Claiming Noah Page 4

  Eleanor lived alone in the house Diana and her brother, Tom, had grown up in. Since Diana’s father died from prostate cancer two years earlier, Diana and Tom had been trying to convince their mother to sell the house and move somewhere smaller and less expensive to maintain, but she said she wasn’t ready yet.

  ‘Now, we’re not staying long, remember?’ Liam said to Diana as they walked down the concreted path towards her mother’s front door. ‘You know how she is. The longer we stay, the more upset she’ll get. Maybe we shouldn’t even tell her about the available embryo.’

  Diana rang the doorbell. ‘I’m not going to do this without telling my mother first. Be nice, okay? I promise we won’t stay long.’

  Eleanor greeted them so quickly it made Diana wonder if she had been standing by the door waiting for them. After plying them with hugs and kisses she stepped back to let them into the house. A vase filled with lavender, picked from a prolific bush in the front garden, filled the foyer with its heady scent.

  ‘You both look wonderful,’ Eleanor said.

  ‘Thanks, Mum, so do you,’ Diana said. She meant it, too. Even though her mother had turned fifty the month before, there was barely a line on her face to betray her age. Diana had inherited her mother’s olive skin and she hoped that meant she would look as young as her mother did when she was her age.

  Father Keating stood up from the couch as they entered the lounge room. He looked just the same as Diana remembered him: small and round, with a smattering of white hair framing a freckled bald head and a face filled with creases.

  ‘Diana, Liam, how are you both?’

  Diana felt her cheeks burn as Liam shot her a scornful look she hoped Father Keating didn’t notice.

  ‘Did you know about this?’ he asked her.

  ‘It was my idea, Liam, don’t blame her,’ Eleanor said.

  ‘This wasn’t meant to be an ambush,’ Father Keating said as they stood looking at each other in a four-way stand-off. ‘Eleanor thought it would be a good idea if we all got together to chat. I’m glad to hear you’re thinking of starting a family.’

  ‘But not the way we’re thinking of doing it,’ Liam said.

  Eleanor ushered them to the couches. ‘Sit, sit. You three talk and I’ll finish making dinner. We’re having veal.’

  After a few minutes of small talk Father Keating raised the subject they knew he was there to discuss. ‘So,’ he said to Diana, ‘your mother tells me you’re considering using IVF to adopt an embryo. Why don’t you tell me more about that?’

  Diana gave Liam a sideways glance, which he seemed to understand, because he answered the question for her.

  ‘Diana and I have been trying to fall pregnant for the past year without any luck,’ he said. ‘So, we went to the doctor and it turns out both of us have fertility issues. Apparently the chances of us conceiving naturally are basically zero.’

  Father Keating leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees. ‘I can imagine that was a huge disappointment for you both.’

  ‘It was. But we didn’t want that to stop us from being able to raise a family, so we looked into our options. Diana desperately wanted to be pregnant, and I wanted that for her too, so when we found out about embryo adoption it seemed like the ideal solution for us.’

  ‘Did you consider other methods at all?’ Father Keating asked. ‘Adopting a baby, for example? Or becoming foster parents?’

  The clatter of pans and utensils in the kitchen stopped and Diana knew that her mother was eavesdropping on the conversation. Liam leaned back against the couch cushions and crossed his arms, his eyes pinched and his lips pressed tightly together, so Diana tried to muster up the courage to answer Father Keating’s question. She let go of the locket she had been fidgeting with since they entered the house and it fell back against her chest. Her hands were clammy, so she wiped them on her skirt before she spoke. ‘We did consider other options, and I know IVF isn’t something the Church endorses. But surely you can understand our desire to grow a baby ourselves. I want to have that time to bond with my child before it’s born.’

  ‘Diana, the Catholic Church isn’t opposed to methods that can increase a couple’s chance of having a baby,’ Father Keating said, speaking with a patience that suggested he had had this conversation many times before. ‘On the contrary, we want to encourage our younger members of the parish to have children. Most priests support using natural methods to address fertility issues, like working out the ideal time in which to attempt conception. And there has been a lot of work done recently on something called Natural Procreation Technology, which concentrates on treating the causes of the fertility issues rather than bypassing them. I’d be happy to talk to you about that if you’re interested.’

