Inconceivable (29 page)

Dear Penny,

I
’m writing this entry in my book with an extremely sore arse. Well not

my arse obviously, but you know what I mean. Sam, who has been very good up until now, made a bit of a mess of tonight’s injection and it really hurt. He didn’t mean to, I know, and he was really apologetic. I was telling him about the script we had in at the office about infertility and IVF. It’s called
Inconceivable
and is to be a co-production between the BBC and Above The Line Films. I’ve been feeling a bit bad about it ever since I heard, having stopped Sam from developing exactly the same idea. He told me not to worry about it, but I do worry. I mean I’ve always been on at Sam to search within himself for his writing and the one time he did, I banned it. What’s more, I actually think that it’s quite a good idea that they’re doing the film. Sam seemed surprised at this eager, almost. I wonder whether he still harbours dreams of persuading me to change my mind. Not much point, I’d have thought, now that someone else has had the idea. Anyway, I’m not going to change my mind, I’m afraid.

Nonetheless, I do think it’s a good thing that the BBC are covering the subject. It’s important for people like us who are actually going through these things that the issues are brought out into the open and discussed. They need to be normalized so that infertile people don’t feel so marginalized. I do think that comedy can help with that. I know it’s not very fair to be saying all this, particularly to Sam, but then again it’s not really so strange. I like to see sex in a movie but I wouldn’t want my own sex life exposed on screen (not that it would make much of a movie, I’m afraid).

I explained to Sam that whereas I shall definitely go and see

Inconceivable
when it comes out I just couldn’t have borne for it to be based on our story directly. I mean it would all go just too deep. The pain and all.

Dear Sam,

I
got a bit of a shock tonight. I’d just been getting ready to give Lucy her nightly injection when she started talking about
Inconceivable
. I should have expected it, of course. I knew that the Phipps fucker was on Sheila’s books or how could he have stalked Lucy in the way he did. Nonetheless, it was still a shock.

For a little while I was thrilled, actually, because Lucy was being very positive about the whole idea. She seems to think that bringing the subject of infertility into the realms of normality via the medium of comedy is a very empowering thing. I could not agree more, of course, especially if I win a BAFTA.

I was soon to be disappointed, though. She still hasn’t relented about her own privacy and I can see that it’ll be a little while before I can even think about telling her.

Anyway, I was just getting the needle ready for the plunge, having prepared my target on the outer, upper quarter of her bum as I have done every night for a week, when she brought up the subject of casting. She said that there’d been an offer put in on Carl Phipps to play the husband. I gritted my teeth and resolved to change the subject when she started to eulogize about the bastard. Saying that she thought he would be superb, being such a nice man and a truly sensitive actor and of course so good looking. I swear I did not mean to jab the needle in so clumsily, well obviously I didn’t, I’m not a thug. I just jerked involuntarily, hearing her being so nice about the snake. It brought back all the memories of what I’d read and shouldn’t have read and reminded me that although Lucy had maintained her honour she had done so reluctantly and that she still fancies him.

Anyway, I feel terrible now for being such a clod with the needle and have just brought her Horlicks and some toast in bed. God, she looks gorgeous, sitting there under the duvet cupping her mug in both hands. I resolve this night to look after her for ever and never let her be hurt. After, that is, I’ve broken her heart by revealing my black treachery. But she’ll understand, won’t she? I mean surely.

Dear Penny,

I
did something today that I swore I wouldn’t do. I went to Mothercare. Only for a few minutes at lunchtime, but it was probably not a good idea. Everything looks so lovely. The clothes, the toys, all these amazing new buggies with their great big fat wheels. I love all that stuff. I don’t know why. I bought some things too. Well, why the hell shouldn’t I? Just a couple of baby-gros and a fluffy ball with a bell inside it. I don’t see how it can do any harm to have a positive attitude and if the IVF does fail then my cousin’s just had one and I can send it all to her.

