The Truth About Ellen: A feel-good romantic comedy

by Sarah Louise Smith

  “So you think it’s best not to mention the past, I mean about my Four Apes fandom and what happened with Jasper?”

  “Oh I don’t know, Ellen. I mean, didn’t you say he keeps giving you the complete truth? That he’s really honest about how he feels and everything?”

  My heart sunk. “Yes.”

  “Then I think you should tell him. It’s in the past, right? And I don’t think all this would put him off. It sounds like he’s really fallen for you and you’re good together.”

  “It’s only been a few weeks, though.”

  “And look how fast he’s become serious with you? He deserves to know, don’t you think?”

  I sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “I bet he doesn’t mind, it’s not a big deal and it was a long time ago.”

  I nodded and moved the subject on. It was so nice to catch up with Laura, and although she looked tired and worn out, she was obviously loving every second of motherhood and showed me all the photos I’d seen of her kids on Facebook again.

  “We should get together more often,” she said as we hugged goodbye.

  “Definitely.”

  “And of course, I’ll be wanting to meet Tom.”

  I laughed. “Of course. Perhaps the four of us could go out for a meal or something some time?”

  “That’d be great.”

  I watched her get into her people carrier and considered how different our lives were, and yet we still had Four Apes to talk about and reminisce over. Tom had no idea the impact he’d made on my youth, on my teen years, and even on my friendships.

  Next I went to Zoe’s. She was just getting home from work.

  “I didn’t expect to see you!” she said, wrapping her arms around me. She often turned up unannounced at my house but I never did the same to her, I usually called first. I was always worried I’d turn up and she’d be shagging her neighbour – they were ‘friends with benefits’.

  I filled her in on my lunch with Laura.

  “I feel kind of disappointed, I was the only one who knew until today.”

  “Sorry. You’re still my BFF.”

  “Bet you told her that too.”

  I laughed and watched her pour two glasses of white wine.

  “I think you shouldn’t tell Tom.”

  What? Conflicting advice always left me confused.

  “Why?”

  “Because what does it matter? He need never know you were a huge fan, and he’ll probably never meet Jasper again. And Jasper wouldn’t even remember you.”

  Ouch. Of course he wouldn’t, but it still sent a pang of hurt through me to be reminded of the fact that I meant nothing to Jasper. It was one night – a night I’d always remember, and a night he never would. Of course I’d paled into insignificance compared to the pain of the next day, and of course I was one of many girls to spend the night in his penthouse suite. But still, he’d said he’d call. And he never did.

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Enjoy Tom while you can.”

  That made it sound like she didn’t think Tom and I would last; and I didn’t want to know why or analyse that. I was quite happy in my little loved-up bubble. So I didn’t ask and changed the subject pretty swiftly.

  When I got home, I pulled out the box of diaries and started tearing out the pages and stuffing them into recycling bags. As I did so, I glanced at a few random entries that stood out.

  There was a huge heart which contained the Four Apes logo in it, and another with Jasper’s name. A good few entries about how much I hated my parents, how life was impossible, and why couldn’t I wear that short black skirt and lots of mascara like Laura did?

  This entry stood out the most though. I wrote it when I was 16.

  Dear Diary

  After months of counting down the days, last night Laura, Emma, Sophie and me went to see Four Apes again, and it was the best night of my life, even better than the last 3 times I saw them. We were in the second row from the front and I’m pretty sure that each of the guys looked me direct in the eye!

  They did all their best songs and I sang along so loudly that my throat hurts this morning, and I danced so much my feet are sore. But wow, it was worth it.

  They are all gorgeous but I love Jasper. No other boy or man will ever compare to him. I adore him. One day I have to find a way to meet him because no other guy will ever be enough. Sure, he’s a bit of a bad boy, I know that, but if he met me, we’d fall in love and he’d calm down and be responsible and we’d live happily ever after.

  I’d calm him down. No probs!

