‘We’ll get up with Annie in the morning and take her to school,’ Mum says, ‘You just rest.’
‘Thank you,’ I say as she pulls the door closed. ‘I love you.’
‘We love you too, love. Very very much.’
When the door is shut, I look back at our texts and emails. Cam offered me so much support, and I wanted to do the same for her. Now she’s just been snatched from me. What evil twist of fate gives you a person in that way, then just takes them away? Reading through our emails I come to the last one, where Jason’s name glows at me from the end of Stella Davies’ email, and I wonder if maybe this isn’t an act of evil at all. I had wondered what cosmic force had brought Jason back into my life, and now, feeling over-spiritual and like the universe can’t just hand you a sign in this way, I wonder if Cam was sent to me for a reason?
That reason being Jason.
Stella
I pee on the stick. A smiley face appears. I am at peak fertility. Today is the day. I’ve drunk a full bottle of Benylin, eaten a breakfast of high-alkaline fruits, and I’ve not exercised in two weeks so have put on a couple of pounds.
I’m wearing a shorter skirt than usual, and a low-cut, red vest top underneath a blue cardigan that I’m leaving open. I am conscious of the extra weight, but most of it has gone to my chest so I am maximising on that with a push-up bra. I’ve kept relatively out of Jason’s way all day, knowing that he’s so close to finishing his book. I need to pick the moment carefully. He’s a sensitive guy, if I get my move wrong, I’ll scare him off. Patience is everything; this cannot fail.
I still feel really weird about Camilla Stacey, to think she knew about all this. But I have to focus. I push it to the back of my head.
I take a few deep breaths, go to run my hands through my hair and get the fright I keep getting when I remember that it’s not there any more. My image is so much easier to maintain now though – I hadn’t realised how much time I spent trying to get my hair right. I put on some lip balm, scoop my boobs up into my bra so they sit nicely on my chest, and I knock gently on his door.
‘How you getting on?’ I say. I cock a hip to accentuate the curve of my body, just in case he notices.
‘One hour, Stella. Come back in one hour and I think I’ll be done.’
‘You star!’ I say, closing his door. I sit back at my desk. How can I pass the time? I Google Cam Stacey again; the Mirror have straight up called her a liar. The Mail are quoting her fans.
‘It’s such a betrayal. She made me feel OK for not having a child and now I feel like the one person I looked up to couldn’t even bear to be like me. It’s made me so depressed.’
‘She lied to us all for money. She was a terrible human and isn’t around to be held accountable for it. It’s not fair.’
‘I loved her so much, I’d sent her emails, she even replied a few times. I’m struggling to understand how someone can wear the mask that she did. I really believed that she was who she said she was. I feel so stupid.
Cam replied to someone’s emails? That means she definitely read the ones she received. It makes me feel bad to think that she may have died feeling hated. But my emails are nothing on the vitriol Twitter is spouting about her. But did she really lie about not wanting kids for money? I’m numb, I don’t know what to think. I can only think about what I’m about to do …
Finally, an hour has passed. I get a bottle of champagne out of the fridge – the one Phil’s parents gave me for my birthday – and two glasses. I tap on Jason’s door again.
‘Well, can we celebrate?’ I ask.
‘Hang on, nearly there … here it comes … OK, The End … DONE! Fucking hell, I’ve fucking finished it,’ Jason says, exploding with laugher and running over to me, wrapping his arms around me and picking me up off the ground. ‘Thank fucking fuck it’s fucking over!’ he shouts, getting so carried away that he forgets he is handling someone very delicate. ‘Shit, Stella, I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?’ he says, putting me back down and checking me over for signs of damage.
‘No, no I’m totally fine. Well done! I’m proud of you,’ I say, going over to his desk, putting down the glasses and opening the champagne. I turn my head away as the cork pops out, and then pour it out.
‘Cheers,’ we say, holding up our drinks. Jason downs his immediately. ‘Fuck me, I want to get hammered,’ he says, pointing the glass at me for a refill. I happily top it up, taking tiny sips of mine.
‘So, what shall we do to celebrate?’ I ask him.
