Carla and Steph said nothing but nodded. How could they forget about Gareth? Elodie’s incredibly camp, incredibly funny and incredibly scathing examiner. Elodie had once described him as “Alan Carr on speed.” This had made them all laugh, Steph so much so that she had snorted wine from her nose, which was very un Steph- like indeed.
“So anyway, I was walking along in a foul mood, wishing that we’d never gone out that night, never gone to the Grosvenor Suite and never, I repeat never, met Chase, when I bumped into Gareth. We got chatting and it was pretty stale to start with, you know the usual ‘Hi, how are you?’ back and forth kind of thing. But then, he asked me how I was, and I just kind of broke. I told him about the interview, about how badly it had gone and all about leaving Zip. For some strange reason I just blurted everything out, it was like once I started I couldn’t stop. I quite literally chewed his ear off, told him the whole thing from start to finish.” Elodie stopped for breath. Again, neither Carla nor Steph spoke.
They both just sat there, nursing their glasses and waited for Elodie to carry on with her story.
“OK, so once I’d finished he sort of just looked at me for a minute or two, like he was deciding on something, and then he sort of offered me a job, well a trial, on a private jet!” Elodie inhaled sharply. “He isn’t just an examiner, he only does that one course every few months. He works for some fancy- pants airline as well, which is bloody lucky for me. Apparently there’s a long probationary period but, still, it sounds amazing. Gareth says they’re really picky and hardly anyone works out, so it’s not even a definite, but according to Gareth it’s one of the most prestigious private airlines around. Guys, I can’t wait, I’ve got a really good feeling about this!”
Elodie paused for dramatic effect. Carla clapped her hand over her mouth in awe and Steph raised an eyebrow apprehensively.
“So he’d just offered you a job out of nowhere and he barely knows you? Hasn’t asked for references or anything like that and just happens to think you’ll be a perfect fit even though the success rate is absolute crap? Which brings me on to my next question… Fit for what? What exactly is this job and where is it? Is it safe? Is it legal? You’ve got no idea what it is he wants you to do? You could end up a drugs donkey, for all you know.”
Carla snorted and immediately began to choke. Steph rolled her eyes; Carla always did have a flair for dramatics.
“I won’t end up a drugs mule, Steph, and if you’d let me finish you’d already know that the position is for cabin crew, for Alpha Whiskey Airways owned by some guy called Alex Walker…”
“Alex Walker?” Carla asked incredulously. “The Alex Walker, owner of En Mode magazine? El, that’s insane!” Carla immediately took out her phone and began typing furiously. “Yeh, it says it right here, Alex Walker, CEO at En Mode, photographer to the stars, owner of AW stock images, Alpha Whiskey Air and several charities, plus he’s a huge philanthropist. Wow, Elodie, this is incredible.”
“Philanthropist? Why would they list that as an achievement?” Elodie asked with incredulity. “I don’t think being a misogynistic creep is worthy of a mention,” she continued, a bad feeling creeping over her. Maybe the reason that hardly anyone worked out was because the boss was a sex pest. She looked up to see both that both Carla and Steph, instead of nodding in agreement, were shaking with laughter.
“OK, so you know misogynistic but not philanthropist? Do you want to tell her or should I?” Carla asked Steph.
“A philanthropist isn’t a womaniser, El, that’s a philanderer! A philanthropist is someone who does good deeds, you know, for the world. Like gives to charity and raises awareness for things, like Bono or Oprah,” Steph said once she had managed to get a hold of herself.
Elodie felt her cheeks flush; thank God she had made that mistake here and now and not in front of Gareth or worse, Alex Walker himself.
“God, I’m such an idiot!” Elodie exclaimed exasperatedly. She couldn’t stay annoyed at herself for too long. Carla and Steph had dissolved back into fits of giggles and Elodie couldn’t help but join them. “Anyway… As I was saying, it’s a private jet company, run by a very nice man. There’s just three aircraft, all of them Boeing Business Jets, AKA ‘The flying hotel’ and they need a new staff member. One of the girls apparently over- stepped the mark with one of the pilots and, well, it didn’t work out well for her. So I need to watch my step but…. It’s a door, and my foot is firmly in it!” Elodie finished proudly. She took a deep drink of wine and, giving Steph and Carla a confident look held her glass out for them to cheers.
