Chapter 11
ELLIE
The first few weeks of living together was a whole new world.
Jake was not a morning person—incompatible with a four-year-old who considered sunrise his own personal alarm—and he seemed to have an annoying aversion to hanging up his damp towels.
But I liked coming home to him and his eclectic taste in music, filling the flat with laughter and life, and the sight of Jake and Noah’s shoes lined up side by side and their cute difference in size, never failed to make me smile.
He was sweet and thoughtful in ways I hadn’t expected either. One evening, I came home to a vase filled with every pink flower imaginable because he’d noticed I was sad when the yellow bouquet finally died, and he didn’t like it.
He’d also started leaving protein smoothies in the fridge on the mornings I had an early shift after I’d mentioned not always having time for breakfast, and almost every night I found a post-it note stuck to my bedroom mirror describing something cute or funny Noah said or did that day.
22/01/24: We cooked today and Noah said the saucepan didn’t have a hat. He meant a lid. LOL.
25/01/24: He called elephants ‘elphabobs’
29/01/24: We threw a coin in the fountain at Trafalgar Square and Noah wished for hot dogs. He was so serious about it that’s why we’re having hot dogs for dinner. Act surprised.
01/02/24: Today he said he’s ready to move out.
03/02/24: He asked for ice cream for lunch because he said it misses his tummy.
Most nights I went to bed beaming, re-reading the growing stack of pink, yellow and green scrawled with mementos I otherwise would have missed.
A whole new world, but it strangely felt like the right one, even if it was only for a little while.
“Is that coffee cake I can smell?” Jake asked, pausing to ruffle Noah’s hair before joining me in the kitchen.
Red-faced and sweaty from his workout, he was dressed for running today; an all-black ensemble of shorts over skin-tight leggings, and a long-sleeved quarter zip top.
The only exception was a backwards baseball cap in a denim blue that made his eyes pop.
So simple, yet somehow it was the most attractive thing he’d ever done in front of me.
A backwards freaking baseball cap!
Why is that so hot?
I forced myself to look away, and hoped it wasn’t obvious exactly how unhinged he made me feel sometimes.
“Good nose,” I said.
Good. Freaking. Nose?
“You know, that’s not the first time I’ve been told that.” Jake swiped a glob of pale gold frosting from the mixing bowl, and another before I whacked his hand.
He flashed one of his cheeky grins and braced himself on the counter beside me, watching while I pressed a circle of walnut halves into the thick layer of buttercream frosting and tried not to think about his proximity, almost stifling in the small room.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked.
“We’re visiting Maggie today and I’m making her favourite cake to take with us.” I gave a final spin of the rotating cake stand to double-check the sides. “Do you want a slice? There’s plenty.”
“You shouldn’t even need to ask. Hit me with it.”
I served him a generous slice and watched with interest while he chewed, eager to see his reaction.
“Ellie,” he breathed out, forking another mouthful with a satisfied hum that made me flush with warmth. “This is the best cake I’ve ever eaten. Holy crap.”
“You think so?”
“Even if my brothers weren’t chefs, I know what I’m talking about. Trust me.”
“Oh.” I felt lighter all of a sudden. Springy. “Thank you.”
“You could sell this in shops, easily.”
“No, it’s just a hobby.”
“Hobbies make good businesses, and this is damn good. I’m serious.”
I busied myself cutting a few more slices and loaded them carefully into a Tupperware container.
Jake’s confidence in my abilities, his adamance, gave me the quiet boost to admit, “I always wanted to open my own little bakery.”
It was the first time I’d spoken the dream out loud to another person, and everything fluttered inside me. Sharing parts of myself was still terrifying because what if they didn’t like those parts? What would I do then?
“What stopped you?” Jake asked, sucking a dollop of frosting from his thumb.
I shrugged. “Everything, I guess? Timing, money, me, my mum.”
The last one made him frown, and it wasn’t surprising. I hadn’t spoken about my mother since I’d told him how she died. Not because I didn’t want to, but grief was an unpredictable thing. I never knew what might set me off.
“I get why you might doubt yourself because we all do that,” Jake said, “but why your mum?”
“I know it’s not what she wanted for me.”
“What do you mean?”
I gathered the dirty mixing bowls and utensils and set them in the kitchen sink, needing a few extra seconds to think. This was the last thing I expected to talk about today, and I had a quick internal debate on what to share and exactly how much was too much.
