She sighs as she pours boiling water into three mugs. ‘Yes, and it was fine. Well, sort of. I get on really well with Dan’s family, and his brother brought his girlfriend, Amy, along too. She’s one of my best friends, so it’s always lovely to see her. They met at our wedding, did I tell you?’
‘No, but I’m guessing that’s not what’s on your mind,’ I say, determined not to let her lead me off on a tangent.
‘It isn’t. It’s the baby thing.’
Of course it is, I realise. Lily and her husband Dan have been trying to conceive for a while, but haven’t had any luck. She doesn’t mention it often, but I know it’s getting her down.
‘Things came to a bit of a head,’ she explains. ‘Dan’s mum asked when we were going to give them some grandchildren to dote on.’
‘Oh, that’s a bit insensitive.’
‘She didn’t mean anything by it. We haven’t shared our troubles with her, so she wasn’t to know, but it just brought the whole thing up to the surface again. Dan and Amy got into along discussion about IVF, adoption and so on, and I ended up getting cross with both of them because it made me feel like I was a broken piece of machinery.’
‘It might not even be you,’ I reassure her. ‘It could be him.’
‘It’s neither of us, as far as the medical tests can tell anyway,’ she says sadly. ‘His sperm count is just fine and they can’t see anything wrong with me either. It’s just not happening for some reason. Anyway, ever since the conversation with Amy, Dan’s convinced himself that we should look seriously at IVF and won’t shut up about it. It’s getting me down.’
‘What do you think?’
‘It doesn’t matter what I think, because we don’t meet the NHS criteria, as I’ve explained to him about five times. You need to have been trying for over two years, and it’s only eighteen months for us, and you also need to have had at least twelve unsuccessful cycles of artificial insemination.’
‘Mmm,’ I murmur. ‘Sex with a turkey baster.’
This does at least raise a smile. ‘I know, and they say romance is dead.’
‘I’ve heard it doesn’t even buy you dinner first.’
‘Oh, it gets worse,’ she tells me. ‘At least six of the twelve must have been what they call intrauterine insemination, where they use a catheter to deliver the sperm pretty much straight into your fallopian tubes. Compared to that, the turkey baster is almost appealing.’
‘I get you. Did Amy have any better ideas?’ I ask.
‘I love Amy, but she’s never struggled with something like this. Her view is simply that I’m stressed and just need a good holiday to get things moving.’ After the brief moment of humour, her voice and expression have sunk again.
I smile. ‘That does sound more appealing than the turkey baster or catheter, to be fair.’
‘Yes, but the turkey baster does at least have a basis in science. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a fertility specialist recommending a holiday.’
‘Have you spoken to any fertility specialists?’
‘Not about holidays, but I’m pretty sure I’m right. Anyway, Amy’s also got a bee in her bonnet about it now, so I’m getting hassled in stereo. She’s decided we need to go to the Caribbean.’
‘Hmm. A week in the Caribbean or a catheter. I know which I’d choose.’
This raises another small smile. ‘I tried to deflect her by telling her about Alan’s January holiday ban, but she merely shrugged and said we could go in February instead.’
‘I’m not sure it’s an outright ban,’ I tell her. ‘Alan just doesn’t want to end up short staffed at one of the busiest times of the year. I’m sure he’d say yes if there was a good reason.’
‘And how do you think he’d react if I waltzed into his office and said, “Alan, I want to go on holiday in January when we’re really busy, so I can get pregnant and promptly naff off on maternity leave”?’
‘Lily, I hate to break it to you, but Alan’s fully aware of your situation, because he’s been in the room several times when we’ve been talking about it. You know what he’d do. He’d send you on your way with his blessing.’
She considers my point for a moment. ‘You’re probably right. Anyway, I’m not going to ask him because it’s not happening. I just need a way to tell Amy that.’
‘You could just say no.’
She laughs softly. ‘You haven’t met Amy. That’s easier said than done, especially as she’s decided she needs to come as well to lend moral support.’
‘Please tell me she’s not going to be sitting at your bedside, urging you two on,’ I say with a giggle.
