The Truth About Ellen: A feel-good romantic comedy

by Sarah Louise Smith

  As I stepped out of the underground station and walked home, I pictured Tom waiting for me and it helped me to feel that the whole boring journey was worth it. I was planning to start working on my CV at the weekend anyway, and then maybe I’d find something more local.

  I unlocked the front door, called a ‘hello’ and closed it behind me. No reply. I went into the lounge, nothing. Kitchen, empty. I went to Tom’s music room, coat still on, bag still on my shoulder. No sign of him. Our bedroom. Nothing.

  I got out my mobile and called him. It was switched off.

  Should I be worried? Should I be angry?

  I changed into my jeans and then went downstairs and poured myself some wine. Then I called him again, still no answer.

  So I called Zoe.

  “He’s probably gone out and forgot the time.”

  “He could’ve left a note.”

  “Maybe he didn’t expect to be out as long.”

  “He couldn’t call or text?”

  “Maybe he hasn’t got any battery.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So tell me more about France.”

  I gave her all the details, including Jasper’s appearance.

  “Wow. Sounds intense.”

  “It was. It was strange seeing him again.”

  “Horrible that he remembers you.”

  “Don’t say that!”

  “You know I mean, horrible when you’re both around Tom.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “What?”

  “I was pleased he remembered me. How bad is that?”

  “It’s human nature. No one wants to be forgotten.”

  “He said he wanted to call me but his phone was stolen.”

  “Likely story.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “How did he look? Hot as ever.”

  “Of course.”

  “But you didn’t have feelings for him, did you? I mean, you love Tom.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes, I love Tom.”

  “But you still find Jasper attractive? That’s normal, you know. Who wouldn’t?”

  “I still find him attractive, yes. But… I don’t know, it’s like there’s chemistry between us.”

  “There would be, you had really hot sex!”

  “Well, yes but-”

  “Don’t over-think this. Tom is the one for you. Jasper was a bit of fun for a night. Tom is long-term. Jasper was a fleeting, youthful crush.”

  “You’re right,” I said, nodding, hoping she was right. I couldn’t let such a good thing with Tom get ruined by my childish infatuation with Jasper.

  “It’s been all about me lately. Tell me what’s new with you.”

  Zoe shared the latest gossip about our wider group of friends, her love life and her family and then we said good bye.

  Still no sign of Tom. I called him again, no answer. I made myself a sandwich and ate it sulkily in the kitchen, glugging down another glass of wine.

  Six unanswered phone calls, some television watching, another glass of wine and a whole lot of worrying later, I heard his key in the lock. I rushed to the front door.

  It was almost 11pm.

  “Where have you been?” I asked as he grinned at me. The smile dropped.

  “I’ve been with Ethan.”

  “Ethan?”

  “Ethan Harris.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Tom turned and closed the front door.

  “Why does this feel like an inquisition?”

  “I was worried! You could’ve left a note. Or text me.”

  “My phone is here. I forgot.”

  “Did you know you’d be out this late?”

  “Yes, I meant to mention it this morning.”

  “Right, okay.”

  He pushed passed me and went into the kitchen, threw his bag down by the back door and opened the fridge. He poured a glass of wine out from the same bottle I’d used and leaned against the counter, watching me.

  I looked right back, still angry.

  “So what’s for dinner?” I asked.

  He shrugged.

  “So you didn’t think about what we’d eat when you got in?”

  “I didn’t give it a thought.”

  “Right.”

  “Dinner isn’t solely my responsibility, Ellen.”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  “Why are you so angry?”

  “I was worried about you! You didn’t call, you didn’t leave a note.”

  He looked at his watch.

  “It’s 11 o’clock. Hardly late.”

  “You were home these past few days when I got in.”

  “Aren’t I allowed out?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “You know, it’d be nice to have got home to a smiling face, a hug and a kiss. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing! I just thought you’d let me know where you were.”

  “Well, I’m sorry and I won’t do that again. How was your day?”

  “Not great. And the journey is tiring.”

  “So quit.”

  “I can’t quit just like that, I need money.”

  He shrugged. “I have money.”

  “Why are you always trying to persuade me to live off you? Is it some kind of power trip?”

  He rolled his eyes, which only seemed to make me feel even angrier.

  “Come on Ellen. Don’t be ridiculous. You really think that?”

  “I don’t know what to think. Maybe I don’t know you that well. Maybe this moved too fast.”

  “Maybe we did.”

  I fell silent. Is that what he thought? Maybe he’d stayed out late because he needed a break from me.

  I turned and walked away from him, unsure where to go. It was late, and I didn’t know anyone in London. I thought about going for a walk but my legs were achy so I just climbed the stairs to the bedroom, closed the door quietly and lay on the bed texting Zoe and Laura back and forth, complaining about men in general and why we even bothered. Then I lay on my back for a while, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this meant anything or nothing.

  A gentle knock sounded at the door and Tom came in.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I sat up and patted the bed next to me.

