Chasing Clouds Page 9

  “Elodie, don’t,” Tom said. This was the first time during this whole conversation that she thought she heard pain in his voice, but as quickly as it arrived it had left. “You’ll regret it. You’ve got nothing without me, you’ll have nowhere to live, no money coming in, no luxuries and, I don’t want to sound harsh, but you’ll have no future. I can provide for you, I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  Elodie shook her head.

  “This is what I mean, I’m just not that girl. I don’t want a boyfriend who doubles up as a cash dispenser, I want an equal,” she said honestly.

  Tom responded with a grunt.

  “An equal? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? An equal to what, exactly – to you?” he snorted derisively. “Cool. Well, enjoy that. I can’t fucking believe you. I’ve given you everything and this is how you repay me?”

  Elodie had perched herself on the edge of the armchair but now she stood up. She had had enough now. She didn’t want to fight with Tom; what would be the point in that? There was no reason to argue, she had made her decision and all of this just cemented her belief that she’d made the right one.

  “I’m sorry, I really am. But I’m leaving, I’m going upstairs to pack my stuff and then I’m going to leave.”

  Tom snorted again.

  “You’ll be back, and I’m warning you, El, when you come crawling and begging, I’ll just laugh in your face and slam the door shut. If you go, that’s it. You’re never coming back.”

  She looked at Tom, hardly able to believe how he could change so much in such a short space of time. It was as if for the first time she could see him for who he really was.

  She began to make her way upstairs. She would pack her clothes in the two suitcases she owned and carry whatever else she could. She knew deep down that Tom would make getting anything she left behind almost impossible, so she resolved to take absolutely everything she could with her. He was so difficult if he didn’t get his own way; she’d witnessed it before but never had had to deal with it on this scale. She rolled her eyes at herself. The fact that she’d never dealt with Tom like this spoke volumes; she’d never stood up to him, never put her foot down and never really had a say in anything that they had ever done.

  Elodie pushed open the door to what had been their bedroom: the light in there suddenly seemed flat and pallid. She had to do a double- take as she saw Christie and Al asleep in her bed. Between them lay another woman, someone Elodie had never seen before. She had a sneaking suspicion that this mystery woman’s name would be Tina, the woman Christie and Mimi were so intent on setting Tom up with. Elodie thought about waking them, about kicking them out and screaming at them as they left. But she knew that doing that wouldn’t make her feel any better; in fact, it would probably make her feel a whole lot worse. She took a deep breath and then, as quietly as she could, began to pack her belongings.

  Elodie was amazed at how little she actually owned. There was a time when her wardrobe had been fit to burst, packed with going out dresses, smart jeans and a plethora of tops for any occasion. Her wardrobe had certainly become more streamlined as she’d gotten older. She realised, as she went through her remaining clothes piece by piece, that it had actually been Tom who had encouraged her to strip back her style. He had often made her change before nights out, insisting that she was showing a bit too much flesh and justifying it by telling her it was only because he worried about her, or because he loved her, that she should change. The more Elodie thought about this, the more she realised that Tom had been an over- ruling force in her life and the more secure she felt about leaving.

  Elodie had expected Tom to follow her up the stairs; maybe not straight away, he was far more likely to sulk for a bit first. But he never showed and when she went downstairs with two large suitcases and an over- filled backpack she found that he was asleep again. His mouth was partially open and emitting faint rattling snores every few seconds. She took a moment to look at him: she knew this was it. She tried to muster some sort of emotion towards Tom, knowing that if she had to force herself to feel something, that if there were no feelings there at all, then she had done the right thing. She felt satisfied that she had everything she needed to start afresh. She took out her keys and carefully slid her house key off the chain. She set it down on the tall occasional table by the door, the thud it made as she set it down sounding very final. She took one last glance around the room and had to smile to herself. Tom would finally get a taste of what it was like to be her when he had to clear up all this mess.

