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

by Tilly Tennant

  She glanced around the street. Everywhere was quiet, save for the sounds of birds on rooftops and the occasional roar of a car from the main road a few streets away.

  ‘What are you reading?’ Ellie asked, trying to lead the conversation away from any risk of exposing her feelings any further and making an irrefutable idiot of herself. She twisted to look at the title. ‘Far from the Madding Crowd. I never had you down as a classics reader.’

  He smiled. ‘Hardy is a genius. What he doesn’t know about the human psyche isn’t worth knowing.’

  Ellie shrugged slightly. ‘I’m more of a Harry Potter girl myself.’

  ‘I like that too. There’s no reason you can’t find room in your life for both.’

  The conversation petered out again. The faint smell of roast chicken and potatoes hung on the air. Ellie wondered that none of the ladies had been out with any of the vegetarian bits for Ben. She wondered if the smell of cooking meat bothered him. She looked down at his soup.

  ‘That can’t be much of a meal,’ she commented.

  ‘It’s just a snack. I’ll be preparing a sumptuous feast later on my little stove. You’re welcome to join me… as long as you’re not bringing Gordon Ramsay to judge, that is.’ He smiled.

  ‘Good God, if you’d seen my attempt at baking the other day you wouldn’t be saying that. I bet my cakes can trump your veggie bolognaise for rubbishness.’

  ‘One day we might put that to the test…To be honest…’ He threw a quick look around and lowered his voice. ‘I think my appeal is starting to wear thin around here.’

  Ellie raised her eyebrows. ‘I bet they enjoyed being on the TV on Friday, though.’

  ‘Oh they loved that. Lena got her hair done at the actual hairdressers especially.’

  ‘So she didn’t look like a fifties army cadet?’

  ‘Oh she did. Only a really well groomed and worryingly feminine one.’

  Ellie burst out laughing. ‘I bet that was a sight to behold.’

  ‘You’ll be pleased to know that everyone else’s hair was comfortingly normal.’

  Ellie ran a self-conscious hand through her own hair, suddenly worried about what his opinion of it was. ‘Was the film crew nice?’ she asked, steering the dialogue into safer waters.

  ‘Yeah, they were great. Really put us all at ease. I was amazed at how few people it took to film stuff.’

  ‘I suppose they can’t really spend loads of money sending people up and down the country all the time so they have to keep things small.’

  ‘Of course.’

  A low flying airplane roared over the rooftops and they both looked up with far more interest than such a sight would usually provoke. As it disappeared across the sky, only its ghostly vapour trail lingering, they both tried to speak at once. It ended in awkward laughter, and then more silence.

  ‘Come on,’ Ben said suddenly. ‘Let me get a selfie of us together.’ He yanked his phone from his pocket.

  ‘You can’t be serious?’

  ‘Why not? I’d like something to remember my weird and wonderful camp-out when it’s all over.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you be better off taking a photo of Lena’s soup?’ Ellie said, angling her head at the now congealing orange gloop in its clashing floral mug. Something about it vaguely resembled an impressionist painting. ‘It’s certainly weird if not terribly wonderful.’

  ‘That?’ He followed Ellie’s gaze. ‘I’d get good money at a medical institute if they wanted a new species to study. Or from a terrorist cell as a new weapon of mass destruction. Either way, after today I’d quite like to block it from my mind forever.’ He waggled his phone at her. ‘Just one? Would it kill you?’

  Ellie shrugged.

  ‘Great… hang on,’ Ben said as he hooked an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, his cheek resting against hers as he positioned the camera. Ellie’s breath quickened with the warmth of his skin next to hers. She wondered vaguely if he could feel it. But he seemed oblivious as he grinned broadly and clicked, Ellie forcing herself to smile just at the right time. He lowered the phone to inspect the photo and just for the smallest time they stayed with faces pressed together, and Ellie squeezed her eyes closed, savouring his scent, the feel of his breath on her cheek. She longed for time to stand still so she could stay there forever, the ache of desire deep inside her. He was so close that she could…

  And then he turned, slowly, to face her and she found herself locked in his gaze, swallowed by the dark warmth of his eyes. Neither moved, neither spoke, there was only the connection that neither could deny…

  ‘Oh, it’s you!’ Annette hailed Ellie from across the street.

  Ben leapt back as though burnt, murmuring something about finishing his soup and how the photo had turned out. Ellie spun around, trying to fight the heat that was rising to her face. Annette seemed oblivious to their discomfort as she emerged from her front door and tottered over in fluffy slippers.

  ‘Has he told you about the telly?’ Annette said as she drew level.

  ‘He has,’ Ellie said, her mind still very much on Ben’s lips as she tried to pull herself together. ‘It sounds like you had a good day.’

  ‘Oh it was marvellous. I don’t doubt that Gemma will be here like a shot when they show it. Ben played guitar and everything.’

  ‘They made me do that,’ Ben mumbled. ‘I hope they cut it out, I felt like an idiot.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Annette gushed. ‘You were wonderful. How could Gemma fail to be moved by such a beautiful song? After all, you wrote it for her.’