  “I’m sorry too.”

  “Our first fight,” he said, putting an arm around me.

  “It was silly. I’m silly.”

  “Nah, I should’ve told you I’d not be here when you got back.”

  “Who’s Ethan, anyway?”

  “He’s a musician. Had a number one hit last year. You might recognise one of his songs.”

  He started singing a little.

  “I do know that song. I love it.”

  “I wrote it.”

  “Wow. I’m impressed.”

  “He’s got a new album in the works. I’ve written a few more with him.”

  “That’s cool.”

  I leaned against him and he pulled me back on the bed.

  “If this is too much, I can move back out,” I said after a few moments of silence.

  “I want you here. But no pressure if you don’t want to be.”

  “I do.”

  “Good.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I like to think I’m pretty good at job interviews. After all, I specialise in recruitment and I know what to look for when you’re hiring someone.

  But I’d never been so nervous as the day I went to my first interview for a job in London. I’d spent two weeks travelling back and forth from the office in Milton Keynes to Tom’s house in Kensington and I hated it. Commuting was not for me. Trains were often late, other travellers were often smelly. I had to rush out of work in order to get back at a decent hour and when I arrived home I was weary and a little cranky which didn’t make for Tom getting the best of me. We’d fallen out a few times and I was worried if I didn’t get this job, our relationship would suffer before it even really go
t established.

  I felt the interview had gone well; I’d been bubbly and friendly, and answered the questions as best I could, but I had a phone call shortly after arriving home to say I’d been unsuccessful; another candidate had a little more experience in the industry.

  Tom consoled me with a glass of wine and warmed-up chilli con carne I’d cooked at the weekend, but I was still pretty down for a few days afterwards. I kept looking, and in the meantime we both made a bit more effort; me to be in a better mood and him to give me a little slack.

  He held a Skype call with his parents one day and introduced us via the webcam, which was a little weird. They were kind of cold and quiet, and I was in no hurry to meet them face to face.

  On Friday I stayed the night in Milton Keynes with my parents and went out for a meal and drinks with Zoe and my other friends. Saturday, I went shopping with Laura and filled her in on my adventures. She was very jealous I’d be going to the reunion and wanted every detail about it when I got home.

  Talking of which, the build-up was doing my head in. I desperately wanted to be there to support Tom, to finally meet Alex, and to just see the four of them in the same room again. I kept wondering what was going through the other three’s minds. I’d quizzed Tom plenty.

  “Do you think the band might properly get back together after you’ve all met up again?” I asked him one evening.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think I want all that again. All the publicity. It’s pretty hard work. Life’s good as it is.”

  “Don’t you miss the touring and the adrenaline of a live performance?”

  “Yes. But I’d miss you more if I was off gallivanting.”

  “I could come.”

  “You wouldn’t let me keep you though. What about your job?”

  I stuck my tongue out at him. “I might review that rule later on.”

  He laughed. “I see.”

  “But you’d consider it? Recording a new album? Doing it all again?”

  “Maybe.”

  Most of all, I was worried about seeing Jasper again. I had to get my feelings under check; had to put them into perspective. When I was with Tom, most of the time, I felt I was one hundred per cent sure that he was the one for me. But when I thought about those moments with Jasper – short though they were – I felt confused and unsure about Tom. How could I give myself to him completely when Jasper was in our lives?

  And the way Jasper looked at me in France by his car. The way he’d spoken to me. Like he wanted me. Like he wanted to pick up where we’d left off seven years ago. It’d just been one night. But what a night it’d been.

  The weekend leading up to our weekend in Devon, I was an emotional mess. I spoke to Zoe and Laura daily. I listened to Jasper’s music on the way to work one morning, then quickly switched and listened to Ethan Harris singing Tom’s lyrics.

  One day I thought about what I should say to Jasper if he spoke to me like that again. I’d tell him to leave me alone. I’d say I’m with Tom now and that’s that. I’d tell him to back off.

  Most of all, I dreaded that he wouldn’t talk to me like that. My ego wanted him to want me, even if the sensible part of me didn’t want him to. I liked the way he made me feel. I liked the way my heart pounded when those blue eyes looked at me. He looked at me like I was the only girl in the world. I couldn’t deny it; I liked his attention.

  Yet, I didn’t want it. How could I?

  Tom seemed to pick up on the fact that I was a little tense and mentioned a few times that I seemed uneasy. I told him I was just tired from the train journeys, that I was looking forward to the weekend, and felt sick every time I imagined him somehow discovering that I had in fact spent a night with the friend he was trying to reconcile with. That I’d even had Jasper’s face, not to mention his, plus Alex’s and George’s on my bedroom walls was embarrassing enough.

  It was too late to tell him all this now. I just had to hope that he wouldn’t find out.

  I’d booked the Friday off work. The plan was to drive down, have dinner with the guys, spend Saturday hanging out at the hotel, another meal, come home Sunday.

