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

  ‘Until she comes to me.’ His expression was deadly serious for the first time during that meeting. Ellie had no doubt at all that he meant it.

  ‘So…’ Ellie chewed her pen thoughtfully. ‘What about the practicalities?’

  ‘I have my flask here,’ he said, shaking his thermos with a grin. ‘Isn’t that all a boy needs?’

  ‘You’re going to need more than that if you’re here overnight.’

  ‘There’s a lovely lady at number ten, she said I could use her toilet if I needed to.’

  ‘But if Gemma doesn’t come straight away, you’re going to need a lot more than a flask and a quick pit stop.’

  ‘Yeah, I know that. I was just joking about the tea. A mate of mine does bushcrafting…’ Ellie gave a confused frown and he smiled. ‘Wild camping… survival skills… eating berries and road-kill, that sort of thing,’ he explained, though Ellie didn’t really look any more enlightened at this. ‘Anyway, he has loads of kit that he says will see me through if I have to stay for any length of time. He’s bringing some of the less invasive stuff over… don’t want to annoy the residents by stringing a tarpaulin up between their houses, but an arctic grade sleeping bag wouldn’t go amiss.’

  ‘You really intend to stay here for days then… weeks even?’

  ‘I hope not. She’ll come for me before long.’

  ‘You sound certain of that.’

  ‘I am.’

  Ellie gazed at him for a moment. ‘Why did she leave you in the first place? I presume she did the leaving?’

  ‘Yeah…’ he replied with a heavy sigh. ‘I suppose I just got lazy and she got bored. I know now that I should have done more, been maybe a little bit more exciting, more what she wanted.’

  ‘How long had you been together?’

  ‘Two years. We shared a flat for a year – one of those new ones where the Queen’s Head pub used to be. Only rented, but nice. We did the usual couple stuff: take-outs on Friday nights, going to the cinema, weekends away in the Lakes. Sometimes she came and watched when I had band practise and at first she came to all my gigs. I’m not loaded – I pick up the odd fifty quid for a gig every now and again and I have a bar job… and I’m starting to do guitar lessons, which pays some…’ For a moment he seemed to sit a little taller. ‘I’m going to get my own music school eventually: singing lessons, guitar lessons, employ other people to teach other instruments – a proper legit business.’

  ‘That’s cool,’ Ellie commented as she scribbled it down. ‘We don’t have anything like that in Millrise, do we?’

  ‘Not yet,’ he grinned again. ‘But I’m going to put this town on the musical map like Liverpool or Manchester – somewhere that produces loads of great music.’

  ‘It’s about time someone did,’ Ellie agreed. ‘I’ve often thought we need more creativity around here.’

  He smiled at her, and Ellie found herself caught up in the bright intensity of his gaze, fired by all the hopes and dreams of his future. She mentally shook herself as he spoke again. ‘Anyway, Gemma’s job wasn’t brilliantly paid either but we got by. Nothing that would rock the world but I thought… I thought she was happy. Turns out she wasn’t.’

  ‘Didn’t she talk to you about it?’

  ‘We had rows, like any couple. I never realised that they were more than that. She never said a word about being fundamentally unhappy until she left.’

  ‘Perhaps she thought she would hurt your feelings.’

  He shrugged. ‘Yeah, because leaving me didn’t do that at all.’

  Ellie’s next question was cut short as they were hailed from a few feet away. From a car parked next to Ellie’s a man emerged: mid-thirties, slim and good-looking, hair already greying but swept up into a trendy quiff, camera on a strap slung around his neck.

  ‘Alright, Ellie?’ he grinned as he made his way towards them.

  ‘Patrick!’ Ellie smiled, ‘you’re just in time. Ben and I were about to get a coffee.’

  ‘We were?’ Ben asked with a faint look of surprise.

  ‘Yeah, I was just going to suggest a Starbucks… my treat, of course. I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing already and I’ve only been out here half an hour. You must be perishing; you need a hot drink inside you.’

  ‘I have my flask.’

  ‘Rubbish. I’ve been on enough folk festival road trips with my dad to know that flask tea tastes bloody awful. We need a proper coffee with foam and chocolate bits.’ She turned to the new arrival. ‘How about I let you two get on with the photos and I’ll bob around the corner for the drinks?’

