Page 38 of Stella is Starting Over

‘Come on,’ says Beau. ‘Let’s go explore.’

He takes me upstairs to another room, opposite the one where I bought this hideous outfit. It’s a sort of pub function room, only in every corner, people are shagging. Which shouldn’t come as a surprise – we’re at a sex party – but god, it’s really quite arresting. I’ve never seen someone having sex outside of porn. There’s a pretty blonde woman on her knees, going down on another woman. A couple going at it doggy style on the bed. Two men sharing one woman up against the blacked-out window. The music in here isn’t loud enough so I can literally hear the noise of the man next to me who is stoically ploughing into his female companion. In theory I’d always thought that coming to something like this might be quite sexy. If Gavin had had any interest, I’d have been up for it. But maybe it’s the fluorescent lighting, or the smell of latex, or maybe it’s just that the reality of watching people have sex is quite weird? But for whatever reason, this is the least sexy room I have ever been in, in my life.

I think about Rose. I don’t want to be thinking about Rose, I don’t want Rose to be in any way connected to this half-farcical, half-seedy tableau, but I can’t stop myself thinking about her eating tiny pasta shells earlier today and trying to say the word ‘cat’.

Beau slides up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. Then he trails his hand up my inner thigh, towards the gusset of my knickers. He hasn’t even kissed me yet and he’s trying to put his fingers inside me. ‘Do I have your consent?’ he asks.

I shake my head and he freezes. ‘What?’ he asks.

Stepping backwards, I find my way back to the hall. ‘Give me a minute,’ I say, stumbling away from him.

Beau follows me. ‘What’s the problem?’ he asks.

‘I’m sorry, this is just a lot— like, it’s very fast, we literally just met—’

‘We’ve been discussing our needs and desires all week?’ he says, sounding weirdly annoyed. ‘If you weren’t into this then you shouldn’t have said you wanted to come.’

‘I didn’t know we were going to a sex club,’ I say, exasperated. ‘At no point was that made clear to me.’

‘You know there were a lot of girls I could have brought here tonight?’ he says, increasingly red in the face. ‘I picked you because I wanted to be open-minded, and I wanted to experiment with someone older—’

‘Older? I’m six months younger than you are!’

He gives me a withering expression. ‘It’s different, though, isn’t it?’

Is that because I’m a woman? I don’t have the desire to find out. ‘Fuck you,’ I say instead, taking my phone out.

‘You can’t use your phone here!’ he yells. I start down the stairs, pulling my dress from my bag, ready to yank the stupid pink thing over my head and change as I head for the door. Then I catch sight of my phone screen and my heart stops completely.

I have seven missed calls. Six from my mother. One from Lou. I’ve never had more than one missed call from my mother. My mother is the most laissez-faire person I’ve ever met in my entire life. She calls if she really needs something and if I don’t answer. . .

I race up the stairs, out into the street and dial my mum. It rings and rings and doesn’t go through. Then I call Lou. Again, it rings out. I’m calling Mum again when I get a call crossing with the one I’m making and, panicked, I stab my finger at the screen trying to get it to connect. It’s Lou.

‘What?’ I half scream.

‘We’re at the hospital,’ Lou says.

I gag. My hands are shaking so much I can barely keep the phone next to my sweaty cheek. ‘Is she okay?’

‘I think so,’ Lou says. ‘I’m dropping you a pin, get in a cab.’

The Uber is thankfully quick to arrive and the driver says nothing as I put my dress on over the stupid pink mesh thing. He drops me at the A&E entrance, briefly making eye contact in the wing mirror.

‘I hope all is well,’ he says quietly as I get out.

‘Thank you,’ I say, meaning it.

Then I leg it through the main A&E, to the children’s department. In the waiting room, sitting on green plastic chairs, are Lou, Mum and, to my enormous relief, in Lou’s arms is a grizzly Rose. I fall to my knees and gather her into my arms. She’s sleepy and pink-cheeked in her little white pyjamas, but seems pleased to see me.

‘What happened?’ I ask breathily, clinging on to Rose.

‘She’s okay,’ Mum says. ‘They think she’s fine.’

‘We’re just waiting to be discharged,’ Lou adds.

‘What happened?’

‘Rose had a temperature and she was sick,’ Lou says.