  Diana saw Liam’s hands clench into fists on his lap and she willed him to keep his composure. She knew he wanted to yell at the priest, to tell him it was none of his business. He had a short fuse; he was always yelling at other drivers on the road or telling people off if they cut into queues in front of them. But she had known that about him when she married him, and in part it was his passion and confidence that had attracted her to him. Diana had always assumed his anger issues were a result of losing both his parents when he was a teenager. They had died in a car accident, a collision with a semi-trailer whose driver had fallen asleep at the wheel after a long shift. Liam had been living at a boarding school at the time, and it was the principal who had told him his parents had died. Liam rarely spoke about his parents to anyone, even Diana.

  ‘Obviously we would have preferred to conceive naturally,’ Liam said as he unfurled his fists, which pleased Diana because it was a sure sign that just this once he had managed to keep control of his emotions. ‘But we can’t, and we shouldn’t be denied the experience of pregnancy and childbirth.’

  ‘Liam, I’m not saying you should be denied—’

  ‘I understand the Church’s opposition to the part of IVF that destroys unwanted embryos, but I don’t understand what’s wrong with adopting an embryo that isn’t going to be used by the couple who created it.’

  Father Keating frowned in a way that creased the deep lines on his forehead even further. ‘I understand why you’re upset. And what you’re considering is incredible science, certainly. But just because science has come an extraordinarily long way in the past hundred years, even just in the past decade, doesn’t mean that it’s always right.’

  Diana was grateful when her mother reappeared in the lounge room, because the dark expression that had settled over Liam’s face made her nervous about what he would say next. The last thing she wanted was for him to have one of his outbursts in front of Father Keating.

  ‘Dinner’s ready,’ Eleanor said, her bright tone a contradiction to the sombre mood in the room. ‘Why don’t you all move over to the table?’

  For as long as Diana could remember, her mother’s dining table had been covered by the same lace tablecloth with holes in the delicate pattern widened by her and her brother’s inquisitive fingers when they were young. The three of them sat in silence as Eleanor distributed the veal and vegetables on to plates. Diana loved her mother’s roast potatoes, but tonight her mouth was so dry it felt like she was eating cotton wool. She tried to think of something to say to break the tension that hung over the table like a dark cloud, but nothing came to mind.

  ‘More wine, Father?’ Eleanor asked when he had finished eating.

  ‘No thank you, Eleanor,’ Father Keating said. ‘I should be off. It’s probably best if I leave the three of you to talk.’ He stood up and smiled at Diana and Liam. ‘I do wish you both well. You’re a lovely couple and I hope you find a way to start a family soon.’

  Eleanor stood up as well. ‘I’ll walk you to your car.’

  Liam turned to Diana as soon as the front door closed. ‘We’re going to do it anyway, aren’t we? He didn’t change your mind?’

  Diana thought about how she could best phrase her response. She knew Liam wouldn’t like wha
t she was about to say. ‘What if we put off the IVF and just keep trying for a while longer? We might get lucky. It’s only been a year.’

  As soon as the words had left Diana’s mouth, she wanted to put them back in. Liam’s jaw clenched as he shook his head slowly from side to side. ‘You’re incredible. You’re the one who wanted this. How many times have you told me you were desperate to be pregnant? This was your idea. And now just because one archaic priest tells you he doesn’t agree with your decision you decide you don’t want to do it any more?’

  ‘I didn’t say I didn’t want to do it any more, it was just a question. This is a big decision. And don’t call Father Keating archaic, it’s so rude. Don’t you dare say that in front of Mum—’

  ‘We’ve talked about it,’ Liam said as if Diana hadn’t spoken. ‘We’ve talked and we’ve talked and we’ve talked. You’re the one who has to make this decision, because you’re the one who’s going to be pregnant. So, for God’s sake, make a decision and stick to it for once.’

  Eleanor walked through the front door and closed it behind her. ‘Will you stay for a cup of tea?’ she asked as she made her way to the kitchen.

