Eclipse. Lynne Pemberton

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       Chapter Five

      ‘I’m Mr Wilcox. I believe you want to talk to me urgently.’

      ‘Yes I do.’

      Mrs Neil shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She was wearing the same brown clothes that she’d worn the previous night to deliver Serena’s babies. Dressing hastily, she had merely thrown a Barbour jacket over the top and pulled on the felt hat bought for her sister’s wedding. She hadn’t slept, so her eyes were puffy.

      The consultant thought she looked a little odd. He glanced at his watch with obvious impatience. ‘I’m due in theatre very soon, please Mrs …’ The doctor read a note on his desk, ‘… Neil.’

      The booming voice was not lost on Mrs Neil who twisted her mouth into a polite smile before she continued, ‘What I have to say won’t take long, sir. I’d just like to know whether there’s ever been a case of a white woman producing twins, where one child is black and one white?’

      If Mr Wilcox was surprised he didn’t show it. ‘Do you know of such a case?’ he asked. ‘Because if you do, I’d be very interested.’

      ‘Yes, I do; but it’s somebody who lives abroad.’

      The excuse came out far too quickly, and the consultant knew immediately that it was a lie. But the stubborn set of his visitor’s jaw, and the determined ring to her voice, dispelled any hope he might have of persuading her to identify the mother involved. He doodled on a note-pad for a few seconds, pondering his reply.

      ‘Conceiving and giving birth to mixed-race twins – non-identical I presume – is an extremely rare phenomenon. To my knowledge it’s been recorded only a few times in Europe. It’s very unusual for a mixed-race couple to have twins where one baby is pure Caucasian and the other black. A million-to-one chance in fact.’

      Mr Wilcox seemed to warm to his subject and added, ‘Actually about five years ago, a Jamaican colleague of mine delivered black and white twin boys to a white woman who had a West Indian husband and a relationship with a white man.

      ‘It means, of course, that two entirely separate eggs are fertilized by two men. It can only occur if the woman has intercourse with the men concerned within a period of approximately eighteen hours.

      ‘For this to be possible she would need to be in natural ovulation during intercourse with the first man, and that could lead to fertilization of the first egg. Then, what we term as a “spontaneous ovulation” during orgasm with the other man could produce a second egg, and if that’s also fertilized, non-identical twins, or more to the point siblings, could be conceived within hours of each other.’

      ‘Thank you, doctor. As a midwife, I just wanted to understand how such a phenomenon was possible.’

      Her chair scraped across the polished oak floor as Mrs Neil stood up. ‘And thank you for seeing me at such short notice.’

      ‘You gave me very little choice,’ Mr Wilcox replied. Then he offered, ‘Are you sure the lady concerned can’t be persuaded to come and see me? I’d be more than happy to talk to her. I might even be able to help.’

      Mrs Neil had reached the door, and turned to face him. ‘I don’t think she’s ready to see or speak to anyone just at the moment. Goodbye Doctor.’

      When Serena awoke she thought she’d wet the bed.

      Slowly she slipped a hand between her legs, touching her inner thigh, before lifting her fingers to her face. They were sticky and covered in blood. The sedative that Mrs Neil had given her earlier had started to wear off; the realization of where she was, and what had happened, was creeping slowly into her consciousness. She shut her eyes, and replayed the images of the last few hours in her head: Mrs Neil screaming for her to push; her baby daughters covered in blood; one crumpled, dark face; one equally crumpled white face.

      She was only vaguely aware of the footsteps on the stairs. It was the sound of knocking that finally grasped her attention. Pulling her blanket up to her ears, she fiddled with it nervously, staring at the door as it slowly opened. A tentative smile flickered across her face when Mrs Neil’s red curls appeared.

      ‘I see you’re awake.’

      The midwife sat on the edge of the bed. She pulled the blanket away, a little roughly Serena thought.

      Serena looked at her and said, ‘I seem to be bleeding rather a lot.’

      ‘I know, I’ve got you some sanitary towels, and here’s some stuff for the little mites.’ She gestured to the occupied cot by Serena’s side. ‘Look at them sleeping soundly. That’s because they’re well wrapped up all nice and warm.’

      ‘Thank you so much, Mrs Neil. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.’

      ‘Plenty of time to talk about that later, dear. Got to get you cleaned up first. Now … let’s look lively because it’s four-thirty and I’ve got to make us both some tea.’

      Something about her manner placed Serena on her guard, but she allowed herself to be helped out of bed and sat down in the nearby chair while Mrs Neil stripped the sheets.

      ‘I think you should bathe and put your clothes back on now,’ suggested Mrs Neil, handing her a clean towel and her own things. ‘You can use the shower-room, next door.’ She indicated the direction with her eyes. ‘Off you go.’

      Serena wrapped the towel around her aching body and, picking her way past several boxes on the landing, headed for the shower. She was very weak and her legs shook as she washed herself from top to toe. This left her feeling more refreshed, but not much stronger. After managing to dress, she emerged and almost bumped into Mrs Neil at the top of the stairs. The midwife was cradling the sleeping babies, one in each arm.

      ‘Come on down to the living room, if you can manage, and I’ll give us both that tea.’

      Serena accepted gratefully, following Mrs Neil downstairs, holding on to the wall for support.

      ‘Sit yourself in that chair, Mrs Boyd, and I’ll put the babes in this one next to you. Just rest whilst I get the tea. I won’t be a tick, the kettle’s already boiled.’

      Serena sat down carefully in the overstuffed chair, which was upholstered in dark green brocade, and very comfortable. It seemed as though Mrs Neil had moulded it to the shape of her own ample bottom. She looked at the twin bundles next to her, but then she thought of Royole, thought of Nicholas, and felt overwhelmed, almost panicky. She had to look away again and concentrated on her immediate surroundings instead.

      ‘Home is where СКАЧАТЬ