Page 82 of Love At First Fright
“Seems like a pretty good way to spend it. What’s over there?” Rosemary pointed at a wooden archway entangled with vines.
“The loveseat area. Very hidden from view.”
“Let me guess…”
“Yes, I will be fucking you there, too. As a matter of fact…”
During the next fifteen minutes, Rosemary didn’t feel the cold, and her appreciation for Ellis’s large garden and high evergreen walls tripled.
29
It was the weekend, andEllis had just dropped Rosemary off at the nearby train station of Lower Foxleigh, showing her the route to get into London to visit her friends. He’d offered to drive her the whole way, several times, but Rosemary said she wanted to get used to the trip. Even though her deadline was fast approaching, and he could see the way the stress was eating at her, he knew that seeing her friends was exactly what Rosemary needed today. Besides, he didn’t want to be the boyfriend who annoyed the best friends by hogging Rosemary from them.
He had an ulterior motive, of course. Ellis wanted to continue working on the secret room, and he wouldn’t be able to do that while Rosemary was in the house. He’d had the idea when she was writing with her laptop balanced on her lap in the cottage, after he’d invited her to stay with him for the rest of the shoot.
It was when he stood in his paint-covered overalls amidst the boxes that he’d had shipped to his house, which were filled with the parts he’d need to build Rosemary a desk to go under the window, that Ellis realised he was in love with her.
Why else would he be painting walls a light rosy pink, or putting up framed posters of vintage horror movies that Rosemary liked? Why else would he have set up a bird feeder, birdhouse, and fountain outside the window in the hopes that Rosemary would be able to spot a willow tit, the bird she’d been trying to spot for ages?
Ellis wanted her to stay with him, live with him. Marry him, when he eventually asked and an appropriate amount of time had passed that she wouldn’t think he was a nutter. The realisation that he was in love didn’t come entirely as a shock to Ellis; he suspected he’d been falling for quite some time. Probably from the moment they’d argued in the Cloverwood Hotel. It was dizzying, and he had to pause for a moment to take it all in.
Rosemary was everything he’d dreamed about in a partner, and she’d trusted him enough to tell him about her ghost-whispering abilities. There was also a rather irrational part of him that loved her all the more because she’d met Hank, even as a ghost. Like he’d got Hank’s seal of approval.
Still, he hadn’t shared everything with her, had he? No, he’d kept that one very vital part of himself locked away. Who would want to spend an eternity in the closet, Rosemary had asked, talking about the pair of ghosts in Hallowvale. Who indeed.
He wanted so badly to tell her he was bi that it constricted his chest. He wanted to lay his soul before her and see if she still wanted him after.
Once the walls were dry and the posters were up, Ellis let Fig into the room, and began the slow process of building the desk and bookshelves. He managed one shelf, and stopped, not wanting to chance Rosemary coming back while he was still at work.
The afternoon had drawn down into blue evening light, thedays were getting so short now with the approaching winter solstice. He switched on the garden lights and got Fig her dinner.
What sort of things should he buy for her for the kitchen? What teas did she like, what sort of breakfast did she like to have on quiet Sunday mornings? There was so much he still wanted to learn about her, and Ellis hoped she would be happy enough staying here—with him—that after she went to visit her dad in Georgia for Christmas, she’d still come back.
Ellis knew her life was abroad. Sure, she’d packed up her flat and told him her closest friends were here, but it was one thing moving across states, a whole other moving to another country.
His phone buzzed with a text from Brody. He couldn’t just keep ignoring his agent.
The text read:Booked you an interview on the Theo Drake Show, next Friday night. Tell Eva to bring the green Armani suit.
Sometimes—only sometimes—when Brody was like this, Ellis didn’t mind it. Theo Drake was always a pleasure to be interviewed by. His show always grouped together stars and celebrities from various walks of life, and Ellis never said no to his interviews. Theo was a short and wiry trans man who had risen to fast fame through his sharp wit and no-nonsense interview skills. He never asked questions to make his guests uncomfortable, never pulled hurtful pranks, and always had exceptional live music from up-and-coming artists. Seeing someone as talented as Theo rise through the TV journalism ranks so quickly gave Ellis a rush of joy. Enough that he was able to reply to Brody with a semblance of politeness.
Thank you, I’ll be there,he texted back.
Sweaty from all the work, Ellis showered then sat on the bed looking at Rosemary’s half-empty suitcase, contemplating it all. Somehow it was easier to contemplate things when you were sitting naked on the bed.
He wished again that he had more friends he could talk to about this, people who knew about his sexuality and who might be able to offer him advice. His sister, Annie, knew, of course, but she wouldn’t have phone signal for another day or so. He had friends, or people he thought were friends, back at the beginning of his career. But when he’d tried to tell one of them about the incident, about Brody’s threats, they sided with Brody. Told him it was better for him to go back in the closet if he wanted a successful career. They were fair-weather friends, at best, and not people he could be truthful with.
Ellis dressed, and as he was pulling on a pair of fluffy socks—good for keeping his feet warm when he was gardening in the winter—he noticed the journal resting on the chest of drawers.
Rosemary had shown it to him briefly when she unpacked her toiletries. It had belonged to one of the ghosts, Juliet, if he remembered correctly. Ellis flicked through the letters, which were from Cecilia, and then read Juliet’s journal entries. He traced the passage of their love, the worries that Juliet had. While Ellis wasn’t religious, he understood the poisonous sense of shame that came from thinking what you were, and who you loved, made you lesser. Made you something to be disgusted by.
It was when he got to a small passage of writing, in a hurried, almost illegible scrawl that he stopped. The entry was dated 11th December 2024. Their last day of filming.
I do not know if this will work,the entry began,as it is hard to hold a pen. Cecilia knows. I told her. Finally, after all these centuries, she is mine. We have our own heaven here, at Hallowvale, for as long as this existence will have us. I have been a fool. I have spent hundreds of years agonising over these feelings, this need. All these years as a friend when I should have been more. I spent too long waiting and there is nothing like eternity to make you realise how precious time really is.
The words cut him to the quick. He let the tears fall freely down his cheeks, and let himself imagine a life where he hadn’t succumbed to the pressure, hadn’t gone back in the closet. Maybe his career would have suffered for it, sure, but he’d have been happy. He’d have felt proud of himself, for knowing that he was being truthful to who he was. He would have met people, made friends that he could trust. Perhaps, over time, the industry wouldn’t have typecast him anymore, and maybe he’d still have been able to play the hero.
And when he’d met Rosemary, he wouldn’t have been afraid to tell her.
