Worth Waiting For: A heart-warming and feel-good romantic comedy

by Tilly Tennant

‘It’s not the same alone.’

  ‘It’ll make the adventure that much bigger,’ Ellie replied with a smile.

  The smile he returned was a wistful one. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘OK… so what are you going to do?’

  ‘I thought I’d ask her to meet me. Maybe take her for dinner – neutral ground, you know? We could talk it through.’

  ‘What makes you think she’ll say yes to dinner this time?’

  ‘Distance. The longer it’s been, the more forgiving she might be.’

  Ellie laughed. ‘We’re talking about the same woman, right?’

  He paused before laughing lightly too. ‘Maybe she’ll be persuaded by a serenade on my banjo?’

  ‘That banjo you can barely play? Maybe not, eh?’

  ‘Point taken. I am going to try though.’ Breaking off a hunk of naan bread, he became serious again. ‘Any ideas how to approach her?’

  ‘How should I know?’

  ‘Well, you were always the sensible one.’

  Ellie took a gulp of wine. The sensible one. For a fleeting moment, she was tempted to demonstrate to her dad just how sensible she was by telling him about her almighty mess of a love-life. But then another, bigger irony occurred to her. Here she was, being told by her father that the only reasonable person in their marriage was his daughter, as if she had been born solely for the purpose of one day mediating. Everyone had heard of couples who had children thinking they might save an ailing marriage. Ellie tried not to dwell on the possibility. The main problem was that any help Ellie gave her father would look to her mother like she was taking his side. One thing Ellie definitely didn’t want to do was take sides with either of them. Getting involved in mending broken relationships, she reflected ruefully, only led to heartache.

  ‘Sorry, Dad,’ she said quietly, ‘but I think you’re going to have to figure that one out yourself.’

  Saturday found Ellie in a strange mood. Her phone contained unanswered text messages from Kasumi, Jethro and Patrick, but although she had read them all, she couldn’t think what to say to any of them. The fact was that they all, more or less, dealt with the same subject, and it was one she was desperately trying not to think about. Instead, she wandered the shopping centre of Millrise aimlessly under the pretence of needing a new jacket, but in reality trying to keep her mind off the urge to drive to Constance Street and make a monumental idiot of herself. As she took her phone out in Top Shop for the fourth time that hour, reading the messages again, the one that caused her particular pain was Jethro. Despite what he pretended, he would be worried about her, especially if Kasumi had shared what she knew about Ellie and Ben. Ellie hoped she hadn’t. Perhaps she should phone Kasumi and ask her straight not to tell Jethro. But then, wouldn’t that simply attach significance to the event that wasn’t merited? It would certainly attach significance to it that Kasumi would pick up and run with. Ellie decided that the best thing to do was leave well alone.

  Ellie locked her phone and tapped it against her chin thoughtfully, staring at a rack of coats (although if anyone had asked her a moment later what they looked like, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them a thing), wondering what to do. She could just drive past Constance Street; see if he was still there, see how quiet things were, whether Gemma had turned up…

  Turning for the doors of the shop, Ellie strode out and into the grey murk of another rainy Saturday.

  Somewhere between the shop and the car park, Ellie had managed to talk herself out of driving to Constance Street. She ended up back at home, an open recipe book propped up on the kitchen worktop in front of her, liberally splattered in flour, butter, sugar and egg. She had also managed to get some in her hair, on her nose, on her bottom, even on the ceiling (although, as she stared up at the offending blob, she couldn’t help but be impressed and a little confused as to how it had got there). As she stood back and inspected the gloop in the mixing bowl, she wondered when it was going to start resembling the contents of the bowl in the photo in her recipe book.

  ‘Bloody Nigella,’ she muttered. ‘I bet a team of minions does these for the book.’ She peered more closely at the picture. ‘Those cakes probably aren’t even real…’

  Her gaze travelled the rest of the worktop. The items strewn across it now – cake cases, brand new cake tins, piping bags, spatulas, various packs of edible decorations – had been hastily procured an hour before, and had cost her more money than it would have cost to simply buy a box full of cakes from the local bakery. But she had promised Patrick and Fiona (in yet another drunken faux pas) that as well as helping out at a charity bake sale, she would also actually bake for it, and although the results wouldn’t be pretty, she felt honour-bound now to display some Dunkirk spirit and have a decent go.

