“Are we boring you, babe?” he asked, his tone a little sharper than it should have been, given her crime.
Both Al and Pat had stopped their chattering now and were looking uncomfortably at Elodie. She suddenly felt hot under their attention and embarrassment flushed her cheeks, like a schoolgirl caught behind the bike sheds when she should have been in class. She shook her head and shoved her phone into her back pocket, eager to get rid of the evidence as soon as possible.
“Carla and Steph were just…” She trailed off. Tom reached over, his eyes never leaving hers and took her hand.
“Just ignore them, babe, they’re just jealous,” he said, giving Elodie a knowing look, one that said ‘trust me, I know exactly what I’m talking about’ and promptly returned to his conversation.
It was a good few minutes before Elodie had worked up the courage to lift her gaze from the floor. She couldn’t believe Tom had reprimanded her like that. Her cheeks, previously flushed pink, had returned to their normal colour and she looked up, feeling as though taking her phone out when Tom was in the middle of a story about his meeting would be just the teeniest bit offensive. In his position she was sure she would have done the same. She tried to concentrate on what was being said and even managed to get in a few well- timed ‘yeahs’ and ‘wows.’ These seemed to satisfy Tom’s ego and he grinned at her broadly. Soon enough, though, the three men returned to the type of lads’ banter that just didn’t hold weight with Elodie and she was once again left twiddling her thumbs. She looked around; she didn’t want to appear impolite again but it was hard not to when it was almost impossible to join in with the conversation. Their lad chat seemed to be nothing more than background noise to her now. None of them had noticed the faraway look in her eyes, they were far too wrapped up in themselves now. A couple at the other end of the bar looked to be having some sort of argument. Elodie imagined what it was about. She began to narrate their conversation in her head, matching the words she imagined them saying to their actions.
‘But darling, a kiss isn’t cheating!’ she imagined the woman saying. It was as if the woman could hear the thoughts form in Elodie’s mind: her head snapped around and she fixed Elodie with a stare that instinct told her to look away from. Elodie averted her gaze immediately, pretending instead that something on the wall behind the woman was actually what was interesting to her. Her eyes settled on an old clock that hung high on the wall behind the bar. The minute hand ticked over to show that the time was now ten to seven and Elodie breathed an internal sigh of relief – it was time to go. She couldn’t have been happier and downed the last dregs of her now warm drink so that there was nothing to hold her back. She put the empty glass down with probably a little more enthusiasm than was needed. The sound halted the conversation causing all three of them to look at her sharply. Elodie ignored their looks and tugged at Tom’s shirt sleeve gently.
“Tom, we need to get going,” she said diplomatically, not wanting to sound too overjoyed at their imminent departure. She didn’t dislike his friends, exactly; they were just a bit too bland. Elodie often thought of them as Tom’s fan club rather than real friends but she would never say that to Tom; after all, who was she to criticise?
Tom slid his shirt cuff to the side and checked his watch; Elodie’s mouth fell open as she saw that instead of his usual Casio he wore a brand- new, glistening, and very pricey- looking timepiece. It was a leather- strapped watch with a gold face and diamonds inset underneath each Roman numeral. Elodie suspected that it was very expensive and had her suspicions confirmed when she grabbed his wrist to take a closer look and saw the word ‘Gucci’ glint in the light.
“Like it?” he grinned. “Thought I’d treat myself to something a bit special, you know, sort of ‘well done’ present.”
Elodie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The watch must have cost hundreds of pounds, hundreds of pounds that they just didn’t have spare. She was well aware that with his promotion came a big pay bump but still, splashing the cash this early on and to this extent just seemed reckless.
“It’s lovely,” she said through gritted teeth. Tom didn’t notice her tone: he was too busy lapping up the attention from Al and Patrice, both of them gushing compliments amongst the back- slapping and glad- handing.
