The Cottage

by Lisa Stone

  SIXTY-ONE

  With blood pounding in her ears, Jan returned to the living room, her phone still in her hand. She looked at Camile and Chris. Neither of them spoke. Camile continued to the windows and purposely drew the curtains. Chris concentrated on his glass of Scotch. Jan looked from one to the other. Were they planning on ignoring what had just happened? The silence was deafening.

  ‘Well?’ Jan asked after a moment.

  Camile returned to her chair and looked at her. ‘Do you still have any photographs or film of them?’ she asked.

  ‘No. Chris saw to that,’ Jan said sharply. ‘But you’re surely not going to deny they exist?’

  ‘No,’ Camile said quietly. ‘Sit down, Jan. We need to talk. Are you sure you don’t want a drink?’

  ‘Perfectly.’

  Jan sat on the sofa, upright, with her bag still on her shoulder, ready to make a run for it if necessary. She didn’t feel safe with the two of them alone in the cottage. They were clearly colluding, and the air was charged with secrecy and foreboding. Perhaps she should leave now while she had the chance, but then she’d never know what was really going on.

  ‘You obviously want an explanation,’ Camile said, and took a sip of her drink. ‘I will explain, but first you must promise never to tell anyone. Young lives could be lost if you did.’

  ‘I want to hear what’s happening first before I make any promises,’ Jan said, her voice unsteady. ‘I doubt anyone would believe me anyway without proof.’

  Camile glanced at Chris, who nodded, confirming it was all right for her to continue.

  ‘It won’t have escaped your notice that Chris and I look alike,’ Camile began.

  Jan nodded.

  ‘We are related. We share the same biological father. We are half brother and sister.’

  Jan gasped.

  ‘I know, although we didn’t know when we began our relationship. We assumed our likeness was the result of our genes being messed up by the power station’s chemical waste getting into the water supply. There are others in the villages around here who look alike and everyone believes the power station is to blame. It was only after we’d been in a relationship for some years and had a child that we discovered the truth.’ Camile paused to take another sip of her drink. Jan saw her hand shake as she set the glass on the table. Chris was looking at her.

  ‘Our baby was born very different to how nature intended,’ Camile continued. ‘He was a genetic throwback and didn’t live long. It was only by chance we discovered the truth after we saw someone in the garden here and gave chase. It was late at night and pitch black, but we found Anne in the woods locking what looked like a child in the back of her van. Chris blocked her path and demanded to know what was going on. She broke down and told us. Some children, including our son, were being born with a genetic condition, not because of the power station, but because our parents had received the same donor sperm from a local fertility clinic. Chris and I were obviously appalled, angry and upset, and wanted the man responsible arrested. Anne said he was no longer practising, she had seen to that, but begged us not to go to the police as it would jeopardize the safety of the little ones still being born – “outsiders”, she calls them. After much soul-searching, we agreed to keep quiet and do what we could to help Anne. Chris and I couldn’t continue our relationship as we were half brother and sister, so we parted but have remained friends.’ Camile stopped. Her eyes glistened with tears.

  Jan looked from her to Chris and didn’t know what to say. Was she telling the truth? She could see pain in his eyes too.

  ‘Our son only lived ten days,’ Camile said. ‘But others with his condition have lived much longer, some for years. They mature quickly, not like human babies. There is a baby and two toddlers alive at present – the ones you’ve been seeing. When you met Anne with Chris they were trying to work out how to stop them coming into the garden here. Anne keeps them in her house all day, away from prying eyes, then at night she takes them into the woods for some exercise. The woods are thickest at the back of the cottage so it’s reasonably safe. There’s nowhere else for them to go around here. Some years back a woman heard a baby cry. She reported it to the police, but they searched the area and thankfully found nothing. But as you have discovered they can be very mischievous – undoing your hedge repair and teasing you by moving a ball of twine. They mean no harm. Usually they’re wary of strangers. They would probably have lost interest had you not started leaving food out. Anne feeds them well, but they can’t resist tempting treats.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jan found herself saying.

