Chasing Clouds Page 11

  “Now that was amazing,” she gushed, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “I don’t think I can stay up for another one, though. Sorry, ladies, but I need my bed.” Elodie hauled herself from the sofa from where she’d been so nicely snuggled and gave each of them a hug goodnight.

  “You’re coming into work tomorrow, aren’t you?” Steph asked before Elodie disappeared into her bedroom.

  Elodie nodded. She would have to go back to reality at some point and if she were honest with herself, she’d probably already taken more days off than she actually needed. She had recovered from her ordeal with Tom enough to go back to work. The phone call she’d taken from him today had just been one more thing in a very long list of reasons as to why she had ended things.

  Elodie yawned and stretched as she sank sleepily into the plump feather bedding. She drifted off to sleep almost instantly, vowing that the next person she allowed herself to be with would look after her as much as she looked after them. ‘I need my very own Edward Lewis,’ she thought to herself before slipping into a deep sleep that thankfully went undisturbed for the entirety of the night.

  Friday was an uneventful day for Elodie. It was just she and Betty running the café. Normally two staff members wouldn’t be enough, but Elodie and Betty had their roles down to a fine art and could manage well enough without the need for an extra pair of hands. The café saw a steady flow of customers from the moment they opened until the moment the doors closed, Elodie didn’t seem to have two minutes to herself, which suited her down to the ground. Despite getting a very good night’s sleep she had woken up feeling a little out of sorts; she couldn’t put her finger on it, there was genuinely nothing wrong. Perhaps it was the big question- mark about her future career that seemed to be following her like a threatening rain cloud. She just needed a bit more time: if she could buy herself a few more weeks, then things would all work out perfectly, she was sure of it.

  “Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice beckoned, “could I get some more coffee, please?”

  Elodie looked over and saw a handsome gentleman holding up his mug in anticipation. She offered him a smile and nodded, marginally mortified that she hadn’t noticed him before. The end of the day drew nearer and before Elodie knew it she was wiping down tables, turning the open sign to closed and rearranging the books so that they were in their proper order. She stood back and admired her handiwork. The bookshelf looked immaculate and she knew that when Steph opened up the following morning she would be impressed. Betty had bid Elodie a fond farewell about an hour before they closed. Elodie had a great affection for Betty, who always seemed to be able to say and do exactly the right thing. She treated all the girls well, especially the two best friends of her daughter. Betty often joked that sometimes it felt as though she had three kids instead of just the one.

  True to her word, Steph had managed to re- arrange their shifts over the weekend. They now had a full twenty- four hours to do exactly what they wanted. Elodie was looking forward to really letting her hair down: she couldn’t remember the last night out she’d had that didn’t involve putting up with people who didn’t really like her. They had their weekend planned and had opted to go out on the Saturday evening. They would watch the film they’d missed on the Friday, spend the day together on Saturday, get ready, then hit the town. Carla seemed to know a lot of people and had managed to get them VIP entry to one of the most exclusive bars around. Elodie felt excitement bubble inside her as she locked up the café and headed back home to her new flat with a spring in each and every one of her steps.

  Elodie called as she pushed open the flat door of 12a Fitzjohns Avenue, also known as home. There was no sign of Carla; instead, she found a note on the table, which read…

  Hey little one,

  Sorry I’m not home, I got a callback. I didn’t mention it before, didn’t want to jinx it! Keep your fingers, toes and everything else crossed for me, gonna need all the luck I can get. Don’t know what time I’ll be back so don’t wait up, we’ll have to do film night another time. I’ve phoned Steph and told her so she’s not coming over now, hope that’s OK – help yourself to the popcorn I bought! There’s also a couple of mags on the side, help yourself bitch.

