The Truth About Ellen: A feel-good romantic comedy

by Sarah Louise Smith

  “Everyone has rough patches, I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” I drank some more wine. Sasha and Dean would be fine; they were so well suited, they were my perfect example of a good match.

  “He said he doesn’t want to try, even now though.”

  “Well, it’s a big upheaval, moving and everything. Give him time to settle.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” she said, turning back to her pan. “I think this is ready.”

  Dinner tasted as good as it smelled. Tom was chatty and funny and engaging and I felt proud to be with him.

  “I’m handling dessert,” Dean told the room after we’d cleared the plates. “I’ll be right back.”

  I excused myself and went to the bathroom, leaving Sasha to ask Tom lots of Four Apes questions that I’d love answers to myself. I’d have to ask her later what he’d said. Instead of going back to the dining room I went to the kitchen and saw Dean prodding a giant chocolate brownie.

  “Needs a few more minutes,” he said as I came in. He put it back in the oven.

  “It looks lush,” I told him.

  He grinned and turned to a saucepan. “I’m making raspberry coulis too.”

  “Wow, check you out, mister domesticated.”

  “I know. I started cooking in Toronto, I love it.”

  “Good for you.”

  He turned towards the door, listened to Sasha and Tom laughing for a second, then shut it.

  “Ellen, Sasha is driving me crazy. All she thinks about is babies. We argue all the time. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know her anymore. Honestly, can you remind me why we got together because I can’t remember?”

  Oh, wow. Who decided to put me in the middle of their shit storm?

  “You love each other,” I reminded him. “And you’re great together. We all have bad patches.”

  “She’s changed, though, I swear. She’s baby obsessed.”

  He opened the oven door again and took out his brownie.

  “Well, perhaps her clock is ticking. Don’t you want kids?”

  “Of course I do,” he said, cutting the brownie into four. “I’d just like to settle a bit first you know? I’ve got this new job and we’ve just moved here.”

  “Sure, I understand.”

  “Sorry to off-load on you like this, I just needed a friend to talk to.”

  “It’s okay, no worries.”

  He looked up from his coulis preparation and gave me a warm smile.

  “You go back in there, I’ll bring this through in a minute.”

  “Okay. It looks lovely.”

  I saw Tom in the hall, on his way to the bathroom. He gave me a wink and touched my arm softly as we passed. I sat down at the table and Sasha glanced into the hall and then turned back at me.

  “Another thing,” she whispered, “is that Dean’s so tired all the bloody time. I know he loves his job but it’s like he doesn’t make time for me anymore.”

  I sighed, but Dean came into the room before I had a chance to respond.

  “Oh this looks lovely, darling,” Sasha said kindly to him.

  “Thanks, babe,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. Tom returned and I wondered if I could avoid being alone with either of them for the rest of the evening.

  “So I guess you guys have some great stories to tell about Ellen the student?” Tom asked as we finished our brownies. Which was delicious on epic proportions.

  “Oh yeah, she was a drinker. Threw up on me a good few times over the years,” Sasha told him.

  “And vice-versa,” I said, pointing at Sasha.

  “They were both as bad as each other, couldn’t handle their drink,” Dean told Tom, who was laughing. “One night they took it in turns to vom in a taxi, got thrown out and I had to go and pick them up.”

  “Lovely,” I said, feeling my face grow warm. “Thanks for sharing guys.”

  “What about that night you went to the Jasper Ryan concert?” Dean said. “That was so funny, you were both so—”

  Sasha kicked Dean under the table and he frowned, stopped and sat up straighter.

  I looked at Tom beside me. His smile had vanished and his mouth was set in a thin, straight line.

  “They were what?” he said, with a smile that didn’t look genuine.

  “Oh, just drunk again.”

  We didn’t drink that night of the concert. Dean was referring to the night we came back on a high, all loved up and crushing on Jasper. He’d made fun of us about it for weeks and right now I was pretty grateful he’d picked up on the sign to shut up.

  “Coffee?” Sasha asked, getting up and clearing the dessert dishes.

  “Let me help you,” Dean said, getting up too.

  “You okay? Nice food eh?” I asked Tom nervously.

  “Yeah, lovely,” he said without looking at me.

  “Everything okay?”

  “You just never mentioned you’ve seen Jasper live.”

  “Oh yeah, I almost forgot to be honest.”

  “Right.”

  “I mean, it’s not a big deal, is it?”

  “It just seems odd you didn’t mention it, that’s all.”

  “Sorry. I guess I didn’t think about it until now.”

  He smiled at me and put his hand on my knee and although he didn’t look happy, he seemed to relax again. If he was going to think this was odd, how would he react if he knew about that night in the hotel? How had I managed to get this far without speaking the truth? What might not have been a big deal then was a big deal now. I decided to change the subject.

  “These two have been bitching about each other,” I told him quietly. “They’re not getting on so well.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah. I set them up too, I kind of feel responsible.”

  His hand was still on my knee and he squeezed it, but he seemed kind of distant, and I wondered if it was really a big deal that I’d been to a Jasper concert. So what? Surely it didn’t matter. They might not be friends anymore but they weren’t arch enemies, either. Jasper had even suggested they meet up.

