I sat in the waiting room of the private hospital, the view, forty stories high was spectacular, almost worth the extortionate fees alone.  The cost of privacy, I thought as I gazed across the skyline.  The day was clear, and the city reflected the bright blue sky. Inside, the waiting room was simple, with tan leather sofas and a few large pieces of contemporary art in bold colours.  Dark green shrubs stood smartly in bronze planters, framing the large windows that reached the tiled floor.

          I had arrived early, having taken the morning off and then not knowing what to do with myself.  I sighed, continuing to look out of the window.  The city looked peaceful up here, away from the tangled streets of crowds and traffic.  But it wasn’t enough to take me away from the mess of thoughts in my own head.  I’d stewed over the decision for days after agreeing to take the test.  I’d done it for Lizzie, as Rupert knew I would.  Lizzie’s loss was so heart-breaking, so devastating and suddenly she’d become a new person to me, stronger than I’d ever imagined, re-building her life after tragedy.  

           I had never known my parents, never felt their presence or heard their hearts beating.  But Lizzie. Lizzie had nurtured a child, cared for her.  Begun the journey to motherhood.  She’d carried a baby for thirty-six precious weeks, before she was cruelly robbed and left empty; the bond, already formed in a place unreachable, but so tangible to a mother, unmercifully severed.  I knew, perhaps more than most, that to the world, you can put on a brave face, paste on a smile, fall into an act.  But when the world around us gets too much, we are all only human.  We suffer, we break down, and sometimes we have moments of weakness where we dare to hope, despite the fatal consequences that will inevitably follow.  I had survived on hope in the darkest hours of my life and I knew that there is nothing more precious than a friend who nourishes even the most fleeting and most impossible of dreams in these hours.  That’s why I couldn’t say no.  From long ago I pictured Liam agreeing to help me on my quest, and then later Arthur’s voice, in his final hours, echoed in my ears. 

          “With age, brings the humbling reminder that all we really depend upon, is love and friendship and the nobility of human kindness.”

          To me, Lizzie embodied all of these things, and though I knew deep down that the outcome would not be the ending she was looking for, it would not be me who would take this ray of hope away from her.

           I had already accepted the answer. Knew that disappointment lay just around the corner.  The day I had agreed to take the test, I prayed that they would be pragmatic and rational, but alas, it was as if the results had already come in positive, as though my cooperation was affirmation of their own beliefs.  Practically giddy, they had arrived at the clinic, ready to provide samples, while I tried unsuccessfully to match their enthusiasm, but deep-down feeling reproachful and worried.  A small fear of the unknown, a feeling I hadn’t encountered for many years, took hold of me as they extracted my DNA, injected it into a small bottle.

           I watched it being rolled away on a trolley, ready for analysis. The environment there was sterile. The inanimate objects unfeeling, and the plunger unaware of the secrets it was drawing into the barrel of the syringe. Somewhere, out there, was a match. My blood would run through the computers, tally with another human being, and on a sheet of ordinary paper, print out a one in six billion unfathomable outcome.  The idea scared me, and I lost sleep over it nightly.

           Suddenly, sat in the waiting room, I felt an urge to leave. To run.  Suddenly it was all too real.  I rose from my chair just as two people entered.  Rupert looked grave and Lizzie looked pale, but they both broke into a smile the second they saw me.  My heart sank as Lizzie pulled me into a hug, gave a small nervous laugh and looked at Rupert.  My eyes darted between the pair of them and then back to the window, unable to bear the glimmer of hope I could see in Lizzie’s eyes, and the look of concern I could see in Rupert’s.

          Just as we returned to the sofa on which I’d been sat, a small, brown haired woman in a skirt suit and pale pink blouse entered and made eye contact with the three of us.  She smiled encouragingly and checked our names.

          “Rupert and Lizzie Carter?” She asked and they nodded. “And you must be Jessica Wyeman?” she continued.  

The question felt strange, my name, my surname, Liam’s surname. I didn’t know.  I didn’t know who I was, that’s why we were here.  I nodded apprehensively and she smiled again.  

          “Perfect.  If you’d like to come through to my office and we can have a chat about everything.” 

          Her tone, her expression gave nothing away.  She was well trained.

          The office into which we were invited was warm, with rich, wood panelled walls, two areas of seating, a bookcase of leather files and tissue boxes, conspicuously perched on every table.  Following Rupert and Lizzie in, I glanced around as Rupert pulled up the middle chair nearest the desk for me, then did the same for Lizzie before settling himself down on my other side.  The counsellor sat down opposite the three of us and gave another encouraging smile.

          “Now before we continue this process,” she began before Rupert raised a hand to stop her.

          “I’m sorry, I just… I just need to say something before we go through with this.”  

          He looked directly at me, and I felt my cheeks grow warm.  Ignoring the audience of the counsellor, he spoke calmly.

          “Jess, you have been through so much already and I know that you were unsure about going through with this so we just want to thank you again, for taking the chance, but also to say that no matter what the outcome today, there’s a reason that Lizzie and I are sitting here hoping for a miracle… and that reason is you.   You are exactly the kind of person we would have wanted our daughter to grow into. You are kind, loyal, adventurous and warm hearted and whatever happens, we will always be here for you.”

          I nodded, unable to reply.

          “Lizzie,” he continued, turning to the woman to my right who clutched my hand tightly with eyes full of tears. “Lizzie, you are my everything and the only person I could face this life with.  Your strength and resilience makes me love you more every day and I just need you to know that whatever we face today, we face together and in my eyes, you will always be the world’s strongest and most dependable mother that ever carried a child.”

          His body shook as he reached across me to hold onto Lizzies left hand while I moved mine into his other.

           The counsellor brushed away a tear and opened the file, the words, illegible from our side of the desk.  I felt my heart hammering in my chest, felt the anticipation of dreams swell in the two people sat beside me.  Suddenly, we were united, praying for a miracle and the faintest slither of hope rose inside me as I felt Lizzie’s pulse beating perfectly in time with mine.

           My eardrums pounded, my heartbeat now reverberating round in my ears as she spoke, as Lizzie broke down, sobbing on my shoulder, Rupert springing from his chair, his hands behind his head, unable to make sense of the news, then pulling Lizzie off me and lifting her out of the chair, holding on to her as she continued to sob but not letting go of my hand as I sat there dumbfounded.

           The counsellor rose from her chair, backing out of the room as Rupert let go of Lizzie who was smiling through eyes filled with tears. He stared at me and then lifted me clean off the ground spinning me round and round, holding me so tight I thought my lungs would collapse.  Setting me down, I laughed, and I looked at Lizzie, who’s expression of total elation and unbridled joy was something I would never forget.  The results, unfathomably, unbelievably, came in as a match.

           “Congratulations,” I choked, smiling at her and taking her hand softly. “It’s a girl,” I joked feebly, making both of them laugh. “She weighs about 98 pounds, breathing is good though slightly erratic and… she has your eyes,” I smiled at Rupert, my lip trembling, fresh tears pouring down my cheeks as I broke down, sobbing onto the shoulders of the mother my heart had never fully given up on.

          Rupert watched the two of us, apprehension transformed to jubilation and I pulled him in, feeling the strength of him surround us, feeling his hands shake, feeling human.