“So you guys are coming to Devon then?” George asked.
“Yeah. Jasper called you?”
“Yeah, right after he spoke to you I think. You coming too, Ellen?”
“Yes,” I told him, the nerves rising up again.
“Great. Jane is coming too, my wife.”
I knew that he was married with a couple of kids. Jane was in a 90’s girl band, who’d been tipped to be the next Spice Girls. They had a one-hit-wonder and were never seen again. Except for Jane, who was in the news a lot, hanging off George’s arm. I was glad they were still together; they always looked a cute couple.
I asked about the children and George showed me photos of them. They were older than I’d expected; reminding me how much time had passed since Four Apes split up and I stopped hearing about them – except for Jasper the huge solo artist, of course.
“Ellen saw us in concert once,” Tom told him.
“Ah really, which one?”
Oh god. The trouble with lying, is I couldn’t remember now what I’d told Tom about the ‘one time’ I’d seen them. Had I been suitably vague? What if I’d said I’d seen them at Wembley, but told George now that it was in Birmingham?
“I think it was at Wembley Arena?” I said, glancing at Tom. He smiled. Phew.
“Oh yeah we did a fair few gigs there, didn’t we?”
Tom nodded. “Yeah, loads.”
After George left, I watched Tom clearing away the dishes and all the Jasper concerns faded. We were strong now; we’d got serious fast, this was meant to be. Nothing could ruin it.
As he closed his dishwasher, I swept him into a hug and pulled him to the dining table. I thought it was about time we tried it out.
Chapter Twenty
A steward in a high-vis jacket waved us onto the Eurotunnel train and I watched Tom as he eased his Porsche onto the ramp. We drove through several carriages and eventually came to a stop. Another steward told us to put our windows down and turn the engine off. Tom turned down the music we’d been listening to and did as we were told.
Driving to France in a Porsche isn’t as glam as it might sound. There was no room for any big item of luggage, so I’d packed my things into several soft bags and Tom had to stuff them in as best he could. I wasn’t taking nearly enough different pairs of shoes and my Cath Kidston bag was full of make-up because it wouldn’t fit in anywhere else.
“Is now a good time to tell you I’m a bit claustrophobic?” I told Tom as the train started moving.
“Seriously?”
“Yes. I got stuck in a lift once.”
“You’ll be fine. It’s only half an hour. And you can get out of the car, if you want to.”
“I’m okay at the moment.”
I looked out of the window and read all the safety notices. They knew what they were doing, surely. And how often did you hear anything in the news about fires in the Eurotunnel? It happened rarely, right? Hardly ever, I was sure. I took a deep breath and let Tom’s chatter about some of the music he was writing distract me.
A sandwich and an apple later, and we were in France. And we drove. And drove. And drove. Tom had got me insured on his car, and I was delighted to manage a few hours of motorway driving – the Porsche handled like a dream, and the French motorways seemed devoid of road works or many lorries, making the whole thing much more pleasant than driving in the UK.
We stopped regularly for short comfort breaks, before ploughing on. It took ten hours from Calais to reach Montauroux, yet it didn’t feel quite so long as it sounded, with good music, good company and plenty of sugary snacks, the journey passed rather quickly.
“This is it,” Tom told me, indicating left and driving up a steep incline. We passed some houses and a village square. There were a few tourists and locals milling about, and a small bar, a patisserie and a shop. We rounded a corner and passed a small cinema, and went up an even steeper hill. Eventually Tom turned off down a gravel track, with several gated villas. He came to a stop in front of some big iron railings with a key pad.
“Shall I open it?” I asked.
“Please. The code is 1122.”
I put my window down and punched in the code. The gates opened and we pulled up under a carport.
The villa was beautiful. Surrounded with trees. Cream stone walls with shutters. A small pool in the garden, sparkling in the sunlight. Tom hopped out and opened all the shutters while I looked out at the pool and soaked up the sun’s rays, warming my skin.
“So, this is home for the next two weeks…”
I turned and saw Tom standing in the door way. He gestured for me to follow him inside for a tour. It was beautiful. White floor tiles, modern furniture. A fully equipped kitchen, three bedrooms and two bathrooms.
“It’s wonderful,” I told him. “I love it.”
“I hoped you’d say that. I bought it a few years ago. I wanted somewhere quiet to escape to. I love the trees outside. It’s just a very peaceful, calming place.”
I went out onto the patio and looked up at the trees moving softly in the breeze. It really was a beautiful location. I slipped my sandals off and sat by the pool. The sun had just about gone down and the water was cool as I dipped my feet in. Tom came over to sit beside me.
“Just you… me… and this…” I said, gesturing around us. “This is amazing, thank you for persuading me to come.”
“I wouldn’t have come without you.”
I smiled and leaned in to him. He started kissing me, and before I knew it, he was carrying me to the bedroom. I was a bit worried the cleaner, who came every few days, might turn up. Surely not, this late in the day? He was kissing my neck and I was about to ask, but then he started tugging at my dress. Oh, to hell with the cleaner.
The next morning I woke up wondering if life got any better than this. For the next two weeks, all I had to do was swim, eat, read, laze in the sun, shop, and be with the man I loved.