  Ellie looked at him sharply. He had written a song for Gemma? Ellie felt as though she had been slapped across the other cheek now. She suddenly needed to get away from him, as far as possible.

  ‘I wrote it about her when we were first together,’ Ben said, glancing at Ellie with a look that seemed to hint at some internal struggle. Or perhaps Ellie was imagining it.

  ‘It’s great to see you both, but I just remembered I’m late for lunch with my mum…’ Ellie excused. The longer she stayed here the greater the danger of her emotional state crumbling. ‘I’d better go.’

  Annette nodded amiably. Ben simply forced a pained smile.

  ‘Thanks for dropping by to see me,’ he said.

  ‘Sure,’ Ellie replied, already hurrying away. ‘Anytime.’

  Nine

  Ellie looked at the caller ID display on the desk phone. It read NEWSROOM.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s on the TV down here after the ad break. Get your backside here, quick,’ Ange squealed from the other end of the line. Without waiting for Ellie’s reply, she put the phone down.

  Ellie let out a pained sigh. She would have to go down whether she liked it or not. If she didn’t Ange would only phone again.

  ‘I’m just going down to the newsroom,’ she called to Vernon. He looked up with a vague nod and then returned his attention to his computer screen.

  A few moments later she was standing with her arms folded watching the enormous TV.

  ‘They had already started filming when we got there the other day,’ Ange said.

  ‘So you haven’t seen it all?’

  ‘No. Not the beginning bit. And we got a bit distracted at the end, when all the rest of the street came out to watch.’

  The jangly intro music kicked in, along with a slick show of flashing images which gave way to a shot of the presenter – a twenty-something stick of a girl with huge dark eyes and impossibly buoyant hair. The music faded and the camera panned out as the girl turned to Ben and introduced him. Inset, as he explained to her the nature of his quest, was a photograph of Gemma looking unrealistically gorgeous in a skin-tight sequinned party dress and heels that would have given Ellie a nosebleed. Ellie could have been given a blank cheque book and free run of the biggest Chanel store in the world and not come out looking that good no matter how long she spent in there. In fact, every time she saw Gemma, Ellie felt oddly lacking in femininity.

  Ben expl
ained briefly the reasons he was camping on Constance Street and some of his and Gemma’s history – which Ellie had heard before – and then he gestured towards Annette (the camera following to reveal her) who was standing to one side at the head of the crowd of onlookers.

  ‘This lovely lady, along with her friends, has been looking after me brilliantly,’ he said.

  Annette gave a shy smile at the camera. Janet, Sonia and Lena nudged their way through the onlookers to stand next to her, followed by a couple of other women who Ellie didn’t know, making it quite clear to the viewing public that they were the friends in question.

  ‘How long do you plan to stay here?’ the presenter asked. ‘You can’t stay indefinitely, surely?’

  Ben shook his head. ‘The local authority is trying to move me. But I plan to stick it out as long as I can; whatever it takes. I’ve come too far to quit.’

  There was a little more chat about Ben’s background (though the tragedy of Ben’s parents was, rather tellingly, avoided) before the camera panned away again and found Annette and her neighbours. The presenter went over to interview them, and then went along the crowd randomly picking out others to ask their opinions on the situation. Invariably, the women had faraway looks and wistful sighs in their voices, whilst the men looked thoroughly chagrined that Ben was making them look like such poor specimens of manhood, responding with curt criticisms of his behaviour and random and irrelevant comments on the state of the economy, as though it was all somehow Ben’s fault.

  The presenter came back to Ben. ‘It’s a strange thing to ask, perhaps, but have you enjoyed your time on Constance Street? With all the support you’ve received it looks as though it’s been quite a unique experience.’

  Ben smiled. ‘In a strange way I have. I’ve made so many good friends and met some amazing people. It’s funny how a situation like this can bring out the worst, but also the very best in people, and I’ve been lucky to find mostly the best. Along with my lovely resident friends over there,’ he waved a hand towards the crowd, ‘I have to thank the fantastic people at the Millrise Echo: Patrick and Ange who are just standing out of shot there…’ The camera flicked around and from the back of the crowd Patrick held up a hand of acknowledgment. ‘And a lady who is not here now but has been such an incredible support, another Echo journalist, Ellie Newton.’

  Ellie felt the heat rise to her face as Ange nudged her affectionately.

  ‘Is there anything else you’d like to say?’ the presenter asked.

  ‘Well, if this is my final chance to make my plea…’ He gazed into the camera with an earnest expression. Ellie felt her breath hitch – it was like he was gazing directly at her. ‘Please…’ Ben said. ‘Please come back. Without you I was nothing. You came into my life and made me into something… El –’ Ben stopped mid-word, looking flustered. ‘Gemma,’ he continued, the confusion evident on his face. ‘Gemma, please come and find me.’

  Ellie’s breath quickened. Had he just been about to say her name?

  Before she knew it, she had fled the newsroom. Heading into the nearest staff toilets, she slammed herself into a cubicle. Tears were streaming down her face.

  There was a gentle tap at the cubicle door.

  ‘Ellie? Is that you in there?’

