Where There's Smoke

“That’s so we can carry on using your samples in case anything happens to you before the treatment is concluded,” the doctor answered, smoothly. “You don’t have to give it, and we hope it won’t be necessary. But if it was, without your consent we wouldn’t be able to continue. There was a court case not long ago, if you remember,” she said, including Kate now, “where a young woman had sperm taken from her husband when he was in a coma, so she could be inseminated with it after he died. Even though he was her husband, it caused all sorts of problems because she hadn’t got his written consent. It’s usually just a formality, but unless you have any strong objections, it’s best to be covered for it.”

Alex still looked uncomfortable. “What happens to any... any samples that are left over? Afterwards, I mean?”

“That’s entirely up to you.”

She smiled. “Obviously, though, the clinic is grateful for any donations. So if you’ve no objections, we’d like to keep them frozen as part of our donor panel.”

“So they can be used on someone else?”

“At some point, possibly, yes.”

Alex shook his head. “No. No, I don’t want that.”

The doctor’s smile never slipped. “That’s your prerogative, of course. You can stipulate on the form that you only want them to be used for treating a specific person.”

Alex gave a short nod and began to write. The office was silent, except for the scratching of the pen nib. He rested on the low, glass-topped table. Incongruous in the centre of it was a modern, fluid-filled ornament, like a rectangular spirit-level. Inside it, pink globules drifted sinuously in a viscous-looking red liquid. When enough had gathered at one end, it slowly tilted, forcing them to float up to the other. It looked vaguely obscene. Kate wondered which reflected Dr Janson’s taste the most — the antique furniture, or the disturbing ornament.

Alex finished writing. He straightened and considered the form for one last time before passing it across to the doctor. She put it with the others on the clipboard. “Right,” she said, smiling with easy confidence. “The next step is for you to give us a sample, so we can check that you aren’t azoospermic. That means you either have a very low sperm count or no sperm at all,” she explained, when Alex looked doubtful. “It’s a routine test, but we obviously have to make it. You can book an appointment with the receptionist on the way out.”

She tilted her head. “Unless you want to make a start straight away?”

“Now, you mean?” Alex looked horrified.

“The sooner you start the better, really. And there’s no point in having to make any more journeys than you have to, is there?”

The doctor’s expression was bland, but Kate wondered if she wasn’t taking a subtle revenge for Alex’s insistence over the consent form.

“If you’d rather leave it till next time it’s okay,” Kate said, seeing him flounder.

“Uh, yes, I–I think I would.”

His face had gone crimson. Dr Janson smiled.

Kate telephoned from the clinic for a taxi to take them back to the station. The gravel drive crunched under their feet as they went out to the main gate to wait for it. After the hospital’s air-conditioned chill, the sun’s heat was smothering. Kate could feel the hot prickle of sweat breaking out. They walked in silence to the shade of the horse-chestnut that overhung the stone-pillared gateway. The spiky yellow nuggets of conker shells were already visible among the splayed, leathery leaves.

“You okay?” Kate asked.

Alex nodded, without looking at her. “Fine.”

They fell silent again. Patches of bright sunlight dappled through the leaves, like hot coins where they fell on Kate’s bare arms.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Alex asked, suddenly. “I just wasn’t expecting to have to... you know, to start today.”

“It’s all right, I wasn’t expecting you to either. Just come whenever it’s convenient for you.”

She realised the double-entendre as soon as she had spoken, and went on quickly to cover her embarrassment. “I mean, I know you’ll have to fit the trips in with work and everything. I don’t want you to go to any more trouble than you have to.”

“It won’t be a problem.”

The drone of a car engine became audible. A taxi was pulling up the hill towards the clinic. They moved out from beneath the tree as it approached, but it went past without stopping. The sound of its engine trailed away in the heat. They stood for a second or two on the pavement edge, staring after it, then went back to the tree’s shade.

“What do your parents think about this? About what you’re doing?” Kate asked.

“My parents?” Alex seemed startled. “Oh, I haven’t told them.”

“Are you going to?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Wouldn’t they approve?”

He looked up through the leaves, squinting into the light. “No.” Then, as if he felt this wasn’t enough, he added, “They aren’t prudish, I don’t mean that, and they’ve always been really supportive. But something like this is... Well, you know.”

“So you aren’t going to tell anyone?”