The Winter Children Read online

  THE

  WINTER

  CHILDREN

  LULU TAYLOR

  PAN BOOKS

  To Gill, with love

  Contents

  Prologue

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  PART TWO

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  PART THREE

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  PART FOUR

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Francesca leans across the table and puts her hand over his.

  ‘Oh, Dan, I’m so sorry.’

  Dan looks up at her, his eyes full of pain. ‘It’s okay. It’s fine. It’s just . . . she suffers. You know. It’s a kind of madness and she can’t let it go.’

  ‘Of course.’ She smiles at him, hoping she is projecting all her sympathy. She truly is sorry because she hates to see him unhappy, but deep down in a place she hardly dares look, there is a secret desire that this should be one part of his charmed life that fails to go smoothly. ‘Have you thought any more about adoption?’

  Dan sighs. She rubs her thumb gently over the top of his hand, relishing its smooth warmth. She still likes contact with him when she can get it. It has a slight thrill of the forbidden about it but there’s also a tiny element of ownership. I’ve known you so long, it seems to say. We can do this. We have permission to touch in this intimate way, usually reserved for lovers. At a recent party in his flat, she put her arm round his waist and slipped her hand into the back pocket of his jeans, letting her palm settle over the curve of his buttock. She kept it there for several minutes before he slid gently out of her reach and went to get more wine. Olivia, of course, had gone to bed.

  ‘She talked about adopting a Chinese girl,’ Dan says, ‘after she read something in a magazine. But I’m not that keen. It would be an absolute last resort. I mean, it’s such a risk. You just have no idea what child you’re going to get.’

  Francesca blinks at him. You never know what you’re going to get even with your own children. But Dan has always liked to work in certainties, or as certain as he can make things. He likes plans and strategies, and clear cause and effect. She can tell that he is finding the frustration and unanswered questions of infertility a miserable experience. I wish I could take it all away. Make it easy for you.

  He sighs again. ‘Adoption is not a serious option yet. She won’t give up while there’s a chance she might be able to get pregnant. The thing is, the expense . . . the money . . . we’ve done four rounds of IVF. We can’t afford any more.’ He slides his gaze away from hers. Despite the candour between them, he’s still proud. ‘And besides, things are dodgy at work. There’s another round of redundancy coming. I’ve already survived two. I might not be so lucky next time. We can’t spend everything we have on something that might never come off. Money down the literal bloody drain.’

  She tightens her grip around his hand and says eagerly, ‘Let me help.’

  ‘What can you do?’ he asks with a small laugh that’s not scornful but hopeless.

  ‘I can spare some money. You know that.’

  He tenses and pulls back a little. ‘No. I can’t do that.’

  ‘You can. Why not? You know how things are – we’ve got more than we can possibly need. If it’s just a matter of money standing between you and the thing you and Olivia want more than anything else in the world . . . It’s ridiculous when that’s something I can easily help with.’

  He stares at her now, as though seeing her for the first time in a long while, real surprise in his eyes. ‘You’d do that?’

  ‘I’d do anything for you,’ she says fervently.

  He frowns slightly.

  I’ve gone too far. He’s wary now. She hurries on. ‘Because I want you and Olivia to share in what I’ve got. The children are the world to me. There’s nothing else like it. If I can help you guys experience the incredible adventure of parenthood, then I want to. It’s amazing to know you’re leaving a part of yourself behind, and it’s endlessly fascinating seeing the people you and your partner can create between you. Every day I see bits of myself or Walt in the children, or I wonder how we managed to mix ourselves up to make something so fresh and interesting. You and Olivia will make beautiful, talented children. I want to meet them.’ That should do it.

  Her words seem to have the desired effect. Dan looks less wary but now there’s a different expression on his face, one she can’t read. This surprises her. She’s always been able to intuit what he’s thinking. It’s what makes him rely on her the way he does. When he tells her that no one knows him as well as she does, she is certain it’s true. Only I know the real Dan. And I still love him.

  ‘What is it?’ She leans back in to him again, taking every opportunity to be close. ‘Something’s wrong.’

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘What? You can tell me. You know that.’

  ‘There’s a problem. One that money can’t solve, I’m afraid. You see, Olivia’s eggs are no longer viable. They’ve found out that her ovaries are prematurely aged. More IVF is pointless. She’s never going to have a child of her own.’

  ‘Oh! God, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.’ Deep inside there’s a tiny swell of triumphant glee. I’ve won. She’s never going to have his children after all. ‘Poor Olivia. Poor you.’ She squeezes his hand and he gives her a grateful look.