  Just as she turned to leave something caught her eye: her pastel patchwork throw. She bolted over to it and swept it up in her arms, not able to believe she had almost left it behind. She buried her face in it and basked in its familiar comfort. She felt tears begin to prick her eyes but blinked them back: she wouldn’t cry, especially not here. Steeling herself, she folded the blanket up and turned to Tom.

  “Tom, this is it,” she said in a small voice.

  Tom lifted his head, not quite fast asleep after all, and glared at her.

  “You’re jacking us in because I booked us a holiday, you know that, right? You know you’ll be sorry, don’t you, you spoiled princess?” he said flatly.

  “And this is why this is right, it’s because you think things like that. You can’t see the bigger picture, Tom, and that’s not your fault, it doesn’t make you bad, it just makes you… you.”

  Elodie gave him what she hoped was a caring smile and made her way to the door. She slid the backpack over one shoulder and picked up the suitcases before turning to say goodbye. Tom was glaring at her, a nasty sneering look on his face now. Elodie wasn’t surprised. He was a man running out of options and, given his previous comments, Elodie had already braced herself for a little more nastiness and a little less understanding.

  “Go on then, off you fuck. Go running to your idiot friends just like you did last night when things weren’t perfect for you. Bet they’ve told you to do this. That’s it, isn’t it? This is all them,” he exclaimed, clearly clutching at straws. “The snob and the weirdo want you to be single. It’s because that wannabe can’t get a boyfriend, she’s sad and lonely and wants you to be the same. She’s pathetic, they both are.”

  Elodie didn’t need to listen to this. She could take the snide comments aimed at her, but Steph and Carla had done nothing wrong. They were good people who didn’t deserve to be spoken about like that. Shaking her head sadly, she turned back to the door and pulled it towards her. The fresh air swept in and Elodie revelled in how nice it was. She walked through the door and, dragging her belongings behind her, stepped into her future.

  Chapter 6

  The weekend was over far too quickly for Elodie’s liking. She was supposed to work on Sunday, but given recent events managed to trade shifts with one of the other staff members at Betty’s. All in all, there were eight of them that worked there. Elodie rarely, if ever, worked with the others; Steph always seemed to work the rota to their advantage which meant that the three friends got to see a lot of each other and that work rarely seemed like work, no matter how busy they got. Despite this fact, Elodie couldn’t bring herself to don a smile all day and pretend like nothing was wrong. She was feeling very up and down so falsifying her mood would definitely have been an unmanageable task, one that would have surely backfired and resulted in the customers getting a side of tears with their slice of cake. She wasn’t regretting her decision, she knew she’d done the right thing but still, it was the end of an era and knowing her life was to change irrevocably filled her with an odd unsettled feeling that she couldn’t quite shake. Instead, she had spent the day unpacking and making her new room her own.

  Elodie was amazed at how quickly she felt at home in Carla’s flat and by the following weekend felt as though she’d properly settled in. There was one, disconcerting, niggling thing that Elodie just couldn’t shake. She couldn’t fathom why, after over a we
ek since their breakup, she hadn’t heard from Tom. Not so much as even a text message. It wasn’t that she wanted him to contact her – a clean break was what they both needed – but something just didn’t feel right about it.

  Elodie unpacked. She hung up her clothes and arranged her few belongings in an effort to make her room feel homely. Elodie had arranged a couple of photos in frames on her windowsill, placed her small cream leather jewellery box on her dressing table along with her makeup collection, which she had neatly arranged. She had laid her patchwork quilt over the end of her bed, deciding that now she was master of her own destiny it would take centre stage. She had bought a giant canvas print of a painting of swirling, foaming waters. Although the subject was frenzied the colours calmed her; the teal green, periwinkle and powder white soothed her. It was the first piece of décor she’d ever bought and successfully managed to showcase. Her mind flitted back to Tom again. He would never have let her put anything like this up; if it wasn’t an action film poster or something to do with cars then it wasn’t going up. Elodie took a step back to admire her handiwork as well as the painting itself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done a spot of DIY. Then it dawned on her: she never had. It had always been done for her. It felt nice to be in control of her life for once, even if that control was over something as small as hanging a picture on a wall.

