The Truth About Ellen: A feel-good romantic comedy

by Sarah Louise Smith

  What a difference one week makes.

  A few minutes later, I was curled up with his arms around me, listening to his breathing as he drifted off to sleep and I realised something; I could now never tell him the whole truth. He’d be hurt that I’d kept it from him and he wouldn’t be happy that I’d been a fan. And he couldn’t know about me and Jasper either. Ever. I’d lose him if he knew, and so I couldn’t let him find out.

  Chapter Eleven

  Saturday morning we went to pick up Bob from the cattery. Tom told me an adorable story about his own pet cat as a kid while we drove along in his Porsche. I could get used to travelling in style like this.

  Bob was not happy about his holiday and told me so as soon as he saw me with lots of short, sharp noises that sounded something like ‘yap’. I’m pretty sure this translated to: “It’s about time you collected me from this hell-hole, I thought you loved me, you bitch.”

  He was still pretty mad with me when we got home and ran up the stairs as soon as we let him out of his basket in the hall.

  “Aww, he’s cute.” Tom said as he watched him escape.

  “Yeah, he’ll forgive me later and come down.”

  Then we went food shopping. Another ordinary thing, yet it felt so surreal wandering around Sainsbury’s picking up such normal items like milk and bread… After loading the car we walked across to The Hub, a large square surrounded by restaurants.

  “So this is the social centre of Milton Keynes,” I told Tom, waving my hand around. “Glamorous isn’t it?”

  He chuckled. “You want to get some lunch?”

  We went and ate, and talked some more about our lives up until we met. Tom told me lots that I knew already but also a whole load of stuff I didn’t, and the more he opened up and shared his life with me, the more I wanted to be in it from this day forward.

  “So tomorrow I have a family thing to go to,” I told him as were getting into his car.

  “Okay.”

  “So…”

  “So I’ll go home perhaps. I’ve got some stuff to do, and I guess I better show up for my meeting on Monday this time.”

  “Okay, then.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you too,” I said, leaning in to kiss him as he put his seatbelt on.

  “You don’t want me to come? I mean, I’ll come, if you like. To the family thing?” He kept his eyes ahead as he pulled out of the parking space.

  “Maybe next time,” I said.

  Okay, so we had got serious fast. But I didn’t want him to meet my mad family just yet. It was too soon to scare him. Plus, my mum had texted to remind me I needed to sort out my boxes of old stuff and I was pretty sure there were some things I didn’t want him to see in there. Like posters with his face on, and cassette tapes with ‘I love Jasper!’ scribbled all over them.

  “Yeah you’re right, too soon.”

  “You’re not missing out, seriously. My mum’s cooking is pretty awful and my brothers are annoying as hell.”

  “It’s fine, really. I need to get home.”

  We got back and unloaded the shopping. I turned the radio on. The DJ was talking about the nice weather we’d been having. A song came on and I started singing along absentmindedly as I put the food away. I looked up and saw Tom looking at me in astonishment.

  “You’ve got a good voice,” he said, winking at me.

  “Oh don’t joke,” I said, my face getting hot. “I’m usually totally out of tune.”

  “Well, maybe a little.”

  “Ha! Thanks.”

  “So you know all the lyrics then?”

  Oh, I hadn’t even given it any thought. It was one of his. Of the band’s. Was it always going to work like this? How could I get away with it? Why hadn’t I been honest to start with? Yet I couldn’t imagine him being here if I had been.

  “Yes,” I said, looking at him as blankly as I could.

  “This is one of my songs,” he said. “Well, a Four Apes song.”

  “Oh yeah!” I said, hoping I sounded convincing. “I love this one.”

  “Why, thank you. Haven’t heard it in ages.”

  He turned back to put some orange juice in my fridge and I picked up another shopping bag without singing anymore. This was awful; I was going to have to tell him. He might get annoyed but it wasn’t a big deal, surely?

  The song ended and the DJ started talking about the reunion rumours.

  “No truth in that, then?” I asked Tom.

  “Nope. None at all. Don’t know where that one came from.”

  “Weird.”