  Ben gave an uncertain smile and Patrick nodded as he undid the case of his camera.

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Patrick said airily. ‘Mine’s an Americano.’

  ‘Who said I was buying you one?’

  Patrick laughed. ‘Because, Ellie Newton, you owe me coffee every day for the rest of your life!’

  ‘Go on then,’ Ellie said with an indulgent smile. ‘I suppose I could stretch to one more.’

  ‘Nice one. Now get lost so me and Ben can talk about cars and football and things that girls don’t know about.’

  Ellie glanced at Ben, biting back a wry smile. Somehow, she didn’t think cars or football were his thing.

  It seemed that the coffee shop was entirely staffed by new starters, and as Ellie waited for what felt like an eternity to be served, the warm scents of coffee and cinnamon filling her head, her phone flashed up a message.

  I drank a whole hip flask of whisky last night and my heart still hurts. Do we have a plan B for this scenario?

  Ellie couldn’t help a smile. She was used to Jethro’s antics. When they were at university together, Jethro had fallen in love with practically any girl who would snog him, so she wasn’t overly worried about his mental state. Together with the incredibly glamorous and slightly wealthy Kasumi (whom every red-blooded male within a ten mile radius fancied), the three had simply become rather unlikely best friends. But right now she did feel guilty that she still hadn’t found the time to go and visit him to offer a friendly shoulder to cry on.

  I’ll try to find time to visit soon, promise.

  You’d better, if only to help speed up my alcohol-related demise.

  Ellie slipped the phone into her pocket. She would have to answer him properly later, somehow, in between all the other things she had to do. But right now, she had a story to get to.

  When Ellie arrived back at Constance Street, Patrick and Ben were giggling like a couple of schoolgirls.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Ellie asked in a slightly bemused voice.

  ‘Oh, Ben was just telling me about the time he fell off the stage and broke his arm at one of his gigs.’

  Ellie raised her eyebrows. ‘Sounds hilarious.’

  Ben chortled. ‘I was writhing on the floor in agony with my guitar still strapped to me. The crowd thought it was part of the act, like I was trying to be Jimi Hendrix or something. So they just picked me up and crowd-surfed me around the venue for about twenty minutes before I could make anyone understand that I was actually hurt.’

  Patrick let out a guffaw. ‘Bloody brilliant.’

  ‘I think it sounds awful,’ Ellie replied, handing them both a coffee.

  ‘You did have to be there,’ Ben admitted. He lifted his cup slightly with a grateful smile. ‘And thank you, it’s very kind of you to get me one.’

  Patrick slid an arm around Ellie. ‘That’s Ellie all over. When she’s not beating me up she’s actually quite nice.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Ellie laughed, nudging him in the ribs. ‘So, have you done your photos?’

  ‘Yep,’ Patrick replied, peeling the lid from his cup and taking a sip. ‘Oooh, that’s a spanking cup o’ Joe.’

  ‘Great.’ Ellie handed Patrick her cup. ‘Hold that for a minute while I finish up with a few last questions.’

  ‘If he could sit this out until Valentine’s Day, it would make a bloody brilliant feature,’ Patrick said in a low voice as he and
Ellie walked back to their cars.

  ‘That’s a month away. There’s no way he can stay out here for a month.’

  ‘I don’t know… he seems pretty determined.’

  ‘A whole month, though?’ Ellie glanced back as Ben lifted his hand in farewell. They had left him with the lady resident who had previously offered the use of her toilet, the same one who had called them to cover the story. She seemed to be quite attached to her unconventional neighbour already and was now trying to force a plate of shepherd’s pie on him, despite his polite protests that he was a vegetarian. ‘He’ll be back in his flat by tomorrow night.’

  ‘Tenner says he isn’t.’ Patrick turned to her with a mischievous wink.

