The Two Week Wait by Sarah Rayner

telling everyone how wonderful this IVF is, whilst he’s getting richer himself. Sounds like a
good way around the law to me. It cannot be this simple.’
    But this isn’t some intellectual debate, thinks Lou. It’s my body – our future – we’re talking about. Again she tries to keep the emotion out of her voice.
‘After having this fibroid removed, IVF would make it far easier for me to get pregnant, so it’d be to my benefit, too.’
    ‘Are you sure about that? How do you know?’
    ‘Yes. I talked to the surgeon about it when I went for my post-op check-up,’ Lou confesses.
    ‘Oh. Why you didn’t tell me?’
    There’s an awkward silence. They both seem to have secrets. Lou is convinced Sofia isn’t being entirely honest about last night; equally, her own research was underhand. For the last
few weeks they’ve seemed to be growing away from each other; now they seem in danger of completely snapping apart. Yet she feels compelled to be honest: ‘Because you didn’t seem
at all interested.’
    ‘Well, it’s great you wouldn’t have to pay for IVF.’ Anna’s tone is forcedly bright.
    ‘I couldn’t afford it otherwise. I can’t just drum up several thousand pounds like that, on my salary. It would take me years. And years are something I don’t have,
apparently. Not only because of this stupid fibroid, but also, if I’m going to do egg sharing, I’ve got to hurry.’
    ‘I am very surprised how expensive this treatment is here,’ says Sofia. ‘I am sure IVF is a lot cheaper in Spain.’
    ‘It is – much,’ says Lou. ‘Though you’d still have to shell out for the flights, and take extra time off work.’ Oh dear, yet more research she’s done on
the quiet. She explains, ‘Women abroad getting paid to donate their eggs isn’t something I’m happy about. You don’t know why they’re doing it – to get out of
poverty, fund degrees – who knows? And it’s a massive thing to put your body through, the hormone injections, and the removal of eggs is invasive in itself. At least with me, I’d
be having all that treatment anyway.’
    ‘Who would father the baby?’ asks Sofia. ‘Are you going to pay for a sperm donor through that clinic, too?’
    Lou can’t help noticing she says you , not we . ‘I don’t know for sure. From what they said at the stand, I can see there are advantages to using one, yes, but I
was only going to find out the options today, not make any definite decisions.’
    ‘Then that will mean more money, too.’
    ‘It’s not much,’ says Lou. ‘Weren’t you listening to what that guy told me?’
    ‘Not really, no.’
    Lou flinches, bruised. ‘The men don’t get paid to donate sperm – they can’t, here. We’re not like America. I’d just be paying a few hundred pounds to cover
vetting the donor.’
    ‘So more profit for the doctor in the nice suit.’
    They’ve hit the dual carriageway: finally Anna can accelerate. Giant advertisements line the Cromwell Road, campaign showpieces that are bigger and brasher than any they might see in
Brighton.
    Sofia continues, ‘You’re not allowed to sell other parts of your body, like your kidneys or blood, here in England though, are you?’
    ‘But a donor wouldn’t be selling his sperm, and I wouldn’t be selling my eggs. That’s the whole point.’
    ‘You’d be exchanging them. Like in a market. Treating a potential child as a thing that can be bought.’
    ‘I think you’re being a bit harsh,’ Anna chips in. ‘For sperm donors it’s easier – physically at least. But it’s a lot to ask a woman to give up her
eggs. It’s practical, that’s what. Two women need something – they swap it. Both benefit. Where’s the harm?’
    ‘You would say that,’ says Sofia.
    ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘You work in marketing.’
    ‘Meaning?’
    ‘So clearly you think it is OK to sell almost anything.’
    They’re brought to a halt by yet another set of lights. Since Lou was last here, a purpose-built