The Truth About Ellen: A feel-good romantic comedy

by Sarah Louise Smith

  “No… I was going to say inspiring.”

  “Well,” I said, surprised, “thanks.”

  “I’m Tom, by the way.”

  I know that, but I don’t want you to know that I know that. He seemed to like me but revealing I was an obsessive, crazy life-long Four Apes fan surely would put a stop to that.

  He held out his hand and I shook it. His touch was soft yet firm. A tingle ran through my chest. I hadn’t developed a crush this fast since I first saw Jasper Ryan on the front page of Smash Hits when I was 13.

  “Nice to meet you Tom. I’m Ellen.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Ellen. Are you hungry?”

  I was suddenly ravenous.

  Chapter Six

  We wandered back up to the hotel, talking about the author of the book we were carrying; we’d both read his previous book and Tom told me he’d met him once.

  “Nice guy but a tad boring in person if I’m honest,” he told me.

  He talked a bit more and I took him in; his shirt was tight enough to hint at a toned body underneath, and his jeans left me in no doubt of his perfect bottom. Why hadn’t I noticed how incredibly attractive he was before?

  Tom had reserved a table in the restaurant so they laid out another place and I followed him to a small spot by the window. There weren’t many other guests in the dining room; mostly middle-aged couples who probably wouldn’t recognise him.

  “What are your plans for the next few days then?”

  “I’m planning to walk, swim, go in the sauna, read… just chill I guess.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “And you?”

  “Pretty much the same.”

  He could go anywhere in the world with his money, why had he chosen this place? Sure, it was beautiful but it probably rained here more often than not.

  “You like it here then?”

  “My parents brought me to this hotel when I was a kid.”

  “Oh, wow.”

  “I just remembered how amazing it was, so I wanted to come back and see if it was still how I pictured it.”

  “And is it?”

  “Just the same. Even Martha, the receptionist.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “Wow.”

  “I thought it was boring, when I was eight. But I remembered the beautiful building, the pretty grounds… I wanted to come back now that I’d appreciate it more.”

  “That’s nice.”

  He smiled at me and I smiled back, locking my eyes with his, hardly believing I’d had the good fortune to meet another member of my favourite band. I was still surprised at how different he was; how much more I liked him in person than I ever had back in the days when I watched him over and over on my VHS video tapes.

  He looked down at his menu and so did I. Wow, it was expensive. I hadn’t intended on eating here when I’d booked the hotel; my credit card had taken a good hit on my room so I’d brought a lot of snacks with me and figured I’d pick up something cold each day from the local store. Still, how often did I get to dine with Tom Green?

  The waiter came over and we made our orders; both opting for scallops followed by lobster.

  “Same taste in books and food too,” Tom said, passing the menu to the waiter.

  “So it seems.”

  “Any drinks?” The waiter asked us.

  “Bottle of white wine?” Tom asked me.

  “Sounds good.”

  “A bottle of that wine I had last night, please,” Tom told the waiter.

  “Certainly, sir.”

  “Have you been eating the same food and drinking the same wine every night these past three weeks?”

  What an obscure question. I needed to relax, and stop talking crap. Luckily, my hands had perspired all they could for one day, so I was nice and dry for once.

  “No, I’ve eaten out in different places. One night I got fish and chips.”

  “Perfect holiday food.”

  “Yeah, I’m not much of a cook so I tend to eat out and get takeaways at home a lot too.”

  “Life’s one long holiday for you, huh?”

  “I know it sounds fun, but it’s not as good as it sounds.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “It’s true. And it gets lonely.”

  “You don’t have a girlfriend?”

  “No, just me.”

  Phew.

  “I spend a lot of time with friends and family, it’s just… I don’t know… I’ve run out of things I want to do, and I’m only 33.”

  “That’s kind of sad.”

  “I know. Don’t get me wrong, I have worked with charities and so on, I’m not usually this idle. I’ve got a little business investment too, but that kind of runs itself these days. I just wanted to get some space and figure out what I could do next. I do realise I’m incredibly lucky.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  The waiter bought our wine and we both had a few sips.

  “So have you figured out what you want to do next?” I asked.

  “Nope! I guess I’ll carry on with the same old until it comes to me.”

  “Well you’ve got your whole life ahead of you…”

  He nodded.

  “So, what about you? Boyfriend back home?”

  “No, I live alone. Well, with my cat.”

  We looked at each other. Was the wine affecting me already, or had a hazy bubble descended over us? I couldn’t think of anything to say, but just looking at him was enough. The more I looked, the more I felt attracted to him.

  Eventually, he smiled and looked away, out to the lake where we’d met only an hour earlier.

  “Where will you go next?” I asked him.

  He looked back at me.

  “I’m planning to go back to London on Monday.”

  The waiter delivered our scallops. They looked delicious.

  “Thanks,” Tom told him. “Yeah, so Tuesday I have a meeting with someone who wants me to write a song for them.”

  “That’s pretty cool, writing songs.”

  “Thanks. I’ve churned out a lot of rubbish but there have been a few good ones.”

  “Wow, anything I’d know?”

  At least 52 Four Apes songs downloaded on my phone right now, my brain reminded me.