  Carla’s flat was auspiciously well placed: it was situated on the top floor of an old Victorian building on a quiet residential street. Carla always told people she lived in Camden, but in reality, the flat was closer to the less cool and quirky, but still very lovely Finchley Road. Elodie padded from her bedroom and into the living area- cum- kitchen diner and surveyed the room. The flat was very bright and airy, open plan and had an incredibly calm ambience to it. The walls were all painted a crisp white and reflected the light that streamed in from the French doors. These led out onto a small, secluded terrace area, which enjoyed far- stretching city views. Carla had decorated the place with bright bold prints which adorned the walls; brightly coloured cushions were scattered around the place and a large zebra- stripe rug covered most of the wooden floor.

  Elodie checked her phone for what seemed like the millionth time that day. She hadn’t heard from Tom at all, he hadn’t phoned, text or emailed: she had heard nothing. She slipped the phone back into her back pocket and decided that a cup of coffee on the terrace would be just the tonic she needed. Elodie wanted to do some serious thinking and she could think of no better place.

  Elodie pulled out one of the bistro chairs and sat down. The days were getting warmer now, so much so that Elodie didn’t even need a cardigan. She let her head fall back and enjoyed the sun as it beat down on her face. Elodie let out a long, contented sigh and vowed to herself that the first thing she would do, once she had a proper job sorted and some money, would be to book a holiday for herself. She knew she wouldn’t be able to afford the five- star, far- flung getaway she dreamt of but that wouldn’t stop her: who said you couldn’t see the world on a budget? A little thrill of excitement sparked within as another realisation dawned on her. She would be able to go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted, with whomever she chose. She wished she’d remembered to take her travel magazines with her, she hadn’t even remembered one. The magazines came every single month; the subscription had been a gift from Tom’s parents. Elodie thought now that maybe he’d asked them to do it by way of indirectly appeasing her. She wouldn’t be able to get them now, she needed to save every penny she could and there was no way Tom, or his parents for that matter, would go as far as to redirect her mail.

  Elodie’s phone began to vibrate in her back pocket. She removed it and looked at the screen. Her hand froze mere inches from her face as she saw the name ‘Tom’ flash up on the screen. Feeling her heartbeat quicken she set the phone down on the table in front of her: it continued to buzz. Now Tom was actually calling her, she realised that she didn’t need closure. She didn’t actually want to speak to him, all she wanted was a fresh, clean start. Silence. The phone had stopped, she’d left it too long to answer. She knew Tom wouldn’t leave a message; he would see that as failure. As if her mind had been read, his name began flashing on the screen again, accompanied by the loud, insatiable buzzing that only pressing the answer key could satisfy. She picked up the phone and stared at it for a moment, wondering if maybe Tom was really suffering; maybe he hadn’t called before now because he just couldn’t. Suddenly Elodie felt extremely bad about everything and knew that the only way to make herself feel better was to speak to him.

  “Hello Tom,” she said, surprised but somewhat comforted by the natural joviality of her tone, “are you alright?”

  “You mean aside from being chucked, do you?” he replied bluntly, Elodie didn’t reply, the only sound between them for a few moments was the faint static of the phone call. “Look, I didn’t ring to have a go, I didn’t want to ring at all, but I had to.”

  “I understand,” Elodie said reassuringly, “I know it’s tough Tom, but you’ll see in the long run that it’s far the best. I’ll always care about you, you know that, right?”

  Tom let out a cynical laugh that was more akin to a bark than to anything else.

  “You think a lot of yourself, do you know that?” he said. “I had to ring you, the washing hasn’t been done and I’m out of clean pants. Look, the machine’s playing up. It says ‘CL’ something on the screen, what’s that mean?”