‘God, I don’t know. I didn’t plan anything.’
‘Well, lucky I got this champagne then, isn’t it?’ I say. ‘I thought you might need a drink.’
I walk over to his desk and sit on it. His eyes scan over the thigh that I deliberately flash a little too much of. I clock it, and he tries to pretend it didn’t happen.
‘I wanted to thank you for shaving my head,’ I say, ‘you were right, it’s way better than waiting for it all to fall out, and I really like it.’
‘I like it too, it suits you. You have a lovely shaped head.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, seductively taking a small sip of champagne. ‘Yeah, I feel more comfortable in my skin than ever.’ I run a hand up my thigh, drawing attention to that skin. Jason shuffles a little uncomfortably, but his eyes lock onto my leg. I do a huge fake yawn. ‘Gosh, this champagne is making me sleepy. I think I need a coffee to go with it, would you like one?’ I say, knowing Jason never turns down a shot of espresso. I’ll have to act pretty quickly after that, to get the full impact of it in his sperm. As I walk past him to the Nespresso machine, I wiggle my hips, just enough to make him notice.
‘Here you go,’ I say, coming back in and handing him a double shot. I watch him drink it like I’m murdering him with poison and I want to know he took every last drop. I pour more champagne into our glasses, then take my seat back on his desk, pulling my skirt up a little higher. The game is on.
‘It really does suit you, you know,’ Jason says, nervously. ‘Your hair, I mean, your head.’
He’s nervous. Something is in the air. We can’t ignore it now.
I offer him a suggestive look and a little smile while I uncross my legs, and run my hands up my thighs. ‘Thanks,’ I say eventually. ‘Why don’t you come over here?’
‘Stella, what are you doing?’
‘What do you mean, “what am I doing?” I just want to congratulate you, that’s all. Come over here.’
There is now no doubt what is on my mind. ‘Stella, I’m not sure this is a good idea. You work here, and you … and your …’
‘Go on, say it.’
‘You have cancer,’ he says, matter-of-factly.
‘So that means I can’t have sex?’
He splutters, as if he thought he knew what I was suggesting, but hoped he might be wrong.
‘Jason, I still need sex.’
‘I’m sorry, Stella. You’re beautiful, but I don’t think this is right. I’m going to leave, OK. We don’t have to mention this again. Take a week off, I will too now the book is done. Let’s just forget this happened.’
He turns to go and I run to him. He will not leave; I won’t let him.
‘Jason, no. It’s OK. We can do this, it doesn’t have to matter, it doesn’t have to change anything. It’s just fun, for two people who probably need a little fun, right?’ I’m right up in his face, my chest pushing against his. ‘Just a bit of fun?’ I say, running my lips over his. It soon escalates into a deep, penetrative kiss where I thrust my tongue into his mouth. He resists at first, but not for long. I take his hand and lead him back to his desk. I lift my top above my head and undo my bra. Like every guy I’ve ever slept with has ever done, Jason buckles at the sight of my breasts. I’ve got him, I can tell.
I push my skirt down to the floor, and then my knickers too. My bald vagina surprises him. ‘God, Stella, I never thought of you as the type of girl to shave,’ he says, before checking himself. ‘Fuck. Sorry, is that because of the treatmen
t?’ I push a finger against his mouth, as if to make him stop talking. ‘So you’ve thought about my pussy then?’ I say, smiling.
‘No, I mean I … I just mean you don’t seem like the kind of …’
‘Good. Well, now you don’t have to think about it. It’s all yours.’
I sit back on his desk and open my legs. He has a full view of my vagina and he’s looking right into it.
‘Come here, Jason. It’s OK. It’s just sex, we can go back to how we were.’ I open my legs even more, giving him the kind of view that few men could walk away from. I’m so close to getting what I need from him.
‘Jason, please,’ I say, desperately. ‘I need this. It could be my last time.’
