Chasing Clouds

by Annabelle Knight

  The journey home was smooth and uninterrupted. Mr Bosworth was his usual affable self and could tell at once when something wasn’t quite right. He asked her what was going on and without hesitation Elodie reeled off everything that had happened, from start to finish in one long, rambling and increasingly emotional tale.

  “So I guess to top it off, I threw away something potentially great, I wasted a lot of time and energy on an absolute prick and pissed my friends off whilst doing it. I’ve made Gareth feel awful, and even though I know how to fix it, I’ve got no way of getting hold of him before the event and, judging by the speech he just gave me, he wouldn’t take my call even if I had his number.”

  “I have both,” Mr Bosford said after some time, clearly mulling over whether this would be a breach of trust or not.

  “You do?” Elodie asked hopefully. Mr Bosford nodded and, when he pulled the car to a standstill at some traffic lights, handed Elodie his phone. She copied Gareth’s number down quickly and dialled the number.

  “Ugh, his phone’s off,” she griped as Gareth’s voicemail kicked in. Can you take me there instead?” she asked imploringly.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve had a long day and he lives miles from you.”

  Elodie nodded; she understood. She would just have to find some other way.

  “I’m kidding, you’re my last drop off of the day. I’ll take you to Gareth’s place, have a quick spin around the block then drop you back home. It’s practically on my way anyway.”

  “Really?” Elodie asked, unable to believe her luck. “You don’t mind? I’ll pay you…”

  Mr Bosford waved his hand, and her offer, away.

  “No you won’t, it’s no bother at all. In fact – I insist.”

  Mr Bosford snapped on the indicator and expertly manoeuvred from one lane to the other, making the turning towards Gareth’s home just in time.

  “Oh, it’s you,” Gareth said as he opened the door.

  Elodie had never seen Gareth out of work and was utterly surprised by his relaxed appearance: he wore faded jogging bottoms and an old vest top, which were an absolute world away from his usual smart attire.

  “I have something for you,” Elodie began fumbling in her bag. Steph’s ticket was still tucked safely in its back pocket.

  “Elodie, I don’t mean to be rude, but can this wait? I’m not feeling great and…” He trailed off as Elodie pulled the crisp white ticket out of her bag.

  “Here,” Elodie said, holding out the ticket to Gareth.

  “Is that a ticket to the gala? Wait, you’re giving me your ticket?” he asked, stunned.

  “It was for my friend, but I think you deserve it more anyway.” She winced and wondered if Gareth would take umbrage with the fact that it was originally intended for someone else.

  Gareth remained silent, frozen to the spot with an odd expression on his face.

  “I couldn’t…” he began.

  “Go on, just take it. You deserve to go more than anyone, and so what if it’s not from Mr Walker himself? It doesn’t matter. You should go.” Still Gareth stood there, completely mute. “Say something, will you?” Elodie said when the silence became too much to bear.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Gareth began. “Thank you, but I don’t think I can, I wanted to earn it, you know. To get to go off my own merit.”

  “Screw that!” Elodie said. “You have earned it, a million times over in fact. Just take the ticket, Gareth, go, have fun. It doesn’t matter who gave it to you, all that matters is that you go.”

  Gareth reached out and took the ticket gingerly as though it were made of fine china that might break at the slightest touch.

  “Thanks, Elodie. I don’t know what else to say.”

  Elodie gave him a warm smile, which he returned; and it was in that moment that she knew she had done the right thing.

  “See you there then,” she said, leaning in and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Gareth stood there, still staring at his invitation as if it were a jackpot- winning lottery ticket. She left feeling as though she could walk on air; the sky seemed bluer somehow and she became overwhelmed by a deep sense of wellbeing.

