‘No, you’ve got me too,’ Ellie said, and tilted her head to rest on his shoulder.
It had been almost four months since she’d appeared on Tim’s doorstep and revealed she was the scientist who discovered the Match Your DNA gene. He’d forgiven her for lying about it and, now with the playing field levelled, the two tentatively embarked upon their relationship. Tim was a little rough around the edges and certainly wasn’t her usual type. But once she’d allowed herself to open up to him and let their genetic link lead the way, none of their contrasts mattered. She had been drawn to him like a magnetic field and it felt wonderful.
They spent many of their after-work hours living a comfortable, pedestrian life at Tim’s Leighton Buzzard home. Twice a week she’d send a car to pick him up so they could stay at Ellie’s London townhouse. However, she often felt self-conscious spending time in the home she’d created for herself. The £5,000 spent on a single roll of wallpaper, imported Italian marble flooring, the basement cinema she rarely used, were all reminders of a time when she assumed that a beautiful home was the equivalent of a meaningful life.
Along with curtailing her working hours – she’d imposed a new rule to leave the office at six o’clock – Ellie had also turned her back on the trendy London eateries she frequented in favour of small, provincial pubs, watching Sunday league football games and nights spent curled up on the sofa watching box sets. Only the presence of Andrei and his colleagues, keeping guard in their vehicles outside Tim’s home, reminded her that their relationship was out of the ordinary.
‘We’re almost here,’ Ellie announced, as they pulled into the street where she’d spent her childhood. Little had changed in the Derbyshire suburb of Sandiacre, where she’d spent the first eighteen years of her life; the 1950s-built detached houses remained virtually untouched by progress, with the exception of replacement PVC windows and block paving over lawns to make room for more cars. It had been a safe, nurturing environment for her and she was ashamed for having turned her back on everything that made her.
‘Oh my God, make way for the Queen’s arrival!’ yelled her sister Maggie from the doorstep as she flung her arms open wide and squeezed her younger sister. ‘And she’s brought someone with her!’
A cheer rang out from the lounge of Ellie’s mother’s house as her family and neighbours descended upon their guests. Take That’s Greatest Hits blared from a hi-fi system and there was a sign that read ‘Happy 70th birthday, Mum’. The dining-room table was pushed against the wall and was covered in napkins, party foods, plastic cups, cutlery and paper plates.
‘Ooh, let me get a look at you,’ Maggie continued and grabbed Tim, spinning him around like a lazy Susan so everyone could size him up. ‘You’ve done well there,’ she said to Ellie and clutched her sister’s arm.
‘Come here, girl.’ Her mother grinned as she walked in eying her daughter up and down. ‘You need a bloody good meal inside you; you’re looking right skinny. And who’s this handsome lad?’
‘This is my boyfriend, Tim,’ Ellie said.
‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Stanford,’ he began, and went to shake her hand.
‘Call me Pam,’ she replied. ‘Now let’s get you a drink and you can tell me all about yourself. At least you look normal, you should have seen the last one she brought home – he spent the whole day eyeing up the whole estate, working out how much he could buy it for. Cheeky bugger.’
For the next hour, Tim was paraded around the house from room to room, having drinks thrust into his hand by strangers and being introduced to family members he likely wouldn’t remember the names of the next day. He danced with her two youngest nieces, chatted football with her brothers-in-law and was given a guided tour of her father’s newly erected shed. Ellie watched proudly from the sidelines as she reminded herself that she could have the best of both worlds.
‘I’m sorry, has she been giving you the third degree?’ Ellie asked cheekily, as her mum led them to the kitchen.
‘Not at all.’ Tim smiled. ‘I’ve been getting all the gossip about what you were like as a kid – and you were a right little geek by all accounts. And no boobs until you were seventeen?’
‘Mum!’
‘Don’t try to deny it, Ells,’ she said, and turned to Tim. ‘Flat as an ironing board until she could learn how to drive. But even as a girl, she always had her nose in a book. Then when she discovered science, that was it. She once set fire to her curtains in her bedroom with magnesium and a test tube she stole from school.’
Ellie shook her head and felt herself blush, much to Tim’s amusement.
‘I’m just going to borrow your bathroom then you can tell me more,’ Tim said, and gave Ellie a wink as he left the room.
‘So?’ Pam asked hopefully.
‘So …?’ Ellie repeated stubbornly.
‘So has the woman who’s fixed everyone else’s love life actually found one herself?’