Elodie, although irritated that Tom would make such a big purchase so impulsively, reasoned that it wasn’t her place to tell him how he should spend his money and, after all, it was like he said, the watch was a treat. She also thought it would be silly to, in her mum’s words, ‘bite the hand that feeds her’. Tom did pay for pretty much everything; she helped out where she could, of course, but her job at Betty’s hardly meant a six- figure salary. ‘Maybe it’s time to figure out what I really want to do with my life,’ she pondered. It was with this thought that she remembered that she had her own treat to look forward and decided not to make the watch thing a ‘thing’. She could hardly criticise him when he’d obviously gone to a lot of trouble to make her happy.
Tom knocked back the rest of his pint and picked up his suit jacket, which he’d hung on the back of a barstool for safekeeping.
“Come on then,” he said, “we better get going if we’re going to make the table.”
Elodie picked up her bag and made her way to the exit, glad to be leaving the pub, Tom’s friends and that God- awful rum. They bade farewell to Al and Patrice and after saying their goodbyes were finally alone and for the first time all evening. Elodie snaked her hand around Tom’s waist and drew him in towards her; he returned her affections with a kiss on the side of the head. They walked for several minutes in relative silence, which suited Elodie down to the ground. The noise and hubbub of the pub had given her a headache. She rubbed at her eyes feverishly, her fingers making their way to her temples and massaging them in an effort to diminish the dull ache behind her eyes.
“Have you got any Paracetamol?” she asked Tom hopefully. He shook his head and patted down his jacket as if by way of proving that he was telling the truth. Elodie sighed. She knew by now not to rely on Tom for things like this; usually it was she who packed for every eventuality.
Soon enough they were walking into the restaurant, Tom gave his name and added, “Table for six.”
“It’s for seven, Tom,” Elodie corrected. Tom’s eyebrows furrowed momentarily before he broke out into a grin.
“Six people, you big idiot,” he laughed. “It’s a good job you’re pretty, isn’t it?”
Elodie looked at him, confusion etched on her face. Her question was answered before she had the chance to ask it. From behind her she heard the unmistakable laugh of Patrice, followed by Al’s voice and after that the high- pitched giggles of Christy Goldbeck and Mimi Delaney – Al and Patrice’s girlfriends. Elodie’s heart sank; this was not what she had signed up for. She felt ambushed, forced into abandoning her own friends and to forgo a highly anticipated night out with them that she had been desperately looking forward to. She felt coerced, no, tricked, into spending the evening around a table where she quite frankly couldn’t stand most of the people around it.
Before she was able to ask Tom what on earth he was playing at, they were upon them. Christy and Mimi descended on her like birds of prey to an unsuspecting mouse. They wrapped their arms around her in a huge, bear- like hug and squealed excitedly as they rocked her from side to side. Once she was released the onslaught of inanity started. She was bombarded with false compliments and questions that neither of them were the slightest bit interested in hearing the answers to. “You look fab, babe, love the shoes. So, how have you been? Where’s that amazing bag from? Have you done something different with your hair?”
The two women were like carbon copies of one another: both tall, both thin, both with glossy, perfectly teased hair that never had a strand out of place. The only difference as far as Elodie could tell was their hair colour. Christy’s hair was a deep brown, almost black, whilst Mimi’s was pero
xide blonde. Elodie had never seen either of them without a full face of makeup, big hair and skyscraper heels. Doing her best to hide the fact that inside she was screaming ‘please kill me now’, she smiled at them both and tried to join in the conversation, once again finding it hard to get a word in edgeways. She couldn’t help but feel incredibly dowdy stood next to them. Admittedly, she would have made more of an effort had she known that the meal out was with them but still, that didn’t change things now. She was in clothes she’d worn all day, she felt grubby and at that moment in time would have given anything for her fairy godmother to wave her magic wand and transform her from beast to beauty. She thought about her overnight bag bursting with appropriate attire; sadly for her, though, it was still at Steph’s. Her makeup- free cheeks flushed with embarrassment for the second time that evening.