  “Yeah. Apparently our songs have been downloaded a lot these past few weeks though so it’s nice to have a little renewed publicity, I guess.”

  “Yes that’s good.”

  He closed the fridge and turned to look at me.

  “So, this is going to sound kind of lame …”

  “Right. Go on.”

  “But, this is a relationship, right? I mean, we’re not just fooling around, here. I mean, we’re not going to see other people… right?”

  Oh he was too adorable. And I couldn’t say it. How would I possibly explain now? I was just going to have to lie forevermore, and would probably end up going to hell.

  “Yes! I don’t even want to see other people. So… yes. This is a relationship. You are my boyfriend.”

  The sexy grin he gave me was too much. I put down the tin of soup I’d been holding, led him to my sofa, took off his jeans and made love to my boyfriend. Tom Green. My boyfriend.

  It was a sad but slightly less nervous goodbye the following morning. We both knew where we stood and that was with both feet firmly in Relationship Street.

  He hadn’t mentioned his meeting much, and in my reluctance to seem too eager I still hadn’t asked who it was with. He left. I rushed around tidying up, and then made the drive to my parents’ house for, no doubt, overcooked lamb.

  I was delighted to note that the diet had gone out the window and a cherry pie was just being put into the oven when I arrived. Mum asked me all about the Lake District and I told them I’d met someone. They were exceptionally pleased and asked questions although I referred to him only as ‘Tom’ – not that they’d probably remember his last name, but they certainly wouldn’t have forgotten Four Apes and my teen obsession, and I didn’t want to talk about that today.

  Mum reminded me to sort out my stuff so I went up to my old room. There were a few pieces of gym equipment which looked like they hadn’t been used, and on my old bed were four boxes. I sat down on the bed and opened up the first one.

  Ah, old diaries. I couldn’t throw them. I’d take them home, put them in my loft, and one day I’d read through them all and reminisce on the sad existence that was my youth.

  Next box. Toys. I riffled through but couldn’t see anything I wanted; most things I didn’t even recognise. She must have fished it out from under my bed. I put that to one side and wondered if my dad would take it to the tip for me. Third box, a bunch of books and school stuff. I put it with the toys. Last box.

  I opened it up to see a photo of Tom, looking much younger and skinnier – cute but not nearly as handsome – back in the day. How funny that he should be the first thing I saw. Mum probably packed up this stuff while I was with the very man himself.

  This box also contained concert ticket stubs, folded up posters and a book about Four Apes. There was even a framed picture that I’d cut out of a magazine. I looked through it all with fondness, but decided to get rid of it, too.

  I took my box of old diaries down to my car and asked Dad to get rid of the rest.

  “Sure, no problem,” he told me as he laid the table.

  “So what happened to the diet?”

  “She was always moaning she was hungry, so I told her, you’re not fat, just eat what you want. Happiest I’ve seen her in ages.”

  I laughed.

  Mum came in and gave us a stern look, then served up the ever-unpleasant dinner followed by the al
ways-wonderful pudding.

  “So you going to bring this boyfriend of yours to meet us next Sunday?” Mum asked as we said goodbye.

  “She hasn’t known him long, give her a chance,” Matt told her.

  “Well, it sounds quite serious.”

  “I’ll bring him sometime Mum,” I promised her.

  My house seemed empty without Tom, and I busied myself by looking through some of my diary entries and laughing out loud at my young teen self.

  Dear Diary,

  Today is my fourteenth birthday and although I’ll get lots of lovely presents that I’ll be very grateful for, all I want is Jasper Ryan and he’s the one thing I can’t ever have. Why oh why must I be so young and why oh why must he be so famous? I wish he were just a boy at school so I could at least meet him. No one understands my love for him.

  Yesterday, I decided I fancy Wayne at school. He’s really cute and he smiled at me at lunch time. Gotta go – mum is calling me for breakfast! Over and out! Ellen x

  Oh wow, the pain of teen angst. Thank god that rollercoaster was over. I flicked through a few more pages, most of them the same; I loved Jasper, I loved a boy at school, then I loved Jasper again. No one understood me and life pretty much sucked. How did I cope with all of those hormones? It was a wonder I managed to pass my GCSEs.