  I’m sooooo tired now and Dad is yelling at me to get up out of bed and come and help in the garden and honestly I don’t know why I should because I don’t care about their stupid sodding garden. Why won’t they leave me alone?

  From the future Mrs Jasper Ryan

  I read it back twice and shook my head. What an obsessive teen I was. Yet, I was right in a way. The night I spent with Jasper, he didn’t drink after those few glasses of champagne. I persuaded him not too, even though he was under lots of stress. I calmed him down. Still, it didn’t last long, did it? He was in rehab again not long after that.

  And, I reminded myself, he never called you.

  A little frisson of pain went through me and I had the same thought I’d had when chatting to Laura: why did that still hurt?

  I threw the diary entry into the recycling pile with the rest and tied it up, then took it out for collection the following morning. At least Tom wouldn’t ever have to read just how big my teen crush was, even if I was going to tell him. Which I hadn’t decided on yet.

  I came back in and ran to my screaming phone, and it was him.

  “So…” he said, after we’d exchanged greetings.

  “Yeah?”

  “I got a call today.”

  “Oh yes?”

  “From Jasper.”

  Oh, darn it.

  “Oh wow. How long since you heard from him?”

  “Since the last gig we did in Birmingham. Nearly ten years ago.”

  “Wow.”

  So I’d been in Jasper’s presence more recently than Tom had been. What a strange concept.

  “What did he want?”

  “He just wanted to get us all together for a meal or something. He was friendly. We didn’t chat long though.”

  “So are you going to go?”

  “I don’t know. Might be awkward.”

  “Yeah, true.”

  “I doubt George will go, either. He’s still holding a grudge I think.”

  “Ah, well. Nice idea anyway.” I hoped my dismissive tone would change the subject. No such luck.

  “It could be fun though. I mean, if everyone behaves. We could talk about old times. Have a few beers. Might be a laugh.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Or it could be really awkward.”

  “I guess I’ll think about it.”

  I took a deep breath. Chances were, this would never happen. Even if it did, I’d not be invited (which was both good and kind of bad), and even if I was, Jasper wouldn’t remember me (again, good and bad). So what was the issue here? I let the panic fade away.

  “Yeah, you don’t have to decide now.”

  “Hmm…”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine. So tell me about your day.”

  I filled him in on my lunch with Laura, neglecting to mention that he, Jasper and Four Apes were the main topic of conversation, and then we talked about the book I’d just finished which we’d both been reading while away.

  “I can’t wait to see you again,” he told me before hanging up. I sighed a happy sigh and thanked my lucky stars I’d met him. Bob had been sitting on my lap purring while I chatted on the phone and I stroked him for a while, wondering how I’d react if I met Jasper. I’d have to pretend we’d never met. It shouldn’t be too hard. He wouldn’t remember me.

  I got up and took my mug of, now cold, tea through to the kitchen, where I dropped it on the flo
or. As I got down on my knees to brush it all up, I wondered if that was how the universe balanced out my bad luck at breaking things, or hurting myself – by giving me the good fortune to meet a great man like Tom.

  Just as I was getting into bed that night, I had a text from someone unexpected.

  Jon: I miss you. How are you doing?

  I stared at it for a moment, wondering how many nights I’d lain here wishing for such a message. Maybe hundreds. And now, I finally had it and I didn’t want it. A smug smile spread over my face.

  I didn’t reply.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I pulled up on my driveway on Friday evening and Tom was sitting outside in a bright red convertible. I didn’t know much about cars but it looked old and classic.

  “Wow, this is beautiful,” I said, admiring the curves.

  “She’s a 1967 Austin Healey, very rare, very special.”

  “I love it,” I told him honestly. “Sorry, I should’ve given you a key. Have you been waiting long?”

  “No, just got here.”

  “I’ll just grab my stuff.”

  “No probs.”

  I went into the house, big grin on my face and fed Bob, kissed him goodbye and promised him that Aunty Zoe would be round to feed him tomorrow morning. Then I grabbed my already-packed overnight bag and went out and slid into the Austin, next to my lovely man, and kissed him on the lips.