  Elodie returned home much later than she had intended. Carla was in the bath belting out a ’nineties power ballad. Elodie smiled to herself, knowing that most people would feel embarrassed to know they’d been overheard warbling En Vogue to themselves, but not Carla. She’d probably up the ante and put on even more of a show. Pacing across the living room to her bedroom, Elodie was forced to stop in her tracks. She took a couple of steps back and positively recoiled at just how many bags were on the sofa. She stood there, mouth agog for several long minutes.

  ‘There have to be twenty bags here at least,’ she marvelled, wondering just how bad the damage to her credit card was going to be.

  “Oh the wanderer returns, about bloody time too,” Carla said, fastening the belt of her robe as she emerged fresh from the shower. “So what are you waiting for, let’s get this show on the road.”

  “Is all this for me?” Elodie asked.

  “No, don’t be crazy, of course it isn’t,” Carla replied as she leaned into the pile and pulled free the smallest of all the bags. “This one’s mine.” Elodie rolled her eyes as Carla pulled out a deep plum- coloured lipstick from the bag. “I didn’t use your card though, didn’t want to take the piss. This little bad boy was almost thirty quid,” Carla said, popping the lipstick back into the bag and loading Elodie up with as many bags as she could carry.

  “OK, you know what goes with what, so hand me things and I’ll try them on?” Elodie suggested. She needn’t have bothered though: Carla was already on it. Before Elodie could utter another word, she had been handed a heavily- laced burgundy gown with black chiffon puff sleeves and black chunky heels to match.

  “Isn’t this a bit gothic?” Elodie asked sceptically. Carla rolled her eyes and told her to live a little. Elodie stepped out of her work ensemble and into the dress. It was nice, but just not very her.

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit…?” Elodie said, surveying herself in the mirror.

  “Fucking hideous? Yeah, I do, take it off. Sorry, my bad.”

  Elodie laughed at Carla’s brutal honesty and slipped out of the dress, which Carla folded neatly and returned to the bag from which it came. Next was a full- skirted, beaded black number. Elodie marvelled at how heavy it was but tried it on nonetheless. The black dress was little improvement; if anything, it was worse.

  Three more dresses came and went, all of them looking positively awful. Finally, there was just one outfit remaining. Elodie had little hope that this would be any better. Carla had great taste but had missed the mark considerably on this occasion.

  “It’s a good job I saved the best for last,” Carla said, grinning. She removed a stunning, gold fishtail dress from the final bag.

  Elodie let out a little noise of admiration and stretched out her hand for it greedily. It was faultless, elegantly detailed and had a satin finish to die for. It was something she never would have picked out for herself, but somehow that made it even better. She stepped into the dress and pulled the straps over her shoulders. Admiring how it looked in the mirror, she slipped on the shoes that Carla had selected to go with it, a pair of sparkling heels that caught the light beautifully with every turn of her heel.

  “Carla, I love it,” Elodie managed, unable to drag her gaze from her own reflection. “It’s perfect, absolutely perfect.”

  “I know, right?” Carla said. “Sorry about all the others. I guess you could call them red herrings, I just couldn’t help myself. That lavender one was hilarious. I don’t know how I kept a straight face.”

  “You cow! I thought you’d gone mad or something!” Elodie howled with laughter and threw one of the shopping bags at her friend, “I should have known something was up when you gave me t
hose bloody cork wedges.”

  “Sorry,” Carla laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. “You should have given me a budget.”

  The mention of money made Elodie reach for the label: a dress like this wouldn’t be cheap and it wouldn’t matter how perfect it was if it meant she couldn’t pay her rent or feed herself because of it.

  “Carla, I don’t know, it’s an awful lot of money for a dress,” Elodie began.

  “It isn’t just a dress though, it’s a ‘Pierre Du Cabine’. Have a look online, the second- hand ones are almost as much as a brand- new one. If you’re ever skint, just sell it.”

  Elodie let herself be swayed: the dress was just too damn good.