  Elodie rolled her eyes internally. ‘So this is what closure feels like.’

  “Ha,” she managed a dry chuckle. “It’s the child lock, Tom, you need to turn the child lock off.” She could hear the words coming out of her mouth, but they seemed distant and alien.

  “OK, how do I do that?”

  Elodie was amazed. What kind of person acted like this? They had broken up only days ago and here he was ringing for washing machine instructions. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; instead, she decided on neither. All this did was strengthen her belief that Tom was a user and she was his little housewife whose only purpose in life was to make sure he was catered for, look good on his arm when he needed her to and not make a fuss. She decided then and there, that for the second time in her life, she wasn’t going to let him walk all over her.

  “I don’t know, Tom, look in the book or something. I need to go.”

  “Ha! Busy, are you?” he mocked. “Got some coffee that needs pouring or cake that needs cutting? Fine, don’t help me then. Not like you ever did anyway. I’ll get my mum to do it.”

  Elodie rolled her eyes, this time outwardly.

  “I’m going Tom, please don’t call me again, I’m not your assistant anymore,” she said, with a far more forceful tone than she had ever mustered before. She hung up the phone, her hands shaking slightly, then scrolled to Tom’s name and hit ‘block caller’. She didn’t want a repetition of that phone call any time soon. The conversation had annoyed her, but it had also given her strength. She knew at that precise moment that she was exactly where she needed to be; she just needed to figure out what she wanted to be as well.

  Elodie was deep in thought when she heard the door open. She could have been anywhere in the world and she still would have known it was Carla emerging into the room. She was a whirlwind of chaos sometimes. Elodie heard her drop her bag, swear, then kick off her shoes and head straight to the kitchen. A few moments later she appeared on the balcony, with two glasses of blush wine, a box of chocolates and a sincere expression on her face.

  “Thought you could use some cheering up,” she offered kindly, holding out a wine glass for Elodie to take.

  “Ahhhh, you really shouldn’t have. I’m totally fine,” Elodie said. Although fine, she still held out her hand to take the inviting- looking, rose- coloured liquid from her friend. There was something about a sunny day that lent itself very well to an ice- cool alcoholic beverage.

  “Well you won’t need
this then, will you?” Carla said jokingly and withdrew her hand, causing Elodie to reach out a little further and almost topple off her chair. Laughing, she righted herself and stuck out her hand in a mock- brattish fashion that made Carla grin from ear to ear. Carla handed the glass over, dropped the box of chocolates into Elodie’s lap and plonked herself down in the spare chair opposite Elodie.

  “He phoned me today,” Elodie said after taking a sip of crisp cool wine. The taste filled her senses, it was delicious and so very refreshing.

  “And?” Carla asked, staring at her friend.

  “That’s it, really. I didn’t answer at first, I thought, ‘This is it, we’re going to have a massive talk, there’ll be tears’, etcetera, but no. Do you know what the git wanted? He couldn’t work the washing machine. What a shit, eh?” Elodie ranted.

  “He is a git, El. But do you know what? He’s not your git anymore. So try not to worry.”

  “I am worried, though. What if I have made the wrong decision? We did have some great times, you know, we had fun. When I look back, it’s really only the last few months or so when things have changed.”

  “Elodie, it’s okay to look back occasionally, but the trick is to glance and not stare. This is totally normal after a breakup, but you’ve got to move on. I know it’s easier said than done but ‘fake it till you make it’ and all that. Keep your head up, be strong, fake a smile and eventually you’ll have moved on. You’ve got yourself to concentrate on now. So how about we look forward instead? Have you had any idea about what you’re going to do yet?” Carla asked sincerely.

  Elodie scowled; she was still completely clueless on that front. She needed more time, a lot more.

  “I’m kind of going to hope that it just comes to me,” she offered optimistically.