3. Ellie
3
ELLIE
E llie arrived back at Barnaby’s parents’ North London home with a damp left foot and an ache in her right bum cheek that made her think she might have pulled something doing her high kicks. A bath and a mug of tea were definitely in order to soothe her after the ordeal she’d been through.
As she searched in her bag for the house key, a terrible thought hit her.
Barnaby’s parents would be so disappointed in her. They would probably not want their son to continue his relationship with her because who wanted their child involved with a failure? If she had children one day, she wouldn’t want them to be in love with someone with no job and no prospects. Perhaps she could avoid telling them about the audition and being let go by Ramona and instead announce her desire to marry and be a stay-at-home parent. Or was that home maker? Who knew what the correct term was these days? Language kept developing and Ellie often found herself putting her foot in it with her boyfriend who was a stickler for being politically correct. According to Barnaby, a fisherman was no longer that but a fisher. Blonde hair was now blond, regardless of gender. Ellie struggled to absorb it all on a daily basis. And now, this crisis … Hitting the casting director in the face with your footwear was unacceptable, especially when you broke said person’s nose. Or so she’d read in the Actors R Us WhatsApp group she was in, where she had not been named but where her mishap had become the day’s delicious gossip. Her so-called friends had commented with delight, their emojis expressing shock and horror, but their words expressing so much more. How they would hate to be the centre of such gossip and yet, despite their daily mantras like Be Kind, You Never Know What Someone’s Going Through , they really did enjoy hearing about things going wrong for someone else. Like vultures, they had picked over the bones of her audition and filled their bellies with her misfortune.
Ellie finally located her key and slid it into the lock, then pushed the door open. The grand hallway spread out before her, the chandelier sparkling, the tiled floor polished, the scent of lilies and freesias filling the air. There was a faint hint of last night’s chicken in a creamy white wine sauce that they had eaten with tender-stem broccoli and baby carrots. Ellie’s stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten that day because of nerves and a desire to keep her stomach flat for the audition. There was nothing worse than being told she might have got the part if she’d been twenty pounds lighter or not quite so big-boned , as one casting director had put it. Political correctness rarely reached the shady netherworld of the casting couch, and that was, apparently, perfectly fine amongst actors and directors. If you didn’t look right for a part, then you could be told so in no uncertain terms. As Ellie had been forced to accept many times. And yet, she had not succumbed to the fad diets she’d seen her fellow actors endure — like the one that involved drinking water infused with maple syrup and lemon juice while starving oneself for days. She’d also found she couldn’t cope with the low-carb diet of eating lots of fatty foods and red meat. Her stomach had been desperate for some fibre after three days, her bowel rather … bunged… and she’d decided dieting wasn’t for her. There were curvy actors out there who did perfectly well, and she aspired to be one of them, to fly the flag for women with boobs and bums everywhere. Oh, to be coveted for magazine covers where she’d embrace her curves and encourage others to do the same because life was for living and enjoying and surely food was part of that? Not that she thought she was greedy, no, but she liked food. Even when she’d been at her thinnest, she’d still had hips and a rounded bottom, both down to genetics that would never change.
And so… Ellie had not forced herself to fit someone else’s version of perfection, and now, partly because of that, she had lost her agent and the chance of future auditions. She sagged inwardly for a moment as the full brutality of the situation hit her. What an awful mess.
Her stomach growled again, bringing her back to the moment. There was nothing she could do to change what had happened. Everything would (maybe, though she doubted it) seem better in the morning. For now, she needed to eat, soak in a fragrant bubble bath, and drink lots and lots of tea.
Dropping her bag on the bottom of the stairs, she removed her one remaining pump then headed through to the kitchen, already wondering what she would find in the fridge to put in a sandwich.
‘Oh!’ She jumped when she found Barnaby sitting at the kitchen island. ‘I didn’t know you’d be home.’