  ‘It’s not your fault. I now realize it was a stupid idea to rent out the cottage. Chris warned me there might be problems, but I wanted to take the contract abroad and I needed someone to look after Tinder. I really didn’t think they would bother you. They know me well, but I thought they would stay clear of a stranger, which, according to Chris, they did at first.’ Jan nodded. ‘Then it seems they got braver and braver as they got used to you. I switched off the motion-sensor light upstairs just in case they came to explore, but you turned it on again and saw them.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Jan said again.

  ‘I’m not blaming you. They obviously felt safe and knew you wouldn’t harm them – well, not in a physical sense. But, of course, what they can’t appreciate is that they would be harmed dreadfully if news of their existence got out. Anne has tried to tell them, but they don’t understand. They’re only children.’ Camile stopped. ‘That’s it, really.’

  Jan took a moment before she spoke. Did she believe them? Yes. ‘I knew something weird was going on, but never in a million years would I have guessed what it was. What happens now?’

  ‘We continue as we have been.’

  ‘Who else knows about them?’ Jan asked.

  ‘Until recently just Chris, myself and Anne. But Ian Jennings, a father to one of them, has found out and is taking steps to close the clinic permanently. He can be trusted. He understands no one must ever find out. As I hope you do.’

  ‘Does Lillian know?’ Jan asked, looking at Chris.

  ‘No,’ he replied. ‘She and my brother believe our child was stillborn and that’s what broke up Camile and me. No one can know, for the sake of these little ones and those like them who haven’t been born yet.’

  ‘There will be others?’ Jan asked, horrified.

  ‘There will be until all those who have been affected have stopped having children. Ian is contacting them all now.’

  ‘And what will happen to those children who haven’t been born yet?’ Jan asked.

  ‘Some will die straight away,’ Camile said sadly. ‘And Anne will look after those who survive. Chris, Ian and I will do what we can to help.’

  Jan nodded solemnly. It was an incredible story, and if she hadn’t seen the children herself she would never have believed it. But she accepted the explanation she’d been given. ‘Anne won’t be able to take them into the woods when your new tenant is here,’ Jan said. ‘It will be too risky.’

  ‘Anne is my new tenant,’ Camile replied. ‘It makes sense for her to live here, in the middle of nowhere, without fear of being discovered. When I return from my contract abroad I will help look after them. Anne will be able to spend time in her own house again without the constant worry of being found out.’

  ‘How did Anne get involved?’ Jan asked.

  ‘As a midwife she was seeing and hearing of children being born with the condition. She became suspicious and started asking about their history. She discovered that all the grandparents of the babies had used the same fertility clinic.’ Jan nodded. ‘These babies are born a lot earlier than human babies. Some are stillborn, but others can survive. Instead of leaving them to die, Anne began taking them away and looking after them for however long they had. She’s a saint in my eyes, but if anyone found out she would be prosecuted. I dread to think what would happen to the little ones then.’

  ‘I won’t tell anyone,’ Jan said. ‘No one wo
uld believe me anyway.’

  They fell silent for a moment and then, glancing at Chris, Camile said, ‘I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you two. Chris is a good man. He was only trying to protect me. He was upset when you told him Tinder had got into our baby’s clothes. I kept one outfit and the rest I got rid of.’

  ‘Those clothes belonged to your baby?’ Jan asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I had no idea. I put them back carefully and made sure that Tinder never went in there again.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Camile said. ‘They’re all I have to remember him by.’

  There was silence again and then Jan said, ‘I think I should be going now.’ She stood.

  ‘Are you sure you won’t stay the night?’ Camile asked.

  ‘No, but be reassured, your secret is safe with me.’

  ‘Thank you, and thanks for the flowers.’

  ‘I’ll see you to your car,’ Chris said.

