Annabel Kantaria - The One That Got Away

‘Stell, please.’

We tussle for a moment and, again, I’m struck with how undignified this is. Never in my life have I aspired to be a woman who tussles with her lover on the doorstep of her office. I peel George’s cold fingers off the door.

‘Let go, please, George. I need to get into work. Goodbye.’

I shut the door in his face.

EIGHTEEN

George

Stell stops taking my calls and refuses to answer my messages. She doesn’t even check Facebook – all my messages sit there unread. It’s as if she’s blocked me from her life – and of course that makes me desperate. Like an addict, I check all my social media obsessively, monitoring whether or not she’s online. If she is, I never catch her.

So I try to focus on Ness, but the initial excitement about the pregnancy starts to wear thin: she’s capricious, sick a lot, tired all the time, and lets me know in no uncertain terms that I can forget about sex until she starts to feel better. It’s too early for a scan so we don’t even have one of those grainy pictures to look at. Sometimes I wonder if I imagined the whole thing.

Meantime, on the long evenings in front of the television when Ness is in bed, I can’t stop thinking about Stell. Do I love her? I want her. I want to possess her. I want to be the most important thing in her life. I need to be the most important thing in her life; I need her to look at me as if I’m her sun, her moon and her stars. I’m obsessed with her. Is that love? I think so.

And then another thought: what if it was Stell, not Ness, having my baby? The thought makes me catch my breath. I close my eyes and imagine me and Stella in bed, my hands sliding over the tautness of her swollen belly, feeling the movements of my child under her skin. I imagine making love gently, gently to a pregnant Stella.

I’m not religious, but I say a little prayer. Please, God. Somehow.

And then reality slams me in the face. The love of my life is expecting me to leave my wife, but my wife is pregnant. I know I’ve sunk low sometimes, but leaving a pregnant woman? I can’t do it.

So what can I do? How can I buy myself time?

Could I tell Stell that Ness is sick? Something that means I have to stay with her for a few more months to ‘support’ her and ‘help’ her? I stare blankly into the middle distance, tapping my forehead as I work through my ideas. If Ness was allegedly going for regular treatments, I could even come to her antenatal appointments. I’d come out of it smelling like roses on both sides.

And then the solution hits me: cancer.

A curable one, of course: I wouldn’t want to give Stell the impression Ness is dying. I don’t want to tempt fate. But yes: cancer’s a good bet. A small one, caught early but requiring seven or eight months of treatment.

Sad face: I’m so sorry, Stell, but I can’t leave her right now.

Yes, it’s perfect. I give myself a silent high-five.

And so, I wait outside Stell’s office again. All afternoon, I sit in the Greek-run sandwich shop across the road, one eye on my coffee, one on the office door. But, as afternoon turns to evening and darkness sets in, I start to wonder if she’s even there. Then, around eight, just as I’m about to give up, I see the door open and, finally, it’s her. I sprint across the street.

‘Stell!’

‘How long have you been waiting?’ Stell locks the office door as she speaks, her eyes not meeting mine.

‘Since half-four.’ I nod at the sandwich shop. ‘I was in there quite a bit. Great coffee. Kept me awake.’ Instinctively, I reach to touch her arm, but she jerks it away from me and starts to walk down the pavement towards the Tube station. I dash to catch up.

‘Stell. Wait!’

‘What? I told you how it’s going to be. I don’t do affairs.’

‘I know. Please come with me. Come for a quick drink. I need to talk to you.’

‘About what?’

‘About stuff.’

‘What sort of stuff?’

‘There’s something I need to tell you. About Ness.’

She stops and turns, a flash of hope in her face. ‘What is it? Have you left her?’

I swallow. ‘Not here. Come with me.’ I tug at her arm, and am surprised that she lets me guide her by the elbow to the nearest bar. We stand awkwardly as I order drinks. Below ground is a second bar that’s quieter. Like a couple on a first date, we each carry our own glass down the spiral staircase, and I lead Stell over to a table. We’re the only people there yet suddenly the room seems tiny – claustrophobic – and the walls close in on me, the paint a dark red that makes me think of torture, burning and hellfire.

We settle, then I pick up my drink, well aware that, should she ever find out about Ness’s pregnancy or my lies, it could very well be the last time I ever have a drink with her. I look at her: at her glossy hair, her eyes, the cool paleness of her skin, the long legs slanted to cross under the table. I stare at her, taking it all in: I can’t lose her. I can’t.

Neither can I tell her the truth.

I lift my glass. ‘Cheers.’

We clink glasses but Stell puts hers straight back down. She’s on the edge of her seat, her coat still on, a smile playing around those gorgeous lips.

‘So. Tell me,’ she says. ‘What about you and Ness?’ Her tone is playful and I know she’s waiting for me to say that I’ve left her; that I’ve moved out and started divorce proceedings.

I rub the back of my neck. ‘Stell. This time without you has been hell. It’s made me realise that it’s you I love; it’s you I want to spend the rest of my life with.’

She raises her eyebrows at me but doesn’t say anything. I have her attention. I drop my voice and reach for her hand. ‘I want everything with you: the wedding, the house, growing old together… you know it was always supposed to be…’

‘A baby?’ Her voice is a whisper. ‘Do you want a baby with me?’

I close my eyes. ‘Yes. I want to have a baby with you.’

Stell sits perfectly still. I can see she’s holding her breath. I pull her into my arms and stroke her hair. ‘I can’t stop thinking about you. I need you in my life. We’ll make it happen, I promise.’ I pause. ‘Please remember that. Because there’s something else I have to tell you. And it’s not good.’

She exhales. ‘OK?’

‘I’m going to leave Ness. That is one hundred per cent certain.’ I pause. ‘But the bad news is it might take a bit longer than I thought.’

‘How come?’ Stell takes a sip of her drink and puts her glass down hard. A little wine slops onto the table. I stare at the splash on the dark wood of the table, and then I start to speak in a monotone.

‘She found a lump in her breast. She’s had a mammogram and a scan and it’s not looking good.’

‘Oh my God.’ Stell presses her hand over her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘The doctor was very concerned,’ I say. ‘They’re going to do a biopsy.’ Stell’s hanging on to my every word.

‘We’re hoping it’s early stages,’ I say, almost convincing myself. ‘But the main thing is, she’s in the right hands now.’ I hope she doesn’t question me further. What I’ve now said is the sum total of my knowledge about breast cancer.

Stell’s nodding. ‘That’s good. There’s a good chance of beating it if you catch it early.’

‘I know. I’m trying to keep her spirits up but obviously there are a lot of unknown quantities at this stage. The point is I just feel I would be a real schmuck to leave her right now. I just couldn’t live with myself. I think the doctor said that if treatment was needed, it would likely go on for a few months. So I need to be around for a while longer. Take her to appointments and look after her if she’s sick at home. She’s got no one else.’