Worth Waiting For
Tilly Tennant
Books by Tilly Tennant
Worth Waiting For
The Waffle House on the Pier
The Break Up
The Garden on Sparrow Street
Hattie’s Home for Broken Hearts
The Mill on Magnolia Lane
The Christmas Wish
The Summer Getaway
The Summer of Secrets
An Unforgettable Christmas Series
A Very Vintage Christmas
A Cosy Candlelit Christmas
From Italy with Love Series
Rome is Where the Heart is
A Wedding in Italy
Honeybourne Series
The Little Village Bakery
Christmas at the Little Village Bakery
Hopelessly Devoted to Holden Finn
Mishaps and Mistletoe
Mishaps in Millrise Series
Little Acts of Love
Just Like Rebecca
The Parent Trap
And Baby Makes Four
Once Upon a Winter Series
The Accidental Guest
I’m Not in Love
Ways to Say Goodbye
One Starry Night
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
The Little Village Bakery
Tilly’s Email Sign-Up
Books by Tilly Tennant
A Letter from Tilly
The Waffle House on the Pier
The Break Up
The Garden on Sparrow Street
Hattie’s Home for Broken Hearts
The Mill on Magnolia Lane
The Christmas Wish
The Summer Getaway
The Summer of Secrets
A Very Vintage Christmas
A Cosy Candlelit Christmas
Rome is Where the Heart is
A Wedding in Italy
Christmas at the Little Village Bakery
Acknowledgements
One
Ellie slammed on her brakes. Distracted by what she had just heard, she hadn’t noticed the lights change to red until she was almost on top of them. Through the rear view mirror, she noted the man in the car behind purse his lips.
‘You did what?’ she squeaked. She listened, phone clamped to her ear, her frown deepening. ‘I’m coming over now. It doesn’t matter if I’m at work – this is more important. Stop arguing, Mum, I can’t leave it now…. Yes, I realise it’s illegal to answer my phone while I’m driving but you’re not giving me much choice…’ She ended the call and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. It seemed churlish to blame her mum for driving and talking, but she felt churlish right now.
At the next roundabout, Ellie swung her Mini around.
As she drove up the other side of the dual carriageway, back in the direction she had just come from, the phone rang again.
‘Dad? What’s up?’ She listened, a new and deeper frown forming. ‘You did what?!’ she squeaked again in a voice so high it was possible that dolphins off the coast of Scotland would hear it. ‘Well, how the hell did you manage to set fire to one of those?’ She listened for a moment and then sighed. ‘I could come over in an hour or so…’ She narrowed her eyes as a thought occurred to her. ‘You did phone the fire service before you called me, didn’t you? Don’t get upset, I’m just checking… no, I don’t think you’re stupid… yes, of course that doesn’t mean I don’t want to come over and help… no, it does matter! Of course it does, it’s just that I told mum…. yes, I’ve spoken to her… no, she didn’t ask about you… no, I can’t give her a message; you know she won’t listen anyway… I have to go to her first because she needs help at Hazel’s place. OK, I’ll be an hour.’
At the next set of lights, Ellie rang one of her speed dial numbers. ‘Patrick… yeah, I’m good… I’m going to be late for this school thing, can you cover it?’ She listened for a moment and then grinned. ‘It’s only some crappy local author, just listen to her, get the gist of what she says to the kids and tell me later. If I can get there I will… I’m really sorry to ask again… you know I’ll love you forever… Yep, it’s both of them this time… No, they’re still not speaking. I know, I owe you big style.’ Ellie ended the call and tossed the phone back to the seat. She chewed her lip as a double-decker lumbered from the bus lane onto the dual carriageway ahead of her, and with a grey haired old man driving the car in the parallel lane, blocking her progress, it was as much as she could do not to jam her fist onto the car horn.
‘Bloody hell, shift it, will you!’ she muttered savagely.
The phone rang again. ‘Jethro…’ she screwed up her face as there was an irritated beep from the car behind, ‘you know I love you but whatever it is, can it wait?’ She listened for a moment. ‘I’m gutted for you, but she wasn’t right for you, I always said so… I will phone you later, I promise… I told you I fell asleep that time… OK, hang in there… if in doubt, just go to default setting: as we know, copious amounts of whisky helps to mend broken hearts.’
Just as she had tossed the phone back onto the seat the screen flashed again to signal another call. She really needed to get some sort of apparatus to answer her phone safely in the car if every day was going to be this mental.
KASUMI
Ellie sighed. This one would simply have to wait.
Ellie knocked at the sleek black front door. From within, she could hear what sounded suspiciously like voices filled with hysterical panic, but she tried not to let the idea send her spiralling into a state of panic too. Instead, she waited patiently, aware that it might take a while. After a few moments, however, she decided that her mum and aunt probably hadn’t heard her knock, and had just raised her fist to try again when the door swung open. Her aunt Hazel appeared.