Dear Sam,

T
hings are moving at an incredible pace on the film. One of the good things about it being produced by a television company is that they’re not afraid of tight schedules. And with Ewan set to begin pre-production on his first US feature in only five months, the schedule could not be tighter. It’s all cast now; Carl Phipps as Colin (my God, fate has a sick sense of humour) and Nimnh Tubbs as Rachel. Nimnh is not as big a star as Carl but she’s very highly regarded, having played most of the younger Shakespeare totty at the RSC and recently a ‘
Hedda Gabler for the Millennium generation’ (Daily Telegraph
) at the National. I have not yet discovered how to pronounce Nimnh but I must make sure I do before rehearsals begin which, believe it or not, is at the beginning of next week. Normally you don’t rehearse much with film, but apparently Ewan always does a week with the principals ‘Just to create a sense of community,’ he says.

Snow White,

Dear Penny,

I
went to the Disney store in Regent Street in my lunch break today. I really must stop this. Except actually I’ve always wanted to own the video of

which is a genuine movie classic. As for the other toys and videos and the little Pocahontas outfit I bought, well, they’ll be useful to have around when friends come over with their children, even if I don’t have one of my own. I’ve been thinking a lot about where we’ll put the nursery if we succeed (which I know is statistically unlikely). The spare bedroom is the obvious place. We only ever use it occasionally when Sam gets drunk and snores so loudly I make him go away. It’s got a lovely tree outside it so it’ll be possible to watch the seasons change and with a bit of encouragement I’m sure we could get birds to nest in it. One of those hanging bags of nuts from a pet shop, I should imagine. I’ll buy a book.

Look, Penny, I know what you’re thinking, or what you would be thinking if you existed, in fact I know what I’m thinking and you’re wrong. I mean I’m wrong. There’s nothing sad or unhealthy about me occasionally buying toys. Why shouldn’t I dream? Why shouldn’t I indulge in a few delicious fantasies? And just supposing they’re not fantasies. Supposing they come true, eh? Oh dear, it would be so wonderful I can hardly bear to think about it.

Dear Sam,

W
hatever I may think about Ewan casting Carl Phipps, I can’t fault him with Nimnh Tubbs. She’s wonderful. Beautiful and heart- breaking. She was going through some of the stuff I pinched from Lucy’s book today and you could have heard a pin drop. She manages to make it funny and sad at the same time. When she read out that stuff about praying and feeling guilty for only believing in God when she wants something, people clapped, as indeed did I.

And I suppose if I’m absolutely honest, Carl Phipps isn’t bad either. He does seem to have a kind of natural intensity which doesn’t look forced or anything. When he does the lines it’s possible for me to almost forget it’s me talking. They were looking at the part where Colin tries to explain to Rachel about what she thinks is his indifference towards the idea of kids and he admits that in the abstract sense he doesn’t want children…

‘ ‘But as a part of you, as an extension and expression of our love, that I do want and if it happened, I’d be delighted. No, I’d be more than delighted. I’d be in Heaven.’’ Phipps sort of paused here and looked into Nimnh’s eyes. I swear they’d both gone a bit teary, both the actors, that is, not both Nimnh’s eyes, although that as well, obviously. I’d heard that actors achieve the watery-eyed look by pulling at the hairs in their noses but if they did that they did it bloody slyly because I didn’t notice. Anyway, then Carl took Nimnh’s hand and said, ‘But if it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t. That’s how I see it. If we have children it’ll be another part of us, our love. If we don’t then we’ll still have us and our love will be no less whole.’

Well, it’s
exactly
how I feel about Lucy. Not surprising, really, seeing as how I wrote it, but still, it was very moving. Even George, who’s a tough, thick-skinned bastard, seemed quite emotional. He told me that it was good stuff and I told him that I’d meant every word of it.