  That Thursday I was as nervous as I had been the night I’d got stuck in the elevator with Jasper. My hands were sweaty, I’d tipped coffee all over my desk once and almost did it again a bit later on.

  “You okay, you seem tense?” Margot asked me. I just smiled and nodded, not wanting to talk about it.

  “So I spoke to my cousin and Felicity is with Jasper Ryan!” Darby told Tammy.

  “Oh wow, they make such a beautiful couple.”

  I thought I might be sick. Would Felicity be there with him at the weekend? I hoped so, yet I didn’t want to meet her either. Half of me wanted to never see Jasper again, the other half was desperate to find out exactly how he felt and what he’d meant in France.

  “She said Fifi hinted that Four Apes may reunite.”

  “Oh, so the rumours are true?”

  If only they knew. I wondered what they’d think if they knew my story. I stifled a smile while I considered it. They’d never believe me even if I confessed all.

  Oscar was in a good mood and I sat in his office for a while chatting to him. He was so laid back, he had a calming effect on me which I appreciated more than ever that day. We talked about work for a bit, then he told me some stories about his ‘naughty kids’ and I laughed. His life seemed too idyllic. Sure, his kids were cheeky scoundrels and his wife liked to spoil them. But they had a simple life, with a nice house and a nice garden and nice holidays. Things were just normal and I envied him that. We were the same age, yet he’d got his life together so much more than I had.

  “I admire you Oscar,” I told him. “You’re so… grown up.”

  “Ah, I don’t know about that.”

  “Yeah, you are. You’re cool. You’ve got it all worked out.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Just my crazy love life.”

  Suddenly, from nowhere, it all came flooding out. About Jasper and Tom and how they both made me feel. About Tom’s steadiness and Jasper’s passion. About the weekend and everything it meant.

  “Wow,” he said, when I finally finished. I’d never shared so much before.

  “Seems to me that you know Tom better than you do Jasper. And he’s a nice guy. And has a calm life. Being Jasper Ryan’s girlfriend must be hard work.”

  “Well,” I said, trying not to sound disappointed, “he might not even want me. He was pretty intense but he didn’t tell me he wanted to be with me.”

  “He does.”

  I laughed.

  “Men don’t say stuff like that unless they have feelings for you.”

  All those chats with Zoe and Laura, and neither had put it like that.

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I don’t know anything about this Jasper guy, apart from what you’ve just told me and the occasional TV interview. But I do know this; sometime soon you’re gonna have to make a choice between those two men and if you know in advance what you want, your life will be much easier.”

  I thought I might be sick.

  “Thanks Oscar.”

  I left his office and thought about what he said.

  Tom.

  Of course Tom.

  The thought was ludicrous.

  Wasn’t it?

  I pushed the idea from my mind. Again.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The night before Jasper’s father died was still as clear in my mind as ever.

  When Jasper had finished crying, he whispered a muffled thank you into my shoulder and I moved away from his lap and sat next to him again, with us both leaning back against the wall.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Don’t be.”

  “You’re going to have one hell of a story to sell in the morning.”

  “I would never, ever…”

  “I know. But they all say that.”

  “Am I like them ‘all’ though?”

&nbs
p; He looked at me and squeezed my hand.

  “Actually, no.”

  I put my head on his shoulder.

  “I like you, Jasper.”

  “Huh, thanks.”

  “Listen. I really like you. I guess I expected to find you a disappointment, if I’m honest.”

  “Oh jeez, thanks.”

  “No, I mean, I thought if I ever actually met you, you’d be all arrogant and annoying and you’re not like that.”

  “I can be.”

  “I think this is the real you.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged.

  “You don’t think very well of yourself, do you?”

  “When I’m on that stage, and I’m singing, and the girls are screaming, I’m pretty confident. But then I come off and I crash. The buzz fades, and there’s always people around offering something to give me a different high… but and the next day, well then I feel shit. And I think very badly of myself.”

  “You just need to keep clean. You’re not the first famous person to go off the rails.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It doesn’t have to be hard.”

  He stood up and held out my hand to pull me up. Just like in the elevator, my hand shot an electric current to my heart as I grabbed him.

  “I’m going outside for a cigarette. You coming?”

  I didn’t particularly want to breathe in his smoke, but I didn’t want to waste any moment I could spend with him either so I nodded and we grabbed our jackets. He also put his baseball cap back on.

  “Very incognito,” I told him.

  He shrugged. “It helps.”

  We went out of the back of the hotel, a route he’d obviously crafted previously, and into a little alleyway. He took out a cigarette.

  “You want one?”

  “No, I don’t smoke.”

  “I thought as much,” he said, grinning and lighting up. He took care to blow the smoke away from me.

  “I have a confession,” I told him. Something about him made me incredibly honest.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “I spotted you in the hotel lobby,” I said. “And I deliberately got in the lift with you.”

  He laughed. “You recognised me and followed me? And you say you’re not a stalker!”