  Three

  Miranda Newton opened the front door with the most utterly defeated expression that Ellie had ever seen. She swept a stray blonde lock behind her ear. Her hair needed washing, Ellie mused vaguely, and it wasn’t like her mum not to be perfectly groomed at all times. Though she had not given birth to Ellie until her thirties, Miranda had always looked youthful and vivacious and could easily pass for a woman ten years younger than she was, even now. People often commented that it was her mother who had passed on the wrinkle-resistant genes Ellie seemed to have inherited. They looked uncannily alike too, aside from their very different hairstyles: Miranda’s was usually smoothed into a neat bob where Ellie wore hers short and tousled. They both had huge brown eyes and pert noses with more than a sprinkling of freckles across them. Ellie’s mother had always covered hers with foundation, but Ellie had learned to love hers. Today, however, Ellie’s mum didn’t look like that woman at all.

  ‘I got away as early as I could,’ Ellie said as she stepped over the threshold and followed her mum into the hallway.

  ‘I told you not to worry.’

  ‘Yes, you did. But your voice said otherwise.’

  Miranda let out a heavy sigh as she entered the living room and sank into an armchair. ‘I can’t believe after everything she went through to get well the damn disease came back like this. And so quickly too. It doesn’t seem right.’ She had clearly been crying for most of the day and now her eyes filled with new tears. ‘If there is a God up there who loves us, he has a funny way of showing it.’

  ‘It’s pure and simple bad luck, Mum. Some people get ill, some people don’t. Just like some people fall in love forever and some don’t, or some people can have children and some can’t. A sad fact of life.’

  ‘Your aunt Hazel must be very unlucky indeed then, as she couldn’t get pregnant, lost the love of her life and then got ill.’

  ‘Yeah…’ Ellie kicked her shoes off before flopping down on the sofa across from her mum, ‘Life sucks for some people more than others.’ She let her head fall back and stared up at the ceiling. ‘Shall we go over now?’

  ‘You’ve only just finished work; don’t you want a cup of tea or something to eat first?’

  Ellie looked at her mum and shook her head. ‘I’ve got this story to write up for tomorrow so I need to do that as soon as I get home. The earlier the better.’

  ‘You can’t keep skipping meals, you’ll be ill.’

  ‘I don’t skip meals.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Ellie. Remember, I brought you up. The moment you fixate on a task, you always skip meals.’ Her jaw tightened. ‘You get that from your dad.’

  Ellie smiled. Being fixated on a task wasn’t the only reason she was skipping meals at the moment, but to point out the extra pressure her parents’ estrangement was causing her didn’t seem the best way to soothe her mum at present. ‘I have to prove myself in this job, Mum. I love it. I can’t make four years of student loans count for nothing and I can’t go back to that tedious job that I had before university. If I have to skip the odd meal then so be it.’

  Miranda folded her arms. ‘I’m glad you’ve found something you want to do, but that doesn’t mean the rest of your life has to suffer.’

  ‘Vernon didn’t get to be deputy editor by finishing at five on the dot every evening and snuggling down to watch Antiques Roadshow with the missus. He worked bloody long hours to get to where he is and if I want to do the same then I have to do that too.’ She stretched and ran a hand through her hair. ‘You worry too much.’

  Miranda pouted. ‘It’s hardly surprising with the luck our family has had over the past few years.’

  ‘I know.’ Ellie leaned forward and squeezed her mum’s hand. ‘Shall we get going?’

  ‘We might as well. Delaying it won’t make things any easier.’

  ‘I’m going into the hospice,’ Hazel said flatly.

  Ellie and her mother both stared at her.

  ‘Why?’ Miranda asked. ‘I thought you were happy to stay at home.’

  ‘I won’t be a burden to anyone,’ Hazel replied. She was doing her best to retain the air of someone who was completely in control, but Ellie could see beneath the determined set of her aunt’s jaw that her heart was breaking. At this moment, the statement Ellie had made only half an hour earlier about life being unfair had never seemed truer.

  ‘We can look after you,’ Miranda pleaded.

  Hazel cut her short with a hand in the air. ‘You can’t even drive, Mi. How are you going to get over here two or three times a day? And Ellie has her job. It’s either the hospice or getting care to come to the house every day, and that would cost a fortune.’

  ‘If it’s money –’ Ellie began.

  ‘I have enough money,’ Hazel cut in. ‘But, I’m not spending it on that.’

