The Winter Rivals

Chapter 1| Little Venice

25th September 2008
Colours of red and orange burst through the wind like an open fire. It was autumn, and the cool, fresh breeze held hands with the rain as it guided it down over the bustling city. The sound of harsh pelting droplets filled my ears as I sat watching the flood crash against the window of my small brownstone apartment in Maida Vale, London.

Everything was airless and drowning under the suffocating quilt of soft water that the clouds had generously shared.
Coffee shop windows, sleeping office buildings, glowing street lamps, and the tiny boots of children rushing home with their parents. Not a single thing in sight had managed to stay safe from the rain.

The scorching mug of chai was busy burning my pale palms, and it was only when Tora had frantically waved her hand in my face that she had grasped my attention, and in turn, made me aware of my unknowing mistake.
"Elora? Did you hear even a word of what I said?" She spoke impatiently and rested her hands on her hip in an almost aggravated, motherly sort of manner. "We're nothing short of getting fired and unfortunately, no closer to a half decent story, let alone a good one." She twisted her mouth, biting down on it anxiously, and I was almost certain I caught a glimpse of a crimson speckle, as red as a wine spill, trickling down her lip.

I huddled myself closer into the knitted brown blanket that was draped around me, and held my drink close to my chest for warmth as I spoke, "Tora, we're going to be okay, I promise. Before you know it, we're going to be watching our pay rise like Mount Everest"

And as if on cue, or by some kind of extraordinary witchcraft, Mariam burst through the dark wood door with her face glowing as though god had answered a wishful prayer. Before I could gain a moment to take in her presence, she was halfway through a rant about how she'd landed us a story so incredible, that by the time we were done with it, we could retire from the world of work. We could spend the rest of our lives lying on a tropical beach in Hawaii, sipping the milk from coconuts and tanning under the boiling, crisp sun till we were sure our skin would melt off.
Pleasant, yet unpleasant imagery.

"Mariam, slow down. Breathe," I spoke in a frazzled tone, unable to process all of the words that were flying from her lips at the speed of lightning.

"Spiez Switzerland. Skiing. The story of Jess Miley and Luke Quinn. Riera has paid the flight tickets - surprisingly I didn't have to convince him as he too thought the idea was brilliant. After endless phone calls and emails, I heard back from his brother, Rowen. Jess wasn't thrilled at the idea, but unlike him, Rowen thinks it'll be a chance for us to capture Jess's side of things. That, and he said something about 'clearing the air' with the public."

I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. My breath hitched, forcing me to clear my throat and Tora's eyes looked as though they would burst and fall out of her head, had she have widened them any further. "You're lying, surely," she breathed out in disbelief.

Mariam shook her head in reply and explained that she had frantically been researching Jess's story like her life depended on it. She'd gone through sheer hell and back trying to earn Jess's consent and approval to create the documentary. He wouldn't give it to her directly, of course. He wouldn't talk to her through an email, let alone a phone call, and so everything had been indirectly but fortunately approved by his brother, Rowen.

"Sounds.. promising." Sarcasm clung to my words like a leech to bare skin.
"Agreed." Tora nodded as she spoke, sensing the risk of things going wrong.
"I know. I know how it sounds. But if Riera himself thinks it's worth it. then we should too. He is a hard man to impress, so when given his approval, I know we should take it."
Mariam Heath was one convincing woman.
"Your bags need to be packed as soon as possible because we're leaving at 9am Tomorrow and our flight is at 12pm. I believe it to be roughly a two hour journey."

Jobs like these were never easy to pack for. You never knew how long you'd be staying there as you weren't given specific dates, so you never knew what to pack. And to make the best of it, you were only given a rough estimate if you were lucky or desperate enough that somebody would allow you to be given one.
Mariam and Tora had gone off to do their own packing and so I was left sat on the edge of my tattered wooden chair. Unwillingly, i rose from my comfort and found myself on the cold, hard floor. I was digging around the underneath of my bed in attempts of grasping the handle attached to my little peach coloured suitcase.

I had never dreaded anything more in my life.
Packing. I think, if somebody were to ask me why it was almost impossible for me to pack a suitcase of essentials, the only response I could give, would consist of one word. Hoarder.
So instead of making progress of any form, I sat staring mindlessly at the mountain of clothes in front of me as though they would simply pick themselves up, and choose who was going. The enigma of what to pack lingered around me, much like a persistent riddle with very little solutions.

Eventually, I grabbed anything I thought could possibly be appropriate, and prayed we would just simply go shopping upon arrival.