  Sasha returned with coffee and chocolates, and Dean produced a board game. The rest of the evening passed by with more laughter, fun and giggles, and although Tom didn’t seem quite the same, I think he’d let it slide. For now.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The first time I went to see Four Apes live was a wonderful thing. It was a few weeks before my fourteenth birthday and I’d been looking forward to this ever since the day I’d begged my dad to call up and book tickets. Laura came over in the morning and we worked on a banner that said ‘We love you Jasper & George’ and got so over-excited that I couldn’t eat the sandwiches my mum had prepared for us to eat in the car on the way down there.

  Dad dropped us off outside Wembley Arena and went off to visit an old work buddy while Laura and I joined the long queue waiting to get in. We each had a small amount of pocket money, so we spent a good half an hour at the souvenir stand deciding which t-shirt to get and then went to the girls’ toilets to put them on. Mine was black with a big Four Apes logo in the middle in lime green, and the dates of the tour on the back. I wore it in bed until I was about 23.

  We both squealed as we entered the arena and saw the stage. We had tiered seats at the side of the stage, which was a reasonable view, not as good as the front row, but not right at the back. My heart was pounding so fast I thought I might faint, and Laura revealed she’d almost wet herself and had to rush to the ladies’ again before they came on stage.

  We moaned all throughout the warm-up act that we just wanted Four Apes to come on and then we jumped to our feet screaming when the lights went out and the beats from one of our favourite songs began to pound out of the speakers.

  And there they were, four men whom I’d dreamt about, talked about, stared at on TV, stuck posters of to my wall, right there on the stage and in the same room as me. I was breathing the same air as Jasper Ryan and the thought made me feel giddy.

  Jasper began singing and dancing o
n the stage and we sang and danced along with him, reciting every single lyric. I remember looking at Tom playing the bass guitar out front and providing backing vocals. Laura and I screamed so loud that our throats grew coarse, but it didn’t stop us.

  During one of their songs, Jasper and Tom shared joint vocals and I remember watching them singing, feeding energy off each other, while Tom blasted his guitar and Jasper danced beside him.

  I would never have believed they’d not be friends one day. I’d have been distraught to even consider it. Right then, they were just four 18 year old mates who’d hit the big time with their music and I loved every single thing about them.

  Several years later, when it hit the headlines that the band was breaking up and Jasper had drink and drug problems, I was older and wiser and, although I still enjoyed their music and fancied Jasper like mad, I wasn’t concerned about them breaking up. Disappointed, but not distraught.

  How funny, I thought, as I lay in bed with Tom that night, that I should end up here, in his arms. Not Jasper’s. I thought of the night I met him and decided I’d never think of him that way again. I wouldn’t consider him sexy or even buy any more of his music. Jasper would cease to exist in my brain and I’d therefore be a much better girlfriend to Tom. And if he asked me about this gig I went to, I’d just say it was a long time ago, I was so drunk I’d forgotten I even went. And not mention the ten other times I’d seen him, or the time that we met.

  I sighed, wondering how I’d got myself in so deep without revealing something that was really not important, but had become so by its omission.

  It took me a long time to fall asleep, despite the wine consumed and being in the most comfortable bed I’d ever slept in.

  When I woke up the next day, Tom wasn’t there and I stretched and enjoyed the feel of the soft cotton bedding. Then I found one of his t-shirts – a Rolling Stones one that was screwed up on a chair in the corner – and went downstairs to find him in the kitchen making coffee.

  “Hello, sleepy,” he said, turning to give me a kiss.

  “What time is it?”

  “Gone ten.”

  “Oh wow. How long have you been up?”

  “A while. I’ve been writing a song. It’s about you.”

  “Really? Wow, I can’t wait to hear it.” I was immensely flattered and wondered who might end up singing it one day. All my hopes were for Kylie if it were a uplifting pop tune, or Ronan Keating, if it were a ballad.

  “So I’ve got us booked in at Jason Swift’s restaurant this evening. He’s a friend of mine. Have you heard of him?”

  “Has he been on Saturday Kitchen?”

  “Yeah that’s him, I think he was on a few months ago.”

  “Wow, I can’t wait.”

  “That’s at 7pm. So what do you want to do today?”

  I yawned and stretched while I thought about it.

  “Let me think…”

  “You look great in my t-shirt by the way.”

  “Thanks,” I grinned. “I’m not sure what I want to do.”

  He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in for a long, lingering kiss. It was impossible to resist him when he did that, and I think he knew it. Soon the Rolling Stones t-shirt had come off.

  An hour later, he said: “Well, I’ve never done it on this sofa before.”

  I giggled. “Really? Next stop, dining room table.”

  “That sounds comfortable.”

  We lay on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling for a moment.

  “So. Truth?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you, or were you, ever a fan of Jasper Ryan?”

  I laughed nervously. It was now or never and never seemed a better route to take.

  “Why?”

  “You never told me you went to a Jasper gig.”

  Oh. I’d forgotten about that.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to mention it. It was such a long time ago.”

  Well, that wasn’t technically a lie, it was a long time ago. I had also seen him live just last year but who cared about that, really?