  Liam shook his head behind Eleanor’s back, but Diana ignored him. ‘Thanks, Mum, we’d love one.’

  ‘I heard from Tom yesterday,’ Eleanor called out from the kitchen. ‘He and Jerry have booked a holiday to Portugal in September.’

  ‘Lucky them,’ Diana said.

  While Diana was still at high school Tom had told the family he was homosexual. Initially Diana’s mother was concerned about her son, and Father Keating had appeared at several of their family dinners, but now Diana was proud of how well her mother had accepted Tom’s sexuality. The only thing Diana didn’t like was when Eleanor regularly voiced her disappointment that Tom might not give her grandchildren, which was usually followed by strong hints that Diana and Liam were her only hope of becoming a grandmother.

  Eleanor set down three cups of tea on the coffee table. ‘I hope you’re not upset about what Father Keating said. There are other ways you can have a baby. Sally from work’s daughter just adopted a darling little baby from China.’

  She walked over to her handbag and rummaged through it. ‘I have Sally’s number in here somewhere. She can give you the details on what process her daughter went through. I’m sure Sally said she only had to wait about eighteen months. I know it’s expensive, but I’ll help you out with the cost.’

  Diana groaned inwardly. This was going to be harder than she thought. Liam pinched her arm, out of her mother’s sight, and she knew it was a silent message to not back down from what they had discussed.

  ‘Mum, we’re still going to do it,’ she said, nerves rattling her voice. ‘We’re going to go ahead with the embryo adoption.’

  Shock registered on Eleanor’s face. ‘But, Diana, how can you go against the wishes of the Church like that? How can you bring a child into this world knowing it was conceived in a way that God wouldn’t accept?’

  ‘It’s not God who has the problem with it,’ Liam said under his breath. Diana glared at him.

  Eleanor started to cry, rubbing her temples with her fingertips as if she were trying to erase the events of the day. ‘How can I love my grandchild, knowing it’s been conceived like that? What would I tell my friends?’

  Diana walked over to Eleanor and put an arm around her mother’s shoulders. ‘Mum, you’ll love it because it’s your grandchild, regardless of how it was conceived. And who cares what other people think? You don’t have to tell them anything.’

  Eleanor looked at Diana. Her tears had made her mascara run, leaving thin black lines outlining the contour of her nose. ‘Promise me you’ll think about it some more before you go any further. Don’t limit yourself to just one option.’

  Diana and Liam exchanged glances. Liam was the one who spoke. ‘Eleanor, we’ve been on the waiting list at a fertility clinic for three months already and we received a phone call to say there’s an embryo we could use. We’re really lucky, most people have to wait at least twelve months, but apparently we’re the best genetic match for this embryo, so we were the clinic’s first choice.’

  Eleanor’s eyes widened. ‘What does that mean? What are you going to do?’

  ‘Diana has already started the hormone injections and we have an appointment at the clinic next Tuesday,’ Liam said, his voice strong and calm. ‘We’re going to have the embryo implanted then.’

  Diana rubbed her mother’s arm. ‘You could be a nonna in nine months. Next March there could be a little baby in our family.’

  From the look on Eleanor’s face Diana could tell she had started to get through to her. She knew her mother would be picturing a baby cradled in her arms and the photo album she would carry around in her handbag to show her friends.

  Encouraged by her mother’s silence, Diana continued. ‘You know how much you want to have grandchildren. And this way you’ll be able to share the journey with us during the pregnancy. Please, Mum, please support us with this.’

  Eleanor sighed, softly at first and then followed with another, more dramatic, sigh. Between the sighs and the running mascara she looked like a tragic heroine from an old movie. ‘So, it’s okay if I don’t tell the other members of the parish that the baby isn’t yours?’

  ‘You didn’t tell them Tom’s gay,’ Liam said, just loud enough for Diana and her mother to hear.

  ‘You don’t have to tell them anything, Mum,’ Diana said. ‘But the baby will be ours, you shouldn’t think of it like that. It just won’t have our genes, that’s all.’