The first few days were spent quite lazily. We ate lots of baguettes and cheese, drank lots of really good wine – well, when in France…
On the fourth day, Tom was in the shower and I was lazing on a sunbed, reading a book he’d told me was really, really good. It wasn’t doing it for me so far but I was determined to keep at it. Then I heard a buzzing. I looked down and between our two sun-loungers was Tom’s phone.
I picked it up and looked at it for a moment. Number withheld.
I decided I’d answer it and politely offer to take a message.
“Hello?”
“Oh, hi, sorry I think I’ve got the wrong number.”
Holy crap, it was Jasper.
“This is Tom’s phone, are you looking for Tom?”
“Yes.”
“I’m his girlfriend.”
“Oh, hello. Sorry. Can you tell him Jasper called?”
“Sure, of course.”
“Thank you. Nice to speak to you, erm, sorry, I don’t know if he told me your name?”
“Ellen.”
Silence. Oh crap. Should I repeat myself? Hang up? What? My heart was beating fast and I took a deep breath.
“Have we met before Ellen?”
I gave a half-hearted laugh. “I don’t think so.”
“You sound like someone I met once.”
Was that me? Or someone else who sounded like me? Surely he didn’t remember me. Holy moly, what was I going to do if he recognised me in person, too?
“Someone else perhaps?”
“Yeah. Okay, well just tell Tom I called. Thanks Ellen. Nice talking to you.”
“No problem,” I said, then I pressed the end call button and put it back where it was. Why had I panicked? If I was like this during a short telephone call, what would I be like when I saw him in person? I had to keep cool and calm and, most of all, behave naturally.
Easier said than done.
I pushed Jasper from my mind – something I was starting to improve on lately – and concentrated on the book. Tom came back out and I mentioned the call.
“Hey man… Yeah that was Ellen. Ha, yeah, she’s got a nice voice.”
I stared at a word in my book until it became fuzzy.
“Great, so it’s booked? Thanks… Looking forward to it… Thanks… Yeah… See you then.”
He hung up.
“So we’re all set for the first weekend in July,” he told me.
“Great.”
“Jasper said you’ve got a nice voice.”
“Huh,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “No one has ever said that before.”
Another lie. Jasper told me that before, seven years ago. Fricking frick on a stick - this wasn’t good.
“Well, he’s right. You have got a nice voice. Maybe you should become a voice-over artist.”
I laughed without looking up from my book.
Holy crap. What was I going to do?
Chapter Twenty-One
Being in France was like a warmer version of the time we spent when we first met, except there were no other guests, no staff. Just me and Tom.
One day, we drove out to the Gorges du Verdon – the ‘French Grand Canyon’, a series of canyons and stunning valleys. We kept getting out of the car and taking photos, sitting and looking out at the amazing views, then driving on to the next nice spot.
We sat on some rocks looking out at a view, eating apples, and I thought about confessing the whole thing, about being a Four Apes fan, about meeting Jasper before. Surely it’d be better to just get it out there. But then I remembered what he’d said about dating a fan. And I thought about the rivalry between him and Jasper, the awkwardness that remained. I also knew he’d be angry; I should have told him before. I couldn’t ruin our holiday. So I, once again, pushed it to the back of my mind.
Another day we went to Nice and wandered around the shops. Tom kept trying to buy me gifts and I kept insisting that he didn’t. He was doing enough as it was.
During our second week, we drove to Monaco. We sat in a traffic queue for a while on the outskirts, surrounded by tall apartment buildings. Then the harbour opened up beneath us and I saw what all the fuss was about. One in three cars was a Porsche here; another third were Ferraris. We walked all over. We passed designer stores, admired stunning luxurious yachts and saw rather a lot of designer labels. I patted my Cath Kidston bag reassuringly so she knew I was happy with her, despite the beautiful Gucci bag I spotted behind a glitzy window.
“That’s the casino,” Tom pointed to an attractive looking building. “Had a wild night in there once.” He chuckled and I laughed along, wondering who he’d been with at the time. We walked through a garden area and sat on a bench for a while, looking out at the sea. There was a huge cruise ship on the horizon. I wondered where the guests on-board were headed off to next.
“I like it here,” I told Tom.
“It’s nice isn’t it? A lot of racing drivers live here. Met a few of them.”
I was impressed. “I bet you’ve met a lot of famous people.”
“I met the Queen once.”
I knew this. But I didn’t say.
“Oh wow, where?”
“At the Royal Variety performance.”
Of course. I taped that and watched it over and over.
“Who else?”
He listed a bunch of celebrities, and I was pretty impressed. Still so much to learn about him. But I was having fun learning it.
As it started to get late, Tom took me to a restaurant with views over the harbour. The food was amazing, and so were the prices but I’d learned to keep quiet and let him pay.
“You realise this is going to cost a month’s wages for me?” I whispered as we tucked into our dessert.
“I do. And I don’t like throwing lots of money around as if it’s not worth anything. But we’re on holiday. So enjoy.”
Enjoy I did. It was delicious.
After leaving the restaurant, we wandered around some more. It was getting dark and lights were starting to come on and reflect on the water. It was beautiful.