  “It’s no big deal, I was just a bit taken aback. I thought Dean was going to say you were a huge Jasper fan and that’d be really, really weird.”

  I gave another nervous laugh. “Yeah, really, really weird.”

  “Like, you’d heard the reunion rumours and were getting to know me, in order to get to him.”

  What? Is that what he’d think? Seriously?

  “Gosh, could you imagine. Just as well for you, I like you for who you are.”

  He smiled.

  “Want some breakfast?”

  “Please.”

  Well, that put an end to the possibility of ever telling him the truth. At least I didn’t have to debate it in my head, or with my friends anymore.

  As there was nothing in the cupboards except some stale cereal, we went out for breakfast.

  “I love that you eat,” Tom said, grinning as I popped some blueberry pancake into my mouth. “I’ve been with so many women who hardly touch their plates.”

  “Silly, silly girls,” I said, winking.

  “So how’s Cath?”

  “Cath?”

  “Your bag?”

  I laughed and picked up my lovely teal with white spots bag. “She’s good. Thank you again.”

  “I thought you might need another present today.”

  “Tom, this is too much! You’ve already ordered me a mattress.”

  “Well, this is the last thing today, I promise.”

  “Just today?”

  I’d never been spoiled like this before, never had a boyfriend who was so attentive. It was pretty nice.

  “It’s actually your song,” he said, calling the waiter over. “The bill please.”

  “Okay,” I said, excited but nervous. I hoped I’d liked it. “How long did it take you to write?”

  “I started thinking about it in the Lakes. I wrote a lot while you were at your training course.”

  He paid the bill, then took my hand and we walked back to his lovely, lovely house and he took me into his music room. It contained all sorts of technical looking gear that was a mystery to me.

  “Sit here,” he said, gesturing to an office chair. “And put these on.”

  He handed me a big set of head phones, which I dutifully put over my ears.

  “Close your eyes,” he said, smiling. I did as I was told.

  The song started with a slow rhythm, and I loved it from the first few notes. It was a ballad, and although Ronan would indeed sing it beautifully, my Tom was singing it loud and clear. The lyrics were about falling in love, fast. How it was unexpected and magical. It was only as it ended that I realised tears were flowing down my cheeks. No one had ever made me feel so special. I opened my eyes and saw Tom looking at me, smiling.

  “Wow, I didn’t expect tears,” he said, taking the earphones off me. “I hope they’re happy ones.”

  “Tom, that’s amazing,” I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

  “You’re amazing,” he whispered in my ear. “And I’m falling in love with you.”

  “Me too.”

  There, we’d said it. We were in the love-zone.

  Once I’d gathered my emotions, we went for a walk around Holland Park, and Tom asked me a little about Jon. I asked him about his past girlfriends and he was vague. I didn’t mind; I didn’t need to know. Sounds like the only serious girl had been someone called Vicki, and things had ended pretty badly. That was all I needed to know; the details weren’t important.

  That evening we went out to Jason Swift’s restaurant, which was elegant and classy. It took me forever to decide what to eat.

  “So how do you know Jason Swift?”

  “I’ve only know him about six months actually. But we play squash together. He lives nearby. And we just got to talking and hit it off. Would you like to meet him?”

  “Of course.”

  Tom spoke quietly to the waiter who nod
ded, went out the back and then returned.

  “Jason says that’s fine, come on back,” he told us.

  Tom stood up and held out my hand and we were led through some swinging doors at the back of the restaurant. I was delighted to see all the chefs in their whites buzzing about and chopping things over steel worktops, just like on Masterchef. Jason came away from the food to shake Tom’s hand.

  “Good to see you, mate,” Tom said. “This is Ellen.”

  I shook Jason’s hand. He gave me a warm smile.

  “Nice to meet you Ellen, I hope you enjoy your food.”

  “It all sounds and smells amazing,” I told him, taking another good look around. I loved cooking shows and seeing behind the scenes in restaurants.

  “Thank you,” Jason smiled at me. “So you back home for a while? We’ll have to get a game in.”

  “Just for a bit, then back to France.”

  Huh.

  “Nice. We keep saying we’d love to go back.”

  “Any time mate, any time.” Tom turned to me. “Jason and his wife stayed at my villa for few weeks for a holiday.”

  “Lovely.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Jason smiled.

  “We’ll let you get back to work,” Tom told him and they shook hands and patted each other on the back before Jason went back to work. I followed Tom back out to our table and sat down opposite him. The waiter returned within seconds and poured out the Prosecco Tom had ordered. I took a sip and waited for him to explain the France comment, but nothing came.

  “So I’ve got something to ask you.”

  I put down my glass and looked at him.

  “Will you move in with me?”

  I felt my jaw drop a little. “Why?”

  “Why?” He looked hurt. “Because I love you. Because I don’t want to travel up and down the M1 every few days to visit you.”

  “But what if it doesn’t work out?”

  “What if it does?”

  “And what about France? You just told Jason you’re going there for a bit. I have a job to turn up to every day.”

  “Well, I was thinking about that as well. Maybe you could quit and come travelling with me for a bit.”

  “Tom, I can’t just quit! I have to earn money.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve got money.”