Carla, being ever the optimist, clinked her glass with Elodie’s at once. Steph’s good mood had apparently evaporated now and she was a little less enthusiastic, although after a pretty glaring sideways glance from Carla offered her glass and the three women chinked them together in celebration.
After a couple of glasses of wine and several slices of pizza, they decided to call it a night. The evening had flown by, with lots of giggles and fast- flowing conversation. They had put a film on in the background, a period drama starring Jenna Broderick, a film Elodie had probably seen a thousand times. She was far from an expert when it came to the world of celebrity but she never missed a film starring her favourite actress. Steph was staying the night; Carla had offered up her bedroom but Steph was insistent that she would sleep on the sofa.
“I want to give Andy a quick call before bed. We’ve barely spoken all week and I just want to hear his voice. It’s the only chance I’ll get to speak to him before my birthday,” Steph said.
Carla and Elodie reacted in opposite ways, of course: Elodie thought that it was rather sweet, whereas Carla mimed vomiting.
“That reminds me, what do you want to do for your birthday? And don’t say nothing, like you usually do,” Carla said through a stifled yawn.
“Actually there’s a new dim sum place opening on the same day and I’d love it if we all could go,” Steph replied.
“Consider it done. We’ll sort it, won’t we, El?” said Carla.
Elodie nodded fervently as she went to get Steph some bedding. It was a rare occasion that Steph would let you make a fuss of her, even on her birthday.
“Here you go,” Elodie said, handing Steph a couple of pillows and her cosy patchwork blanket before bidding her goodnight and retiring to her room.
Elodie slipped into her nightclothes and clambered into bed. She put her phone on charge and as it lit up saw that she had a message. Her stomach flipped as she read the name: it was from Aaron. She could only see the first line of his message, which Elodie saw didn’t contain the word sorry. She was instantly annoyed: she didn’t need to open the message to know it would just be a host of excuses. She had decided that she didn’t need this kind of negativity in her life so, without so much as opening the message up, deleted it, and instantly felt as though she’d done the right thing. She wanted to end today on a high; it had been a good day, after all, and she intended to keep it that way. Elodie rolled over and soon felt herself drifting off to sleep as the familiar feeling of fatigue gave way to slumber. Elodie’s last conscious thoughts were those of happiness, anticipation and ever so slight apprehension. This new job promised to be everything she had hoped for: it offered excitement, variety and, most importantly, a chance for new experiences and to see the world. Elodie just knew that this was the opportunity she’d been waiting for and that it was really going to open her eyes.
Chapter 13
“I’ve got three hours until I need to leave,” Elodie sputtered as she dashed back into her bedroom wearing nothing but a towel; droplets from her badly towel- dried hair fell onto the floor as she went.
“If you’ve got three hours then why the hell are you rushing about like Usain Bolt on speed?” Carla asked as she got up from the sofa and followed Elodie.
“I need this induction to go perfectly,” Elodie answered, sitting herself down at her dressing tabl
e and applying a thin layer of moisturiser to her face. “Gareth said that hardly anyone works out. It’s too good an opportunity to mess things up so I need to be completely on the ball, and look fantastic. I don’t want to give them one single reason not to hire me. Now are you going to help me, or what?”
“Your wish is my command,” Carla said as she took a low, sarcastic bow towards Elodie.
“Okay, so can you pick something for me to wear, nothing too edgy. I want to be smart, sophisticated and maybe just a touch sexy?”
“What does it matter if you’re sexy? It’s not like Gareth’s going to give you the job because you look hot. You’re on totally different buses, if you catch my drift.”