‘Has she managed to stop the water?’ Ellie asked, stepping in as Hazel stood aside. She frowned as her aunt let out a wheezy laugh. ‘And what are you doing exerting yourself?’ Ellie added.
Hazel’s chortle became even louder and wheezier. ‘Your mother couldn’t very well answer the door and keep the towel over the hole, could she?’
Ellie watched as her aunt took wobbly steps down the hall into the kitchen, every so often a hand reaching out for the support of a wall. ‘Did you ring the plumber?’
‘Yes,’ Hazel said without looking round. ‘He said he’d be about an hour, but you know that means he’s going home to have his dinner first and he’ll be over when he feels like it.’
‘Probably charge you an arm and a leg too,’ Ellie said.
Ellie entered the kitchen to find her mum looking virtually suicidal as she desperately pressed a soaking towel against the wall. A large puddle had formed at her feet and water ran down the wall in a steady stream, despite her best efforts to stem the flow. On the worktop sat a rust-bitten old electric drill and an assorted and very random looking selection of screws. Leaning against the wall was a large Monet print in a wooden frame. Ellie shook her head wonderingly.
‘What the hell were you thinking of? You could have electrocuted yourself if you’d hit a wire. There must be wiring and water pipes all over the walls here… it is a kitchen, after all. I think springing a
leak is actually the best outcome we could have hoped for in this scenario.’
‘I bought this lovely print for Hazel and I was putting it up. The kitchen was the room it suited best,’ her mum said in a defensive tone.
‘Mum… you’ve never used a drill in your life. Couldn’t you have got a man in?’
‘This is the new Miranda Newton you’re talking to. I don’t need men anymore, not for anything.’
‘You bloody well do for my kitchen,’ Hazel cut in.
Ellie sighed and turned to her aunt. ‘Couldn’t you have talked some sense into her?’
Hazel held up her hands and shrugged. ‘You think I’ve ever been able to tell my baby sister what to do? Besides, it’s cheered me up.’
‘Mum turns your kitchen into a scene from Titanic and it cheers you up?’
‘Well, it’s exciting. It gets boring sitting here day after day waiting for those bloody scans.’ Hazel made her way slowly to the kettle. ‘At least we’ve got water in here,’ she said, shaking it. ‘So we can have a cuppa while we wait for the plumber.’
Ellie glanced at Miranda. ‘What about Mum?’
‘She’ll have to drink hers over there, one-handed,’ Hazel said serenely. ‘You could write a story about her heroism and personal sacrifice as she struggles to stem the tide of water threatening to engulf our street, even at the expense of biscuits with her tea.’
‘Very funny,’ Miranda snapped.
Ellie paused thoughtfully. ‘Has anyone actually considered shutting the water off at the mains?’
Miranda glanced at Hazel with a sheepish expression. ‘I didn’t think of that.’
Ellie rolled her eyes heavenwards as if seeking divine strength.
‘I just panicked, that’s all,’ Miranda added in a defensive tone.
‘I did think of it,’ Hazel said with a smirk. ‘But I was having too much fun watching your mum panic to say anything.’
‘Thank you,’ Miranda said. ‘Just wait until I get my hands on you…’
‘I’m ill,’ Hazel fired back. ‘You’re supposed to be caring for me. I’ll have you up for assault.’
‘You’ll have me up for more than that,’ Miranda growled. ‘There’s no point in doing things by halves.’
‘OK, ladies…’ Ellie said, trying not to laugh as the situation seemed to grow more absurd by the second. ‘Hazel, is the stopcock under the sink?’
Hazel nodded. ‘If you’re determined to spoil my fun then yes, it is.’
As Ellie and Miranda mopped up, Hazel made a pot of tea and brought it to the table. Ellie’s phone buzzed a text. Hazel picked it up and peered at the screen. She glanced at Miranda briefly before passing it to Ellie, who was on her way over, wiping her hands on her jeans. Hazel raised her eyebrows in a sign of collusion as Ellie looked at the screen. She nodded briefly at her aunt before locking the phone again and stuffing it in her pocket.
‘Is it someone important?’ Ellie’s mum asked vaguely.
‘No,’ Ellie said, wringing a teacloth out into a bucket. ‘It can wait for a while.’
‘But if it’s work…’ Miranda pressed.
‘It’s not work. When I’ve done here I’ll reply.’
Miranda looked up with a hint of suspicion in her expression, but then seemed to let whatever argument she was brewing up pass. ‘Have you seen anything of your dad?’ she asked instead in a carefully neutral tone.
Ellie was spared a reply by the sound of a knock at the front door echoing through the house. She sprang up with far more enthusiasm than was necessary. ‘I’ll get it,’ she chirruped.
Out in the hallway she heaved a sigh of relief. The situation between her mum and dad was getting stickier by the day. Anyone else would simply have taken them both by an ear and smacked their heads together to knock some sense into them. Because that was how they were behaving – like a couple of toddlers. But Ellie couldn’t risk upsetting either of them; the emotional trauma would be too much to bear on top of everything else going on in her life.