“It’s a long story.”
“I have time.”
“Well, we didn’t have much growing up.” I focused on filling the sink with hot, soapy water.
“When my dad left, we lived in temporary accommodation and then council housing, and there was a lot of stigma around that. People looked down on us, like we were less than somehow, and it made my mum so angry and bitter.”
“People suck,” Jake seethed.
“Sometimes they do. I was even bullied for wearing a secondhand blazer at school because we couldn’t afford a new one. There was just a lot of hate because of our circumstances, and mum always wanted better for me, always pushed for more, even though there was nothing wrong with what we had.”
I drifted off in the memory of her for a moment. Some days she was so vivid to me, and others she’d already started to fade.
“She had this idea that if I went to university, I’d get a good paying job and I’d make it off the estate and prove everyone wrong. I never really managed any of that.”
“My parents were similar, you know,” Jake said quietly. “It’s like university was the be-all and end-all. They were devastated when I dropped out.”
“I didn’t know you went to university.”
“For eighteen months.”
“What happened?”
“It wasn’t a good fit for me. School was never my thing.
I was more street-smart than book-smart, but I felt pressured to go.
After a while, I knew my heart wasn’t in it.
My parents were mad for a long time. In fact, I’m sure it’s at the heart of all their disappointment in me. So I get it, Ellie. I really do.”
“Do you… do you ever feel like you let them down?”
“Sometimes, but I didn’t let myself down. It was the right thing for me.”
I stared at the soap bubbles popping on the surface of the sink water.
“I feel like I let my mum down sometimes. I’m not living the life she wished for me, and every time I think about disappointing her, it holds me back even more.
Sometimes I feel frozen by it. Like I’m holding still in time and the world is racing by and I’ll never catch up. ”
The kitchen was quiet long enough for the cartoon sounds in the background to creep inside.
“You want to know what I think?” Jake said.
“Sure.”
“Well, first, you’re amazing. The world needs more Ellies.”
I managed a watery smile, and for the first time I didn’t feel the need to hide the shine in my eyes. “And the second thing?”
“You said to me once, ‘Whatever makes Noah happy’, and I think your mum would want the same thing for you.”
I cradled the idea of it in my mind. “It’s a nice thought.”
Jake studied me closely and seemed to understand I had reached my limit on the conversation. He collected his plate and fork, set them by the sink, then gave my shoulder a lingering squeeze.
“If you’re not living the life your mum wished for you, I hope you’re living the life you wished for yourself. You deserve that.”
He dropped a kiss to my forehead and joined Noah on the sofa, leaving me with the lingering heat of his touch and the weight of his words.
I couldn’t shake either of them.
“Maggie’s on the fifth floor so what number do we press?”
“Five,” Noah said once he’d thought about it. He raced over to the elevator’s panel of buttons and barely needed a moment to find the right one before jabbing it more times than necessary.
“Good job!”
We shared a high five. We high-fived everything now, ever since Jake introduced the gesture.
Pancakes for breakfast—high five. Finishing a bedtime story—high five.
A successful, tear-free bath time—high five.
Noah loved it for some reason, probably the novelty of something new, and Jake found his excitement more than a little amusing given the pleased smile he wore every time it happened.
Damn cute on both sides.
“Now, when we see Maggie, we have to be careful when we hug her.”
Noah peered up at me, intrigued. “Why?”
“Well, remember she fell over and hurt herself, so we have to be gentle, okay? She might not want to hug us at all, and that’s okay too.”
“But we love hugs.”
“I know, but she might be hurting. Let’s wait and see what she says.”
“Okay.”
“There’s other people in the room who might be hurting too, so we have to talk with our inside voice. This is a hospital and people come here to rest and feel better. They don’t want anyone shouting or running around. Do you understand?”
He nodded. I squeezed his hand as the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open.
Noah had never visited anyone in hospital before. He was subdued taking it all in as we headed to the orthopaedic ward, but all of that disappeared the second he spotted Maggie.
He roared her name and raced over, much to the amusement of the three elderly ladies occupying the other beds.
“Noah!” I whisper-shouted, glancing around. “I’m so sorry, ladies.”
“Oh, don’t apologise,” one piped up. “It’s nice to have a bit of excitement. It’s like the morgue around here.”
“Barbara!”
“What? It is. I’ve seen more life in a cemetery. Never been so bored in my life.”