Glencross Manor - Ruth's Story

"Er, no - Darjeeling will be fine, thank you," I answered.

"A pot of Darjeeling for two then," Mrs. McEill said to the young man.

"Very good, Mrs. McEill," Jason responded, and with a polite little bow of his head he headed off to make the tea.

"Such a lovely young man, that one," Mrs. McEill commented as he walked away from us. "And yes, before you ask, he is also one of our donors here."

"How did you start this place up?" I asked her out of genuine curiosity.

"Well, as a girl I'd always been interested in science, and I guess you could say my fascination with human fertility stems from my parents' experience. I was their only child, you see, and though he loved me dearly, my father desperately wanted a son to pass on his title to. I was too young to understand at the time of course, but it was clear that they had trouble conceiving, and all manner of doctors and specialists came through these doors over the years - all of whom failed to help them. Eventually, once mother reached her menopause, my father reluctantly admitted defeat.

"I wanted to help my parents, so I decided to study fertility and embryology, and I eventually managed to get into Oxford University to study. Once I qualified it was too late to help my parents, so I decided to try and help others instead.

"When my father died and I inherited this place, I decided that it would be perfect as a centre of excellence in the field of natural insemination, and in 1981 with the help of my dear departed husband, we established Glencross Manor as the Glencross Manor Clinic for Fertility and Human Reproductive Sciences, and we've been helping couples and respectable lady clients to realise their dreams of parenthood ever since."

"Fascinating," I enthused. "How come I've never heard of this place before?"

"Well, as I'm sure you can imagine, it wouldn't take much for people to jump to the wrong conclusions about what we do here - and the way we do it, of course," Mrs. McEill explained. "The last thing we want is to be labelled as a 'knocking shop', so our services are advertised very discreetly and most of our clientele comes from personal recommendations and referrals from private fertility specialists, such as those in Harley Street, for example."

Just then, Jason returned with the tea. Our conversation paused for a while whilst Mrs. McEill poured and served the tea.

"So, tell me a little about yourself, dear," she said as she sat back in her chair with her cup of tea.

"Well, I'm a businesswoman," I began. "Believe it or not, I run a successful online store that sells baby products. I know, ironic isn't it? A woman who runs a baby products website and has no children of her own! The truth is I've just never had time to start a family, and I've gradually come to realise that I'd like to have a baby now that my business more or less takes care of itself."

"And you've also come to the conclusion that you'd like to have a child in your life, but not a man?" Mrs. McEill supposed. "You'd be surprised how common such a predicament it is for professional women such as yourself."

"Well, yes," I replied. "I don't have anything against men - I love men - but I just don't want a relationship with one at this stage of my life, that's all."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that at all, my dear," Mrs. McEill said assuringly.

"So, I know it's vulgar to talk about money, but how much does this service of yours cost?" I asked, keen to return to business. Well, once a businesswoman, always a businesswoman I guess.

"There is only one standard all inclusive fee for the natural insemination service," Mrs. McEill replied. "It includes all medical, accommodation, food and other service costs incurred during your stay here - apart from the obvious of course. I'll not beat around the bush, Ms. Vyne, the fee is five thousand pounds sterling, to be paid in advance in the form of a bank draft."

"What happens if I don't get pregnant?" I enquired.

"Well, you shall be refunded, naturally," Mrs. McEill answered matter of factly. "Minus the expenses incurred during your stay."

"And what are the chances it'll work?" I asked. "What's your success rate here?"

"I'll tell you what," Mrs. McEill replied as she set her teacup down on the table. "Let me show you something that might illustrate how successful we've been here. Follow me."

She led me out of the drawing room and into the room next door, which appeared to be some kind of study, given the presence of the large leather topped oak desk at one end. The decor in the room was the same kind of Scottish Baronial style, with wood panelling and plenty of tartan everywhere. One wall was dominated by a huge golden rococo style picture frame, but rather than containing a large landscape or a portrait of an illustrious ancestor, this frame instead contained hundreds of small photographs, each one accompanied by a handwritten letter. The photographs of course, were of the many babies conceived at Glencross Manor over the years.