After that Ewan called a short break and went off to sit in magnificent, moody isolation while cute girls with spiky hair and yellow-tinted glasses brought him coffee. All the actors and crew made a beeline for the tea and biscuit table as actors and crew always do. I decided to introduce myself to Nimnh who, being an actress, was holding a cup of hot water into which she was jiggling some noxious herbal teabag or other.

‘Hi, I’m the writer. I’m so glad you’ve decided to do this, Nimnn…Nhimmn…Nmnhm…’

Of course it was only then that I realized I’d forgotten to check up on how to pronounce the woman’s name and that I had absolutely no idea. I think she was used to it. Well she would be, wouldn’t she?

‘It’s pronounced Nahve. It’s ancient Celtic,’ she said and there was a delightful hint of Irish in her voice which I could tell she was rather proud of. ‘I feel my Celtic roots very deeply. My family hail from the bleak and beautiful Western Isles of the Isle of Ireland. My blood is deep, deep green.’

Well there’s no answer to that, as they say. As it happens, I didn’t need one because just then Carl came up, all blokey and matey.

‘I’m Carl. You’re Sam, aren’t you? I know your wife slightly. She works at my agency.’

Yes, you know her slightly, mate, I thought, and slightly is as much as you’re ever going to know her, you lying sneaking bastard.

‘Tremendous script, mate,’ Carl continued. ‘Really tremendous.’

I thanked him and then when his back was turned managed to surreptitiously put ketchup in his tea. A small but important victory. Then the PA called the company back to rehearse. As Nimnh passed me she pointed to the script and the speech Ewan wanted to look at.

‘I cried when I first read it,’ she said.

The terrible thing is, so did I.

I’d only just put it into the script that morning. I couldn’t put it in earlier because Lucy hadn’t written it. She takes her book to Spannerfield and if the queue’s long, which it normally is, she sometimes jots down her thoughts.

Nimnh sat on a chair in the middle of the rehearsal room, with a pen and a book in her hand (I’ve even used that device in the film. It acts as a sort of narration), and read the speech.

‘ ‘I don’t know. As we get closer to the day that will either see me reborn or on which I’ll just die a bit more, the longing inside me seems to become almost physical, as if I’ve swallowed something big and heavy and very slightly poisonous. A sort of morning sickness for the barren and unfulfilled. Do I dare to hope that perhaps soon the longing will end?’’

I could hardly bear it. Nimnh was reading the speech (and reading it very well), but all I could hear was Lucy. All I could see was Lucy, sitting in a crowded waiting room all alone. Scribbling down her thoughts, thoughts I was now making public.

‘ ‘…every mother and child I see begs that question, a simultaneous moment of exultation and despair. Every pregnancy is a beacon of hope and also a cruel reminder that for the present at least there is nothing inside me except the longing. And perhaps there never will be. I don’t know why it is that women feel such a deep need to create life from within themselves, to yearn for a time in which their own flesh will bring them comfort, but I know that they do. That’s the one experience that women who have children easily miss out on in life…The intensely female grief which accompanies the fear that those children might never exist.’’

Everyone was very positive about the speech. Ewan loves the way I’m ‘building the script in layers’, as he calls it. George said that he really felt I’d cracked the female protagonist.

‘Nothing to do with me, mate,’ I told him. ‘Didn’t I tell you? I took on a woman co-writer.’

Dear Penny,

I
’ve just re-read some of the stuff I’ve been writing recently and quite frankly I’m a bit embarrassed. Mawkish, self-pitying drivel. I’m sorry I bored you with it. All that stuff about the ‘longing within’ and ‘morning sickness for the barren’. Great Christ, three-quarters of the world is starving! How can I be so self-indulgent? All I can say is thank GOD no one will ever, ever read it. Still, it does help to get it all out, even if I do sound like an absolute whinger.

I went for another blood test today as per. That’s about it. Nothing else to tell.

Not long now. My ovaries feel like sacks of potatoes having got about fifty eggs on them apiece.