“I’m not thinking about Gareth, I’m thinking about Alex. If he owns the company he’ll probably have a say and before you get all judgemental, I’m not doing anything wrong, I’m just…”
“Working with what your mamma gave ya? As if I’d judge you for that. Hellooooo, I’m a model, for God’s sake, using my looks is what I do!” Carla said, batting her eyelashes and giving Elodie a little twirl. “Now, let’s get you sorted. Dry your hair, I’ll do clothes and we can decide on your makeup together.”
Elodie gave Carla a grateful smile and did as she was told. Elodie was so excited: if she played this exactly right then by the end of the day she would have everything she had wanted.
Elodie’s phone rang a little before ten am. It was a very stern- sounding man named Mr Bosford, her new driver, informing her that he would be waiting outside Cockfosters tube station in exactly one hour ready to drive her to Langley private airfield. Elodie was incredibly impressed: she had envisioned getting the tube, then perhaps a bus or maybe a taxi to Langley. Never in her wildest dreams did she expect to have a driver and her own private car to take her there. She stole a glance at the clock and with a heady mix of exhilaration and apprehension made her way towards the tube station. She wore an outfit that Carla had hailed a ‘Monochrome masterpiece’, consisting of simple black fitted trousers, a loose- fitting black top and off- white jacket. Her hair had been teased into relaxed waves and pinned up in a chic style that Elodie liked very much. She walked briskly; the heels of her court shoes clicked against the pavement and a few stray pieces of hair danced on the warm breeze.
As she descended the escalators into the tube station Elodie’s confidence began to erode, like the plain of a cliff face when met by a tempestuous tide. “One step at a time, Elodie, you’ve got this,” she repeated to herself as she boarded the train. Her hands had begun to shake and palms to sweat as time slipped by, pushing her ever closer to the precipice that was her future. She pulled out a magazine from her bag in an attempt to distract her mind from what lay ahead. She flipped to the middle page: the centre pages were always the best and this article certainly didn’t disappoint. It was entitled ‘Untamed Madagascar’ and was packed with loads of things to do and see if you were to visit there. The article included several beautiful photographs of wild animals and the breath- taking views of the Masoala National Park, Nosy Be and countless other attractions. Elodie felt a little pang in her chest as her eyes roamed over the photographs accompanying the article; they were eerily similar to some in the exhibition she had seen on her date with Aaron. She shook her head, thinking that she most certainly did not need to be thinking about Aaron at a time like this. She needed a clear head and to make sure there was nothing that could scupper her chances. Elodie closed the magazine, folded it over and placed it on the back of the bench behind her. ‘Someone else can enjoy that, I’ve had my fill,’ she thought soberly.
The train reached the end of the line and Elodie disembarked. Now all she had to do was find Mr Bosford and allow herself to be whisked away.
Finding Mr Bosford was easier said than done. He had called her from a private number so she couldn’t call him back and when she emerged from the underground she was dismayed to see that there were several cars all waiting for their passengers. She glanced around, hoping against hope that maybe there would be some sort of logo, separating her car from the others, but there wasn’t. Sighing, she began going down the line of vehicles, opening one door at a time and asking the same question over and over again, “Are you waiting for Elodie Taylor?” She was met with the same answer time and time again, “No.” Eventually, after more tries than she cared to remember, she found Mr Bosford, whose appearance was completely at odds with his voice. Over the phone, his tone had been forthright and he had a rich resonant quality which had commanded Elodie’s attention. She had imagined him as some sort of army general, with a no- nonsense attitude and a buzz- cut. However, in the flesh, he was nothing of the sort. He wound the window down as she approached the car and welcomed her with a warm smile and a cheery nod.
“Miss Taylor?” he asked. Elodie nodded and got into the car, a brand- new black Audi which was extremely comfortable inside. Mr Bosford was in his mid- fifties, he had mousy blond hair, which was greying at the temples, and extremely blue eyes, which twinkled kindly when he spoke. The journey took less time than Elodie had expected; either they had been closer than she had thought or Mr Bosford’s amiable conversation had made the time pass more quickly. As they drew up into the small car park, Elodie felt her nerves begin to flair again. Mr Bosford pulled the car to a standstill and turned round in his seat.