  “I am very happy to see you,” I told him.

  “And I’m very happy to see you,” he said, squeezing my hand.

  “I’ve got a present for you.”

  “Oh yes?”

  “I saw you browsing the internet the other day when I was here, you were looking at handbags?”

  More specifically, I’d been looking at a Cath Kidston teal day bag with white polka-dots. I’d seen someone with it at the hotel and had fallen in love with it, but my budget was so tight since I’d moved into my house, I rarely treated myself to anything that wasn’t a necessity, and I had the hotel bill still to pay. My old Radley bag was falling apart, but I figured I’d replace with it something faux leather from the market when it died on me.

  “Yes?” I asked, feeling excited.

  “Well, I got you this,” he handed me a package that was addressed to him in London. So he lived in Kensington. Interesting.

  I opened the package to find the exact teal bag I’d been looking at.

  “Oh Tom, that’s so lovely of you.” I reached across and hugged him.

  “Well I wanted to get you something, so…”

  “Thank you, that’s really sweet.”

  I began filling it with my purse, tissues, alcohol hand gel, make-up bag, keys and three thousand pieces of other crap, and smiled happily as Tom drove us down to London. He was an excellent driver, and it felt quite glamorous in his vintage car.

  “So here we are,” he said as we pulled into his street. It was lined with white four-storey town houses with black railings and expensive cars outside.

  “This is lovely,” I told him, admiring the outside. “I love it.”

  “Thank you.”

  We got out and he threw my overnight bag over his shoulder while I proudly hung my new Cath Kidston over mine. Tom unlocked the front door. “Would you like a tour?”

  I put my stuff down in the hallway and followed him into a huge open-plan room.

  “So this is my kitchen slash dining room slash living room,” he said, pointing out the obvious.

  The floors were dark wood and there were two large, white plump sofas with olive green and dark purple cushions on them. There was a big oak coffee table, on which sat the new book he must be reading, and a huge television hanging over a modern fire place. There were shelves built into the walls either side of the fire, where sat records, CDs, books and magazines. There was a stereo on a small unit, with two huge speakers either side.

  Behind one of the sofas was a small dining area with a table and chairs on a white rug. The kitchen area looked modern, all white cupboards and shiny black counter tops. There was a coffee machine and the biggest fridge I’d seen in real life.

  “This is amazing, I love it,” I told him.

  “I paid someone to furnish it and everything, I admit,” he said. “I couldn't be bothered to do all that myself, and I wouldn't know what looked right anyhow.”

  “Well, it looks beautiful.”

  “And back this way,” he said, gesturing behind me. We turned and went back into the hall and he ran up the stairs, and I hurried to keep up with him.

  “Music room,” he said, opening a door to a room with a keyboard, an electric guitar, and lots of fancy computer gear. “That's where I write. And then there's a spare room here,” he said, opening the door and letting me peer into a sparse room that looked like it belonged in a fancy hotel.

  He ran up the next flight of stairs.

  “Study,” he said, as I looked at a desk and rows upon rows of books and DVDs on a huge bookcase.

  “Junk room,” he said, opening the next door, “and bathroom”. Then we went up to the top floor, which opened up into the master bedroom.

  “And my bedroom,” he said. “And yours, whenever you’re here.” He stood behind me and put his arms around my waist.

  “There’s an en suite just through here.” He gestured to a door behind me. “And that’s it.”

  “I love it, Tom. It's gorgeous.”

  “It's a bit big really, but I didn't want an apartment. And I'm in France a lot. Can't wait to show you that.”

  I went over to the window and looked down to a small garden with neatly trimmed grass, a few shrubs and some decking.

  “Gardener?” I asked.

  “Yep,” he laughed. “Sorry, don't mean to seem like a poser.”

  “You’re really down to earth, actually,” I told him, “despite the paid staff.”

