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But Jill wouldn’t or couldn’t shut up. “I knew we could trust all the others, but I begged you not to get involved with Claudia. As usual you refused to listen to me. Your greed and arrogance got the better of you. Now look what’s happened.”

Ignoring Jill, Hardacre touched Ruby’s arm and took her to one side. “You know, Ruby, I’m sure we could come to some arrangement that would benefit both of us.”

“What? You’re trying to buy me off?”

“Let’s put it this way, I have considerable funds at my disposal. On top of that I am sure I could persuade Claudia to pay Hannah everything she is owed, as well as a substantial allowance if she agrees to keep the baby. The last thing Claudia wants is a scandal. If you agree to my terms, we all benefit and St. Luke’s reputation is saved into the bargain. What do you say?”

Ruby was clenching her fists with outrage. “I say no.” She paused. “Just tell me one thing. Why did you get involved in this thing? By all accounts, you’re a very rich man. You didn’t need the money.”

He stood there, refusing to say anything. Something approaching a snarl had formed on his face.

“Ah, but that’s just it,” Jill piped up. “He did need the money.”

He turned on her and once again barked at her to shut up.

Suddenly something seemed to snap inside her. “No. I won’t shut up. I will not let you control or shout at me anymore. I’ve had enough. Do you hear? That’s the last time you tell me what to do.” Jill was standing next to them now. “You see, Tom was bankrupt.” Even though she was looking directly at him, she continued to refer to him in the third person. “He’d invested all his money in some shady Iranian construction company. It went bust and left him penniless. Everybody had warned him it would happen, but he refused to listen and went ahead. Money is like a drug to Tom. The more he has, the more he wants. It’s the only thing he cares about.” She started to cry. “And soon I became like him. I was weak. He dragged me into his reality. He convinced me there was nothing wrong with these women using surrogates. I can’t believe what an idiot I’ve been.”

Ruby was beginning to feel some sympathy for Jill. Hardacre was a domineering monster who preyed on frail women.

Hardacre looked contemptuously at Jill, but didn’t say anything.

“Just tell me one thing,” Ruby said to Hardacre. “Was Sam Epstien really involved in all of this?”

“Scales beginning to fall from your eyes, are they?” She took that as a yes. Hardacre brought his face to within an inch of hers. “Remember, I may have been bankrupt, but I am not bankrupt now.” His tone was menacing. “I am rich again, and if you choose to take me on, I will fight dirty and I will prove to be a formidable adversary.”

Ruby didn’t doubt it for a second.

Chapter 17

When she got home, Ruby was still shaking with shock and fury. She was also thinking about Sam. She refused to accept he was part of this despicable surrogacy gang. She opened a bottle of wine and sat on the sofa, knocking back Sauvignon and trying to calm down. She wondered what Hardacre and Jill would do now. Would they disappear? She doubted it. Hardacre was an arrogant bully and Jill would probably calm down eventually and carry on doing as she was told. The pair would wait for her to go to the newspapers. Then they would hire lawyers and come out fighting with injunctions and writs. What they didn’t know, of course, was that she still had the original list containing the names of the celebrities and their surrogates.

At one point she got up to listen to her phone messages. There was one from Sam saying how much he was missing her and that Buddy had suffered no long-term effects from the stroke. “So, I’ll be home the day after tomorrow. The plane gets in at 6
A
.
M
. Don’t bother meeting me. I’ll get a cab to your place and maybe we could have breakfast together before you leave for work. Love you.”

She must have played the message half a dozen times. She was looking for an awkwardness in his voice, any sign that might indicate he had something to hide. But he sounded so relaxed, so happy, so in love with her. What was more, Sam was a virtual slave to medical ethics. He never discussed patients with her. It was inconceivable that he could be involved in the surrogacy business.

A couple of hours later adrenaline was still pumping inside her. She decided some warm milk might calm her down. Having put a mug of milk into the microwave, she went to her handbag and took out the list with Sam’s signature on it. Her back resting against the kitchen counter, she stood staring at the handwriting. On some pretext or other, Jill must have convinced Sam, as well as the other foreign doctors, to sign their names in the last column before any of the other details were filled in. The other information must have been added later. It was obvious why Jill and Hardacre wanted the names of foreign doctors on the list. If the scam ever came to light, the foreign doctors, who usually only stayed for a few months, would get the blame. The likelihood was that they would be long gone and nobody would bother pursuing them.

She took the mug out of the microwave and looked at the kitchen clock. It was past three—ten in the evening New York time. She decided to phone Sam. Somebody was trying to cover up their own involvement in the surrogacy affair by implicating Sam. He absolutely had to know what was going on.

