 It was all true. All of it.
Until this moment Lucy Grayford hadn't allowed herself to believe
it. All the way from Shropshire she'd told herself there'd
been some kind of mistake. Some different universe she'd stumbled
into and surely soon stumble out of. But looking at the deeply
troubled man opposite she knew there'd been no mistake – not
this time.
With immense effort she tried to concentrate on what he
was trying to tell her. She could see his mouth moving and
yet it was so difficult to take the words in. What they really
meant. To her. To Chloe.
"Genetically Chloe isn't your child," Dr Shorrock
said carefully. Very, very carefully, she registered bleakly.
Every word predetermined and carefully phrased. "The
embryos implanted back into your womb belonged to another
couple."
It should hurt more.
Surely this kind of news was something you couldn't stay
sane through.
"But... but I gave birth to Chloe." Her
mind struggled to come to terms with what he was saying.
She had given birth to Chloe. Eleven long hours and seventeen
stitches later she'd had a seven pound, fourteen ounce little
girl. She'd held her in her arms immediately after - red,
wrinkled and unbelievable perfect. And hers.
From that moment her life had revolved around the miracle
of her baby.
"This is difficult to understand, Mrs Grayford, I know." The
steady voice of Dr Shorrock faltered and his fingers shuffled
nervously at his papers. "Whilst you carried Chloe to
term, and gave birth naturally to her, both the egg and sperm
belonged to another couple and – "
"She's mine," Lucy cut in. This was a nightmare.
A hateful clawing nightmare. Slowly the full truth of what
he was saying was beginning to penetrate her numb brain.
He was trying to tell her Chloe didn't belong with her. That
she belonged to another couple.
But if they only knew her as an egg and a sperm surely
she belonged with her? It had been her body that had carried
her. Her body that had given her life. "She's been my
baby for six years. You can't suddenly say you want her back.
That – "
"I'm sorry to say the error was more far-reaching than
that."
There was something about his expression that held Lucy
silent. She almost didn't let herself breathe. He'd already
brought her world crashing down around her, what could be
worse than he'd already said?
"At the time of the... error... you and
your late husband had three good embryos stored at the same
clinic."
The pressure on her heart was almost unbearable as she waited
for whatever he was going to say next. "Yes?" she
managed, forcing out the single word through dry lips.
"All three were implanted into the womb of another
woman and one resulted in the birth of a healthy baby girl."
"My baby?" Her voice faltered.
 "Genetically the baby of yourself and your late husband.
Yes."
Lucy put one shaking hand up to her forehead trying to rub
away the pain that had begun to wrap an iron band around
her head. It was impossible to take any of this in. This
slightly pompous looking man with his hair combed over the
bald patch on his head was talking about errors and embryos,
and yet what he was really talking about was lives. People's
lives. Their lives.
"Naturally a full investigation will be undertaken.
At this time I can only offer you our most profound apologies."
She let her hand fall back into her lap. "I don't understand.
How... How could such a thing happen? It isn't possible."
"Mistakes are extremely rare in embryology, but there's
always the risk of human error. All clinics are required
to operate scrupulous labelling systems and to double check
embryos before implantation. Although the clinic you attended
did have all the correct protocols designed to prevent this
from happening, as in all areas of medicine, sometimes things
do go wrong."
"Do the other couple know? Have you told them?"
Dr Shorrock looked back down at his notes before returning
his steady gaze to hers. "A blood test on their daughter
showed she has a rhesus negative blood type which revealed
there must have been an error. Both her birth parents are
rhesus positive so it was obvious she couldn't be their biological
child."
"I'm rhesus negative." Her hands shook in her
lap. She folded them tightly into fists and allowed her nails
to dig into her palms. It was good to feel something other
than the screaming pain ripping through her head. Please
God... oh please God... no.
 She knew what pain felt like. Knew exactly what it felt
like to want the world to stop turning and everything disappear
into blissful darkness. She thought she'd never recover from
the agony of losing Michael and yet this was unbelievable.
It was as though he'd died all over again and had taken with
him the one thing – the one person – who'd been
able to console her. The person who'd given her a reason
to go on living. Breathing in and out until one day she'd
suddenly felt alive again. Happy even. And yet here she was
back in a blackness she hadn't even imagined existed.
"This must be a mistake," she whispered. "This
can't be happening."
Dr Shorrock lowered his eyes as though he couldn't bear
to see the pain in hers. "I'm confident from the tests
we've undertaken so far that there was a switch of embryos
at the implantation stage. Possibly there was some confusion
over the names. And yet - " he broke off and shook his
head in apparent disbelief. "I can't give you accurate
answers about how this might have happened. Not before we've
undertaken a full investigation and I've received the report.
While that's still pending I want you to know the head of
the unit has been suspended with immediate effect and all
the appropriate authorities have been informed."
As if she cared? The people at the clinic were people she
didn't know, didn't care about. But still he went on, his
face a picture of professional concern.
"Obviously there'll be many questions that need answers
and I will be assiduous in asking them. The - "
"What happens now? To Chloe and me?"
His cheeks puffed out. "Naturally we must have the
wellbeing of the girls at the very centre of everything we
do. There's no definitive ruling on how a direct switch of
embryos should be dealt with although all rulings do suggest
you will continue to have guardianship of Chloe during her
minority."
Guardianship? What did that mean? Chloe was her daughter.
Had been from her first breath.
"While the legalities are being debated in court you,
yourself, will need to consider what you want to happen.
Do you want access to your biological child or not? Ultimately
there will have to be a legal ruling on who these children
actually belong to."