The meal passed by slowly. Elodie wondered several times throughout it if there might be something wrong with her. The conversation seemed so dull; they only ever seemed to discuss the same topics over and over again. The boys constantly talked about work or sport, whilst Christy and Mimi giggled, gossiped and drank copious amounts of wine. Feeling as though she were constantly being left on the sidelines, Elodie wondered how on earth she could join in. She tried to make an effort, chipping in here and there but more often than not her comments went unnoticed and even when they did include her it always felt a little like they were doing it out of pity.
“I love how you’re not afraid to go au naturel, Elodie, I could never go out like it. I just don’t suit that ‘stripped back’ look,” Mimi said as she polished off her second glass of wine.
“I know, right?” chimed in Christy. “Most people wouldn’t dare go out like that, but you just don’t seem to mind what people think. Good for you, you’re so brave.”
Elodie gritted her teeth through moments like this and let her mind take her far away. She always felt that if she stayed present during these catty conversations she’d wind up saying something she’d regret. She couldn’t bear to think about what Tom would have to say if she told his best friends and their girlfriends what she really thought of them.
She took a deep breath and thought about Carla and Steph and imagined what they’d all be doing right now if Tom hadn’t shown up and changed their plans. She imagined them cracking open a bottle of Prosecco, all the while chatting animatedly whilst they got ready. Her spirits sank: she’d rather be with them a million times over. If she had known that this was where the night would take her she wouldn’t have gone with Tom in the first place. She’d been faced with a difficult decision and Steph and Carla had seemed so understanding. They really were great friends and she’d let them down. She made a mental note to make it up to them: perhaps she’d organise a nice meal at hers and they could have a girly night in?
A firm hand on her shoulder broke her reverie; she looked up and was surprised to see Tom staring at her.
“Babe, dessert?” he said. She looked around and quickly apologised when she saw the waiter standing over them, pen and pad poised to take her order. She absolutely hated it when customers ignored her at work and here she was, doing the very same thing.
“Oh, sorry. I’ll have the chocolate torte, please,” she said, managing a smile.
“Are you sure?” Tom asked, a look of concern carved on his face. “You’ve had quite a lot already, haven’t you? You can’t still be hungry surely, especially after all that garlic bread.”
Elodie was taken aback. She looked at him, then around the table.
“I’m absolutely stuffed,” Mimi said, rubbing her stomach, “I couldn’t manage another bite.” Christy nodded along to her friend like one of those dogs you see in cars sometimes.
“Oh, yeah. Of course,” Elodie answered mechanically, hardly believing the words that were coming out of her mouth. “I’ll just have a latte then.”
The waiter, clearly affronted on her behalf, asked her if she was sure about that. Elodie nodded and in an effort to distract everyone’s attention grabbed her water glass and took a deep drink: she had suddenly become very hot and the ice- cold liquid offered a welcome reprieve. Was she going mad? Had Tom just called her out for wanting a dessert? She stole another glance around the table; no one seemed to notice her mood nosedive.
The waiter brought over their drinks. Christy and Mimi had ordered the sickly- sweet dessert wine on offer and the guys had gone for port. Tom cleared his throat: once all eyes were on him, he raised his glass in the air and put on a wide, Cheshire- cat smile.
“Now I know you guys have all rallied round to celebrate me tonight, and I do truly appreciate it,” he said with a false modesty no one but Elodie could decipher, “but there’s someone in my life, someone who has been with me since day one. When I had nothing. She’s stuck with me through thick and thin and it’s because of that I’ve organised something extra special.” He took this moment to take a dramatic pause before turning his attention to Elodie. “El, babe. I know it’s been stressful living with me lately. I also know how much you’ve wanted to get away. That’s why I’ve booked us an amazing holiday.”
Tom clapped a hand on Elodie’s shoulder in triumph. She couldn’t help but break out into a large grin. She knew this had been coming, but hearing the words out loud and knowing that her all her patience had paid off made Tom’s revelation all the sweeter.
“Oh, Tom!” she squealed, leaning over to throw her arms around him, “thank you so much, I can’t believe you’ve done this for me, you’re the absolute best!”