"There are three thousand, seven hundred and eighty five, to save you the trouble of counting," Mrs. McEill said proudly. "All conceived here by our donors, of whom I could not be any prouder. Three thousand, seven hundred and eighty five new lives brought into the world as a result of our, or should I say their work here. Our success rate comes in at ninety two percent, so the chances of you successfully becoming pregnant here are very high. But of course, it's as much down to you as to whatever donor you may choose."

"In what way?" I asked.

"It takes two to make a baby," Mrs. McEill replied as we returned to the drawing room. "We make sure our donors are healthy and fertile enough, but in order for a successful conception, you must ensure that you too are healthy and fertile enough. To that end, should you sign up for our service, you shall be issued with a diet and exercise plan that you shall be obliged to adhere to. You shall also be given a daily folic acid supplement and other vitamins that will help your overall level of fertility."

"I see," I answered.

"Now then," Mrs. McEill said as she rang her little bell once more to summon Jason into the room. "I'll have Jason show you to your room for the night and he'll also give you the grand tour of our facility."

Jason dutifully appeared in the doorway.

"Jason, dear, could you show Ms. Vyne around the place and then show her to her room?" Mrs. McEill asked him.

"Yes, Mrs. McEill," he replied politely. "Please follow me, Ms. Vyne."

"I shall see you in my study a little later on, Ms. Vyne," Mrs. McEill said as she returned to her cup of tea.

I followed Jason out of the drawing room, and out of the main house altogether.

"The clinic is divided into several main areas," Jason explained as I followed him outside. "We'll return to the house later, but in the meantime, I'll show you the medical and laboratory building."

He showed me in to one of the modern buildings, and straight away it was clear that a lot of money had been invested in setting up the clinic. There were white coated technicians, all of them women, peering down microscopes and operating various computers. There was a cryogenic storage facility, presumably for storing sperm samples, and a bank of refrigerators for storing other materials.

"This is our main laboratory," Jason explained. "Where all the various blood, urine and semen samples are analysed. It's also where both sperm samples and eggs are stored cryogenically for future use."

"I thought this place operated on the principle of natural insemination?" I said.

"Normally yes, but we are fully equipped to enable us to perform a full IVF service should the need arise," Jason answered. "Most of the time clients opt for the natural option."

"Mrs. McEill mentioned that you're one of the donors here," I said as we moved on.

"All the men here are donors," he replied.

"How long have you been here?" I asked him. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Three years now - I know it may seem like an odd vocation: professional baby maker, for want of a better word, but I get a lot of satisfaction from it."

His face flushed red at that moment.

"Besides the obvious satisfaction, of course," he added.

"You mean the, er, having sex," I replied.

"Yes - Mrs. McEill believes that simply having sex, and plenty of it, at the right time, is by far the most effective way to successfully conceive - her results speak for themselves. I take it she's already shown you her 'wall of babies'?"

"Yes, she seemed rather proud of it," I said, recalling the expression on her face as she showed me the pictures and letters on the wall in her study.

"As well she should be," Jason commented. "Thanks to her, more than three thousand new lives have been made."

"Surely it's more thanks to you men than to Mrs. McEill?"

"Well, we are the ones that ultimately help make the babies of course," Jason blushed. "But Mrs. McEill is the brains behind the operation - it was her vision of this place being a success and making it somewhere that natural donor insemination could be carried out safely amid beautiful surroundings."

"Do you know how many babies you've fathered?" I enquired.

"Twenty six and counting," he replied proudly. "So far I have a one hundred percent success rate. And by next week it might be twenty seven - I have a new client coming here from the states tomorrow. Our clients come from all over the world for us to er, come in them."

"Doesn't it bother you? Being basically sold for sex?" I asked him out of genuine curiosity as we ambled along.

"I guess it would, if it was solely for pleasure," Jason answered. "But since us having sex with women has a genuine purpose here, it doesn't bother us at all. Now then, in here is our medical facility. This is where both clients and donors are given full health screenings to ensure the best possible chances of conception."