  ‘We talked about this already,’ Ellie replied firmly. ‘I don’t want anything when you… well, I don’t want money left to me… not like this. I want you to get the best care for what time you have left.’

  ‘I’ve made my decision.’

  Ellie sighed and exchanged an exasperated look with her mum.

  ‘I could move in for a while,’ Miranda offered. ‘I’d be here all the time then.’

  Hazel rolled her eyes. ‘That sounds bloody brilliant. I’ve always wanted my house demolishing by a crazed, middle-aged DIY novice. And I’m even more excited about the prospect of cohabiting with a perpetually sulking clean-freak.’

  Miranda folded her arms and scowled at her sister. ‘Sarcasm won’t throw me off the scent.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you giving up your life for me. I’m nobody’s millstone.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be a millstone,’ Miranda insisted. ‘You’re my sister. I can’t just abandon you to the care of strangers when you need me most.’

  ‘Ellie needs you.’

  ‘I’m old enough to take care of myself,’ Ellie said. ‘Remember?’

  ‘I don’t doubt that for a moment,’ Hazel replied in a level voice. ‘I never had the children I wanted and you’re the nearest I have to a daughter. I want to leave you what I would have left my own.’

  ‘I don’t want it…’ Ellie winced as she caught a hurt look from her aunt. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I just want the same as Mum does – I don’t want you to spend the rest of your time being looked after by strangers. Mum and I can do it.’ Despite the purpose of her tone, Ellie wasn’t entirely sure the last bit of her argument was true. With the hours she spent working these days, she suspected that most of the looking after would be done by her mum. But knowing how much it mattered to her mum that Hazel stayed at home for her final days, she would back her to the hilt, no matter how many white lies it took.

  Ellie’s gaze swept the room they now sat in. It had once been Hazel’s pride and joy, decked out with all the latest interior design trends: bright colours, sumptuous furnishings, every ornament perfectly positioned for maximum aesthetic effect. Now the detritus of illness was everywhere. The chunky corduroy sofa that Hazel was draped across was piled high with blankets and cushions, the coffee table littered with packs of tablets and water bottles, a sick bowl within easy reach. The weak January sun had broken through the clouds and showed the dust on the windowsill where a few yea
rs previously not the tiniest speck would have rested. Now that Ellie thought about it, perhaps her aunt would be better in the hospice. Perhaps the house only served as a reminder of all she had lost, even before the cancer struck. At least in the hospice she’d have constant supervision and care, and relief from the painful memories. She glanced at her mum, wondering whether to voice her thoughts. Miranda met her gaze and Ellie saw it at once – the stubborn refusal to give in. Just like she would stubbornly refuse to forgive Ellie’s dad, no matter how much he pleaded and how lonely she was without him.

  ‘Maybe…’ Ellie began slowly, looking at her aunt, ‘you should give it a few weeks before you do anything about the hospice, see how you get on here first.’

  Miranda nodded her approval. ‘I think that’s a good idea.’

  ‘I know what you’re trying to do,’ Hazel countered, ‘but it won’t work. You think by then I’ll be too weak and useless to organise it and you’ll refuse to so I’ll just have to stay here.’

  ‘God!’ Ellie squealed. ‘Would you listen to yourself? We’re just trying to do the best we can for you.’

  Hazel pouted as she shot Ellie a defiant look. But then her expression softened. She sighed. ‘Right… I won’t phone straight away. Happy?’

  Ellie nodded vigorously. She gave her mum a cautious glance and saw that she seemed happier. ‘Right,’ she said briskly before the argument could be reopened, ‘who’s for jelly and ice-cream?’

  Ellie closed the front door behind her and let out a sigh. She glanced at her watch. It had just gone ten. She and her mum had left Hazel sleeping and Ellie had dropped Miranda off, excusing herself from going into her mum’s house to continue a discussion about family problems that seemed to go around in ever-decreasing circles, by feigning tiredness and an early start. Not that she needed to feign anything now as she let out a huge yawn that took her completely by surprise. She had been running on adrenaline the whole day and now she was alone it had subsided, leaving her exhausted. Bed most definitely called, but she stopped mid-way along the hall and clapped a hand to her head.