  Jan petted Tinder one last time, said goodbye to Camile and went with Chris to the front door. Outside, the clouds had parted to reveal a full moon. Jan unlocked her car door and got in.

  ‘Goodbye, Jan,’ Chris said, one hand on the open door. ‘Look after yourself.’

  ‘I will. And you.’ She smiled.

  ‘Perhaps, once you’re settled at your mother’s, I could text you?’

  ‘Yes, I’d like that.’

  He ducked his head in and kissed her cheek. ‘Drive carefully. I’ll be in touch.’

  Chris closed her car door. Jan started the engine and slowly pulled away. As she bumped over the uneven road surface, she glanced in the rear-view mirror. Chris was standing in the middle of the lane watching her, a lone figure silhouetted against the night sky. But as she looked, she saw two small figures emerge from the woods and stand either side of him. He held their hands. Guilt enveloped Jan. She’d let Chris and Camile believe their secret was safe with her, but it wasn’t. Far from it. Last night she’d given the registration number of Anne’s van to the police. How long would it be before they traced her and found out what she was doing? She’d never forgive herself if she was the one who led to them being discovered.

  Once out of sight of Ivy Cottage, Jan pulled over. Sick with fear that it was probably already too late, she took her phone from her handbag and called Coleshaw Police Station.

  SIXTY-TWO

  ‘It’s Jan Hamlin. I used to be the tenant in Ivy Cottage,’ she said. ‘I phoned last night and reported a prowler in Coleshaw Woods behind the cottage.’

  ‘Yes, I remember,’ the officer said. ‘I took your call. I was on duty last night. How can I help you?’

  ‘I made a mistake. I gave you the registration number of a van I thought I’d seen leaving the woods, but I was wrong.’

  ‘No, I think it checked out.’

  ‘Surely not? It was a mistake.’ Her stomach churned.

  ‘I’m certain the matter’s been dealt with, but if you’d like to hold the line I’ll find out.’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  Tears stung her eyes and panic gripped her. Please let him be wrong, she thought. What was she going to do if the matter had been ‘dealt with’? Say nothing and continue home or return and alert Chris and Camile? Was there still time for Anne to escape with the children? She doubted it.

  Sitting there with the full moon shimmering through the trees, she could picture those strange children being captured like animals as Anne tried to protect them. Then what? A media circus, a secure hospital to be tested, analysed and experimented on. And it was all her fault.

  ‘Hello,’ the duty officer said, coming back on the line. ‘You were right. The lady who owned the van was traced and she has been spoken to.’

  ‘Spoken to? Why?’ Jan gasped. ‘I was wrong.’

  ‘No, you weren’t. She owns dangerous dogs and hasn’t been keeping them under proper control. That’s what’s been getting onto your property.’

  ‘Oh, I see, she keeps dogs?’ Jan repeated, hardly daring to believe.

  ‘Yes. An officer has spoken to her and she’ll be given a formal warning in writing that they need to be kept on a leash at all times or she will be prosecuted. It’s an offence not to keep dogs under control. So thank you for bringing it to our attention. We’re always grateful to members of the public for helping us in our job.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jan said, and ended the call.

  Relief flooded through her. Thank goodness. The police believed Anne kept dangerous dogs, so all she would receive was a written warning. She’d be free to continue her work and those little ones could live out their short lives in her loving care.

  SIXTY-THREE

  Six months later, Ian sat in his living room, dinner on a tray, watching the evening news. A For Sale board had been erected at the front of the house and Emma had already moved out. She was staying with her family until the house was sold, when they would divide the proceeds and furniture and buy a flat each of their own. Emma had taken all her personal belongings and the house felt bare and lonely without her. Ian missed her, but they would remain friends and eventually, he thought, they would hopefully find new partners with whom they could have healthy children.

  The signature tune for the six o’clock news began and Ian raised the volume, anticipation coursing through his veins. Today was the day. The climax of the police investigation, which Ian had been monitoring closely throughout. He’d watched and, where necessary, had given an anonymous helping hand, although the fraud squad hadn’t needed much help as Moller’s guilt was obvious from all the records they’d found.

