‘I didn’t hate horse racing. I hated everything that went with it. The drinking, the rudeness. The excess. The money you all gambled that day could have bought my mum a car. Or paid her gas bill for a year.’ Ellie sighed.
Rowland laid out two plates on the table and leaned down to a glass-fronted fridge, taking out a white container and dumping it into a pan on the stove.
‘Look, I get it. We acted terribly. I look back on those days with embarrassment, believe me.’ He shook his head. ‘We weren’t living in the real world then. But what I’m saying is, why wouldn’t you ever say what you were thinking? And why didn’t you ever talk about yourself? I mean, I know Toni told us that your mum had died. I think that was before I knew you. But otherwise, it was…pffft.A blank slate.’
Ellie thought for a minute before she responded, trying to decide how she could best explain what being inside a bubble of privilege was like when you came from a very different background.
‘I didn’t know that you thought that about me. That anyone thought that, in fact. All I was trying to do was fit in.’
‘You did fit in.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ Ellie explained, patiently. ‘You don’t know what it’s like, growing up poor. I got a full scholarship to Oxford. I had loans up to my eyes. Yes, because of who I knew at Oxford and the fact that I did well there, I got a good job and I paid off my debts. And I lived the high life with you and everyone else. I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy it, because I did, some of the time.’
‘I seem to remember you enjoying it as much as anyone.’ Rowland turned on the heat under the pan and frowned at it.
‘But a lot of the time I could just feel my outsider-ness around me all the time. You lot would exchange stories about your childhood, about your nannies and au pairs and learning to ski when you were five, and prep school. I didn’t have any of that. I grew up just with my mum in a really poor town, and it was only because I happened to be brainy and I worked my ass off that I got out of it. So I didn’t talk about my past, or about my life outside the bubble, because I had nothing in common with all of you,’ Ellie finished.
‘I see.’ Rowland stirred the pan and then took it to the table, dishing up tagliatelle onto the plates he had put there. ‘Dinner’s ready, if you are.’
‘I am.’ She sat down, feeling oddly empowered by her rant.
‘I didn’t know any of that.’ Rowland went back to the wine fridge and brought back a bottle of white wine and two chilled wine glasses. It was a warm night, and the wide bifold doors were open. Beyond, Ellie could see a concrete patio with some expensive-looking garden furniture placed on it. There were no plants at all, but there was a nice view of the sea. Again, Ellie couldn’t help comparing Mark’s green garden full of fruit trees with this concrete lounge area. It seemed sad not to have a garden in Cornwall.
‘Well, it’s true.’ Ellie twisted her fork in the tagliatelle and ate some: it was tasty though rather lukewarm.
‘Anything else I don’t know? Any other secrets bubbling away in that beautiful head of yours?’ Rowland poured them both a large glass of wine.
Ellie took hers, thinking she was going to have to pace herself if she was to avoid getting drunk and being put in a taxi by eight o’clock.
‘Well, yes, actually. It’s not a secret, but’ – she took a breath – ‘the reason I took time off work and came down to Cornwall was that I had breast cancer, and I had a mastectomy.’
She took a sip of her wine, despite her warnings to herself. Every time she said it, it got easier, but it was never by any means easy, and she doubted it ever would be.
‘Goodness. Wow, I’m so sorry. Ellie, I had no idea.’ Rowland put down his wine glass and stared at her. ‘You’re okay now?’
‘I’m fine. Recovering. I’ve been swimming in the sea a lot.’
‘That’s good. Not just the physical scars, though, is it? Very emotional thing.’
‘It is.’ Ellie met Rowland’s gaze, a little surprised.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. I just don’t remember you being this… mature.’ She chuckled a little.
‘People learn and grow, Ellie. My goodness.’ He raised an eyebrow at her and started to eat. ‘I’m sorry that happened to you, though. Cancer’s a bastard.’
‘It is indeed.’ Ellie speared a fat prawn with her fork. ‘But, I dunno. I was going to say something corny like it’s given me a chance to change my life. You know what I mean, I suppose.’ She gestured to the house.
‘I know all about big changes,’ Rowland agreed. ‘And I know that I’ve learned more about you in the past half hour than I did for the three years we hung out at parties and on holidays, and definitely for the handful of times we dated.’
Ellie shrugged. ‘It’s all ancient history now, anyway.’
‘It doesn’t have to be.’ Rowland was watching her with an uncharacteristically serious expression.
‘What does that mean?’
‘What it sounds like. I always liked you, and I’d like to start getting to know you again now. Properly. Date. Whatever,’ he continued.