‘Oh God, could it?’ he says, grabbing my body and kissing me. For a few seconds I stay here, because it feels so good. His mouth is so soft; the kiss is perfect. But I must stay focused. I want a boy. I quickly flip myself over. ‘Take me like this,’ I say, pushing my bottom against his crotch. I can feel he is hard. It’s seconds away from happening. I rub myself so I come too, just like I read. My orgasm will suck up the male sperm and help them get to the egg first. It’s going great. Everything is going great.
Jason unzips his trousers and guides his penis towards me as I spread myself open so he can find his way. I feel the tip touch my skin and just as I’m about to push back onto it we both jump as someone shouts, ‘No! Jason, don’t enter her!’
‘Don’t enter her?’ What? We both turn to see who said that.
‘TARA?’ Jason and I say in unison.
‘Jason, she’s trying to steal your baby. I mean, she’s trying to have your baby. She wants you to make her a baby. Shit … I can’t believe I said “don’t enter her”. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to walk in at exactly that moment, I—’ Tara says, holding her hand over her eyes to stop having to see all of the genitals.
‘OK,’ says Jason, pulling up his trousers. ‘What did you say?’
‘Sorry, yeah, I didn’t explain that very well. Um. So I presume that’s Stella, right?’ she asks, pointing at me, her other hand still over her eyes.
I nod. There isn’t much more I can do. I also pull up my knickers.
‘Yeah, that’s Stella, how do you … and wait, Stella, how did you know this was Tara?’
Uh oh.
‘Everyone knows I am Tara, because of the video?’
‘The video?’ he asks her, obviously having no idea what she is talking about.
‘Yeah, the video? Of me … Wait, you never saw it?’
As Jason explains that he has been on a TV and Internet ban because of his book, I lean down to pick up my skirt, but he shouts and I stand bolt upright again, like a soldier, with my stupid shaved head.
‘Stella, why did you— no, wait, Tara, how do you know Stella?’ he asks, so confused he scratches his head like Stan Laurel.
‘I know her because she’s been trolling my friend Camilla Stacey from her work email. I saw the messages myself.’
Jason looks at Tara, then looks back at me. ‘Are you two talking in code?’
‘I was with Camilla two nights ago, just before she died, Stella,’ she says, obviously determined not to cry. ‘I saw your last email and where you worked. I had to tell you what she is planning, Jason. This information was given to me; I couldn’t ignore it. I know you said you didn’t want to see me again but …’
‘Wait, when did I say that?’ Jason says, still looking utterly bewildered.
‘When I texted you last week and you replied, saying I’d misread the signs? I mean, if you say so I suppose, but I …’
‘No I didn’t, I haven’t had a phone. Some guy cycled into me just as you walked off that night. My phone went down a drain, I only got it back a few days ago and I never texted you because you never texted me.’
The air goes very still as pennies begin to drop. Jason and Tara both turn to look at me. I cover myself as best as I can, but it’s pointless, I’m beyond dignity at this point. I want to shut my eyes and just let whatever is about to happen happen so I can leave and hide in my house for the rest of eternity. This has all gone really, really wrong.
‘Stella, did you text Tara and say I didn’t want to see her even though you knew how I much I liked her?’
How do I get out of this? If I tell the truth, will it go away? I don’t think I have any choice.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I saw the text and I replied to it and told her you didn’t want to see her again. I did that.’
‘Why?’ Jason asks, looking really hurt.
‘Because I wanted to keep her away from you. I needed you.’
‘You needed me? Why, because you have cancer? Stella, you had me; I told you I am here for you.’
‘Fuck, you have cancer?’ asks Tara, looking genuinely concerned, then adds, as if something’s clicked, ‘Ooh, is that why your …’ She tugs on her hair. I just stare back at her. What am I supposed to say? I feel my face start to sink into the floor.
‘You do have cancer, don’t you, Stella?’ Jason pushes, acknowledging my expression.
I say nothing.
‘Stella, do you have cancer?’ Jason asks again, firmly.
‘No, I don’t have cancer,’ I burst. ‘I lied. I don’t have cancer. I haven’t had treatment for cancer and yes, I wanted you to get me pregnant, OK? That’s it, that’s the truth.’