‘Maybe.’ Ellie smiled.
‘Well, if it counts for anything, I love him!’ Maggie chipped in, who’d just returned from smoking a cigarette in the garden. ‘He can hold his own with us lot, he’s down to earth and funny, and he’s not intimidated by you. He’s a keeper in my book.’
‘Do you love him?’ asked Pam. ‘If he’s your DNA Match then you must be in love with him. That’s how it works, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ She smiled. ‘I do love him.’
‘Well, that’s reassuring to hear,’ came Tim’s voice from behind. ‘Because I’m kind of nuts about you too.’
Chapter 51
MANDY
Mandy stared at the sepia-coloured three-dimensional image of the child she was carrying.
The sonographer passed her two printouts to keep, one for herself and one for the baby’s grandmother, who’d been with her in the room for the twelve-week scan.
‘It looks like a tiny kidney bean but with the face of an alien,’ Mandy joked as she showed the photos back at Pat’s house.
‘It’s not an alien, it’s my grandchild,’ said Pat, who for a moment sounded hurt.
‘She was only kidding, Mum,’ said Chloe. ‘Look at it, it’s so cute! Did you ask if it’s a boy or a girl?’
‘No, I’m happy to wait.’
‘It’s a boy,’ Pat added. ‘I can feel it in my bones; Richard is having a son.’
Six months earlier, and much to Pat and Chloe’s tearful delight, Mandy had accepted Pat’s offer. Mandy hadn’t enquired about the legalities of how Pat came to be in charge of Richard’s DNA, although she had hired a lawyer to deal with it, signing various forms filled with legalese and jargon she didn’t understand. She was too giddy with excitement and trepidation at the prospect of what was to come to consider its lawful validity.
Pat paid for Mandy’s pre-insemination check-up at a private fertility clinic in Harley Street where there were endless tests: Mandy underwent a hormone profile, and blood, ultrasound and STI checks along with measures she could barely pronounce like a hysterosalpingogram and hysteroscopy.
A fortnight later, when Mandy was ovulating, a doctor had placed a small sample of Richard’s sperm into the neck of her womb and sent her home to let nature take its course. When her period arrived three weeks later, she had sobbed so much. The thought of not having Richard’s baby after having made the decision was too much to bear. She cursed herself for letting herself get her hopes up.
It had been almost four months since she’d appeared on Tim’s doorstep and revealed she was the scientist who discovered the Match Your DNA gene. He’d forgiven her for lying about it and, now with the playing field levelled, the two tentatively embarked upon their relationship. Tim was a little rough around the edges and certainly wasn’t her usual type. But once she’d allowed herself to open up to him and let their genetic link lead the way, none of their contrasts mattered. She had been drawn to him like a magnetic field and it felt wonderful.
They spent many of their after-work hours living a comfortable, pedestrian life at Tim’s Leighton Buzzard home. Twice a week she’d send a car to pick him up so they could stay at Ellie’s London townhouse. However, she often felt self-conscious spending time in the home she’d created for herself. The £5,000 spent on a single roll of wallpaper, imported Italian marble flooring, the basement cinema she rarely used, were all reminders of a time when she assumed that a beautiful home was the equivalent of a meaningful life.
Along with curtailing her working hours – she’d imposed a new rule to leave the office at six o’clock – Ellie had also turned her back on the trendy London eateries she frequented in favour of small, provincial pubs, watching Sunday league football games and nights spent curled up on the sofa watching box sets. Only the presence of Andrei and his colleagues, keeping guard in their vehicles outside Tim’s home, reminded her that their relationship was out of the ordinary.
‘We’re almost here,’ Ellie announced, as they pulled into the street where she’d spent her childhood. Little had changed in the Derbyshire suburb of Sandiacre, where she’d spent the first eighteen years of her life; the 1950s-built detached houses remained virtually untouched by progress, with the exception of replacement PVC windows and block paving over lawns to make room for more cars. It had been a safe, nurturing environment for her and she was ashamed for having turned her back on everything that made her.
‘Oh my God, make way for the Queen’s arrival!’ yelled her sister Maggie from the doorstep as she flung her arms open wide and squeezed her younger sister. ‘And she’s brought someone with her!’
A cheer rang out from the lounge of Ellie’s mother’s house as her family and neighbours descended upon their guests. Take That’s Greatest Hits blared from a hi-fi system and there was a sign that read ‘Happy 70th birthday, Mum’. The dining-room table was pushed against the wall and was covered in napkins, party foods, plastic cups, cutlery and paper plates.
