Ben Elton - Inconceivable

Of course a great deal of the excitement that surrounded Carl and me was that it was our first time out at a big event as “an item”. Lots of journalists wanted to know about our future plans but we just smiled gaily and said how thrilled we were about the film.

Tonight has been the most extraordinary and may just possibly turn out to be the happiest of my life.

And not because the film was a great success, although it was, which was wonderful. They cheered at the end and I don’t think they were just being nice. We had a real star-studded première with lots of celebs. Quite a few that I used to know had rallied round which I was touched by. There was a real crush in the foyer with TV and radio people grabbing interviews from anyone they recognized. I was trying to fight my way through to the booze and I heard Dog and Fish being very nice about the film.

“Brilliant,” said Dog. “If you like your comedy with big laughs, this is it.”

“Personally we prefer our comedy with a small side salad,” Fish added. I think they’re improving.

Charlie Stone turned up, which was very nice of him because he really is hip at the moment, and the press went mad. Particularly because he had the gorgeous Brenda on his arm as well, which guaranteed pictures.

“Gagmongous!” I heard him saying to a Morning TV crew. “Megatastic! And what about that Nimnh totty, eh? Did she give me the horn or what!”

“Yeah, she’s a real strong babe,” Brenda added.

Even Joe London was there with his wife Toni, and also Wally the guitarist. Joe was positive about the movie if a little faint in his praise.

“Not bad,” he said. “Fort it was a bit of a bird’s film myself. What jew fink, Toni?”

“I loved it,” Toni bubbled, “’cos it was funny and sad. In’t that weird? I mean, you wouldn’t think it could be both, would you?”

The interviewer asked Wally what he thought of the film.

“What film?” he said.

Anyway, all this is beside the point. I’ve only written it down because it was exciting and I don’t want to forget it. The main event of the evening was about to happen, and it was not the film at all. It was Lucy.

Well, now comes the crunch, Penny. There are no future plans. Carl and I are not an item. I’ve left him and I think that he was mightily relieved.

Well, let’s face it. From the first moment I told Carl about me being pregnant I knew in my heart that he doesn’t want to have a baby. He said he was delighted, but he was lying. Although in fairness I will say that I think he was lying as much to himself as he was to me.

I finally tackled him about it in the limo on the way to the première. As good a time as any, I thought. I asked if he really was genuinely happy that I was pregnant.

“ Happy? Of course I’m happy, darling, I’m delirious.”

Oh dear, Penny. He’s a better actor on screen than he is off. There was a long and uncomfortable pause before he added, “I’m happy because you’re happy. That’s what matters.”

Which is as much as to say, I’m devastated, my beautiful little life is about to be completely ruined by your bloody baby.

“ But you have to be happy too, Carl,” I said, “or it won’t work.”

He sat quietly for another minute, trying to find the courage to start to wriggle out of it. He looked magnificently tortured in his beautiful dinner jacket.

“ It’s a shock, that’s all,” he said finally. “I mean, you said you couldn’t have kids, that’s why I didn’t use protection.”

“Well, I thought I couldn’t, but now it seems I can.”

“And that’s great,” said Carl, not looking at me at all. “Really great.”

And that’s when I realized, finally realized, what I’d known all along, but was afraid to admit to myself.

He doesn’t want a child, Penny, why the hell would he? He’s happy. He has everything he wants, except to be big in the States, and a mewling, puking infant won’t get him that. The truth is, Carl doesn’t want to be tied down at all. He wants a girlfriend, not a wife, and he certainly doesn’t want a mother.

We suddenly found ourselves facing each other in the crush at the bar.

Oh my God, she looked lovely. So glamorous, so sexy, so beautiful. I was crushed by her presence, I just wanted to stand there and worship her. I did stand there and worship her.

I think it was the saddest moment yet. Here I was on the greatest night of my life, standing before the woman of my dreams (and I mean that literally) who looked more gorgeous even than I remembered her. We’d written a hit movie together, and yet I knew I’d lost her, that she hated me.

We made smalltalk for a moment and then she told me her news. It came absolutely out of the blue. Lucy’s pregnant.

I really was happy for her, honestly I was, although I also just wanted to die. I told her that I was thrilled and delighted and that Carl is the luckiest man on earth. I meant it too, I really did. Jealous as Othello though I may have been, I knew that I wished Lucy all the happiness she desired.

Then the evening began to take an unexpected turn.

“I’ve left Carl,” Lucy said, and my heart lurched. “This evening, in fact, just before the film started, during that speech when the Chairman of BritMovie was telling us that the phoenix of British film had risen from the ashes.”

I just stood there, open mouthed.

“He doesn’t want a child, so I’m going to go it alone. No more men for me. It’s the modern way, you know, and at least I’ll have a bit of money, thanks to you and our film.”

Well, I was aghast. Was this my chance? After all, he’d caught her on the rebound, why shouldn’t I? The second bounce, the double whammy. The possibilities of the situation were only just beginning to sink in when a publicist came over to get Lucy for an interview. She was in far more demand than I was this evening, by the way, even though I was the top-billed writer. Hardly surprising, really. She was gorgeous and in a sexy frock and I was Mr Beardy in an unironed dinner jacket. I know who I would have wanted to interview.

Suddenly she was leaving.

“Well… goodbye, Sam,” she said.

I made my decision. Well, it was more of an impulse than a decision. Let’s face it, I was desperate. I had one chance.

“Lucy,” I said. “Come back to me! Please, please come back. I’ll do anything. I made the stupidest mistake of my life, but I didn’t mean it. Tell me how I can make it up! Please, I love you…”

“Sam,” she said. “Don’t be absurd. We can’t go back. I’m pregnant with another man’s baby.”

Then inspiration struck. Maybe I could get her back after all.

“I’ll look after it!” I blurted. “I’ll help bring it up. I’ll be its father.”

And I meant it too. I’d love to bring up Lucy’s child. I don’t care who else’s it would be. Lucy’s child would be part of her and there’s nothing about Lucy that I would not love.

It was a stunning thing to say. I felt winded, suddenly everything seemed to be in slow motion, like I wasn’t actually there but was sort of hovering above it all, watching. The publicist kept tugging at my arm. She can’t have heard what Sam said, or if she had she didn’t care. Publicists at premières have to be very single-minded. After all, you only get one shot at a thirty-second grab on Greater London Radio.

“ Sam,” I said. “You didn’t even want children of your own, let alone somebody else’s.”

Perhaps it was just the noise of the crowd but my voice sounded very strange to me. Sam looked absolutely desperate, wild even, like Rasputin, although I think that was mainly the beard. The crowd around us were getting louder, everybody calling for drinks and congratulating each other.