  “You heard of Four Apes?”

  It was time to make a choice. Did I come clean and confess, or did I play ignorant? I shoved a forkful of food in my mouth to delay my decision.

  “Ah, I thought I kind of recognised you,” I said eventually, deciding to go for middle ground. “You were in Four Apes, right?”

  I gave myself an imaginary pat on the back for playing it so cool. Tom blushed, bless him. So, he was a real person; someone who breathed and ate and got embarrassed and contemplated the meaning of it all, just like me. The thought calmed me a little and I relaxed back into my seat.

  “Yeah, I was. Played bass guitar and I wrote most of the stuff we put out. And I still write a few songs here and there. Someone’s asked me to write a few tracks for their new album so we’re meeting up on Monday.”

  Dare I ask who? No, that would be way uncool. I took another gulp of wine.

  “That’s great,” I said, letting the wine relax me a little. He was just a man. I was just a woman. This was going well and I should be fine if I could just make sure I didn’t say the wrong thing or admit I’m a super fan.

  “Yeah, it keeps me occupied.”

  “This food is amazing.”

  “I know, delicious.” He finished his last mouthful.

  I wondered if he was writing a song for Beyoncé? That would be amazing.

  “So what’s your training course about?”

  “It’s an induction for newbies. They share lots of stuff about the company history and give you some training on the corporate strategy and that sort of stuff. Apparently it’s really boring.”

  “Well… that does sound kinda boring,” he said, flashing me a grin.

  I laughed. “Yeah,
well… it pays the bills.”

  He nodded, but I doubted he knew what it was like to worry about bills. He’d joined the band at 18 so he’d probably bought his first house with cash.

  I couldn’t resist it any longer.

  “So do you keep in touch, you know, with the other band members?”

  “Yeah, I’m in touch with two of them. But Jasper – you know, Jasper Ryan? Well we haven’t spoken for years.”

  “I see,” I said, swigging back more wine. I had to. It was the best way to relax.

  “Things didn’t end well, we fell out. But I see George and Alex now and then. We go for a curry or Thai or whatever every few months. Talk about the good old days.”

  “Were they good times?”

  “Sometimes. I liked touring, and performing. But you know, there were bad things. Media attention and that sort of thing. Jasper went off the rails towards the end and we couldn’t contain him. I heard he’s in recovery now, but for years it was all about the drink and drugs.”

  Didn’t I know it. I’d been reading the gossip columns plenty. He’d declared publicly a few years ago that he wasn’t going to drink or take drugs again, and I hoped he’d stuck to it.

  “Sounds like it had its ups and down, then.”

  “Yeah, it did. I don’t regret it though; best years of my life.”

  “You sound like an old man.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t think all the best things I’ve done in my life are in the past.”

  “Definitely not.”

  “More wine?”

  “Please.”

  Our lobster arrived and I ignored the beautiful man opposite me for a while as I concentrated on the beautiful food on my plate. Even Tom Green couldn’t keep me from enjoying every mouthful of this; I told the waiter as he cleared our plates to send my compliments to the chef. And then I hiccupped. How much wine had I drunk? Was that our second or third bottle in the ice bucket?

  I got my purse out when the bill arrived, but Tom waved my hand away.

  “No, let me get this,” he said and I didn’t argue; he could afford it and I wasn’t too proud to let him treat me.

  “Thank you very much,” I told him, tucking my purse back into my bag.

  “What are your plans tomorrow?”

  “I’m just going to hang around here, I think.” I told him. “It’s so beautiful. I just want to lie on the grass and read.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “I’d love that,” I said, delighted. “Thank you for dinner.”

  We wandered into the lobby and approached the stairs in silence. The rush of happy crush-induced hormones combined with alcohol was making me feel a mixture of giddy anxiety and the raging horn.

  I glanced at Tom, who was already looking at me as we reached the bottom step. He put his hand on my arm lightly.

  “Before we go to bed… I mean, well, I didn’t mean together…”

  I giggled. “Yes, before we go to bed?”

  “Do you want to get a drink in the bar?”

  I gave him my best smile and nodded.

  We found a table in the corner of the bar area, just as quiet as the restaurant and I ordered a cocktail while he got a pint of lager. The conversation was flowing naturally now, he was telling me about his family and the trip they’d taken here years ago. He mentioned a sister I already knew he had, and that they’d come here during the last week of May, and it’d been his birthday while they were here – something I also knew; his birthday was 27 May. I knew all their birthdays, pathetic little thing that I was.

  “How did you get into music?” I asked him.

  “Always into it,” he told me. “And one day I met George in a pub. He knew one of my mates and we got talking about music. I told him I wrote stuff, he said he wanted to be in a band, and he knew the other two guys. So we started putting stuff together and played a few clubs. Eventually we got a deal and the next few years were a wild rollercoaster.”

  “I saw you live,” I said, suddenly overcome with a desire to be honest.

  “Oh yeah?” Did I detect a hint of wariness in his voice? I couldn’t let him back off now, no way.

  “Yeah, I can’t remember what year. A friend of mine was a fan. I’d almost forgotten about it to be honest. Just the once.”

