Page 141 of Mistaken Impression

“Sure. You can help me run my lines. If today’s rehearsal was anything to go by, this show is never going to open on Saturday evening, and if it does, it’ll be the first production of Uncle Vanya to be performed as a farce.”

I sit beside him again. “Stop fretting. It always used to be like this before an opening night. You’ll be fine.”

He chuckles. “You didn’t see the way Desmond was strutting around the stage. It was like a cross between the Ziegfeld Follies and Hamlet.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible, Calvin.”

“You had to be there to believe it.”

“Okay. I’ll help where I can, and I’ll certainly run lines with you.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m gonna head off to bed now.”

“Yeah… you must be tired.” He looks up, smiling. “It’s not every day a guy discovers he’s gonna be a father.”

“No, it’s not.”

I don’t remember when I last slept.

The night before the awards ceremony, I lay awake worrying about seeing Ella again. The night after, I lay awake thinking about how I was going to persuade her to give me a second chance… and last night, I lay awake fretting, becauseevery time I’ve tried to call her, her phone goes straight to voicemail.

Is she avoiding me?

She must be.

But why?

She said I could call, but it seems she’s turned her phone off… and I don’t get it.

“Do you think I should go over to her apartment?” I look down at Calvin, who’s reading through his lines again. We went over them yesterday, and he was word perfect, so I’m not sure what he hopes to gain by reading them again today.

“No. She said you could call. She didn’t say you could turn up on her doorstep and harass her.”

“I’m not harassing her.”

“You’ve called her a dozen times.”

“Yeah… and I can’t get through. What if something’s happened to her?”

“Her brother would’ve let you know.”

He’s right. I know he is.

“Look…” he says, sitting forward and putting down his script. “You’ve cancelled your flight, you’re not in any hurry. Just give her time.”

I let out a sigh. I wish it was that easy.

“I’m gonna call Henry.”

I’m restless. I can’t even think straight. It’s lunchtime here, so it’ll be early evening in London, and although it’s a Saturday and the gallery will still be open, I doubt it will be busy.

Henry answers promptly, on the third ring, clearly surprised to hear from me… and even more surprised when I break the news that not only did I get it wrong with Ella, but I’m going to be a father… and I’m not coming home.

“Ever?” he says.

“I’ll come back to visit, but Ella’s here. Our son’s going to be here in a few months’ time, and that means I belong here, too… assuming she’ll give me a second chance.”

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