She kept trying his mobile, but each time she got his voice mail. After half an hour or so, the effects of the warm milk started to kick in and she started to feel drowsy. She left an urgent message for him to call her and took the phone to bed with her.

She fell asleep almost immediately. Two hours later she was wide awake again, her mind buzzing. What if the press somehow got hold of the surrogacy story and Sam couldn’t prove his innocence? He wouldn’t just lose his job. He would lose his career. She tried phoning him two or three more times, but there was still no answer. When she couldn’t get back to sleep, she got up and made another hot drink, but she couldn’t get it down. She felt too sick.

She rang St. Luke’s just after eight to check on Ronnie. She spoke to the Jamaican midwife who was just going off duty. She said Ronnie was absolutely fine and had left in a taxi a few minutes ago. Ruby immediately called Ronnie on her mobile. “Mum, what are you doing going home on your own? I said I’d pick you up.”

“I know, darling, but I’m fine and I didn’t want to put you to any trouble. It would have meant you getting to work late and I know this is your busiest time of year.”

Ruby said she would phone to check on her later. “That’s sweet of you, but don’t worry. Your dad’s back from Munich this lunchtime.”

W
HEN
C
HANEL ASKED
her what was wrong, Ruby put her off by saying she had slept badly and had a headache—both of which were true. She didn’t want to tell Chanel—or Fi for that matter—what she’d discovered until she’d spoken to Sam. It felt too disloyal.

Around midmorning, Fi phoned to ask Ruby if she fancied meeting up for lunch. Chanel was happy to mind the shop, so Ruby accepted.

They went to Carluccio’s and ate comfort food—steaming hot minestrone, into which they dipped thick chunks of heavily buttered ciabatta.

“Rubes,” Fi said quietly as she moved vegetables around in her soup, “there was actually a specific reason I wanted us to have lunch.”

“Sounds ominous,” Ruby said, raising her eyebrows. “Go on.”

“Look, you know I love you and that I wouldn’t say or do anything to hurt you.”

Ruby held her ciabatta in midair and frowned. “Blimey, this is starting to sound really heavy.”

“It is. I haven’t slept for nights thinking about whether or not I should tell you, but in the end I decided I had to.”

“Tell me what?”

“It’s about Sam.”

“What about him?”

“Well, it’s not so much about Sam—well, it is, but…”

“Fi, come on. Whatever it is, just say it.”

“OK.” Fi put down her soup spoon and steepled her fingers. “I have just found out that Buddy never had a stroke. He hasn’t been ill at all. In fact, for the past month, he’s been in Boca Raton with Irene.”

“What are you talking about? Of course he’s had a stroke. Sam’s been in New York making sure he gets the right treatment.”

“Sam may have been in New York, but he hasn’t been with Buddy and Irene.” She picked up her bag, took out a postcard and handed it to Ruby.

Ruby glanced at the picture of a palm tree–fringed beach and turned the card over. It was addressed to Fi and Saul. She looked at the postmark. It had been sent about a week ago. There were just a couple of lines: “Buddy and I having wonderful vacation soaking up the sun. Back in NY after New Year’s. Hoping to see you soon. Love, Irene.”

“I don’t know what’s been going on,” Fi said gently, “but it looks as if Sam has been lying to you.”

“Lying?” The suggestion was outrageous. “He can’t have been lying. There has to be some mistake.”

“There’s no mistake. I phoned Irene, just to double check. Buddy’s absolutely fine.”

“But I don’t understand. What could possibly be going on?” Ruby’s confusion and panic was causing her heart to pound in her chest. “And to lie about somebody being close to death. It’s an appalling thing to do. I can’t believe Sam would be capable of such a thing.” Fi didn’t say anything.

“So, what does this mean?” Ruby went on. “That Sam’s got another woman back home?” The name Kimberley shot into her head. She was the rather forlorn friend of Sam’s they had bumped into at Kew. Could Sam be having an affair with her? Had he whisked her off to some love nest in New York? It seemed unlikely, but she supposed it was possible. Maybe she had been missing something when she decided there was nothing going on between them.

“I think you’ll have to ask him that,” Fi said.

Ruby sat shaking her head and feeling sick. “I don’t know what to do. Suddenly this is all getting too much.”

“What do you mean? Has something else happened?”

Ruby decided the time had come to tell her what had happened last night. Fi listened quietly as Ruby explained about finding the paper with Sam’s signature on it. “If you had asked me even a minute ago, I would have said that Sam was one of the most honorable, trustworthy people I know. It’s one of the reasons I love him. Now I’m not sure what to think.”

After lunch, the two women stood on the pavement saying good-bye. “I feel so guilty having to be the one to tell you this,” Fi said. “But I couldn’t live with you not knowing the truth.”