His words continued but Lucy was no longer interested. In
her heart the words were pounding over and over again. ‘Chloe's
not my daughter. Not my daughter.' And yet she was. In every
way that mattered Chloe was her daughter. She'd been the
little warm figure who'd cuddled up in that lonely double
bed during thunderstorms. She'd been the toddler she'd stayed
up all night with when she'd had chicken pox. She was hers.
Absolutely. And she would fight for her. With the very last
breath she had in her body.
And her other baby? Hers and Michaels? The baby who'd grown
up being cuddled and cared for by other people – strangers.
Slowly she felt the pressure on her heart increase in a tight,
painful grip.
There were no easy answers to this. She felt a trickle
of warm tears as they begun to fall down her face. She was
crying. She didn't mean to be crying but they came without
any help from her. One after another, pouring down her face – and
yet she was soundless.
 Dr Shorrock pushed a box of tissues across his desk. "I
do realise how difficult this is for you, Mrs Grayford. For
the time being I think you should give yourself a chance
to assimilate everything I've told you. Meanwhile I will
set in motion some of the things we've agreed upon."
Agreed? Had they agreed anything? Lucy really didn't know.
She pulled out a tissue and wiped the tears from her face.
Pointless really as others soon replaced them.
He stopped to write something down in a large manila folder. "A
nurse will give you a cup of tea and sit with you awhile.
I can only offer my sincere apologies on behalf of my colleagues
and I shall be in contact very shortly."
Dominic Grayling sat on the graffiti covered wooden bench
outside the hospital, his gaze following the movement of
people in and out without any real focus. He shouldn't have
come and yet the temptation to be here had been irresistible.
He'd told himself a million times since last Friday that
the date and time he'd seen marked down on his file might
pertain to anything, to anyone. And yet he hadn't believed
that, not deep down in his soul. As soon as he'd read what
was written it was inevitable he'd be here. Waiting.
He glanced down at his watch and then back again at the
doors to the hospital. It was late now. Perhaps he'd missed
them? He'd been so sure he'd be able to recognise them when
he saw them. They'd look like he had when he'd first understood
what had happened. They'd be lost. Hurting.
He didn't mean to talk to them. To make any sign at all.
He just wanted to know what they looked like. Whether they
were nice, he supposed. If he could imagine his biological
child living with them and being happy. That would be enough.
Surely that would be enough?
The doors opened with an automatic swish and he heard the
soft brogue of an Irish accent asking, "Are you sure
you don't want to wait awhile longer? I don't like to see
you leave like this."
"I just want to go home. I need to go home now."
The other voice was strained, choking. It was a voice that
touched him. Spoke to the hurt deep within himself.
He turned almost automatically and saw her. She was beautiful.
Even though she'd been crying. Was crying, he noticed – she
was still beautiful with brown hair alive with auburn highlights.
Curls softly framing an oval face. Exactly like his Abigail.
Dominic forced himself to look away and muttered a short
expletive under his breath. He was beginning to go out of
his mind. Seeing similarities where there weren't any. London
was full of women with dark hair. He might as well stand
in Covent Garden and hold up a banner for all the good this
was doing. He was looking for a couple.
And yet he was alone. Maybe...
He turned back to watch the
woman. Her olive-tinted colouring was similar to Abby's
and there'd been no-one else who'd seemed possible. She'd
pulled her black coat closely around her body and was desperately
searching in her pocket for something. A tissue? And all
the while her tears continued to fall.
It was her pain that made him watch her. It simply radiated
from every pore. It felt like a mirror being held up to his
own emotion. The devastating pain he had no words to describe
accurately.
Her hand came out empty and she put her fingers up to her
eyes wiping away the trails of moisture. He couldn't bear
it – to see her pain and do nothing. He stood up and
walked towards her, hesitantly, before handing her a white
starched handkerchief from his overcoat pocket.
She saw the flash of white before understanding what he
was offering. "I'm sorry... I... I'll be
fine in a minute. I'm sorry. It's just I..."
"Take it. It's just a handkerchief," he said curtly.
"Thank you." Her fingers closed about it and she
wiped at her eyes. Then, with a little confusion, she offered
it back to him.
"Keep it."
She looked back down at the damp fabric in her hand. "Oh,
yes," before saying helplessly, "thank you."
"It's nothing. My name is Dominic Grayling."
She looked at him blindly. His name obviously meant nothing
to her. Why should it? He wasn't arrogant enough to assume
she'd recognise it from the television documentary he'd made
two years previously and, even if she were one half of the
couple he'd hoped to see, there was no reason she should
know his name. The hospital had been scrupulous in keeping
that information secret. He tried another tack. "Is
there anything I can do to help you?"
She'd begun to shake her head even before he'd finished
speaking. "Nothing. I'll be fine. Thanks for this though," she
said with a small brave smile before turning away to walk
down the steps.
It was something in the way she smiled, or turned perhaps,
but he couldn't let her go. Dominic quickly walked down the
steps beside her. "I know I shouldn't be doing this,
but I have to ask."
She turned and looked back up at him, her brown eyes troubled
and a little scared.
Dominic took a deep breath. He was going to sound stupid
but he couldn't let this chance escape him. Before they knew
it they were going to be overtaken by people whose concern
were the legalities. There was just a small chance for him
to take control – now, before all their lives were
blighted more than they already were.
 "Have you by any chance just been told your daughter
isn't yours?"
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IT (North America) - (UK)
Imprint and Series:
Mills & Boon® Tender Romance™
Publication Date: October 2004
ISBN: 0263838560
Copyright © 2004 by Harlequin Mills & Boon
Limited
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher.
The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books
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