  The fruition of their investigation had come today at 2 p.m. when they had raided the Moller Clinic and arrested Carstan and Edie Moller. Ian had taken time off work to watch it through Moller’s CCTV, which he’d hacked into. The media had been there because Ian had tipped them off. Now he was looking forward to seeing their arrest on the evening news, as were others whose lives Carstan had ruined.

  The international news items came first: a plane crash in Siberia where no one had survived, a shooter in the US, a bombing in Thailand, and the ups and downs of the stock market. Then the home news began and this item was first, with a presenter giving her report outside the Moller Clinic.

  ‘Earlier this afternoon,’ she began, ‘this quiet, rural village was left in a state of shock when a husband and wife in their sixties, purporting to be doctors, were arrested at this clinic you can see behind me. They are being detained on suspicion of deception, fraud and money laundering.’ The report cut to film taken that afternoon of the Mollers being led away by detectives as reporters took photographs and shouted questions.

  ‘I never claimed to be a doctor!’ Moller retaliated.

  ‘But you don’t deny you let patients believe you had medical qualifications when you duped them?’

  Any reply was lost in the barrage of questions and jeers from onlookers as the Mollers were put in separate police cars and driven away.

  The presenter came on screen again. ‘Carstan and Edie Moller ran a fertility clinic from their home here for decades. But instead of using donor sperm as they told their patients, they used Carstan Moller’s own sperm, charging clients and growing rich on the proceeds. It is thought that Moller could have fathered thousands of children with unsuspecting victims. A despicable and cruel breach of professional trust, it’s not the first case like this. There have been similar cases in the UK and abroad. Local MP Sandra Tilsley is calling for tighter legislation.’

  A woman who’d been standing off camera moved into view and the presenter pointed the microphone at her.

  ‘The whole village is dismayed and upset by what has happened here,’ the MP said. ‘Our sympathy goes to those who have fallen victim to this unscrupulous pair. I shall be calling upon the government to make changes in the law so that in future private clinics like this one are better regulated. Clearly this is a scandal on an unprecedented scale and it must never be allowed to happen again. If anyone thinks they may
have been affected they can contact me or telephone the number that will be shown at the end of this report.’

  The presenter thanked her and then moved to a teenage lad Ian recognized from the village store. ‘What did you feel when you heard the news about the clinic?’ she asked him.

  ‘I always thought there was something odd about that pair. A lot of people round here did,’ he said.

  ‘But you didn’t suspect what they were up to?’

  ‘No. They never had much to do with us, really.’

  She thanked him and then wound up the report with more film taken earlier, showing the police coming out of the clinic carrying computers and medical equipment. The piece ended with the helpline phone number.

  Satisfied, Ian switched off the television, picked up his knife and fork and continued to eat his dinner. He knew there was sufficient evidence to convict Moller without implicating Anne or giving away the existence of the outsiders she protected and cared for. Ian had seen to that. He’d removed all traces of the Second Generation file from Moller’s computer and had tweaked others. The great advantage of his job was that in keeping hackers out, he knew exactly how they got in and the damage they could do.

  Tomorrow he would visit David one last time and then try to pick up the pieces of his life. David had outlived their expectations and Ian had seen him every week since Anne had told him. Not at her home in Dells Lane, but at Ivy Cottage where she now stayed. It was perfect, rural and remote, so that David, James and Kerris could run free and make the most of their last days, happy and unaware they were any different to others. For that, Ian was grateful.

  SIXTY-FOUR

  ‘Have you heard the news?’ Beth asked the following morning as she slipped into her office chair.

  Matt looked up from his computer screen and frowned questioningly.

  ‘You must have. The raid on the Moller Clinic?’

  ‘Oh yes, I did. You can’t miss it. But why are you looking so concerned? Because we weren’t part of the action? You know the fraud squad use their own people.’