I was shown into what appeared to be a consulting room such as you'd find at any doctor's surgery, with a desk and chair, a set of scales, sphygmomanometer, and of course, an examination bed.

"All us men are given a full medical every month, to make sure we're as fit and healthy as can be," Jason explained. "And of course, to make sure we're free of any nasties down there."

"And your, er, clients are tested too?" I asked.

"Absolutely," Jason confirmed. "Mrs. McEill would no sooner allow a client to pass an STD to us than for us to pass one to them. She believes in unprotected sex being as safe as possible. So, should you sign up as a client, you'll be tested for every sexually transmitted infection there is - from herpes and chlamydia, to hepatitis and of course, HIV."

"Well, I guess it's comforting to know she has everything covered," I replied.

The tour moved on to another building, although Jason announced that I was not allowed to enter it.

"This is the men's accommodation building," he explained. "It's the only building where women are not permitted. Mrs. McEill was adamant when she set this place up with her late husband that the donors have a sanctuary of their own, away from women. Each of us has our own en suite room with TV and wifi, and there are communal lounges and a decent library - we even have our own pub of sorts in here. We call it 'The Stallion' but really it's just a lounge with a small bar in it - alcohol is a total no-no here for us. It affects our sperm counts, you see, so while we're here it's non-alcoholic or nothing. Mind you, every so often a few of us nip into Fort William for a cheeky wee dram!"

"Well, who wouldn't?" I chuckled. "I've heard the whiskey around here is some of the best in the world."

"It is," Jason replied. "But don't tell Mrs. McEill I told you that!"

The tour continued to the women's accommodation building. Unlike the men's accommodation building where women were not permitted, I was surprised to discover that men were allowed in the women's block.

"Some of our clients are married couples, you see," Jason explained as he ushered me inside. "But by and large us men only come in here when we're invited. Female staff accommodation is on the lower two floors, whilst the clients accommodation is on the top floor. And speaking of which, it's about time I showed you to your room."

Jason took me up to the top floor and showed me into my room for the night. It looked just like a room that wouldn't be out of place in an averagely priced hotel - the decor was relatively neutral compared to the tartan overload that the main house was, but there was still a distinctively Scottish air in the room, with its watercolours of heather clad hills and shimmering lochs adorning its walls. My luggage had already been left on a low shelf, ready for me to unpack - not that I'd packed much anyway as I was only staying the one night.

Moving on, Jason showed me the rest of the complex. Our next stop was the cafeteria, before moving on to the gym and health spa where there were a number of men, all of whom looked so wonderfully fit and attractive, either working out or enjoying a sauna or a massage. We also stopped at the sports hall where a game of five a side football was in full swing on one side, and a basketball game on the other.

The tour then concluded back at the main house, where Jason took me up to the upper floor where the bedrooms were located.

"The bedrooms in here are used for, well, for sex, basically," he explained in a more hushed tone of voice. "There are eleven bedrooms up here, and it is where the majority of the action takes place, if you catch my drift. A client may have sex wherever she feels most comfortable - either in one of the rooms here or in her own room back at the accommodation block. There's also a number of other places dotted around the estate where she can choose to be serviced by her chosen donor."

We returned downstairs back towards the study.

"So where does Mrs. McEill fit in to this place?" I asked. "I thought this was her ancestral home."

"She has her own apartment on the top floor, adapted from the old servants quarters," Jason replied. "I've been up there a few times myself - it's really rather nice. She has a roof terrace and everything, and the view from up there across to the loch is stunning when the weather's nice."

"Ah, welcome back Ms. Vyne," Mrs. McEill said brightly as Jason showed me into the study. "I take it Jason has finished giving you the tour?"

"Yes, it's quite an operation you have here," I replied. "I'm genuinely really impressed!"

"Thank you, dear," Mrs. McEill answered with a smile. "Has it helped you to come to a decision about signing up as a client?"

I didn't need to think very hard to give her an answer.