  And anyway, she reminded herself, this was a trial run. Trial runs always went wrong – that was what they were for. She’d take the cakes to Hazel’s later and test them out. Perhaps her mum would be there too and she could get them both to try. Hazel would be polite about them but her mum certainly wouldn’t. If they were disgusting Ellie would go to plan B (bash up a few Mr Kipling’s to make them look like they’d come from her own oven) and the evidence of her ineptness could be buried in the nearest bin, never to see the light of day again.

  Deciding that what was in the bowl was as close as she was going to get, Ellie began to slop the mixture into already laid out floral fairy cake cases. Perhaps they would look better once they were cooked and decorated, she thought. Although she failed to see how they could look much worse.

  At Hazel’s, Ellie pulled up at the kerbside and glanced across at the house. Her aunt was at the window and beckoned her in with an unsteady hand.

  In the time it took Ellie to lock her car and get inside, Hazel was still making her way back to the living room from the front door that she had left open for Ellie.

  ‘Look at the state of me,’ she wheezed as she finally got enough breath to talk. ‘It’s ridiculous.’

  Ellie dropped her satchel to the floor next to the sofa, quickly surmising that Hazel was alone in the house. ‘Don’t be daft. You’re ill.’

  She didn’t reply and they lapsed into an awkward silence for a moment, only broken by the sounds of Hazel still breathing heavily.

  ‘Shall I make you a cup of tea?’ Ellie asked.

  ‘I should be doing that for you.’

  ‘Stop it, Hazel.’

  ‘Sorry. You’re right. No, I don’t want tea, but thank you for offering.’

  Ellie fiddled with the buttons of her jacket for a moment before taking it off and draping it over her arm.

  ‘Did you want anything in particular or were you just hankering for my company?’ Hazel asked.

  ‘I thought I’d come by, see how you were doing,’ Ellie said. ‘Oh… and I brought these for you…’ She pulled the cloth off a basket of her cakes hooked over her free arm.

  ‘Well, they’re… interesting,’ Hazel said as she peered in.

  Ellie frowned. What hadn’t looked too disastrous when she packed them into her basket half an hour earlier, feeling pleased with her first attempt, now wasn’t quite as appealing. The cakes had somehow sunk in the middle – every single one of them – causing the watery icing to pool in the cavity and the sugar flowers to slide down as if they were fat fish stranded in a whirlpool. ‘I’m sure they taste better than they look,’ she said with a sheepish grin.

  ‘I sincerely hope so. You’re actually going to sell these?’

  ‘Not these particular ones. These are for practise.’

  ‘Maybe you need a bit more practise… how about three years’ worth?’

  ‘Ha ha, very funny.’ Ellie grinned, swiping the basket away from Hazel’s view. ‘I could just eat them all myself.’

  ‘Good luck with that.’

  ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been over as often as I should lately,’ Ellie added as she put the basket down and took a seat on the sofa. Hazel dropped into an armchair across from her. ‘So how
about you fill me in on what I’ve missed?’

  ‘Oh, well, there’s not much to tell.’ Hazel forced a smile. ‘I’d much rather hear about what you’ve been up to.’

  ‘Apart from crimes against baking? Not a lot really. Mostly work.’ Ellie’s expression darkened momentarily, but it didn’t escape Hazel’s attention.

  ‘I know that look,’ she said. ‘That’s the same look your mum used to have when she was up to no good, or she didn’t know how to tell me that she had cocked something up.’

  Ellie couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Really? I can’t imagine my mum cocking anything up. Practically perfect, isn’t she?’

  ‘Perfect?’ Hazel raised her eyebrows. ‘The scrapes I dug her out of when we were kids…’

  ‘Go on then, tell me some of them.’

  Hazel frowned. ‘Where to start… how about the time when I was supposed to be looking after her while your nana and granddad went to see a solicitor about some documents and she managed to set the shed on fire. She had that look on her face when she ran in to tell me I should bring a bucket of water…’ Hazel took a moment, as if reliving the scene, before she continued. ‘I think it needed a bit more than water – it needed a dustpan and brush by the time I got out there. Mum and Dad gave me such a hiding for not watching her.’