“Elodie, you seem like a lovely girl so I’m going to give you some advice. Keep a cool head when you’re on the job and act completely professional at all times. I’ve heard that Mr Walker is a stickler for propriety and considering the types that use his jets, it’s no wonder why. Just keep things, you know, collected. I’d hate to be driving you back for the last time any time soon.”
Elodie nodded. She had no intention of being anything other than a complete pro at all times, especially since Gareth had already given her the heads up about why they were looking for a replacement in the first place.
“Thank you Mr Bosford,” Elodie said genuinely. He really did seem like such a nice man.
“Don’t mention it, and good luck. Remember what I said and you’ll do fine. Now, see that big door over there, you’ll need to go through there and down a short corridor to the lounge. Someone will meet you there.”
Elodie nodded and thanked him once more before getting out of the car. She stared ahead. The private airfield was upon first glance completely unremarkable. She hadn’t been quite sure what to expect; she knew that there would be no red carpet, paparazzi or A- list celebs just hanging out, but she expected something a little more than this. There was a short- paved area leading up to a largely glass building with enormous cardinal coloured letters that spelt the word ‘Langley’ hanging over an imposing white door.
Elodie made her way towards the terminal and braced herself for the challenge that lay ahead. The large doors swung open as she approached and upon entering found that her breath had been taken from her. Elodie discovered that she was in an immaculately appointed, extremely luxurious reception area, which seemed to gleam from every angle. The floor was white polished marble that glinted as she walked along it. The room was furnished with two large white sofas, several copper tables and lots of fresh- cut flowers in large glass vases. In front of her was a modern reception desk and behind that sat a very smartly dressed woman with dark hair tied so tightly back that it almost looked painful.
“Name, please?” the woman asked before Elodie had a chance to speak. She picked up a black clipboard glanced at it momentarily then returned her gaze to Elodie.
“Elodie Taylor, I’m here to see…”
“Mr Townsend will be out shortly. Take a seat and I’ll let him know you’ve arrived. Have your passport and relevant documents ready, please.”
Elodie nodded, perched herself on the edge of the closest sofa and rummaged in her bag for all the things she’d been told she would need to bring. Mr Bosford’s words echoed in her head: ‘Keep it professional at all times.’ As the
receptionist had predicted, Gareth wasn’t long; he rounded the corner and without hesitation beckoned her over. Elodie obliged and wondered when professionalism meant impoliteness.
“Thanks so much for this, Gareth. I’m really am so grateful to you. This place is fantastic,” she said as she quickened her pace in order to keep up with him. He walked her past the reception desk and down a well- lit corridor, her heels clacking against the marble floor as she went. Soon enough they came to a crossroads of sorts: two imposing and identical doors stood on opposite sides of the hall, between them a substantial water feature, which provided a trickling soundtrack that Elodie found quite relaxing.
“Don’t mention it, if you work out you’ll be the one doing me the favour. Finding people who are the right fit for Alpha Whiskey is a bit of a hard job. Right, a quick tour and then down to business, OK?” Gareth said.
Elodie nodded enthusiastically and braced herself for a barrage of information. “Through that door over there is Argent Air. Langley has only two companies operating from it. It’s small, but perfectly formed. You’ll never need to go through there, so don’t worry yourself about Argent. They pretty much keep themselves to themselves and that’s the way we like it.
Elodie tried to peer and get a glimpse of the competition but to no avail. She felt as though she’d heard of Argent Air before; it felt familiar, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why.
“Now through here,” Gareth gestured to the door closest to them, “is Alpha Whiskey. The waiting room is basically a lounge- type bar where our clients can wait in comfort. Alpha Whiskey prides itself on taking better than first- class care of its patrons. First, though, you need to go through passport control, I’m afraid there’s just some things that money can’t buy and that’s a free pass out of the country and back in again.” Elodie handed over her passport, which was checked and handed back to her. There was a small red light above the door, which turned to green; Gareth’s hand was reaching for the doorknob when a thought struck her.
Chasing Clouds Page 23