He looked up from his phone as if surprised to see her, too. His eyes slid over her from top to toe in the way that had once made her feel like he was trying to seduce her, but now made her feel like he was assessing her for a role. Assessing her and finding her wanting, that was.
‘I thought you were going out today?’ Ellie phrased the comment as a question.
‘I am and will be… soon. But…’ He pushed his floppy ginger hair back from his freckled forehead and sighed. ‘I think we need to talk, Ellie.’
Uh oh …
It was never a good sign when Barnaby said they needed to talk.
‘Look … I’m guessing you’ve heard.’ Ramona’s mobile was likely red hot since # tapdancenosegate , and someone would have delighted in letting Barnaby know what a failure his girlfriend was. ‘Barnaby … I-I gave it my best at the audition but?—’
Barnaby stood up, held up a hand and shook his head. ‘No, Ellie! Let me speak first.’
‘Oh. OK.’ She placed her hands on the surface of the kitchen island and leant against it for support, aware that something was going on here that she would not like. She gazed at Barnaby, watching how his eyes flickered from side to side like he was trying to calculate the square route of something. They’d been together for six years, living together for four — albeit in his parents’ home. Ellie thought that should mean that they knew each other well, that they were comfortable with each other, but sadly, it wasn’t the case. If anything, the longer they were together, the more Ellie felt like Barnaby was a stranger. In the early days of their relationship, she’d believed their passion and adoration would carry them through the years and that they’d always be happy, always be close. But with each passing year, the passion had waned, the emotional intimacy too. Some days, she wondered if she knew Barnaby at all because he seemed like a total stranger, even though they shared a room and a bed, even though she had seen him grow from a man in his early twenties to one who was almost thirty. Surely that should equal closeness, but instead, all she felt, quite often, was very lonely. She’d read that feeling lonely in a relationship was a sign that you needed to put some work in and so she’d tried that, but Barnaby seemed disinterested. He’d accused her of being needy and demanding and told her to relax. She was, she knew, scared to push him too hard in case he turned around and told her he didn’t want to be with her anymore and she would have to start over. Even if staying with Barnaby and his parents didn’t necessarily equate to happiness, she’d clung to it, paying them most of her bar job salary as rent. The bar job that was meant to be temporary until she scored an acting role, but had turned out to be her only source of income.
‘The thing is, Ellie.’ Barnaby was frowning now, his pale brows meeting above his long thin nose with its a pointy tip, just like his mother’s. During cold weather, the tip turned bright pink and she’d initially found it cute. Found him cute. Handsome? To a degree. Hunky? Not really. But she had been attracted to him with his slim physique and pale blue eyes, as well as to his confidence. Time had taught her, though, that his confidence bordering on arrogance came with being certain of his place in the world and of a future that wouldn’t involve financial hardship. Barnaby’s parents would always have his back and on top of that, he had a trust fund that he’d be able to access when he turned thirty. Barnaby would want for nothing. It wasn’t his financial security, however, that had attracted Ellie to him. She’d liked him in the early days of their dating, had found him funny and sweet. They’d seemed to fit and so when she’d met his parents she’d been somewhat overwhelmed by their wealth and status, had worried about not fitting in with them and wanted to run. But Barnaby had told her he loved her and that his parents would too. Somehow, she’d ended up stuck in a cycle of trying to prove herself to the three of them like some prize race horse that they smiled at and patted but one day expected to sell.
‘Yes, Barnaby?’
He held up a hand; the palm facing her and shook his head as if he’d called out CUT! The director he aspired to be evident even now - although, truth be told, he’d yet to direct anything other than a three minute YouTube documentary about being an aspiring director.
‘Ellie … I have come to a realisation.’
She gave a small nod, her neck muscles stiff with nerves. Here we go…
‘I need to meet my potential and I cannot do it while living at home with my parents. Therefore … I am going travelling for a year.’
‘What?’
So he wasn’t breaking up with her? Or was he?
