For Our Children's Sake. Natasha Oakley

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

      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 starched white 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,’ she said, 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 was 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?’ he asked in a rush, before his courage failed. He saw the way her mouth moved in a soundless exclamation and rushed on. ‘My wife and I received IVF treatment seven years ago and I’ve just discovered the embryo used…’ He couldn’t bring himself to finish the words. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m not even sure what I’m doing here.’

      ‘Lucy Grayford.’

      Dominic turned back and looked at her.

      ‘My name is Lucy Grayford,’ she said slowly. ‘And, yes. Yes, I have.’

      They stood in complete silence, each searching for some kind of truth in the face of the other. Dominic took a shaky breath. ‘I’m glad to meet you.’ He stepped down the final step. ‘My name is Dominic Grayling,’ he repeated, certain this time she’d actually heard him.

      Her eyes never left his face. She was like a scared fawn. Her dark eyes were frightened and her whole body was tense.

      ‘I think perhaps we ought to talk.’

      She nodded.

      He wanted to put her at ease, and yet what could he say that would make this any easier to bear? It was as though a door had opened to hell itself. And here they were, two strangers brought together by a human tragedy with no easy way to navigate a path through it.

      ‘There’s a park around the corner. Perhaps that would be best. There’s a place to get coffee nearby. Perhaps that would be better than—’ He broke off again. They were complete strangers. Why should she agree to this? He could be anyone. Some strange crank. ‘Or would you rather leave it for another time?’ He reached into his pocket to pull out a notepad and pen. ‘I could give you my number. We could talk later. When you’ve had time to think about it.’ He started to write.

      ‘No.’ He looked up as she spoke. She shook her head firmly. ‘I don’t want to go home yet.’

      That was a feeling he understood. He knew how hard it was to discover the child you loved, believed was your own, was not. And, knowing that, you then had to go home and pretend nothing had changed. That the centre of your world hadn’t been ripped out and shredded as though it were some discarded document. He’d walked out of this same hospital and wandered in the rain for over two hours before he’d summoned up enough courage to take himself back to Abby.

      ‘I’d rather talk.’

      He nodded. With tacit agreement they turned and walked along the pavement. Despite her words neither spoke but, in the strangest way, the silence was comforting.

      Lucy put her hands deep in her coat pockets and let the wind dry the tears on her face. The pain had settled deep within her heart and she felt cold. Frightened. Nothing in her life had ever prepared her for this.

      Covertly she looked up at Dominic Grayling. In any other circumstances he might have been an attractive kind of man. Handsome, even. He was tall, loose-limbed and wiry, with an intelligent face and kind eyes. Not particularly like Chloe, though, she thought. She was much fairer; her hair was a shining curtain of ash blonde. Yet maybe there was something indefinably like her in this man. Perhaps in the shape of his face? An expression?

      Who knew why she’d agreed to talk to him? Surely she’d have been more sensible to wait until the professionals were involved. They’d be able to work out a way through this nightmare. And yet…Dominic’s eyes told her he shared her pain, understood what she was feeling. Dr Shorrock, with all his calm, professional detachment, hadn’t even touched on the agony she was feeling.

      ‘We can get a coffee here.’

      His deep voice broke into her thoughts and she looked up to see him pointing across the road at a narrow shop frontage with a chipped sign above reading Sarah’s Teas.

      ‘Fine.’

      They crossed the road and Dominic held open the door to allow her to pass before him. The shop was full, a lunchtime crowd of busy, bustling people. Some were sitting round melamine tables reading newspapers over limp sandwiches. All infuriatingly normal. Yet here she was with her life in tatters.

      ‘How do you like your coffee?’

      ‘Coffee?’ she repeated stupidly, until her mind shifted back into СКАЧАТЬ