  The following twenty- four hours positively dragged by. The more Elodie looked at her watch, the slower time seemed to go. Had this been any other day, the flight would have been something Elodie would have been excited for. A six- piece girl band, having just won a massive talent show, were using the jet to fly out to Munich to record their debut album, their single having just gone platinum. But this wasn’t any ordinary day, and even when they started practising harmonies, dance moves and talking about things Elodie would never experience, she still couldn’t manage to get excited. Instead, her mind wandered to what the following evening might be like. She imagined movie stars, designers and so much Champagne you could sink a battleship. Each second that ticked past seemed longer than its predecessor, and by early afternoon Elodie felt as though the day were made up of twenty- four years, instead of hours.

  “Elodie, one more thing,” Grace said, a distinctly stony edge to her voice.

  Elodie looked up. She had thought that she and Grace were on pretty good terms now, but judging by Grace’s dead an expression maybe she had thought wrong.

  “I need you to do a full inventory, all three aircraft and the lounge’s bar.”

  “But I…” Elodie trailed off. Grace had begun to laugh. “For God’s sake Grace, I thought you were serious.”

  “How could I keep you behind? You’ve been neither use nor ornament all day. Go on, have a good time. Oh, and Gareth told me about what you did. That was really good of you. You could have got decent money for that ticket if you’d sold it instead.”

  Elodie told Grace that there was no way on earth she’d have sold the ticket ahead of gifting it to Gareth, although not without wondering exactly just how much she might have been able to sell it for.

  “Go on then, what are you waiting for? I’ll finish up here, go on! I won’t tell you again.”

  Elodie flashed Grace a thankful smile and with a flurry of excitement made her way off the plane. Anticipation built with each and every step that she took, so much so that by the time she arrived home she could barely contain herself.

  Carla let out a low groan as she checked the time for the one- hundredth time that day and wondered where on earth Elodie could be. The last thing she had said before heading out the door was that she’d be back by six. It was now quarter past and she still wasn’t home. Pacing up and down the flat didn’t have the effect Carla had hoped for, so instead of waiting by the door like an impatient toddler she decided to run herself a bath. After all, she didn’t need Elodie there to start getting ready herself. Once the bath was drawn, the wine poured and the music on, Carla climbed into the tub. The heat was almost too much to bear, and she stood there shifting her weight from one leg to the other as she became used to the temperature. After a few minutes, she lowered herself into the water and let out a low, content sigh as the suds washed over her shoulders. Truth be told, Carla didn’t need a bath: she’d showered that morning and hadn’t been out of the house all day. She was simply trying to pass the time before zero- hundred hours. She reached over for her wine, a dry white she had found at the very back of the fridge, and took a sip. She set the glass down and as she did so heard the unmistakable sound of Elodie’s key in the door.

  “Honey, I’m home,” Carla heard Elodie call from the kitchen. She quickly rinsed the suds, jumped out of the bath and wrapped herself in a large fluffy towel.

  “You’re late,” she began as she pushed the bathroom door open before stopping mid- sentence to ask, “What are they?” as Elodie held up a pair of glinting bejewelled earrings.

  “They’re the ones you wanted. I asked Mr Bosford to take a detour and got them for you, you deserve them.”

  “Oh Elodie, you shouldn’t have…” Carla began.

  “Oh, OK, well I’ll just take them back then,” Elodie said, slipping them back into the gift bag from which they came.

  “No, no, no, gimme! I’m sorry, you should have, you totally should.”

  Carla held out her hand and Elodie dropped the earrings into her outstretched palm, watching Carla admire them in the fading sunlight and feeling so happy that Carla now had the earrings she’d dreamt of owning for so long.

  “Right, our car is coming in t- minus two hours, so it’s all systems go. I need a shower and a nap before we go, I’m shattered.”

  “Less of that. You need a glass of wine and some Ariana on full,” Carla replied as she slid over to the speakers and cranked the volume up. Elodie couldn’t help but smile, she couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Carla this excited. As one song ended and the next began Elodie became aware of a banging at the door,

  ‘Jesus, who could that be?’ she wondered as she padded towards the door.