It would have been the perfect, most peaceful day if it wasn’t for what happened next.
“Tom?” called a voice. I knew that voice. I spun around and there in front of me once more was Jasper Ryan.
“Jasper!”
They stood awkwardly for a moment, and then grabbed each other in a strong man-hug. Jasper’s deep blue eyes met mine over Tom’s shoulder and he locked my gaze for a few moments before pulling away.
“What are you doing here?” Tom asked him. Jasper glanced at me again and my heart started beating faster.
“I’ve got a yacht moored here,” Jasper gestured towards the water. He’d told me that before and I’d forgotten. What were the chances of him being here today of all days? I took a deep breath.
“What about you?” Jasper was asking.
“We just came here for the day.”
“I didn’t realise your place was nearby?”
“Less than an hour away.”
“Wow. Small world.”
There was a group of people getting onto a yacht and Jasper waved to them. “Be down there in a sec guys.”
He turned back to us.
“This is Ellen,” Tom said, putting an arm around me, and I held my breath as I smiled at Jasper. He looked different to the last time I’d seen him, seven years ago. He had a few flecks of grey hair at his temples, and he’d lost some weight in his face. Yet his deep blue eyes still made me catch my breath as he looked at me.
“Hi,” I said as cheerily as I could. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too, Ellen.”
He looked at me for longer than necessary but didn’t say anything, so I was unsure if he recognised me, or perhaps couldn’t place me if he did. Phew.
“I better get back to my friends but do you guys want to have dinner tomorrow night?”
“Love to,” Tom said, nodding. “How about you come up to the villa?”
“That’d be great. Text me the address.”
“Sure.”
“Well it was great seeing you,” Jasper said, giving Tom another hug. He turned to me and kissed me gently on the cheek. Wow, he smelled amazing. “Great to meet you, Ellen.”
“You too,” I said, smiling back. He pulled away and looked at me.
“Are you certain we haven’t met?” he asked, tilting his head to one side and squinting at me slightly.
“I think I’d remember,” I told him, unable to look him in the eye.
“So see you tomorrow, yeah?” Tom held out his hand and Jasper grabbed it firmly.
“Yeah, it was good to see you, man.”
“See you tomorrow,” I said gently. Jasper gave me a smile that took my breath away. Why did I still feel this attraction towards him when the man I loved, this incredible kind wonderful man, stood right beside me?
“Yep. See you tomorrow.” He winked at me, turned, and walked down to his yacht. Tom and I turned to walk back up to the car park. I glanced back and Jasper was standing on the yacht, watching us. I quickly turned back again.
Tom put his arm around me and we meandered back through the busy streets. Even the carpark was more up-market than any I’d ever seen before, with painted floors and a fancy elevator.
“You’re quiet,” Tom said as we drove home. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just tired.” It wasn’t a lie, I was tired, but mostly I was thinking about Jasper. I didn’t want to see him tomorrow. I didn’t want to see him again, ever. Especially now that I knew I was familiar. What if he put it all together and remembered our night together and told Tom?
“It was weird seeing Jasper. But good. Weird good.”
“I bet it was strange.”
“You seemed a little…”
“What?”
“I don’
t know, shy maybe? Not as relaxed as when you met George.”
“Oh, I’m sorry… maybe I was a little star-struck,” I said, thinking fast.
“Well, he’s pretty famous.”
“So are you.”
“Not anymore. So he made you feel, what? In awe?”
Oh crap, how had I got us down this path of conversation?
“No, not at all. I was just a little taken aback, you know. He’s familiar from the TV and everything. Just didn’t expect to see him there. I’ll be more friendly when he visits.”
“It’s no big deal. It was good to see him. I’m glad we did.”
“Yeah,” I said, more enthusiastically than I felt.
Shit, shit, shit. I needed to pull myself together.
We got back to the villa and I relaxed a little. Jasper might have thought I was familiar, but surely if he was going to recognise me, he would have placed me right away. I was safe.
Tom opened a bottle of wine and we had a glass before falling into bed.
I dreamt that I was sitting on the patio, eating a pizza with Jasper. Tom was chatting to Felicity-the-model down by the pool and we were all laughing and joking and relaxed.
I woke up suddenly and wondered if my dream would come true. I somehow doubted it. The dinner was hanging over me and I didn’t know whether to be terrified or excited that Jasper Ryan was going to be here in this villa the very next day. One thing I knew for sure; I couldn’t be myself when I was around him, and that made me feel very uneasy.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I tried to relax during the day time, sure I was worrying about nothing and that Jasper would arrive, and he wouldn’t keep saying I was familiar, and I’d act cool, and everything would be fine. He hadn’t mentioned bringing Felicity, which disappointed me. At least if she’d been with him – if they were even still dating – then I’d be able to avoid him a bit more and chat to her.
Tom didn’t seem to realise I was nervous, or he didn’t mention it if he did. He’d bought some bread, pâté, cheese, olives and other bits from the local supermarket and hadn’t mentioned much else about Jasper coming.
“He’s here!” I called to Tom who was inside the villa getting fresh drinks.
The Truth About Ellen: A feel-good romantic comedy Page 13