  Big love, C x

  Elodie smiled as she read the note, although she couldn’t help but feel a bitter little sting that they wouldn’t be having their film night. Elodie hoped against hope that Carla got it. Although beautiful, Carla didn’t exactly fit the standard stereotype of most models: she wasn’t exactly the tallest model out there and her look wasn’t exactly what you would call ‘industry standard’. This had never deterred her, though. She had been to as many castings as she could, visited agencies and really put herself out there. It had taken Carla over a year to get someone to sign her but eventually a small agency who represented some unique models had taken her on. Carla wasn’t about to grace the front cover of Vogue any time soon, but Elodie was still immensely proud of her persistence and dedication nonetheless. Carla believed in herself to the nth degree and regardless of how many knockbacks she got she always picked herself up, dusted herself off and tried again. Elodie vowed to take a leaf out of Carla’s book. She couldn’t stay at Betty’s forever, regardless of how much she loved the place. She would have to take inspiration from her friend: persistence and dedication would, from now on, be a mantra she would live by.

  Elodie opened the fridge door and stared at its contents for the tenth time that evening. Sadly, nothing in there had changed. There was still the same lump of cheese, iceberg lettuce, half dozen eggs and half- drunk carton of orange juice. She closed the door and told herself that she wasn’t even hungry anyway, especially since she’d eaten the entire bag of popcorn that Carla had left in one go. Once she started, she couldn’t stop. She absolutely loved sweet popcorn, but Tom had always preferred salted, which meant she was rarely able to enjoy it. She’d popped the last piece in her mouth an hour previously and since then had done little but wander about the flat aimlessly, flick through the Friday night TV and open and close the fridge door over and over again. She knew popcorn wasn’t exactly a balanced meal but she was young, free and single now and she’d do exactly what she wanted, when she wanted. This was a strange mentality to get used to: no longer having to check every little thing was incredibly liberating, and she revelled in being her own woman.

  She lazily flicked through Carla’s fashion magazines. One was awful: it was essentially an overpriced clothing catalogue, broken up by the occasional advert for perfume. The other one wasn’t too bad. It had more articles and even a piece on traditional Japanese fashion that Elodie found very interesting. It showed a factory which had been producing fine silks for over two hundred years that Elodie would have loved to visit. She carefully tore out the page; she would add it to her personalised travel guide later on.

  As Friday night drew to a close, Elodie took a moment in the quiet calm of the flat to reflect on all that she had been through in the last couple of weeks. She felt as though a weight had been lifted. Without even realising it, she had been bound in a relationship that wasn’t healthy; she could see that now and vowed never to settle for something like that again. She’d taken all the positives, such as financial freedom, the security of having a partner and the little buzz she got from slipping the words ‘my boyfriend’ into sentences with strangers, and used them as a mask, shielding herself from all the negatives. She had been blind, willingly blind. When others had tried to open her eyes she had just squeezed them tighter, happy to live in ignorant bliss, no matter what the long- term ramifications would be. She was just grateful that her friends hadn’t given up on her. It would have been far easier for them to let her lie in the bed she had made, but no. Instead, they had been there every step of the way, offering advice when necessary and a shoulder to cry on when needed. Elodie retired to her bedroom, determined that this would be the evening where she would get some reading done. Despite knowing that she needed to sav
e every penny for things like rent and food, Elodie had decided that a mail redirection service was an absolute necessity and, in her opinion, money very well spent. She settled down onto her bed, a hot chocolate on her nightstand and a brand- new travel magazine in her hands. She flipped through the magazine lazily; given her new status in life, the places featured seemed even further out of reach. She sighed and closed the magazine, dropping it onto the floor next to her bed. It fell with a dull thud; the sound was accompanied by the flick of a light switch, which was followed by darkness. The evening hadn’t been the festival of fun that she had imagined. A little niggle of disappointment flared as she closed her eyes. ‘Here’s hoping that tomorrow makes up for it,’ she thought to herself as she drifted off to sleep.

  Elodie awoke the following morning bright and early and was pleased to see that not a trace of the disappointment she had felt the following evening had made it through the night. Instead, she now felt a renewed freshness and excitement – tonight was the night. She padded into the living room and was greeted by a very energetic Carla who seemed to be positively glowing; a golden radiance appeared to pulse around her.