"Yes - definitely!" I beamed.

"Excellent!" Mrs. McEill smiled warmly. "Jason, could you gather up the necessary paperwork for me?"

"Yes, Mrs. McEill," he replied, and went off in search of the appropriate forms that I would need to fill in.

"I'll make an appointment for you for your health screening later today," Mrs. McEill continued. "And then later on we can take a look through the roster to choose a suitable donor for you."

The paperwork wasn't as complicated as I thought it would be - it mainly took the form of a contract and a couple of disclaimers. I was to pay the sum of five thousand pounds in advance, in the form of a bank draft just as Mrs. McEill had mentioned, and that by signing up as a client I would agree to follow a specially prescribed diet and exercise regime to ensure that I was healthy and fit enough. I had also to agree to being prescribed a couple of dietary supplements to help aid my overall fertility levels. The first contract was between myself and the clinic, however, Mrs. McEill explained that once I had chosen a donor, a second contract was required between him and myself.

"It basically covers the donor in the event that the Child Support Agency comes knocking on his door at some point in the future," Mrs. McEill explained. "Natural insemination isn't covered by the same laws as artificial donor insemination, you see. As far as the CSA are concerned, if a child is conceived naturally, the father is automatically regarded as being liable to provide financial support should the mother of his child request it. The contract states that you officially relieve the father of your child of any financial or parental responsibilities, and that you recognise him only as being a donor. That way, any intervention from the CSA can be legally challenged."

"I see, well that makes sense," I replied. "Not that I'd dream of running to the Child Support Agency if I ever fell on hard times - like you said, the man I choose here is a donor. If I was in a relationship with him it'd be a different matter."

"Well, that's good to hear," Mrs. McEill said. "But you'd be surprised at the things some unscrupulous people will try to get away with, so it makes sense to make sure our donors are legally covered. Now then, on the subject of donors, I think it's time for you to take a look at what we have on offer for you."

Mrs. McEill opened up an application on her computer and turned the monitor around so that we could both see it.

"Now then, this is our current roster of donor males," she began as a database opened up on the screen. "Do you have any particular attributes that you'd like him to have? Eye colour, hair colour, that sort of thing?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest I've never really thought about that, so I guess I don't have any preferences," I replied.

"That's okay, dear," Mrs. McEill assured me. "Some ladies come here with a very specific list of preferences, others with none at all. We get them all here!"

"Just as long as he is physically fit and healthy, and is a kind and gentle person, I'm not really all that fussed about what colour his hair is," I said.

"Well I can assure you that the men here are definitely all of those things," Mrs. McEill beamed proudly. "But what about racial background? Do you have any preference there?"

"Well, I shouldn't have one, really," I replied. "But I guess I would kind of prefer a white man."

"Nothing wrong with that at all," Mrs. McEill answered with a slight shrug. "In fact, between you and me, mixed race children can be a little problematic, genetically speaking."

"How do you mean?" I asked, thinking that her sudden revelation was just a little bit racist.

"I only refer to problems that can be encountered should the unthinkable happen and your child needs an organ or bone marrow transplant at some time in the future," Mrs. McEill explained. "You see, it can make it much harder to find a suitable donor match in that situation. I'd always advise prospective parents to choose a sperm donor who is of the same ethnic background as the mother."

"Well, I guess that sort of makes sense, now that you put it like that," I replied.

"Believe me, there isn't a racist bone in my body," Mrs. McEill assured me with her hand on her heart. "And we try to cater for as many ethnicities as we possibly can here - nobody should be excluded from having the right to be a parent. And that includes people who for whatever reason wish to have a mixed race child - it's just not something I'd recommend unless you have a very good reason for wanting one."

Reassured that Mrs. McEill's views were from a strictly practical perspective, I turned my attention back to the screen.

"Okay, so white British - no other preferences specified," Mrs. McEill said as she filled out the search fields. "Brings up a total of two hundred and fourteen matches. Well, it should come as no surprise to you that most of our donors here are white. I'll leave you to take a look through the matches while I arrange your health screening."