  I’d stuck a magazine cut-out of Jasper to one of the pages and drawn a heart around it. What did I even see in him over his bandmate? Now that I’d been with Tom, I realised he was the sweet one. The kind one. Not the crazy bad boy who treated girls like objects, got wasted every single day, and turned on his band mates.

  And said he’d call you but never did. How deluded had I been?

  Eventually I tucked all the diaries away and put them in the back of my wardrobe. I decided I’d chuck them out on bin day; I didn’t need reminding how sad and pathetic my teen years were, thank you very much.

  I wondered what Tom was doing. Was he thinking of me? Was it out of sight, out of mind? Jon had been sweet and kind to me once, and where had that got me? How many girls had Tom fallen in love with? Was he really falling in love with me? Why was I so insecure? I hated being like this. I picked up a magazine to distract myself but found a photo of Jasper in it, and quickly closed it again.

  I thought I was just about ready to go insane, when Tom called to ask me how my day was.

  “Fine, thank you. And yours?”

  “All right, yeah. Weird to be back home again after such a long time away.”

  “I bet.”

  “I’ve got a cleaner so at least the place isn’t covered in dust.”

  “Can you send her over here?”

  “I’ll hire you a cleaner, if you like.”

  I laughed. “No, I feel bad enough that you ordered me that mattress.”

  “Well, I get to benefit from that too.”

  “True. When will you be back?”

  “Thursday.”

  “Good, I can’t wait.”

  “How about this weekend you come down and spend it with me in London?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “I think this is good, I know every instinct is telling me to drive up there and spend tonight with you, but—”

  “Then do it! You could be here in an hour. We could cuddle. And you know… do stuff. Sexy stuff.”

  He laughed.

  “I’d love to, but I was just going to say… it’s probably good to have some space you know?”

  “Right,” I said, feeling like I’d been kicked in the stomach.

  “I don’t mean I need space. Far from it. I want to be with you. I can keep saying it, but it won’t make you believe it.”

  “I do believe it, it’s just…”

  “Ellen?”

  “Truth?”

  “Truth is. I want to be with you all the time.”

  “Me too.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though I’m being a whiney cow?”

  He laughed.

  “You’re not a whiney cow. You’re my girlfriend.”

  “Okay.”

  “We can’t be together all the time, you’ve got work tomorrow and don’t you think it’s healthier to not spend every day together so soon?”

  “I suppose so.”

  He was right, I’d already considered this. But it didn’t stop me wanting him here.

  “Look I’ll take you to dinner on Thursday and I’ll stay over. After work Friday I’ll drive you down here and you can see my place.”

  “I’d love that.”

  “Me too.”

  “Okay.”

  “Please don’t get insecure Ellen. It’s only you I want. Nothing could turn me away now. Right?”

  I didn’t want to be Insecure Ellen. I wanted to be fun, confident loveable Ellen that he adored for all eternity.

  “Right. I’m fine. Honest. I look forward to Thursday.”

  “Me too. Sleep well.”

  “You too.”

  This was crazy, I’d never been this clingy in any relationship before, so why was I doing this? Was it because it didn’t feel real, that Tom didn’t seem real? That had to be it. I couldn’t believe it was happening to me. And I couldn’t even talk to anyone about it. My friends wouldn’t understand how much I’d loved Four Apes, or how unbelievable this all was. Zoe had been texting me back and forth since I’d met Tom, and she was excited for me, but she didn’t truly get it. No one would.

  That was, except for Laura. She’d understand, surely. I had to see her.

  I looked her up on Facebook and scrolled through the photos of her kids, who looked at least 5 or 6 by now. Last time I’d seen her they’d been babies. We’d been great friends throughout school, and had kept in touch for a few years afterwards. I’d gone to her wedding. But then our lives were so different; she was settling down, buying a nice house, getting pregnant, having a baby, getting pregnant again. I was living the single life, and very casually dating Jon for quite a while before we moved in together. Laura and I had little in common by that point and just drifted apart.