‘What the hell kind of person are you?’ Jason says, picking up the nearest champagne glass and smashing it on the floor. He looks so angry. I’ve seen him express so many emotions but never this; I am really shocked by it. I start to cry, pathetically.
‘I’ve been so nice to you; I took care of you. Jesus, I nearly just sympathy fucked you. Why would you make that up?’
‘I want to have a baby.’
‘Are you kidding me?’
‘No. I really, really want a baby,’ I say, sobbing heavily now, realising, as I say it out loud, how insane this all sounds. Have I actually lost my mind?
‘You let me shave your hair off?’ he says, shaking his head. Tara looks at me then looks at him. ‘Wow,’ she says, realising the extent of my lie.
‘Get out. Please. I can’t look at you right now. Oh my God, to think I nearly— get out!’ Jason yells, pointing at the door. He looks disgusted with me, like he hates me.
I pick my clothes off the floor and edge past him, moving closer to Tara as I reach the door. I have nothing more to lose, so I turn to face him and just let the words flow out of my mouth.
‘I don’t have cancer, but I have the BRCA gene. It means I have an eighty-five per cent chance of getting cancer and because of how young my mother and identical twin were when they died, the best thing for me to do is have surgery to remove both of my breasts and my ovaries. The doctor told me if I wanted to have a baby naturally, I need to do it now, but I had no one to do it with.’
They are both staring at me, stunned. As the tears pour down my face, I talk quickly, because I have to get this out.
‘And you say all the time how much you want kids, but how you can’t find anyone either, and I thought maybe we could do it together. But I wasn’t even going to tell you, because I knew you’d never love me. I didn’t want to trap you, I just thought … When I read about how Tara did it, I realised you never even needed to know. It seemed so simple.’
‘Wait, what do you mean you read about Tara, when?’ Jason asks, looking blindsided again.
‘Like, a few days after your date. She was all over the news, Walthamstow Wank Woman. She masturbated on the train after your date and …’
‘You did what?’ he says, looking at Tara.
‘I’ll explain later,’ she says, and they both turn back to me.
‘I knew if you saw it you’d track her down, so I kept you off the Internet so you couldn’t do that. You had to finish your book.’
‘Fuck my book, this has nothing to do with that. You knew how much I wanted to see Tara. Jesus. I was in bits after that date and you just left me to suffer. You c
ould have got sperm from anyone if that’s all you wanted, you selfish, selfish b—’
He stops himself.
‘I’m sorry. I think maybe I’m really fucked up,’ I say in a small voice.
No one says anything.
‘You’re fucking crazy,’ Jason says, softly, as it all sinks in. ‘Stella, leave my studio now and don’t come back. I never want to see you here again, understood?’
‘But Jason, I—’
‘Stella, you’re the worst person I’ve ever met. Get the fuck out my studio, right now.’
I do as I am told, and leave.
Tara
Jason and I stand in silence. It’s hard to know exactly what to say after something like that. I’m trying not to think about what I saw. He’s not my boyfriend, he didn’t know this was happening. He was free to sleep with who he wants. But no, that is not how I wanted to see his penis for the first time, about to enter another woman’s …
‘Thank you,’ he says, finally.
‘That’s OK. I wasn’t quite sure what would happen if I came. I certainly didn’t expect that.’
‘Look, nothing happened, OK? I mean, a little bit happened but honestly, you got here just in time,’ he says, shaking his head and rubbing his face, obviously really embarrassed.
‘Hey, don’t worry. I’ve had my fair share of being embarrassed too. It’s not your fault, I get it,’ I say, knowing that is the right reaction, and feeling like maybe it cancels out a little of my own shame.
He pours some champagne into a glass and gives it to me, then gets a mug and pours some for himself. Then he goes over to the window and gazes outside.
‘Are you OK?’ I ask.
‘Not really,’ he says, still staring out the window. ‘I don’t know if I feel stupid, or if I’m angry, or if I just feel really sorry for her. Maybe it’s a mix of all three. She must have pulled hair out of her head. What agony must someone be in to do something like that?’
‘A lot.’
He thinks for a minute, then turns to me. ‘I’m sorry about your friend that died. That’s really sad.’
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