  Well, it was 11 times if I was honest. But I wasn’t. So…

  “I’m glad we were forgettable,” he said, pulling a mock-sad face that made me think he was as cute as a puppy.

  “Oh! That’s not what I meant. It was amazing. I was just… you know, trying to play it cool.”

  He laughed.

  “Tell you what, there’s no need to play it cool. Be yourself. I like you.”

  “You like me?”

  Tom Green likes me? Oh wow.

  “Yes. Why did you think I invited you to dinner, or for a drink, or suggested we do something tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know. You’re lonely? Lack of better options?”

  “If I didn’t like you, surely being on my own would be a better option?”

  “Well, thank you. I like you too.”

  We just looked at each other again. I wondered if he had a four poster bed upstairs. I bet it was even more impressive than my room. I felt myself blush.

  “Another drink?”

  “Please.”

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday morning, I woke up and wondered where the hell I was. There was no ginger cat next to me, and it was too dark. Even at night, my bedroom at home had light flooding in from the street lamp outside. Then I remembered. The hotel. Thick heavy curtains.

  I turned over and saw a tiny slither of sunlight creeping in between a small gap in the curtains.

  Tom. Tom Green.

  Oh wow.

  I sat up in bed. My head hurt. Ouch. How much did I drink? I got out of bed and found my way to the bathroom, then rooted around in my bag for a bottle of water. I took a long drink and sat down on the edge of the bed again.

  I’d kissed Tom Green.

  And wow, it had been something. Soft at first, but then more rough and firm, and he’d pressed his body up against mine. Then he’d whispered good night and turned and left me outside my hotel room door, feeling confused, disappointed, and horny as hell.

  Still, I was pretty sure I’d fallen asleep immediately because I couldn’t remember anything after my head touched the pillow.

  I opened the curtains, squinting as the light hurt my eyes.

  There he was; just like when I’d met him, lying on his stomach, reading his book, but just a little further up the embankment, not far from the bench. I couldn’t wait to get out there and join him.

  I rushed around getting ready as quickly as my sore head would allow. I wolfed down a cereal bar to calm my hangover-induced carb cravings and pulled on my best, most flattering pair of skinny jeans, a cute black top and a hot pink cardigan. I grabbed my book and was strolling across the grass towards Tom when he sat up and crossed his legs, looking out towards the lake.

  He heard me approaching and turned to smile at me.

  “Good morning,” I said happily.

  “Hey,” he said, still smiling.

  “Do you mind if I join you?”

  “Of course not. I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, patting the space next to him.

  I sat and he leaned in and kissed my cheek, sending shivers through my whole body. This was real. I was officially having a weekend fling with Tom from Four Apes. This was happening and it wasn’t just because he’d had a drink. I mean, I assumed he was sober now anyway. He smiled at me.

  “Sorry, was that okay?”

  “That was very okay,” I said, leaning in and kissing him on the mouth.

  “You smell amazing.”

  “I was thinking the same about you.”

  He grinned and I forced myself to look away from him and out towards the lake.

  “What a lovely day,” I said, putting my legs out in front of me and resting back on my elbo
ws.

  “Gorgeous isn’t it. Did you sleep well?”

  “Very. Went out like a light.”

  “Me too.”

  “How’s the book?”

  “It’s good. You should read some more.”

  “I will,” I said, picking up my paperback.

  We sat in the sun for a while, reading, talking now and then. Tom ran up to the hotel and bought us both back some orange juice and bacon sandwiches.

  “Listen to that,” I said, around mid-morning.

  “What?”

  “The birds. The buzz of a bee. No traffic, no neighbour’s kids. No telephones. Peaceful heaven.”

  “It is pretty wonderful. I’d been taking it for granted these past few days but you’ve reminded me why I didn’t want to leave.”

  We read some more, went up to the hotel for lunch, then went for a walk around the grounds holding hands. Tom knew the names of all the staff and greeted them happily as we passed them. He told me more about coming here as a kid and asked about my family and life back home.

  “Would you like to have dinner with me again tonight?” he asked as we laid out the blanket for another reading session. “No pressure, if you don’t want to.”

  “I’d love to,” I said, then considered that I ought to offer to pay and probably couldn’t afford to. But hell, that’s what my credit card was for.

  “What?” he asked, frowning. “I won’t be offended if you don’t fancy it.”

  “No, no, I definitely do fancy you.” Oh, darn it. “I mean, I fancy it. Dinner.”

  He laughed. “I fancy you too,” he said, leaning in for another kiss.

  I repressed a girly, happy sigh as he moved away.

  “What were you thinking then?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Of course.”

  “That the restaurant is a bit pricey.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that.”

  “I won’t take advantage of you, or your generosity. I’ll pay my half.”

  “No, really, it’s fine.”

  “No, I insist.”

  “Ellen, stop. It’s no big deal. Tell you what; you can buy me one drink.”

  Well, at least I’d offered, at least I’d tried to be the feminist I knew I ought to be.

  “Okay, okay,” I said, sighing, “I’ll let the handsome man buy me dinner. But don’t think it’ll get me into your bed.”