  ‘What were you doing?’ Ellie asked. She had heard the story before, many times, but it always made her smile to hear it again.

  ‘In my bedroom snogging Tony Todd,’ she grinned.

  Ellie laughed. ‘You’re a bad girl, Aunty.’

  ‘Not half as bad as Miranda. The way she got through boyfriends, nobody was more surprised than me when your dad finally tamed her.’

  ‘They really loved each other, didn’t they?’

  Hazel nodded. ‘I think they still do. Your mum is such a stubborn cow I could slap her at times.’

  Ellie was silent for a moment. ‘Do you think what Dad did was wrong?’ she asked finally. It was the first time since his misdemeanour that Ellie and Hazel had been alone to discuss it.

  ‘Once I would have said yes,’ Hazel replied slowly. ‘Now I think there’s a lot to be said for grabbing life by the scruff of the neck. There’s an old song that goes: enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think. I never understood the sentiment more than I do now.’

  ‘Have you told Mum this?’

  ‘What would be the point? Do you think she would take any notice?’

  Ellie shrugged. ‘Maybe. She’s more likely to listen to you than anyone else.’

  ‘That’s a kind thing to say but sadly misguided,’ Hazel laughed. ‘I wish she would though. If anyone is aware of the irony of knowing what you’ve lost when it’s too late, it’s me. You’d think my pig-headed sister would learn a lesson from my experiences.’

  ‘You couldn’t have known how things would end up with John and it wasn’t anyone’s fault you couldn’t have kids together. Would you still have married him if you had known what you know now?’

  ‘Probably,’ Hazel mused. ‘I was so in love I would have followed him into an active volcano…’ She looked up at Ellie and smiled. ‘But I don’t suppose you’re that much of a sucker, are you? If I only leave one useful piece of advice for you, it’s this: don’t be afraid to fall in love, but handle it better than I did. Don’t let anyone make you unhappy.’

  Ellie nodded uncertainly. Ben made her unhappy, but not for the reasons that Hazel was thinking of. Did that mean she should do something about it? Even if the answer was yes, she didn’t have a clue what. ‘And you couldn’t have known you would get ill like this,’ she added, turning the conversation firmly back to Hazel and away from her own maudlin thoughts.

  ‘That’s true enough,’ Hazel said. ‘We all think we’re going to somehow live forever – certainly until we’re as old and wrinkled as a tortoise’s dangly bits. We never imagine it can all end in the blink of an eye.’ Ellie gave a strained smile as Hazel continued. ‘But sometimes your body has other ideas. I feel like I was born with this time-bomb, ticking away inside me until… the point is, none of us knows. All the more reason to be happy while you can.’

  The way she looked at Ellie when she said this made her feel as though she was somehow expected to mount a defence.

  ‘I am happy.’

  ‘Good,’ Hazel replied, ‘because you don’t look it.’

  ‘That’s just my expression. I can’t help that and it’s cruel of you to bring it up.’

  Hazel ignored the joke. ‘You’re happy in your job. There’s more to life than work.’

  ‘Why do you think I’m unhappy?’

  ‘I see it whenever you visit these days. I don’t know what’s going on and it’s probably none of my business but… I hope you sort out whatever it is that’s bothering you soon.’

  ‘I’m fine, I promise. I’m far too busy enjoying myself to get bogged down with the serious business of life just yet.’

  Hazel looked as though she might argue, but then nodded. ‘And speaking of enjoyment, how was London?’

  London… Ellie’s fingers twitched at the pocket of her coat as she remembered the text messages still unanswered on the phone stowed there.

  ‘London was great.’

  ‘I’d love to see it again, just once.’

  There was no reply Ellie could give to that, and looking at Hazel’s measured calm, her aunt didn’t expect one. They both knew that Hazel travelling to London was about as likely as her travelling to Mars. The idea pushed a lump into Ellie’s throat.

  ‘There’s no point in crying over it,’ Hazel said. ‘You’ll just have to tell me all about your visit instead. Unless…’ she gave a wicked grin, ‘there are things that you can’t tell me. I know what you and your little gang are like when you’re together. Your mum did nothing but complain about it for four years.’

  ‘What we used to be like.’

  ‘No fun and games?’