‘Plumber,’ a beefy, bristle-haired man announced as Ellie opened the door.
‘Brilliant… through here.’
There was no need to tell him where the hole was: the man audibly sniggered as he walked into the kitchen and saw the mess. Miranda shot him a hate-filled glare but he seemed oblivious as he wandered over to inspect the damaged wall.
Fifteen minutes, a great deal of broken plaster and two hundred pounds later, the plumber had packed up and gone. As all the excitement had clearly worn Hazel out, the three women had moved into the living room so she could rest.
‘I’m in the wrong profession,’ Ellie remarked as she pulled on her jacket to leave. ‘Emergency plumbing is the job to be in; he must be rolling in it.’
‘The house insurance will cover it and I really can’t be bothered to care,’ Hazel said, lowering herself into an armchair.
Ellie bent to kiss her on the forehead. ‘Have a nap. Mum’s going to clear up, aren’t you?’
Miranda nodded.
‘It’s the least she can do,’ Hazel said, stifling a tired grin.
‘I’ll call tomorrow, bring some cookie dough ice-cream,’ Ellie added.
Her aunt’s appetite had disappeared a few weeks back, and her weight had become dangerously low. Ellie and her mum had tried food after food to tempt her, until they had been delighted to discover her penchant for cookie dough ice-cream, raspberry jelly and custard. Since they had introduced those things regularly into her diet, blatantly against the advice of Hazel’s oncologist, her weight had steadily increased again and she had felt much better.
‘Sounds lovely,’ Hazel said in a voice that was already becoming sleepy. ‘How about you bring that film over too… you know, that funny one you were telling me about the other day…’
‘Funny film… check. Ice-cream… check.’ Ellie kissed her mum. ‘Try not to blow Hazel’s roof off or anything while you’re both home alone.’
‘Very funny. When are you coming for tea next?’
‘I’m not sure, I have –’ Ellie’s reply was cut short by her phone ringing. She pulled it from her pocket and frowned at the screen before she answered. ‘Hey… yes, I’m coming over now… Ok, see you shortly.’
‘Who was that?’ Miranda asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.
‘Nobody,’ Ellie said brightly as she headed for the door. ‘Got to run. Catch you later.’
Ellie pulled up outside a block of flats near the outskirts of town. Getting out of the car, she glanced up at the immaculate frontage. The building was a renovated psychiatric hospital, now restored to its former Victorian glory (minus the inmates and barbarism, of course) and furnished with brand new trendy apartments. But Ellie knew that the particular apartment she was going to visit would be anything but trendy and well-kept.
At the main doors, she buzzed and waited. A tinny voice crackled through the intercom.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s me.’
Another buzz and a click and Ellie pushed open the doors into the main atrium.
The door had been left open for her when she arrived at the flat, and she let it swing shut behind her.
‘Dad?’ she called as she wandered into the living room. There was no reply. ‘OK, Dad…’ Ellie said quietly through pursed lips as she surveyed the debris. ‘Either you’ve climbed out of the window to avoid talking to me or you’re buried under dirty crockery.’ She pulled the heavy curtains open, releasing a little cloud of dust as she did so. ‘Bloody hell, it’s like Miss Havisham’s gaff in here… Dad!’ Ellie employed the full capacity of her lungs this time.
Her dad shuffled through from the kitchen, glasses abandoned on top of his head, his greying hair sticking out at odd angles and black smudges across his nose and cheeks.
‘Since the building is not a smouldering ruin, you appear to be alive, and the four horsemen of the apocalypse are conspicuously absent, I take it everything is under control,’ Ellie asked, doing her best Roger Moore eyebrow.
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Her dad grinned sheepishly. ‘It was only a tiny fire after all. I just panicked.’
Ellie was getting used to hearing that phrase from one or other of her parents. When together, they had argued like the proverbial cat and dog, but apart they were totally lost. It was the third time her dad had called her that week over a domestic disaster. Either his estrangement from her mum was turning him into some bizarre Frank Spencer clone or it was a cry for attention. Ellie couldn’t be sure – he had been known, on occasion during her childhood, to electrocute himself whilst changing a light bulb and had once fallen through the open loft hatch – so the former was worryingly possible.
‘I still don’t know how you managed to set fire to a toilet roll,’ Ellie said. On the drive over she had considered several whacky theories. The truth was oddly disappointing.
‘It just happened to be on the side when I lit the stove and I knocked it over with my arm.’ He shrugged apologetically.
‘Right…’ Ellie glanced at her watch. She had been far longer than she had anticipated and was already pushing her colleague, Patrick, for more favours than she could ever repay in this lifetime and probably quite a few reincarnations to come. ‘Do you need help clearing up the damage?’
‘It wasn’t that much really.’
‘So you’ll be OK?’
Worth Waiting For: A heart-warming and feel-good romantic comedy Page 1