A deep swell of emotion rose within her chest and made her feel so deliriously happy she felt like she could burst. A huge smile erupted on her face: this news had certainly made the whole evening completely worth it. How could she stay annoyed with him when he’d been so incredibly thoughtful?
“Now I hope you’re not mad but I took a peek into a couple of those magazines you like.”
“I thought it was weird that the ones I’d left downstairs had gone missing!” Elodie exclaimed, remembering not being able to find them amongst Tom’s things on the kitchen table. The annoyance she had felt at how messy he’d left the place melted away in an instant, it was as if the sun from their soon to be holiday had already started shining down on her.
Tom smiled at her, a grin wider than before that showcased his large white teeth. He stroked his stubble and took a deep breath with a smug yet playful expression on his face.
“Well, it gets even better, babe. I had a good look through those magazines of yours and, sure, we could have gone away together to Mexico or the Bahamas, but I thought we could do something even better, something far more memorable.”
Elodie wriggled in her seat, barely able to contain her excitement; she was unable to imagine what could possibly be better than Mexico or the Bahamas.
“I did some Maths and figured out that for the price of one of those holidays we could do something else, something you’ve never even dreamt of. We could all go away together, my treat,” he finished proudly, his hand gesturing to the entire group.
There was an almighty squeal from Christy, and Mimi clapped a hand over her mouth in delight.
“I’ve cleared it with the lads, so, ladies, pack your bags because next week we’re all going to an all- inclusive, four- star resort in Malaga! Nothing but us lot, a shit- tonne of booze and the hotel’s got five different restaurants. We won’t have to leave the resort once. The girls can tan all day and we can drink all night. I’ve cleared it with Clive, we’ve smashed it so hard this year that he’s agreed to let us all have the week off, together! Everyone else will have to pull their weight now we won’t be there to keep them afloat,” he said smugly.
Al and Patrice practically roared their agreement, whilst a torrent of praise gushed from Christy and Mimi. Elodie opened her mouth to say something, closed it and then opened it again, completely amazed at how her emotional state had managed to crash and burn in less th
an two seconds. This couldn’t be happening, Tom couldn’t possibly have got this so wrong. ‘Doesn’t he know me at all?’ she questioned herself. She was sure he meant well, but really, what on earth was he thinking? Malaga was definitely not somewhere she was keen to go, especially with a group of people she could barely call friends. The idea of being an outcast for an entire week wasn’t only daunting, it was downright terrifying.
“Tom, I… I don’t know what to say,” she began.
“Well, how about a little thank you, babe? This is all for you, after all.” Tom cut in, a sharp tone to his voice. He was clearly miffed that Elodie’s reaction wasn’t in the same vein as the rest of the group’s.
“Thank you, of course, sorry…” she found herself mumbling.
Elodie wasn’t exactly sure what happened next. She seemed to be telling them that she needed some fresh air and amidst their high- fives and cries of adulation, she found herself silently picking up her bag and leaving the table. She slipped across the dining hall towards the exit and faltered. She couldn’t just leave. Tom had tried his best; it wasn’t his fault he’d got it so wrong. Was she being ungrateful?
She needed a moment to herself. She turned on her heel and pushed the door to the ladies’ room open instead, she just needed a minute to think. She slumped against the wall next to the door and steadied herself against the hand dryer. Her breathing began to calm now and she could finally begin to hear herself think. She still wasn’t sure precisely what it was she should do. Should she leave? Would it be incredibly rude? What would everyone think of her? Ungrateful, that’s what. Would it be worth the flack she’d get? Or should she just swallow her pride and stay, pretend to be thankful for the holiday and just get on with it? So what if the idea of an all- inclusive resort stay wasn’t exactly what she had wanted and so what if the people she’d be going with weren’t exactly her cup of tea? ‘Everyone’s different, after all,’ she told herself firmly. ‘Maybe I just haven’t given them enough of a chance.’
Chasing Clouds Page 6
