The Cottage

by Lisa Stone

  He returned to the information on club feet and possible causes … not caused by the foetus’s position in the womb … often the cause is unknown … genetic factors are believed to be involved … specific gene changes have been associated with it … can be passed down through families. He went cold.

  But this had nothing to do with the Moller Clinic, he told himself. It couldn’t. Jan’s parents lived over a hundred miles away and had never used the clinic. Jan and he didn’t look alike as he and Camile did, so it couldn’t be history repeating itself. It was his paranoia. Simply, it was bad luck that their baby had a malformation of his feet, but it wasn’t uncommon and could be easily corrected with surgery, just as the doctor had said.

  Returning the scan photo and phone to his pocket, Chris started the van and continued the drive to work, desperately trying to believe that what he was telling himself was true.

  SIXTY-NINE

  ‘Ian Jennings?’

  ‘Speaking.’

  ‘It’s Chris Giles.’

  ‘Hi, how are you?’

  ‘Fine. And yourself?’

  ‘Not bad. We sold our house, but Emma and I are still in touch.’

  ‘I’m sorry to trouble you but …’ Chris paused and took a deep breath. God. He hoped he was doing the right thing. ‘I need to ask you something, and I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself.’

  ‘Sure. What is it? Sounds a bit ominous.’ Ian tried a small laugh.

  ‘Hopefully it’s nothing. I think you may know that I’m in a relationship with Jan Hamlin, who used to be the tenant at Ivy Cottage.’

  ‘Yes, Anne mentioned it.’

  ‘We’re expecting a baby.’

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Chris paused again and steeled himself to ask the question. ‘Ian, do you still have the records for the Moller Clinic?’

  ‘No, I don’t. After I’d emailed all those on the list I deleted all my records. Just in case the police came knocking on my door.’

  ‘I see. But you emailed everyone on the list first?’ Chris asked.

  ‘Yes. Some were old email addresses and the email bounced back, so I did my best to trace them. I guess a few of the emails might have gone into junk mail, but there was no way of following that up. Why?’

  ‘Our baby has a slight deformity of his feet that could be genetic. I guess I’m overreacting, but I was going to ask you to check to make sure Jan’s parents weren’t on the list.’

  There! He’d said it, Chris thought. He’d voiced his worst fear.

  ‘If Jan didn’t receive an email then you can assume they weren’t,’ Ian replied.

  ‘That’s what I thought. Thank you. Sorry to disturb your evening.’

  ‘No problem. I can understand why you’re worried after what happened to us, but I’m sure it’s fine.’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’

  It was 9.30 p.m. and Jan was already upstairs. She was often tired in the evening now and went up to bed before him. She’d left her laptop on the coffee table, charging. Chris looked away, back again, then picking it up, he lifted the lid. It sprang into life. It wasn’t password protected. Jan said she didn’t have any secrets from him, so she saw no need for passwords on her laptop or phone. He hesitated and then continued.

  Ian had said that some of the emails he’d sent had gone to old email addresses. Chris knew that Jan had an old email account she never used now. How often did she check it? He had no idea. He followed the icon to the old mailbox and his mouth went dry. There were dozens of unopened emails from stores, holiday companies, websites where she was a customer, offering special offers. At least two a week, sometimes more. Chris began scrolling down, last week, last month, last year. Checking each email. He found a couple she might want to keep and left them. Right back to December. He saw it and went cold. The email from Carstan Moller Ian had sent. The subject line: Confidential and Urgent. With his heart thumping, Chris forced himself to open the email, hoping against all the odds that it was something else entirely.

  All hope vanished as he read.

  I am sorry to inform you that there has been a dreadful mistake at the Moller Clinic, resulting in too many patients receiving the same donor sperm. If you are planning to start a family, you should have your DNA tested as a matter of urgency to make sure you don’t share the same biological father as your partner.

