‘I could lose everything in one fell swoop. But I bet all my chips on Alex’

For Charlotte Cripps it was love at first sight with the pantomime baddie who had a massive ego, juxtaposed with low self-esteem and a certain vulnerability

(Illustration by Amara May)

The new year has started with quite a bang. I got the good news that Muggles’s second tumour was also low grade – and it hasn’t spread. My dad cracked open a bottle of Prosecco and he toasted the dog, who was chewing on a giant bone, oblivious to the cancer scare. He doesn’t need chemotherapy or radiation, just another operation, unfortunately, to remove it. But it’s a fantastic feeling to know that Muggles is going to see in another year. Or is it?

Sometimes the thought of another 10 years of him is overwhelming. The mud he brings in, stealing the kid’s food, pulling me over when I walk him – not to mention last weekend when he ate a mountain of compost and shat it out on the kitchen floor while I was out. But the whole ordeal of Muggles and his cancer prognosis really hit me hard and has made me reflect on when Alex and I first got him and then back even further – to how Alex and I first met.

It was an earth-shattering moment that took me on a 10-year roller coaster ride. It resulted in me giving birth to two children via IVF, using Alex's frozen sperm after his death; and Muggles, who we got three days before Alex took his own life in 2014.

He taught me so much: how you can’t make another person better however much you love them – and how to go on a lot of tropical holidays. I’ve often wondered how I will tell the kids about what was for me an epic love story on the scale of Dr Zhivago? I remember that summer’s day as vividly as if it was yesterday – although it was 17 years ago now.

I was walking down the Portobello Road with my friend Simon – I was in my late twenties – when my life literally changed forever. We walked past a group of people who were standing outside an NA meeting (Narcotics Anonymous) in Notting Hill Gate. And there he was smoking a cigarette and looking dark and brooding all in black.

He saw Simon and started to walk slowly over to us. "Who’s that?” I asked, feeling my mood lift and as if I had woken up from a two-year coma. That’s when Simon muttered his name: “It’s Alex.” It was love at first sight. I have only experienced it a few times in my life but not with the same force. His eyes met mine and I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him and have his children. Nobody else would do. Bang. I was no longer the same person that I was five minutes ago.

His friend tells me that he’s a really lovely guy – apart from the fact that his nickname around meetings is Nasty Alex

Those quiet nights in with my lovely but slightly drippy boyfriend, who would go out in the middle of the night to buy me a pack of Minstrels, were surely over.

Simon, who noticed the instant attraction, warned me to be careful: “He’s a really lovely guy apart from the fact his nickname around meetings is Nasty Alex. There is also a Nice Alex – can’t you be attracted to him?” He was like the pantomime baddie with a massive ego juxtaposed with low self-esteem – a classic addict. But I could see straight through him.

Simon wasn’t one for mincing his words but I took no notice as I saw from their power-play dynamic that there was a strange competitiveness between them. They were both northerners and Alex was employing Simon to be his “cultural attache” at the time. The job involved Simon compiling lists of the best rock albums, books and films to buy in order for Alex to better himself and fit in with the rich West London clientele he was mixing with. He was making it big time on the back of the 1990s' property boom and had developed illusions of grandeur.

Ok my current boyfriend was everything your parents could wish for you – reliable, financially stable, caring and attentive – but every morning when he woke up next to me, I wanted to punch him in the face

It reminded me of Harold Pinter’s film The Servant with James Fox as the toff and Dirk Bogarde as the manservant who turns the tables on his master. Who exactly had the upper hand? It didn’t really matter – nothing really mattered – as long as I ended up with Alex.

But could Simon influence Alex to be with me? Or could he throw a spanner in the works? I knew only too well from personal experience that in these meetings, the odds are good, but the goods are odd. I didn't need Simon to protect me from it – I wanted him to be the matchmaker.

But the feeling that overcame me was so all-consuming when I met Alex, that I felt quite powerless to stop it. It was as if I had been walking through a suburban town and I was suddenly on top of a very high mountain feeling the bracing cold wind sharpening my senses.

He had artists hands, I thought, as I gazed at him adoringly. I just couldn’t believe how good-looking he was: but he was also charismatic, funny and exciting. Ok my current boyfriend was everything your parents could wish for you – reliable, financially stable, caring and attentive – but every morning when he woke up next to me, I wanted to punch him in the face.

I could no longer look him in the eye. I knew it would be a difficult conversation – one I had been putting off – but Alex was like Mr Motivator in my head – “you can do it!” – and it was over in five minutes. Admittedly, it was a gamble. I could lose everything in one fell swoop. Like playing the roulette table of love, I bet all my chips on Alex. It was a game of chance and there were no guarantees, but it felt like I had just met my soul mate.

I didn’t care about the details. I just couldn’t wait to see Alex again. Later that night I was shopping for milk in the local Tesco. Islands in the Stream came on the radio. I remember singing along to Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers and throwing my arms into the sky:

“Sail away with me, To another world, And we rely on each other, ah ha, From one lover to another, ah ha”.

From then on, during every waking moment, I wanted to be with Alex. And at least I had cleared the way for it to happen, I thought.