  Ellie sniffed hard, rubbing a hand across her eyes. ‘I’m OK, Ange.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing. There’s nothing wrong,’ she insisted, desperately hoping that everyone else in the room didn’t see the significance in Ben’s slip of the tongue.

  There was a pause. If Ange had heard Ben almost say Ellie’s name (or had he? Ellie could barely trust her own senses anymore) then she didn’t mention it. ‘So why did you run off before the report ended?’

  ‘I felt sick.’

  Another pause. ‘Do you need to go home?’

  Ellie flopped onto the toilet seat and put her head in her hands. Her face would look a mess now and there was no way she could deny to anyone she’d been crying. If she was going to avoid awkward questions, then perhaps it was best to go home and have a good weep to get all this nonsense out of her system.

  ‘I think I will. Give me a minute and I’ll come up to the office to get my things.’

  ‘OK. You’re sure it’s nothing more than feeling ill?’

  ‘I’ll be fine. Go up to the office and stop worrying.’

  Ellie listened to Ange’s footsteps, the sound of the main toilet door creaking open, and then silence. Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the cubicle door and pushed it open. She half expected to see Ange still there, waiting with arms folded for an explanation. But the room was empty. Ellie went to the sink to wash her face. The mirrors, combined with the faintly flickering strip light in this particular bathroom, always seemed to give her face a vaguely yellow hue. It wasn’t the most flattering look at the best of times, but right now, as Ellie inspected her swollen eyes, she knew her distressed appearance was not going to go unnoticed.

  Remembering that she had hastily stuffed her phone in the pocket of her trousers before going down to the newsroom, she pulled it out and dialled Patrick.

  ‘Are you in the Echo building right now?’

  ‘Hello, Ellie. I’m very well, thank you.’

  ‘Sorry, hi. Are you?’

  ‘Yes. What’s up?’

  Ellie sucked in another lungful of air and ran a hand through her hair. It was taking all her strength not to cry again. ‘I need to go home but my bag and coat are in the office and I can’t go in there right now.’

  There was silence at the other end of the line. If Patrick wanted to ask why, it seemed he had decided not to when he spoke again. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘The toilets outside the newsroom.’

  ‘The ladies?’

  ‘No, the blokes’!’

  ‘Alright, sarky. Do you want me to get your stuff or not?’

  ‘Yeah. Sorry.’

  ‘Give me five minutes. You’ll have to be outside waiting for me though. I love you to bits Ellie, but I’m not going in there after you.’

  She left her hiding place and emerged from the toilets into the main corridor. Five minutes later Patrick raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ he said, handing her things over.

  ‘Thanks. I’m going straight home so I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Want me to run you?’

  Ellie shook her head.

  ‘Want to go for coffee and talk about it?’

  Ellie shook again.

  ‘Want to come and see Fiona to talk about it?’

  ‘Thanks, Patrick. I know you mean well but I just want to be alone.’

  Against her will, a fresh tear tracked her face and Patrick rushed to embrace her.

  ‘Hey, hey… This is not the sharp-tongued Newton I know. What the hell is wrong?’

  Ellie pushed him gently away. ‘I can’t. Not here.’

  Head down, she hurried away to the main entrance, leaving Patrick to stare after her with a worried frown.

  Ellie locked the front door, turned out all the lights save a dim lamp, grabbed her duvet and pillows from the bedroom and curled up on the sofa in front of the fire. She stayed there for the remainder of the day. Old DVDs kept her company and away from the currently distressing interruptions of the outside world. Patrick sent three texts that afternoon, followed by one from Fiona, all reminding her that they were available should she need them. There was a fifth later in the day from Ange asking if she was feeling better. The sixth was from Kasumi asking whether she was happy with the TV piece. The seventh was from Jethro – some joke he had decided to forward on. There was an eighth from her mum asking why she hadn’t called for days. It wasn’t until she was getting ready for work the next morning, however, that she noticed the ninth.

  The text was from Ange:

  Have you seen the paper or the local TV news tonight?

  Ellie hadn’t replied to any of the other texts the previous day and although she would see Ange in
an hour or so anyway it was an odd question considering that Ange had known she was home ill, so she sent a message back.

  Sorry, I was asleep when you messaged yesterday. Why do you ask?

  Ange’s reply was almost immediate:

  Gemma Fox has turned up on Constance Street.

  Ten

  Ellie stared at the phone. What else had she been expecting? But although it had been an obvious outcome since the start, one she had championed, she still felt numb as she read Ange’s message again. Suddenly, the idea of going into work seemed like a very bad one. Everyone would be discussing Gemma’s return. Ellie would be expected to write about it and talk about it and she seriously doubted she would be able to hold it together when the time came.

  Ellie took a deep breath and pulled on her jacket. She still had a job to do and the occasional bad day went with the territory – right? So why was she letting this ridiculous situation and some even more ridiculous crush get in her way? Ben Kelly had made his choice and it didn’t include Ellie. So it was time to stick two fingers up to him and get on with her life. This moment, right here and now, was where she made her stand. Holding her head high, she snatched her keys from the mantelshelf and strode for the door.

  ‘She’s asked for you specifically,’ Vernon said. ‘I already told her that Ange would go out to cover it but she said she’d wait until you were free.’