‘Ooh, let me get a look at you,’ Maggie continued and grabbed Tim, spinning him around like a lazy Susan so everyone could size him up. ‘You’ve done well there,’ she said to Ellie and clutched her sister’s arm.
‘Come here, girl.’ Her mother grinned as she walked in eying her daughter up and down. ‘You need a bloody good meal inside you; you’re looking right skinny. And who’s this handsome lad?’
‘This is my boyfriend, Tim,’ Ellie said.
‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Stanford,’ he began, and went to shake her hand.
‘Call me Pam,’ she replied. ‘Now let’s get you a drink and you can tell me all about yourself. At least you look normal, you should have seen the last one she brought home – he spent the whole day eyeing up the whole estate, working out how much he could buy it for. Cheeky bugger.’
For the next hour, Tim was paraded around the house from room to room, having drinks thrust into his hand by strangers and being introduced to family members he likely wouldn’t remember the names of the next day. He danced with her two youngest nieces, chatted football with her brothers-in-law and was given a guided tour of her father’s newly erected shed. Ellie watched proudly from the sidelines as she reminded herself that she could have the best of both worlds.
‘I’m sorry, has she been giving you the third degree?’ Ellie asked cheekily, as her mum led them to the kitchen.
‘Not at all.’ Tim smiled. ‘I’ve been getting all the gossip about what you were like as a kid – and you were a right little geek by all accounts. And no boobs until you were seventeen?’
‘Mum!’
‘Don’t try to deny it, Ells,’ she said, and turned to Tim. ‘Flat as an ironing board until she could learn how to drive. But even as a girl, she always had her nose in a book. Then when she discovered science, that was it. She once set fire to her curtains in her bedroom with magnesium and a test tube she stole from school.’
Ellie shook her head and felt herself blush, much to Tim’s amusement.
‘I’m just going to borrow your bathroom then you can tell me more,’ Tim said, and gave Ellie a wink as he left the room.
‘So?’ Pam asked hopefully.
‘So …?’ Ellie repeated stubbornly.
‘So has the woman who’s fixed everyone else’s love life actually found one herself?’
‘Maybe.’ Ellie smiled.
‘Well, if it counts for anything, I love him!’ Maggie chipped in, who’d just returned from smoking a cigarette in the garden. ‘He can hold his own with us lot, he’s down to earth and funny, and he’s not intimidated by you. He’s a keeper in my book.’
‘Do you love him?’ asked Pam. ‘If he’s your DNA Match then you must be in love with him. That’s how it works, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ She smiled. ‘I do love him.’
‘Well, that’s reassuring to hear,’ came Tim’s voice from behind. ‘Because I’m kind of nuts about you too.’
Chapter 51
MANDY
Mandy stared at the sepia-coloured three-dimensional image of the child she was carrying.
The sonographer passed her two printouts to keep, one for herself and one for the baby’s grandmother, who’d been with her in the room for the twelve-week scan.
‘It looks like a tiny kidney bean but with the face of an alien,’ Mandy joked as she showed the photos back at Pat’s house.
‘It’s not an alien, it’s my grandchild,’ said Pat, who for a moment sounded hurt.
‘She was only kidding, Mum,’ said Chloe. ‘Look at it, it’s so cute! Did you ask if it’s a boy or a girl?’
‘No, I’m happy to wait.’
‘It’s a boy,’ Pat added. ‘I can feel it in my bones; Richard is having a son.’
Six months earlier, and much to Pat and Chloe’s tearful delight, Mandy had accepted Pat’s offer. Mandy hadn’t enquired about the legalities of how Pat came to be in charge of Richard’s DNA, although she had hired a lawyer to deal with it, signing various forms filled with legalese and jargon she didn’t understand. She was too giddy with excitement and trepidation at the prospect of what was to come to consider its lawful validity.
Pat paid for Mandy’s pre-insemination check-up at a private fertility clinic in Harley Street where there were endless tests: Mandy underwent a hormone profile, and blood, ultrasound and STI checks along with measures she could barely pronounce like a hysterosalpingogram and hysteroscopy.
A fortnight later, when Mandy was ovulating, a doctor had placed a small sample of Richard’s sperm into the neck of her womb and sent her home to let nature take its course. When her period arrived three weeks later, she had sobbed so much. The thought of not having Richard’s baby after having made the decision was too much to bear. She cursed herself for letting herself get her hopes up.