  “You’re in a good mood,” Elodie croaked. Her first words of the morning sounded dry and cracked.

  Carla turned to her, smiled and handed her a large mug of steaming coffee, which Elodie took gratefully.

  “I got the job, you’re looking at the new face of, these!” Carla said, holding up a pair of trainers with a grin on her face so wide that it looked as though she’d grown half a dozen extra teeth overnight.

  “That’s amazing!” Elodie exclaimed, the hoarseness from her voice vanishing to make way for the utter joy that she felt for her friend. “But how are you the ‘face’ of trainers?”

  “Well, I’m the feet of them, but that doesn’t sound as good,” Carla replied, laughing.

  Elodie gave her friend a huge, bear- like hug and rocked her back and forth.

  “Well, it sounds just as good to me. This is amazing, Carla – your first proper job. We should celebrate tonight, let’s forget the cocktails and go straight for Champagne.”

  Carla gave Elodie a look that was impossible to mistake.

  “We’ll stick to cocktails, they’re on offer until eleven and I think given the fact that I haven’t been paid for the job yet and you’re on a saving spree we probably shouldn’t go mad tonight,” Carla said, doing a very good impression of Steph’s ‘I know best’ voice.

  Elodie burst into fits of giggles. Even though she knew Carla wasn’t one hundred per cent serious, she couldn’t escape the fact that there was an element of truth to her words.

  “Wanna take them for a spin?” Carla asked, clapping the pink and black running shoes together excitedly.

  “I don’t have any trainers,” Elodie said, realising that somewhere back at her old house there was a seldom- used gym bag, probably containing unwashed shorts, an old water bottle and some old trainers.

  “You don’t need any, I got you a pair too. You’re a size five, right?”

  Elodie nodded, then noticing the second shoebox on the kitchen counter, squealed with excitement.

  “Thank you,” she said, tearing into the box and admiring her own pair. Her trainers weren’t pink and black like Carla’s but instead were a lovely shade of dark blue and silver. “But next time, do you think you could get a job working with Richard Branson instead? I could do with a week or three on Necker Island more than these trainers.”

  “Cheeky bitch,” Carla said, throwing one of her shoes across the room towards Elodie.

  Elodie ducked and the shoe hit the wall behind her. Both women fell about laughing. Once they’d calmed down sufficiently to speak again they decided that their plan of attack would be to finish their morning drinks, get changed and go for a nice jog in the park. They had the whole day to kill. Steph was set to arrive mid- afternoon; even though she’d covered their shifts she still wanted to put in an appearance. Steph, being the straight and narrow kind of girl that she was, wouldn’t want other staff members to think that she was taking liberties; that kind of thing just never sat right with her. She’d once said that “Nepotism is one of the biggest crimes of the twentieth century.” Elodie smiled as she remembered whole- heartedly agreeing with her, and then when Steph had left having to look on the internet to see what ‘nepotism’ actually was.

  Elodie was looking forward to getting out and doing some exercise; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d broken into a sweat. She had, in the past, suggested to Tom that they should take up some kind of sport together. This suggestion had been met with an incredulous stare and the comment: ‘And I suppose you’re going to pay for this, then?’ That had been the last time Elodie had made such a suggestion.

  “You ready?” Carla called into Elodie’s bedroom.

  Elodie called back that she was and took a second to check her reflection in the mirror. She felt like such a charity case at the moment; she was destined to spend the day in other people’s clothes. Carla had lent her a pair of grey gym shorts and a navy t- shirt that was about three sizes too big, although she was going for a run in the park and not on the runway, after all.

  Elodie was still unfamiliar with the area surrounding her new home so tried to take as much as possible of it in whilst they were out on their jog. Carla had decided that they would run towards Camden, enjoy a little jaunt along the canal and then head back after an hour or so. Elodie, having the physical fitness level of a heavily pregnant hippopotamus, thought that an hour’s run sounded incredibly optimistic but decided that if the worst came to the worst she could always get the tube back instead. She’d never live it down, of course, but a bit of gentle ribbing from her friends was a small price to pay when the alternative was having a heart attack or, worse, being so stiff she wouldn’t be able to walk in her heels that night.