“Don’t feel guilty,” Ruby said. “If I had been in your position, I would have done the same.”

“And you’ll let me know as soon as you’ve spoken to Sam?”

“Promise.”

Ruby gave Fi a final hug. Afterward the two women set off in opposite directions. Even though the air was bitter and it was starting to rain, Ruby walked slowly, tears stinging her cheeks.

She arrived at the shop and for the first time since it had opened, she was relieved to see there were no customers. She sat down heavily on one of the chairs they reserved for expectant mums and told Chanel everything that had happened. “I thought I knew Sam,” she said, finding it impossible to choke back the tears. “I can’t believe he lied to me about Buddy being ill.”

Chanel was typically upbeat. “Look, I know it looks bad, but you ’aven’t spoken to Sam yet. You need to give ’im a chance to explain.”

Ruby agreed that she did, but she couldn’t prevent the words
straws
and
clutching
coming into her mind.

T
HAT NIGHT
,
SHE
tried Sam again. When she still couldn’t reach him, she phoned Hannah. It was important that she was kept up to speed with developments.

When Ruby told her how she had acquired the list of surrogate mothers, Hannah was gobsmacked. “Bloody hell. That’s amazing. God, you’re brave. I couldn’t have done something like that. I’d have been petrified. So where do we go from here? For Alfie’s sake, I’m still not sure I want to go to the newspapers with this.”

“I know. We have to be really careful about what we do next.” Ruby said she needed to think. By saying this, she was playing for time. Mindful of Chanel’s advice not to mention her own feelings, she refused to make any decision about how to proceed until she had spoken to Sam about how his signature came to be on the form.

“Hannah, before you go, I want to check a couple of details with you about Alfie’s birth.”

“Sure.”

“You had an emergency cesarean, right?”

“Right.”

“And Doctor Hardacre performed the op?”

“No. He was on holiday. Somebody else did it.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. There was such a fuss and commotion because I was losing so much blood. All I can remember is being wheeled into surgery and being given an anesthetic.”

“What about the rest of the time you were in the hospital? Which doctor saw you?”

She said she didn’t know his name. “But he was young. American. Very good looking as I remember.”

“Was his name Epstien?”

“It could have been. I really don’t remember.”

I
T WASN
’
T UNTIL
the early hours of the morning that she finally reached Sam. He said he hadn’t called her because the phone network had been down all day and he had only just got her messages. “I’m really sorry not to have gotten back to you. And I can’t speak now, because my plane’s boarding. You said it was urgent. Can it possibly wait until I get back?”

“Yeah, sure.” She’d waited this long to speak to him. A few more hours weren’t going to make much difference.

“Rubes, you sound a bit down. You OK?”

“Let’s talk when you get back.” She managed to wish him a safe journey.

She went to bed, but once again sleep refused to come. Just after seven, she decided to get up and have a shower. She had just got out when she heard the door buzzer go. She opened the door, wearing her old terry dressing gown. Sam was standing in front of her beaming, bearing freshly baked croissants from the French baker round the corner. He threw his arms round her. “Gee, I have missed you.”

“Me, too,” she said, aware of how cold her voice sounded. She made no attempt to put her arms around him.

“Has something happened? You sound weird, just like you did last night on the phone. What’s going on?”

“I’ll make some coffee,” she said.

He dragged his bag into the hall and closed the front door. “Ruby, talk to me. You’re making me nervous. Have I done something?”

She stood filling the kettle with water. “I’m not sure where to start.”

“You could try the beginning.”

She flicked the switch on the kettle and handed him the stolen paper. “Take a look at this.”

“What is it?”

“Just read it.”

He was clearly jet-lagged and couldn’t quite take it in. “Yeah, OK, this is one of the forms all doctors sign at St. Luke’s after they’ve attended a birth. Where did you get this?”

“I’ll explain in a minute. Do you see anything odd about the form?”

He squinted. “There are some names in brackets. I’ve never seen that before.”

“Suppose they were the names of surrogate mothers.”

He shrugged. “I guess that’s a possibility. But it makes no sense that the hospital would keep records of surrogates for somebody to find.”

“Or steal.”

His eyes were bulging with disbelief. “You stole this?”

“From Jill McNulty.”

“Jill? What’s she got to do with all this? And how could you take a risk like that? If you’d got caught…”

“I did get caught.”

“For crying out loud. What happened?”

She explained about Jill’s relationship with Tom Hardacre—both personal and professional—and how they’d caught her leaving the storage room.

“So, you were right. Hardacre is involved.”

She directed him back to the paper. “Look down the list of doctors. What do you see?”