  ‘Thanks, Cheska. It was a blow when we found out. Olivia’s devastated. I think we have to face the fact that this is the end of the line for us. We’re just not going to have children. The thing to do now is accept it and move on. Olivia can’t, of course. Not yet. She still thinks that she can get pregnant. She wants us to use an egg donor but I’ve told her that’s out of the question.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  He looks intense suddenly. ‘It’s what you said. About how you can see you and Walt in the children, and how you’re fascinated by the people you’ve created. I can’t bear the thought that one half of our children’s genetic inheritance will be that of a complete stranger. A whole family history we don’t know about. I hate that idea. Maybe it’s wrong of me – it probably really is wrong of me – but I don’t want us bringing up the children of an anonymous donor from God knows what background. Even if they’re half mine. Does that make sense?’

  She stares at him. The lines of his face are softening as he enters the next phase of his life. The sharp-boned look he had in his twenties, with the hollows in his cheeks and the lustre of his dark hair, turned in his thirties into something a little pudgier and paler as he sat behind a desk and worked long hours. Then, with the usual shock of seeing forty approach, he began to get into shape, losing weight and g
etting fit again, but now his dark hair has streaks of silver in it and the stubble speckling his jaw is grey. It doesn’t stop her thinking he is still the most beautiful man she knows. ‘Yes,’ she says slowly. ‘Of course it makes sense.’

  ‘Olivia doesn’t understand. She thinks I’ll love them. She says she’ll love them even though she’s not related to them at all. She can’t see it. The way I feel, I mean.’

  ‘I know how you feel. It’s completely understandable.’ She’s conscious of a swirl of inspiration rising inside her. She’s just seen the way to make her own triumph complete. If . . . But how? Could I . . . Could it work? ‘It’s only natural to want to know your children’s heritage. How will you understand them otherwise? But . . . you know . . . there is a way that you and Olivia could both get what you want.’

  She stares at him, and waits for the realisation to dawn on him, but there’s nothing. He frowns again and says, ‘What do you mean?’

  There’s no point in waiting, she sees that. He’ll never think of it himself. ‘I could donate eggs to you and Olivia. I know I’m a little older than egg donors generally are but I’m not forty yet. There’d be no harm in trying, would there?’

  He gapes at her, astonished. Then says in a tone of wonder, ‘You?’

  She nods, smiling, her eyes shining. ‘Yes! It’s a perfect idea. You know me. You’ll always be able to ask me anything about the genetic inheritance. You know that I’m intelligent and sane.’

  ‘But . . .’ He looks baffled, bewildered as the idea takes root in his mind. ‘You’d do that for us?’

  ‘Of course!’ She laughs merrily. ‘I’m not offering to actually have a baby for you! Olivia can do that bit. It just seems a very neat way around the issue.’

  The spark of interest in his eyes goes out. ‘Olivia would never agree,’ he says briefly.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Think about it. She never would.’

  Francesca pretends to find this odd, but of course she can easily guess why Olivia would never contemplate accepting her eggs, not for an instant. ‘I suppose it’s hard, because we’re friends . . .’ she says slowly, nodding. ‘She might feel the baby was not entirely hers.’

  There’s more to it than that of course. They both know it, though it’s one of the few things they’ve never discussed. The secret things. The unspoken things. And what exactly does Olivia know? She’s always assumed that Dan has told her very little. He’s good at self-preservation after all.

  Francesca knows when to make a tactical retreat. ‘Of course. You’re right. It’s a silly idea. There are so many obstacles, I’m sure it would be practically impossible anyway. And, as you say, Olivia simply wouldn’t want to accept the eggs of someone as close to you both as I am.’ She leans back in her chair and laughs again. ‘I mean, you could hardly sort things out so that she didn’t know whose eggs they were! Well, if you really wanted to, you probably could; I’m sure a clinic might be persuaded to do it. Not here, maybe. But abroad. I don’t suppose it’s impossible, not if you really wanted it. But as good as.’

  She lets her words hang in the air, wondering if they’ll have the desired effect. He ought to be laughing and saying straight out that he’d never deceive Olivia in that way. But he’s not. He’s looking at her with the kind of gaze that tells her his brain is whirling over the possibilities, imagining a future where Olivia gets her dearest wish and he does not have to compromise. He’s actually thinking about it. A strange happiness grips her. Suddenly she wants this more than anything in the world. And she can see that in his mind, Dan has already made the leap over the barrier that ought to be insurmountable. He’s thinking about lying to her.

  She should be shocked but she’s always known that he’s capable of being ruthless. And if it means that the two of them are bound even closer, then she doesn’t mind. After all, love is seeing someone’s faults and loving them anyway.

  She can’t imagine a life in which her existence isn’t governed by her passion for Dan. It’s been a part of her for so long that she never questions it.

  She watches as he ponders her outrageous, audacious suggestion. All these years she’s quietly hoped that none of the fertility treatments would work. But this . . . this would be best of all.

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  Six months later

  Olivia wakes with a start and turns to the clock. It’s five thirty in the morning. Gardening hours. But she’s not gardening this morning. She wants more than anything to do a wee.