  “Miss Taylor?” a man dressed head to toe in beige asked. Elodie nodded and a box was thrust into her hands. She scribbled her signature on the delivery guy’s pad and closed the door. The package was addressed to her and Carla.

  “Hey, come here, we’ve got something.”

  “What is it?” Carla asked, appearing from her bedroom and sidling up beside Elodie. Elodie shook her head and shrugged.

  Carla took the box from her and tore into the packaging and pulled out a bottle of Champagne. Elodie recognised it at once as being the same brand Chase and his friends had bought for them all those moons ago and her heart sank. ‘Please don’t let it be from him,’ she begged silently. There was a little gift card inside. Carla opened it up and read aloud.

  To my two favourite girls, enjoy tonight. Love always, Steph x

  Elodie felt relief wash over her and Carla squealed with excitement. The Champagne was cracked open immediately and the half- drunk glasses of wine were discarded into the sink. They raised their glasses to Steph and drank deeply, then, with an almost frenzied realisation that time was quickly slipping past, they continued to ready themselves. Waves of anticipation fell over the room and when the final adjustments were made and it was time to step into her dress, Elodie practically shook with excitement. Carla wore a simple black, backless dress accessorised with the glittering earrings Elodie had gifted her and a simple silver bangle that had been a gift from her father on her twenty- first birthday. She had pulled her hair back into an elegant slick ponytail, which showed off her high cheekbones beautifully. Elodie had never seen Carla looking so refined and took every opportunity to tell her so.

  “Jesus, El, it’s like you’ve never seen me in a dress before,” Carla exclaimed, placing one hand on her chest in mock offence.

  Elodie laughed. She’d seen Carla in plenty of dresses, just none of them past the knee.

  “OK, let’s get you into your dress, I’ll give you a hand.” Elodie stepped into her glittering gown as Carla played dress maid.

  “What do you think?” Elodie asked, feeling uncertain. Now that her hair and makeup were done, and the dress and heels were on, she wondered whether or not it was all a bit too much.

  “You look sensational. Now we look the part, let’s just hope we can act the part too.” Elodie raised her eyebrow: there was only one of them that might fall foul of propriety and it wasn’t her. “OK, I know, I know, best behaviour, no excessive drinking and no sleeping with your boss,” Carla said, laughing. “Okay, quick selfi
e and then we’re outta here!”

  Carla held her phone high enough to capture the perfect shot and after a couple of seconds of tapping declared that she was done and that they should go. Elodie grabbed her small gold clutch from the side, slipped on her heels and took one last look in the mirror. Her hair, which had been arranged in romantic waves, fell loosely over her shoulders; she ran her fingertips through the ends and thanked her lucky stars that she had someone like Carla by her side.

  A long, low whistle escaped Elodie’s lips as their car pulled up to the imposing stone steps of the Grand Royale, the hotel that had the honour of hosting the gala. A barrier had been set up between the guests and the public; photographers, journalists and fans beckoned the more famous amongst them over and flashbulbs went off every few seconds. Elodie stepped out of the car and onto a deep mulberry- coloured carpet, barely able to take in her surroundings. Her fear that her ensemble might be a bit over the top was soon quashed as she saw that everyone was dressed to the nines. Equally fabulous dresses were donned by the elite, and Elodie was pleased to see, as she was given an appreciative glance, that she didn’t stand out for all the wrong reasons.

  “What do we do?” Elodie asked, a low note of nerves creeping into her voice. She realised that she may not stand out, but she sure as hell didn’t fit in.

  “I guess what everyone else is doing,” Carla said.

  She hitched up her dress and began to climb the steps but not before giving the excited crowd a gentle sort of wave and sincere smile that wouldn’t look out of place on a royal. Elodie followed in her wake, keeping her eyes set firmly on the ground in front of her; the last thing she wanted to do was trip in front of all these people, especially since about ninety per cent of them held cameras.