  He laughed, and I pulled him on to the bed. He was right, it was much comfier than mine. And it squeaked far less too.

  All too soon we were pulling apart from our post-coital snuggle and getting ready to go to Sasha and Dean’s for the evening. Tom brought up my bags and I touched up my make-up and changed into a maxi dress and ballet pumps. I watched Tom shaving and told him about my day, happy that he seemed interested to hear about it. Jon-the-heart-breaker had never been interested in listening to me speak unless it was about a topic he was passionate about, i.e. Arsenal or golf.

  Tom pulled on some dark jeans and a shirt and we set off, like a real couple, even though I still didn’t really feel like one. Had I only met this man three weeks ago? Was it really Tom, Tom Green?

  Sasha opened the door to their apartment with a huge grin on her face and swept me into a warm hug. I introduced her to Tom and she hesitated for a brief moment, like she was star-struck, but then recovered quickly, to my relief.

  Sasha had always been beautiful. She had long, dark blonde hair that hung straight to her shoulders then ended in soft wavy curls. She’d confessed to me once that she’d had her nose done when she was a teenager and it had been huge before, but now it was just perfect. She had striking blue eyes and a curvaceous figure – large chest, tiny waist, wide hips. We shared a house together at university and Dean had actually been my friend, and I introduced them after Sasha got dumped by a scumbag whose name I’d not bothered to remember.

  Dean had been studying English Lit with me, and was one of those nice guys who always pick divas to go out with and kept getting hurt; until I played matchmaker, that is. They hit it off straight away and the day Dean told me he was going to propose to Sasha was still clear in my mind. We were having a drink in the student union bar, it was a few weeks before we graduated, and he pulled out a ring box and asked my opinion. I couldn’t have been happier for them.

  They got married in Las Vegas and I flew out to be maid of honour. Then they went to Toronto so Dean could take a job offer with a friend of his parents and, excepting Skype calls and Facebook updates, I hadn’t seen them since.

  As Sa
sha hugged Tom in greeting, I saw Dean come into the hall where he swept me into a hug.

  “It’s so good to see you, Ellen,” he said, squeezing me tight.

  “You too,” I said, realising how much I’d missed my friends.

  A few drinks later, I left Tom to chat to Dean in the living room while I went through to the kitchen where Sasha was cooking.

  “Can I help with anything?” I asked her. She was stirring something on the stove. “It smells amazing.”

  “Thank you. No help needed but grab a stool.”

  I hopped up on a stool at the breakfast bar and watched her add a little salt to her pan.

  “So,” she said, turning to face me, “Tom’s lovely. And you seem smitten with each other. And I can’t believe he really is the guy from Four Apes.” Her eyes sparked with a touch of excitement.

  “Yes,” I said, grinning. “Remember he doesn’t know I was a massive fan though so no giving me up.”

  “Oh yes, I could see how that could be embarrassing.”

  She returned to her stove and stirred the food again.

  “He’s so lovely, Sasha.”

  “It’s great to see you happy. You sounded so heartbroken when Jon ditched you.”

  “Yeah well, I’ve moved on.”

  She picked up her glass and took a swig, but her face turned serious.

  “Things aren’t so great with me and Dean,” she said quietly.

  “Oh Sash, why?”

  “Well, we’ve been trying for a baby.”

  “Oh, how exciting.”

  “But it’s not happening.”

  “Ah, I’m sorry hun. How long have you been trying?”

  “Only about four months, just before we decided to move back here. Dean got offered this job and he said we should wait until we’re settled, but I wanted to keep trying.”

  “Okay, so was he fine with that?”

  “No, so I told him I was taking the pill but I haven’t been.”

  “So you lied?”

  She bit her lip. “I just didn’t want to wait, and it took my sister a year to get pregnant.”

  “So does he know?”

  “The other day, when we were unpacking, he asked if I’d registered with a doctor here and did I have enough pills, and I just told him, and he got so angry. We’ve been fighting a lot lately anyway and I think that just made things worse.”