Tess Evans - Book of Lost Threads

‘No, it makes sense, mate,’ Phil argued. They had already agreed that this was the best explanation, but Phil had reached the stage of drunkenness where he sensed that the brilliance of his logic was best demonstrated by reiteration. He counted off on his fingers. ‘You have to agree, mate: one, there’s the health questions, b, there’s the academic stuff, and four, there’s the…

other stuff.’

‘You’re so right, mate.’

Three days later a call came from Linsey. ‘You are the successful candidate,’ she announced. ‘Can you come and see us again? We have a proposition to put to you.’

‘Cool. They’re going to proposition you,’ Phil chortled gleefully.

‘I’d better wear my red shirt then,’ said Michael. ‘They might as well know what they’re getting.’

As before, Linsey answered the door. This time she took him straight into the dining room, where Amy was sitting with a third woman.

Linsey nodded in her direction. ‘Our lawyer, Sally Grainger. Sally, this is Michael Clancy.’

‘Lawyer?’ Michael felt at a distinct disadvantage.

Sally, plump and middle-aged, looked more like his Aunty Joan than a lawyer. To complete the impression, she smiled reassuringly, her small eyes almost disappearing as she squinted at him through her reading glasses. ‘Don’t worry, Michael. You can certainly have your own lawyer. In fact, I strongly advise that you do.’

‘We’ll pay, of course,’ said Amy hastily. ‘All expenses will be paid.’ Her smile was accompanied by the most charming of dimples, and Michael, who had half-risen from his seat, sat down abruptly.

‘I think it’s time you told me what this is all about.’ He frowned, hoping he sounded more resolute than he felt.

Sally and Amy smiled. Linsey tapped impatient fingers on the table. ‘Sally? It’s best you explain as we agreed.’

‘I hope you understand that what I’m about to tell you is strictly confidential.’

Michael nodded, but this clearly wasn’t enough.

‘I must have your word. This will be a verbal contract until the formal one is signed.’

‘You can trust me,’ he replied. ‘I give you my word.’ And he meant it. Michael Clancy didn’t give his word lightly.

‘Very well. Amy and Linsey, as you have probably guessed, are in a lesbian relationship.’

Michael hadn’t guessed or even suspected, but he nodded gravely, one part of his brain trying to remember if there were signs he had missed. The other part continued to listen to Sally who was explaining in her brisk lawyer’s voice.

‘They want a child, but don’t want a man-how can I put it?-too intimately involved in the process. In short, they hope to become pregnant with your sperm, using artificial insemination.’

‘Oh,’ said Michael. Then again, ‘oh,’ followed by an ‘um’.

The lawyer slid a document out of the folder in front of her and continued: ‘A contract has already been drawn up. You supply the sperm at the time Amy is ovulating. You must do this for at least ten cycles in the next twelve months. For this, you will be remunerated: five hundred dollars each month with an additional five thousand dollars if a pregnancy occurs. You will sign an agreement not to have any contact with the child, and for their part, Amy and Linsey will forgo any call on you for financial or emotional support.’ She sat back and Michael became aware of three pairs of eyes looking at him.

He gaped a bit.

‘This is all contingent upon the quality and motility of your sperm,’ Sally added. ‘We would need you to go to a doctor of our choice to verify that you’re fertile.’

‘Um,’ he said again. ‘No strings? I mean, I don’t want a child. Not really cut out to be a father.’

‘No strings,’ confirmed Linsey as she turned to Amy with an intimate smile.

Good grief , Michael thought. How can I have missed something so obvious?

Linsey was explaining further. ‘We decided that we wanted the child to be the best she possibly can be, so it was clear from the start that Amy would be the birth mother.’ She gestured towards Amy and her voice took on a quality Michael hadn’t heard before. ‘She’s so beautiful. I wanted to ensure, as much as possible, that our child will have her blonde beauty and stature.’ She waved a hand as Amy began to protest. ‘No. I don’t want a short plain woman like me. One in the family is more than enough.’ She turned back to Michael. ‘Amy is a musician, so I decided that a father with a scientific mind would broaden the skills base. Our child will be as close to perfect as we can make her.’ Her thin face was alight.

Michael coughed. ‘What if it’s a-you know, a boy?’

‘All the more reason he should be tall,’ was Linsey’s enigmatic reply.

‘We just want a baby,’ Amy said gently. ‘We’ll love it, boy or girl. And don’t worry: we have four brothers between us. There are two grandfathers. He’d have plenty of male role models. We’re not harpies, you know.’ She smiled hopefully. ‘Can you help us, Michael?’

In those days Michael was inclined to quick decisions. What could be the harm? It was a pity the process wasn’t going to be a bit more normal, he thought, but he had a healthy libido and it wouldn’t be too difficult to produce the required sperm. Besides, he was skint.

‘Give me a couple of days to look at the contract,’ he said, ‘and I’ll get back to you.’

He did look at the contract. Just to make sure he would not be encumbered with a child. It all seemed so easy. The next day he phoned the house, where the women were waiting anxiously for his call. ‘I’ll do it,’ he said.

Three weeks later, he found himself following Linsey into a room at the top of the stairs.

She looked at him severely. ‘Here’s the… receptacle.’ She held a jar between thumb and forefinger. ‘I bought some magazines I thought might help. Just call when you’re done and I’ll come and collect the jar.’

Finn had first discovered masturbation at the age of thirteen and by now considered himself something of an expert. Taking a moment to recover from his embarrassment, he looked at the magazines and imagined poor Linsey, all beaky disapproval, having to purchase them. It almost distracted him, but this was a job, and he did it with single-minded efficiency.

Having completed the task, he called to Linsey. ‘See yourself out,’ she said and handed him an envelope, which he had the decency not to open until he was in his car. Five hundred dollars. And it was as easy as that.

Michael was a man of his word. He fobbed off Phil by telling him that he was taking part in a secret drug-testing program for a pharmaceutical company. This was a good cover as he had conscientiously given up booze and cigarettes for the duration and told everyone that this was part of the parameters of the experiment. It was also necessary, he explained, to have a beeper so that he could be called on the instant he was needed. This was a bit harder to justify, but his vagueness was put down to the secrecy of the tests. So when the beeper sounded during lectures, in the student canteen or at the pub, he was able to go without too many questions being asked. Amy’s monthly cycle impinged on the ease of his sex life, but the regularity of her periods enabled him to ensure that he was never called while in another woman’s bed.

Six cycles went by. He was quite happy about this. After all, it was five hundred dollars per cycle. On his seventh visit, however, Linsey was out and it was Amy who answered the door. She looked wan and seemed thinner than the last time he’d seen her.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked with some concern.

Amy’s dimple had almost disappeared. ‘I’m fine. Really,’ she said. ‘It’s all a bit of a strain. Linsey’s so determined to have this baby and I feel I’m letting her down.’ To his horror, he saw that she was blinking away tears.