  ‘Sadly, not that sort.’

  ‘Any sort? Come on, Ellie, I’m stuck in here day after day – the least you can do is provide me with vicarious fun when you come to visit.’

  ‘OK…’ Ellie said, ‘But first we need a big bowl of ice-cream. And you cannot repeat any of it to my mother!’

  Ellie deliberately chose Sunday lunchtime as an hour when she hoped Ben’s almost constant entourage would be otherwise engaged with family matters. As she turned into Constance Street, she felt a quiet satisfaction that her hunch had been right. It was a dry, bright day and Ben sat alone, engrossed in a book with a mug of tomato soup half-drunk by his chair. At Ellie’s approach, he folded the corner of his page and leapt from his seat, greeting her brightly.

  ‘What brings you here? Can’t stay away, huh?’ He lowered his voice and gestured to the mug on the floor. ‘It certainly can’t be for Lena’s cooking. Although…’ he added ruefully, ‘Lena’s cooking is better than the excuse for veggie bolognaise that I managed to burn onto my billycan last night.’

  Ellie smiled. She had asked herself the same question time and time again on the drive over. She wasn’t sure why she had come; the only thing she was certain of was the almost irrational urge to be near him. She had tried to keep busy during the morning in an attempt to keep her mind off him, embarking on an elaborate list of activities that had included dusting off an aerobics DVD that had given her a sprained ankle the last time she used it, finally uploading three years’ worth of photos from her phone to a photo printing website and a wardrobe cleansing exercise that had ended in a not remotely diminished pile of clothes that would simply have to be scooped back in once she got home.

  ‘Billycan? Blimey, you’re even picking up the lingo of a seasoned survival expert now. I think Bear Grylls might be getting a bit nervous about his TV career.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Ben laughed. ‘So what can I do for you?’

  ‘I thought I’d come and see how everything went on Friday. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.’

  ‘It’s OK. I did wonder…’ his sentence sputtered o
ut.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well… I wondered whether I had upset you. On Thursday night. And that was why you didn’t come.’

  ‘How could you have upset me?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can be a bit of an idiot when I’m drunk.’

  ‘I thought you said you weren’t drunk,’ Ellie teased.

  He squeezed his thumb and forefinger together and held it up. ‘A teensy bit…’

  ‘I knew it,’ Ellie laughed.

  ‘The one good thing was that I was still a bit tipsy when the film crew got here so I wasn’t nervous at all. I probably looked like a prize tit, but at least I didn’t care that I did.’

  ‘I’m sure you didn’t. It’s airing tomorrow?’

  He nodded. ‘Which is good – gives me no time to back out at all.’

  ‘It will be weird, not being able to watch it, though.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll be able to see it. Janet’s son is bringing over his iPad. We can just about get onto the nearest household wifi connection from here.’

  ‘Right…’

  Ben dug his hands into his pockets as they fell silent. Ellie wished she could stop gazing into his eyes, but whenever she tried she found herself looking at his lips instead. She didn’t know which was more distracting.

  ‘At least it’s sunny today,’ Ellie said finally.

  ‘Yeah. I can’t tell you what a difference that makes to your resolve.’ He paused. ‘I know I said to you that I wanted to go home the other night but…’

  ‘I know. The TV thing will make a huge difference, I’m sure,’ Ellie replied, trying to sound as though she didn’t care about what he had just said, although he couldn’t have caused her more hurt if he had actually slapped her.

  ‘And either way,’ he continued, ‘the thing will come to an end soon because if Gemma doesn’t show then the council will move me on. I might as well stick it out now.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  They fell silent again. Ellie’s gut felt like it was filled with wet cement at the idea that he had decided to carry on waiting for Gemma after all. They had both been drunk the last time she saw him but she had definitely felt some chemistry. Had she been mistaken? Of course she had, because she’d be no match for someone like Gemma. No woman would be. Why would Ben want her when he could have a supermodel whose personality was every bit as lovely as her looks? Perhaps he had been lonely. He had grasped the chance of Ellie’s company with both hands but it was nothing more than a welcome distraction from the long and forlorn task he had set himself. Ellie was foolish to think it had been anything else. It was her own fault. She should have told him about the possibility of Gemma coming back to him and none of this would ever have happened.