  They had set off at a steady pace, but as time progressed Carla had upped the ante and they were now bridging the gap somewhere between a jog and a run. Elodie’s heart pounded against her chest and she felt the first beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead.

  “Come on, don’t slow down, you’ll find your rhythm in a bit,” Carla said. She was barely out of breath and making this whole thing look far too easy for Elodie’s liking.

  “What if I don’t want to find my rhythm?” she replied, panting.

  Carla let out a small chuckle and slowed her pace a fraction.

  “There we go, we’ll go a bit steadier for the rest of the way, not long to go now. How are the shoes?”

  Elodie decided that running and talking were just two tasks that couldn’t be managed at the same time, so gave a thumbs up, then fixed her gaze on a building in the distance. She decided that all she would do would be to concentrate on that building: with each and every step it would get closer and, at the end of it, she would feel really proud of herself. She just hoped that pride was worth an early and very sweaty grave.

  The doorbell sounded at four pm on the dot. Steph was, as usual, extremely punctual; Elodie was at that moment in the shower and Carla was compiling a playlist for their evening. Instead of jogging back home, the two of them decided to enjoy the Camden vibe and settled on the idea that a walk up and down the high street would still count as exercise. It had been extremely busy: packed with tourists, Londoners and Camden locals alike. Carla made Elodie take a little detour and navigated her to an out of the way but very expensive jewellers. Elodie marvelled at the array of diamonds, pearls and other fabulous jewels, all glinting invitingly in the window. Carla pointed out a pair of earrings that were positioned on a pedestal, bang in the middle.

  “When I’m rich they’re the first thing I’m going to buy,” Carla said as she lustfully gazed at them. “I’ve had my eye on them for months. I know they cost a fortune but they’re one of a kind, handmade on the premises. The guy that made them has done jewellery for loads of celebs.”
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  “They’re stunning,” Elodie said in agreement, before wincing when she saw the one thousand pound price tag.

  Eventually, when Elodie had managed to pull Carla away from the siren- like lure of the earrings, they walked across the lock. They had stopped for a while to admire the view. The waterways were almost as busy as the streets. Several narrowboats passed one another; happy holidaymakers waved and called out friendly greetings as they went. The atmosphere was electric. Elodie hadn’t spent much time in this part of London before. Tom had deemed it too ‘hippy,’ but now she was here, she could see that it wasn’t like that at all. It was an eclectic plethora of people, places and different shops selling all sorts. Above each shop front were extremely artistic and very colourful installations, so captivating that after a while Elodie found she had a very sore neck from looking at them.

  Carla had suggested they go for a drink in one of the beer gardens and Elodie had gladly accepted. She had drunk more alcohol in the last two weeks than she had in the last two years, but she couldn’t complain; she was really enjoying letting her hair down and revelling in her new life. Carla had sat and chatted with her for over an hour. Unsurprisingly the topic of Elodie’s career path cropped up. Elodie still had no idea what she wanted to do. She had wondered ever so fleetingly if perhaps there was a job on a cruise ship she could apply for. They were bound to need people with her expertise as a waitress and at least that way she’d get to see some of the world. She’d told Carla her plan. Carla wasn’t overly impressed; she had a friend who used to do the same thing and it really wasn’t all that.

  “She called herself a ‘waitress on water’, hun, it’s probably not quite as glamorous as you think. Crazy long hours, terrible pay and months away from home,” Carla had said to her whilst sipping on a Hendricks and tonic.

  Elodie had thought about this comment whilst she showered. The warm water beat down onto her with an almost therapeutic ferocity as she massaged her scalp with her favourite coconut shampoo. She inhaled deeply and the scent immediately transported her back to the bathroom she had shared with Tom. She made a mental note to throw the shampoo away and try something new instead,