lips moved and his eyelids fluttered. Was he dreaming? Ian wondered. If so, about what?

  ‘Are you all right?’ Anne quietly asked him.

  Ian gave a small nod and continued to gaze at the sleeping child. His child, although not like other children. A throwback from the ancestral past or, as Anne preferred to call them, an outsider. A child who should never have been born and would never experience the joy of living with his parents, playing, having friends or going to school. A child who hadn’t long to live.

  Ian swallowed hard and slowly extended his hand. Reaching out, he lightly touched his son’s forehead. It felt warm and smooth, not cool and rough, as he had expected. He touched David’s hand, which was still clutching the corner of the blanket. That too was soft an
d smooth despite the fine down. The little fingernails were all perfectly formed, although Ian noticed his thumb was shorter than that of a normal child.

  David’s eyes suddenly flickered open and Ian quickly withdrew his hand. He stared up at them, startled and confused.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Anne soothed. ‘There is nothing to be afraid of, love. This man won’t harm you.’

  ‘He understands?’ Ian asked incredulously.

  ‘A little, combined with my facial expression and tone. Babies do. Say something, talk to him, but don’t make any sudden movement as it frightens them.’

  ‘David,’ Ian said softly.

  The child looked at him.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  He looked back.

  ‘Do you have everything you need? Are you well and happy?’

  The brightness that came into his eyes suggested he was.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Ian said, his voice catching. ‘Sorry for you being like this. If I’d had any idea this could happen, I would never have had children.’

  David looked back with something that looked like sadness in his eyes.

  ‘I’m your father,’ Ian said. But there was no response.

  ‘He doesn’t understand,’ Anne said. ‘He’s had no experience of a father. They just have me.’

  Leaning into the cot, Anne said, ‘This man is good. A parent, like me. He loves you.’ She touched Ian’s arm to show David she approved of him.

  David’s expression lightened.

  ‘I think he knows who you are,’ Anne said softly.

  ‘So do I,’ Ian said, and a tear escaped down his cheek.

  He was looking at the child he’d never thought he’d have and he could never share it with Emma – it would be too cruel – and Moller was to blame. That man needed to be punished, and at that moment Ian vowed to do it, for David’s sake and all those like him. Whatever it took.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  The following morning, DC Beth Mayes sat at her desk in the office above Coleshaw Police Station, puzzled and concerned. She’d just filed her report on the arrest of another two members of the notorious Bates family for their involvement in a vicious armed robbery. With the criminals now safely in police custody and the report filed, Beth looked at the other matter awaiting her attention. It was worrying and strange.