  Regards,

  Carstan Moller

  A buzzing noise filled Chris’s ears and the room swam before him. Jan’s parents must have used the clinic and never told her. He felt sick and bile rose in his throat. History was repeating itself. First Camile and now Jan. His worst nightmare was coming true. Anne had told him some time ago that while most of those who shared Moller’s genes looked very similar, not all did.

  What were the odds of this happening to him again! He couldn’t believe it. He held his head in his hands. They were half brother and sister, just as he and Camile were. He could cope with anything, but not losing Jan. He loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. There never could or would be anyone else. Ian and Emma had been able to move on, but he knew he couldn’t. He was older than them and had been through this before. Without Jan, he was nothing. He couldn’t risk losing her. She believed their baby had a small malformation of his feet and it would stay that way for as long as possible.

  Blinking back tears, Chris deleted the email and then, closing the laptop, telephoned Anne.

  ‘I need to talk to you urgently. It’s about Jan and our baby.’

  SEVENTY

  ‘If you really want a home birth then it’s fine with me,’ Jan said, kissing Chris’s cheek. ‘It’s not a problem. Although shouldn’t I still go for the next scan?’

  ‘No need,’ Chris said. ‘Anne can do it at home here. She’s highly experienced and has all the equipment she needs, including a portable ultrasound scanner. I will feel much happier with Anne taking care of you after what happened to Camile.’

  Jan looked at him with compassion. ‘But what happened to Camile was very different.’

  ‘I know, but things can still go wrong, and if they do, Anne is the best person to deal with it.’

  She saw his sadness and concern. ‘Chris, I think you’re worrying unnecessarily, unless there’s something you’re not telling me.’

  ‘Of course there isn’t. It’s simply that Anne is the best.’

  ‘OK,’ Jan agreed.

  ‘You’ll like her,’ Chris persisted. ‘I know you didn’t think much of her when you first met her in Coleshaw Woods, but that’s because you thought I was seeing her. You haven’t really got to know her. She’s a fantastic midwife and a good friend of mine.’

  ‘So you keep telling me, and I’ve got nothing against Anne. But what will happen if the birth isn’t straightforward and I need to go to hospital?’

  ‘I am sure that won’t be necessary, but Anne can advise you. She’ll be with you every step of the way until you give birth. I’ll be there too, of course,’ he added.

  ‘You’d better be!’ Jan laughed, lightly tapping his arm. ‘I’m not doing this alone.’

  ‘You won’t have to. Whatever happens in the future, I’ll be there for you.’

  ‘And for our baby,’ Jan added. ‘You’ll be there for our son.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  SEVENTY-ONE

  Three months later, Jan was at home with the back door open, gazing out on another beautiful sunny morning. The chickens Chris kept were in their coop at the very bottom of the garden, clucking. Anne had just left, having given her another routine check-up. She was being very well looked after and Jan felt guilty for ever having thought badly of Anne. She was a fantastic midwife – just as Chris had said. Patient, kind, caring, and with a very reassuring manner. She dispelled any fears Jan had about having the baby at home. She was also a lovely person, who Jan now regarded as a friend.

  If she thought Anne was slightly evasive about the ‘problem’ with the baby’s feet, s
he put it down to her not wanting to worry her. ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’ she said in her quiet, confident way, so that Jan found herself reassured.

  Anne had taken care of all the arrangements that needed to be made for Jan to have a home birth and had updated the hospital records accordingly. Her manner was always pleasant and empathetic, instilling confidence and a sense of wellbeing. Just what a first-time mother needed. Anne never spoke about her other work – looking after the outsiders, although she knew Jan had been told. Once Jan had asked about them and Anne had replied that she probably wouldn’t be needed for much longer as the numbers were falling now the clinic had been exposed. But that was all she’d said and Jan didn’t ask again.

  Chris didn’t speak of the outsiders either, although Jan knew he visited Anne at Ivy Cottage sometimes if she needed help. Jan trusted Chris just as she trusted Anne, now she understood what had created and cemented their friendship. Jan sometimes walked along Wood Lane if the weather was good, but she’d never seen the children again. Their secret remained safe with her, as she’d promised Camile and Chris it would. The Moller Clinic had been closed down and Carstan Moller was in prison. She’d seen it on the news.