  She slips quietly out of bed, taking care not to wake Dan, who’s breathing in the heavy pattern of sleep, picks up her phone from the bedside table and tiptoes down the hall to the bathroom. There they are, waiting where she left them: a clean water glass and a foil-wrapped stick.

  This is the earliest possible date she can know whether or not this round has been successful.

  Don’t get too excited, she tells herself strictly as she slides down her pyjama bottoms and picks up the glass. She’s been here too many times before, with the test registering negative. And a few times, it’s been positive and she’s been through all the elation and hope, only to have it dashed a week or two later when everything ground to a halt.

  But this time it’s lovely fresh eggs, not my tired old things. This time we have a chance.

  She holds the glass in position and carefully does her wee. She knows that morning urine is best because it has the highest concentration of the human pregnancy hormone in it. She puts the full glass down and unwraps the pregnancy test. She could do it blindfold now but she reads the instructions just in case, sets her phone to the stopwatch function, dips the end of the stick in the glass of warm urine, holds it for five seconds, then replaces the cap and sets it down. The patch of damp passes through the control window and shows the pink line that confirms the test is working. Now she must wait two minutes. She presses the button on the stopwatch and tries to think of something else.

  I’ll clean my teeth. That will waste some time.

  At the basin, she watches her reflection clean its teeth slowly, her blue-grey eyes observing herself.

  Are you pregnant or not?

  There certainly isn’t any sign of it on her face. She felt no different on the return journey from Spain, after the eggs had been implanted, but there’s a strange fizz of hope inside her that this time, after all the pain and misery and all the spent money, their luck is bound to change.

  She stares at herself as she rinses. We would be good parents, I know it. She raises her eyes to heaven, to whatever power is there, and thinks, I promise I will do everything I can to be the best mother in the world and bring up a happy, loved child, if you’ll only grant me the chance. No one will try harder than me. I swear it.

  She glances over at the stopwatch. Only one minute gone. How can it go so slowly? This is worse than in the gym when she has to do the plank for a minute. That is slow, but it’s like a speed race compared to this.

  Not knowing what else to do, she starts to rearrange the bottles of bath oil on the shelf, and then thinks how much she would like a bath right now. As it’s so early, she has hours before they have to get up, plenty of time to have a nice long soak. And by the time the bath has run, she’ll know whether she’s celebrating or commiserating with herself.

  Slowly and carefully she chooses mandarin and ginseng bath oil, a gift in her stocking last Christmas.

  That sounds nice. But will it be more like a giant cup of herbal tea than a bath?

  The stopwatch alarm begins to pulse and makes her jump.

  That’s it. It’s ready.

  She goes over, her fingers trembling just a little, and looks at the window. She stares blankly, confused. What does it mean? Frowning, she goes over to the leaflet and unfolds it with fingers that are suddenly stiff and uncooperative.

  ‘If there is no line, you are not pregnant,’ she reads. ‘If there is a line, you are pregnant.’ She stares at the stick. There is a line. Faint but there. She checks
again. ‘If there is a line, you are pregnant.’ Joy races up inside her, an effervescent fountain of it, and she hugs herself with glee.

  I knew it. I just knew it.

  Putting the test down, she hesitates then pads back to the bed and climbs in, snuggling up to Dan, stroking him and kissing his shoulder until he comes to wakefulness. He grunts lightly. ‘Morning,’ he murmurs, then yawns. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Nearly six,’ she says. ‘Well, quarter to. Dan, can I ask you something?’

  ‘I hope it’s important,’ he mumbles into his pillow. ‘Because I could be asleep right now.’

  ‘Of course it is.’ She kisses him again, and runs her finger over the soft dark fuzz at the nape of his neck. ‘Dan . . . do you think you could ever love anyone as much as you do me?’

  Dan turns over, his expression quizzical. ‘Love someone as much as you? Don’t be silly, of course not. I’ll always love you best, you know that.’

  ‘Well,’ she says with glee, ‘you’re going to have to try!’

  He looks confused. ‘What do you mean?’

  She beams at him. ‘Dan, we’re pregnant! It’s worked! We’re going to have a baby!’

  He stares at her for a moment, taking it in, and then he whoops wildly. ‘It’s worked! We’re pregnant?’

  She nods, laughing with happiness. ‘Yes! I knew that we’d be lucky this time. I just knew it!’

  He laughs too, and they hug hard, both knowing how long and tough the road here has been.

  ‘It’s early days,’ she says quickly, not wanting to jinx her chances with too much certainty.

  ‘We mustn’t get overexcited,’ he cautions. ‘We’ve been here before, remember. We’ll have a long wait before we can be sure.’

  ‘I know.’ She smiles broadly at him. ‘We should be sensible. But I have a feeling about this one. I don’t know why. They must be lucky eggs!’

  His smile freezes just for a second and then he says heartily, ‘They must be. Oh my goodness, this is so exciting.’