Chapter 6: What the Clinic Sent Back
The records arrived on a Thursday, three weeks later.
Grace called me first.
"I have them.
Can you and Thomas come in this afternoon?"
We were there by two o'clock.
Grace had the file open on the desk when we arrived.
She didn't make us wait for context.
"The clinic logged two external contacts during Claire's second treatment cycle," she said.
"The first was a standard insurance query, nothing relevant.
The second was a phone call, received six days before your final consultation of that cycle." She looked at me.
"The call was logged as coming from a woman who identified herself as Thomas's mother.
She told the clinic coordinator that the family had serious concerns about whether continuing treatment was in Claire's best psychological interest.
She said — and this is the coordinator's note verbatim — that Claire had been showing signs of severe emotional instability and that the family believed further treatment could be harmful."
Thomas said nothing.
I said nothing.
Grace continued.
"The coordinator noted that the caller was not listed as an authorized contact and that they could not discuss the patient's case.
However, the note also flags that the call was passed to the supervising clinician as a welfare concern.
Standard protocol." She looked up.
"That welfare concern appears in your file, Claire.
It's cited as one of the factors considered during your final consultation of that cycle."
Thomas's hand found the edge of the desk.
"She told them Claire was emotionally unstable," he said.
"In those words, yes."
"To a fertility clinic.
While Claire was in active treatment."
"Yes."
He stood up.
Walked to the window.
Stood there with his back to us.
Grace gave him a moment.
Then she said, "I want to be clear about what this means legally.
The clinic acted within protocol — they couldn't have known the call was malicious.
But Susan made a false representation about a patient's mental state to a medical provider in a way that influenced clinical decision-making.
That is not a small thing."
"What can be done?" I asked.
"Several things, potentially.
A formal complaint to the clinic's regulatory body.
A civil claim for interference — the legal threshold is high but not unreachable given the documentation.
And depending on how Susan responds when confronted with this, there may be other avenues." Grace looked at me steadily.
"But before any of that, I'd recommend giving her the opportunity to respond.
In writing.
Through me."
Thomas turned from the window.
"She'll deny it."
"She may," Grace said.
"But denial, in writing, with this documentation in front of her, is its own kind of answer."
On the way to the car, Thomas stopped on the pavement outside Grace's building.
He stood there in the cold for a moment, not moving.
"She told a doctor you were unstable," he said.
"She used the word unstable.
About you."
"I know."
"She did it so they'd stop treating you."
"We don't know for certain that's why—"
"Claire." He turned to look at me.
His eyes were red at the edges.
"She did it so they'd stop treating you.
You know that."
I did know that.
I had known it since Grace read the coordinator's note aloud, and the word instability had landed in the room and I had felt, with absolute clarity, the shape of what Susan had tried to do.
She hadn't just mocked me at dinner tables.
She hadn't just handed me wine at Christmas and laughed.
She had picked up a telephone and spoken words designed to close a door that Thomas and I had been trying with everything we had to keep open.
"Yes," I said.
"I know."
Thomas pulled me into him on the pavement outside the solicitor's office, in the cold, with people walking past us on both sides.
He held on for a long time.
When he finally let go, he said, "Grace is going to send the letter."
"I know."
"And whatever happens after that—"
"I know, Thomas."
He looked at me.
"We do this together," I said.
He nodded once.
We walked to the car.
That evening, Susan called Thomas's mobile four times.
He didn't answer.
The fifth time, she called the house phone.
I picked it up.
There was a pause on the other end.
Then Susan said, "I need to speak to my son."
"He'll call you when he's ready," I said.
Another pause.
Longer this time.
"Claire." Her voice shifted — not softer, but more careful.
"You need to understand that I was trying to protect Thomas.
Everything I did—"
"Grace Elliot will be in touch," I said.
"Please direct everything to her from now on."
I set the phone down.
Thomas was watching me from the doorway.
"She called," I said.
"I heard." He crossed the room and picked up the phone and placed it back in the cradle.
Then he looked at me.
"Are you all right?"
I thought about it honestly.
May you like
"Not yet," I said.
"But I think I will be."