  Jan was about to go outside into the warm sunshine when a sharp pain shot across her abdomen and lower back. Trying to catch her breath, she grabbed the door to steady herself and waited for it to pass. Whatever was that? Not chronic indigestion, not that bad, and it was too early for labour. She still had another nine weeks to go. Perhaps she should phone Anne for advice?

  The pain struck again, tearing through her like a red-hot knife, making her cry out. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She held onto the door and prayed it would pass. A moment later she felt a gush of warm fluid as her waters broke.

  Oh no, please, no. Panic gripped her. She was going into labour early. What should she do? She needed Chris. She had to call him now. Where was her phone? She turned and saw it on the sofa. Letting go of the door, she made her way across the room. Another contraction took hold and she froze, paralysed with pain until it had passed. No one had told her it would be this bad, and it wasn’t supposed to be happening yet. She’d been told first babies were often late, not early.

  She needed to sit down – her legs felt weak – but her jeans were sopping wet. Beyond caring, she lowered herself onto the sofa and then called Chris. It went through to his voicemail. Shit! She tried again. He was at work but checked his phone regularly. She tried one more time with the same result and then, unable to keep the desperation from her voice, left a message. ‘Chris! I think I’m in labour! Come quickly, please. I’ll call Anne, but I need you here.’

  She braced herself as another contraction took hold and tried to remember her deep breathing. It didn’t help, but eventually the pain eased. Surely the contractions were coming too regularly for the first stage of labour? Fumbling with her phone, she called Anne.

  It rang and rang. Please answer, please. Don’t leave me here all alone. I might die.

  It continued ringing and then mercifully Anne answered.

  ‘You have to come back straight away,’ Jan cried. ‘I’m in labour. The contractions are coming every minute.’

  ‘Are you sure? That’s too soon. Have you timed them?’

  ‘No. But I don’t need a bloody clock to know! I’m in agony and my waters have broken. I’m scared, Anne. Please come. Chris isn’t picking up. Please … I’m …’ But the sentence vanished into a cry as another contraction took hold.

  ‘I’m on my way,’ Anne said. ‘It’ll take me about ten minutes. Try to calm down and remember your breathing. It’s possible it’s a false start. But to be safe, I want you to go upstairs and lie on your bed. Put some towels down first to protect the covers. I’ll be there.’

  ‘Should I call an ambulance?’ Jan wept.

  ‘No, absolutely not.’

  And for the first time since Jan had known Anne, she heard anxiety in her voice.

  SEVENTY-TWO

  Chris was driving as fast as the country roads would allow and fearing the worst. He’d been up a ladder at the house he was working in when his phone had rung. He’d finished what he was doing before coming down, never dreaming it could be Jan in labour. When he’d listened to her message, he’d immediately phoned her. She hadn’t answered and then, when he’d called Anne straight after, neither had she. He now tried them again as he drove, but voicemail cut in on both their phones. God, he was worried, and blamed himself for not checking his phone sooner. He knew that these babies were born earlier than others, but there’d been no sign of labour beginning that morning. Nor when he’d called Jan at 9 a.m. when he’d just arrived at work. Anne was supposed to be visiting her for a check-up and had said she’d phone him straight after, but that hadn’t happened. He was sure something had gone badly wrong or Anne would have been in touch.

  He accelerated and then had to break hard as a car rounded the bend. The driver sounded his horn angrily as he passed. Calm down, Chris told himself. Only another two miles to go.

  Usually the birth of these babies was straightforward, Anne had reassured him. But not always, he thought, as he and Camile had found out. Supposing Jan needed to go to hospital, possibly for a caesarean? It was the only procedure Anne couldn’t carry out at home. It had never happened before when Anne had been the midwife, but there was a first time for everything. What if Owen – as they’d named him – couldn’t be born naturally? He was larger than most of these babies.