  Eleanor nodded and took Diana’s hand. Her fingers were damp from the tears she had wiped away. ‘Okay, my darling, if this is what you want, then you have my support.’

  ‘It is.’ Diana smiled at Liam, who returned her smile. ‘It’s what we both want.’

  4

  CATRIONA

  Monday, 26 September 2011

  It was only when Catriona was well into her second trimester that she decided to tell her colleagues about her pregnancy. The scarves and jumpers she had worn throughout winter to conceal her growing belly were no longer fulfilling their purpose, and the warmer days made her multiple-layered outfits seem ridiculous.

  She told her boss first, booking a meeting with her at three o’clock with the description in the calendar simply as Catch-up. Her boss was a formidable woman who managed a marketing department of fifty people, was raising two children who seemed to undertake an alarming number of extra-curricular activities, and never seemed to miss a haircut or wear the same outfit twice. She was the type of mother Catriona hoped to be, but it seemed an unachievable feat. At five past three Terry bustled into the room, moving with the harried, deliberate movements of a person whose day is planned in five-minute increments. She undid the button on her suit jacket, checked the time on her watch, pulled out a chair and sat, waiting. Catriona took a seat opposite her boss, facing the window. Storm clouds had drawn across the sun, creating premature darkness, so the light was switched on in the meeting room despite the large window and the time of day. Catriona could see people on the street, four storeys down, scattering like ants as the first drops of rain began to fall.

  As Catriona opened her mouth, trying to remember the speech she had rehearsed, Terry spoke. ‘You’re going to tell me you’re pregnant.’

  Catriona froze, her mouth still open. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘It’s not rocket science. You’re dressing differently. You’ve stopped going to the gym at lunchtime. And you look a bit green around the gills in the mornings. I’ve had two myself; I know the signs. How are you feeling?’

  Relief unclenched Catriona’s hands. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. ‘I feel terrible. I don’t know how women do this. It’s like I’m not in control of my own body any more. James is being really good about it, but I know I’m a nightmare to live with at the moment. Every little thing sets me off. If I’m not yelling at him for something, then I
’m crying.’

  Terry smiled and laced her fingers together. The bracelet on her wrist jangled against the tabletop. ‘That’s all part of it. I’m sure you’re not as bad as you think you are. How far along are you?’

  ‘Nearly five months. I’m due at the end of January. I’d like to finish up in mid January if that’s okay.’

  ‘That should be fine. We’ll start advertising for your replacement. Have you told anyone around the office yet?’

  ‘Not yet. I wanted you to be the first.’ Catriona paused, looking over Terry’s shoulder to the window, which was now blurred with tracks from the rain. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m nervous about telling everyone. I’ve seen how pregnant women get treated. Like they’re invalids, or sideshow freaks. I’m the same person I’ve always been.’

  ‘Except that you’re not the same person you’ve always been.’

  Catriona shifted her gaze to Terry’s face, which was set in a knowing smile. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s not about you any more; it’s all about the baby. You need to surrender your body. Give in to your cravings. Rest whenever you’re tired. Don’t worry about the fact that the rest of your body is going to swell in sympathy with your belly. And try not to let strangers bother you. People tried to touch my stomach all the time when I was pregnant. Once a woman told me off for ordering a chicken sandwich; she gave me a lecture about listeria in the middle of the cafe.’

  ‘Did you tell her to mind her own business? I would have.’

  Terry checked her watch and stood up, ready to go to her next meeting. ‘You get used to it. People are fascinated by pregnant women. Enjoy the attention.’

  But Catriona didn’t enjoy the attention. She didn’t enjoy the stares on the street as she went for a walk at lunchtime, or the way her colleagues watched whether she chose a caffeinated or decaffeinated tea bag from the canisters in the kitchen. Worst of all was when people told her she was ‘glowing’. Catriona knew the glow was nothing more than perspiration brought about from the magnificent effort required to lug another human being around inside her body – and a demanding one at that, who wanted to be constantly nourished. It slept when she was awake, creating a bulge on whatever side of her body it was leaning against, and was awake when she was trying to fall asleep at night, elbows and knees rippling her skin like something out of a science-fiction movie.