  Now I needed her. I typed out a message:

  Hi Laura! How are you? Just looked through your pics; the kids are getting big, how old are they now? Would you like to meet for lunch one day this week? I’ve got so much to talk to you about. Can’t wait to hear your news too. Love, Ellen x

  She replied within minutes.

  Ellen! I’m great, you? Kids are 4 and 6. Love to meet you for lunch. Tuesday? How about that pub near the school we always used to go to? The Swan, is it? Laura x

  So, the date was set. Then I called Zoe, who was more excited than I’d expected her to be. I sent her my selfie of me and Tom to prove it was really him, and then she googled him and told me that just last year he’d been spotted leaving a club holding hands with some stunning model I’d never heard of. I didn’t want to know that and decided I’d resist googling him myself. Forever.

  Chapter Twelve

  Going back to work on Monday was tough, but the day went by faster than I’d expected. It took me over an hour to clear my email inbox, and Darby and Tammy delighted in telling me all the office gossip I’d missed since I’d been away; none of which was very interesting. I didn’t tell them I’d met someone, half thinking they wouldn’t be interested in my love life, and half not wanting anyone to know who it was, anyway. He was my little secret.

  At lunchtime I got out Gran’s notes and googled Gordon Flounder. I couldn’t find much to go on at first, but after a bit of digging I found a record that looked like it might be him on a website I’d registered with years ago to trace my ancestors. I’d only got a little way and then never got around to going back to it.

  “I think he’s alive and widowed,” I told Gran after work while sipping my sweet tea. I explained how the website worked. “He has a grandson called Shane who has listed him on this site. Looks like he’s from Bath, but I don’t know where Gordon lives.”

  “Can we get in touch with Shane?
” Gran said, sounding excited.

  “I can email him, yes. What do you want me to say?”

  “Just ask how Gordon is, and if it’s possible, tell him that Gladys sends her regards.”

  I wrote an email to Gordon’s grandson on my phone, but warned her not to get her hopes up.

  “Don’t be all patronising with me, I know the risks,” she said, winking at me. “Now, tell me about this Tom. Your mum said you seemed quite smitten.”

  So I told her everything, about how special he made me feel, and then how I’d not mentioned I was a massive fan of his band in my youth. And a reasonably big fan of his ex-band mate in my adult life.

  “Well, I really don’t see that that matters. It’s a minor detail.”

  “But he doesn’t date his fans, Gran.”

  “So you don’t tell him. We all have our little secrets.”

  “Like Gordon?”

  She blushed. “Yes, like Gordon. Your Granddad didn’t need to know, and it didn’t hurt him. We were very happy.”

  After just one biscuit (honest), I went home to finally sort out my washing from my week away. Just when I thought I might drown in a sea of laundry, my mobile rang and I was surprised to see my friend Sasha’s name on the display. She and her husband Dean were good friends of mine at uni, but they’d moved to Canada shortly after getting married and I hadn’t seen them for several years. Facebook statuses had become our main way of staying in touch.

  “Sasha?”

  “Ellen! I’m so glad you’ve got the same number. How are you?”

  “I’m really well, how’re you?”

  “Good, good. We’re back in the UK!”

  “Oh wow, whereabouts?”

  “London. Living in Hammersmith. Will you come for dinner?”

  “I’d love to.”

  We had a quick catch up on our lives to date and she insisted I bring Tom for dinner too.

  “He doesn’t know, about me being a big Jasper fan back in the day.”

  “Oh, right, we won’t mention. No worries,” she said casually. “Do you want to speak to Dean?”

  “Of course.”

  I spent another half an hour catching up with my old friends and then promised I’d visit them for dinner with Tom in at the weekend, as I was going to visit his place anyway. I kept imagining it in my head; surely it was big, and spacious with very cool furniture and designer curtains. I could see him having cool paintings on the walls and a view of the Thames. I didn’t even know whereabouts in London he lived. I couldn’t see him living somewhere too posh and pretentious. Maybe somewhere cool like Notting Hill. With Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts for neighbours, of course.