  Chris’s heart clenched as he remembered the look of horror on the faces of the nurses when Camile had given birth. And now it was happening again, only much later in the pregnancy, which made it a whole lot worse. Questions were sure to be asked at the hospital and their secret exposed. Anne would be struck off and Owen, and the others like him, would be taken away to a life of hell. The very thing they’d strived and managed to avoid for so long was about to happen. Chris was devastated.

  He made a sharp right turn into his road and his heart stopped. An ambulance was parked outside his house. So was Anne’s car. Jan was being taken to hospital! His worst fear had come true. Anne would never have called for an ambulance unless it was serious – life-threatening. Jan’s life was in danger. He could lose her.

  Coming to an abrupt halt in front of the ambulance, Chris jumped out. As he passed the ambulance, he saw the rear doors were open but there was no one inside. The front door to his house was wide open and he ran in. ‘Jan!’ he shouted at the top of his voice.

  ‘Up here!’ Anne returned.

  He took the stairs two at a time and went into their bedroom. The room seemed full. Jan was being helped into a wheelchair by one of the paramedics while the other held a bundle in his arms.

  ‘Jan, my love,’ he cried, going to her. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He didn’t dare look at the baby.

  ‘She’s all right,’ Anne said.

  He took Jan’s hand and she gave a weak smile. ‘I’m exhausted,’ she said.

  ‘We’re going to the hospital now,’ Anne said. ‘I was going to ride with them in the ambulance but now you’re here you can, and I’ll follow in my car.’

  She seemed very calm, Chris thought, and looked from her to the paramedics, not really understanding what was going on. There was no sign of horror on their faces and Jan looked worn out but not distraught.

  ‘We need to get going now,’ the paramedic holding the baby said.

  ‘Go on, Chris,’ Anne told him. ‘Go with Jan.’

  He went to speak, but Anne said, ‘It’ll be fine. Your son was early, but the problem with his feet is no worse than expected. I’ll explain at the hospital.’ She held his gaze.

  Chris nodded dumbly and followed the paramedics out of the room. They paused on the landing.

  ‘If you could hold your baby,’ the paramedic said, turning to Chris. ‘I can help carry the chair with your partner in downstairs.’

  He placed the bundle into Chris’s arms, but it was a moment bef
ore Chris dared look. The little face was slightly wrinkled from the birth and his eyes were tightly closed, premature, but there was no excessive hair or unusual features.

  ‘It’s going to be OK,’ Anne said, quietly joining him. ‘Just keep going.’

  SEVENTY-THREE

  The journey in the ambulance to hospital seemed to take forever, Chris thought, although they were on a blue light. He sat on one of the seats opposite Jan, who was lying on the couch. He had Owen cradled in his arms, but he was concentrating on Jan. She was dozing, exhausted from the birth and from the pethidine Anne had given her.

  Chris sat in a trance, unable to take in what was happening. It’s going to be OK, Anne had said. She was now in her car, following the ambulance. Did that mean his baby was going to be able to live a normal life? He dared to hope.

  ‘It can be a bit overwhelming to begin with,’ the paramedic riding with them said, seeing his expression. ‘Is this your first child?’

  ‘Yes,’ Chris said quietly.

  ‘Don’t worry. Your partner and baby are fine. He will probably go in an incubator for a while. It’s usual with prems.’

  Chris nodded. The paramedic had checked Jan’s and Owen’s vital signs and was now entering her observations on a chart.

  The siren sounded to clear traffic and then finally they were pulling into the ambulance park at Coleshaw Hospital. The rear doors opened and the paramedic who’d been driving appeared. Chris stayed where he was as they wheeled Jan out first. Then Anne appeared. ‘Come with me,’ she told him.

  Chris stood and, carrying his baby, went carefully down the rear steps of the ambulance, then followed the paramedics and Anne into the hospital. It was busy.

  ‘I can take the baby through if you could register your partner and child at reception,’ the paramedic said to Chris.