‘I’ve booked my flight already, so don’t try to stop me. I need to do it for me .’
‘For you ? For an entire year? But what about us?’
‘You can stay here with Mum and Dad, if you like, and I’ll see you when I get back.’
‘Barnaby … You made this decision without speaking to me about it? How’s this supposed to make me feel?’
‘Your feelings are not my priority. I need to discover who I am before I hit thirty and so I’m going to travel the world and find myself.’
‘Oh.’ Ellie gripped the marble surface of the island so hard her knuckles turned white. She blinked rapidly. Barnaby was going away. For a year. And he was suggesting that she stayed here and carried on like nothing had changed. Stayed with his parents who didn’t seem to like her so much as tolerate her. She’d been hoping to land a job that would allow her to save a deposit for a rental flat, but that seemed impossible now. ‘Barnaby … Can I ask you one thing?’
‘As long as it isn’t asking me not to go.’
‘Did you … Did you think about asking me to come with you?’
Something flitted across his face, then disappeared. Was it panic? He’d clearly thought this through and knew what he wanted to say to her, but had been expecting more resistance, perhaps?
‘This is about me, not you. I know you have things here to do … like finding a new agent now, it seems, and I need some… space and time.’
‘Are we breaking up?’ She released the island and slid her arms around her waist, sucked in a shaky breath.
He shrugged. ‘Not really. Just taking a break .’
‘Right. So, basically, Barnaby, you’re admitting that you no longer love me.’
A beat of silence fell then stretched out between them. The clock on the wall ticked, filling the silence with a sense of foreboding. The clock made Ellie think of a Macbeth performance she’d once seen, where a giant clock was used as a prop to emphasise Macbeth’s thoughts on time.
Ellie met Barnaby’s eyes and saw nothing in them. No love. No affection. No compassion.
Whatever happens, happens, and time goes on, regardless.
‘There’s no need to be that dramatic, Ellie.’ Barnaby rolled his eyes, and she hugged herself tighter.
‘Well, that’s OK, Barnaby, because … because I don’t think I love you either.’ As she said the words, she knew they were true. It was over. It had been over for some time, but out of fear and habit, they’d stayed together. But now, Barnaby was going away for a year and it was time for Ellie to make a move too.
‘Look, Ellie … I’m sure Mum and Dad will let you stay on until you decide what to do or until you find somewhere else.’
‘It’s OK, Barnaby. I know what I need to do.’
‘And what’s that?’ He cocked a brow, and she forced a smile to her lips.
‘I’m going to go home.’
‘Home?’ His voice wavered as uncertainty took hold. ‘What do you mean, home ? You’ve lived in London for a decade.’
‘But you know what? It never felt like home. I’m going home to Cornwall.’
With that, Ellie stopped hugging herself, pushed back her shoulders and, holding her head high, she marched out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into their shared bedroom. As she started emptying her things out of drawers and piling them on the bed, she felt better than she had done in ages. At last, she had taken back some control over her life and finally, after years of wondering if she wasn’t good enough for Barnaby, she now knew she was more than good enough. The fact that he would leave her to go travelling when she’d just lost a part in a play and her agent on the same day showed her exactly how highly he valued her and their relationship. Ellie had tried to make things work with Barnaby, but he had given her the green light to walk away and that was what she was going to do.
But as she looked at the pile of clothes on the bed, a pang of guilt hit her. Her gran had always been her biggest supporter, and she couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing her. She had dreamed of Ellie making it big, and now Ellie was going to have to explain that it hadn’t worked out. The thought of seeing the disappointment in her gran’s eyes was almost worse than anything else. But she would tell her gran the truth; she had no choice. And though it would hurt, Ellie knew that this was the first step toward truly starting over.
She sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. Not everyone’s dreams came true, and yet, part of her still wished her shoe story had ended more like Cinderella’s—with a happily ever after—rather than the disaster of #shoegate.