While I Was Shopping: Part 13

The taxi pulled up outside of the flat and Michael looked up at it with sudden dread. What if she slammed the door in his face? What if she didn’t want to talk to him or listen to him?

He tugged the suitcase up the stairs and nervously put his key in the lock, opening the door slowly and awaiting some flying glass, plates or cutlery.

There was nothing, no sound, no breaking glass, no shouting or crying. And when he made his way into the lounge he realised why.

Everything in his home was as it had been. The same as it had been over five years previous when Chelsea hadn’t come into his life. In the last two weeks she had removed everything belonging to her and moved her very presence out of his life.

He sprang upstairs and burst into his bedroom. The bed was made, the bedside table clean and neat and tidy, but when he pulled open the chest of drawers he had long since resigned to her clothing, all he saw was an empty space.

Suddenly he felt very alone. He headed into the en suite bathroom and looked at his toothbrush stood alone in the cup beside the tap, and felt his lip begin to quiver.

He wandered forlornly back downstairs and surveyed the rooms one by one, and finally headed into the kitchen for a glass of whiskey to calm his nerves.

What greeted him was a small vase of roses and a letter propped up against them.

He tore it open, desperate for some information from her, longing for a contact with her he’d missed for the last two weeks.

It read:

“Dear Michael,
As you’ve probably noticed I’ve moved my stuff out. I didn’t think it much point me staying here anymore, and at least you’ll have some of your space back.
Please take care of yourself and follow your dreams with all of your heart, and maybe look back on our time together with fond memories and a smile.

I will always love you Michael,
Chelsea.”

Michael sat heavily on the kitchen chair and felt his heart thud inside himself, as though he was hollow.

That was it then. She was saying goodbye to him. He hadn’t expected it, but that’s what Alison had said wasn’t it – that it would be too late for him if he’d stayed filming.

And suddenly he felt a deep anger against Python, for the first time in his life. He’d never ever thought he’d have such feelings of animosity for something he’d loved for so long, but welling up inside of him was a powerful surge of fury and all he wanted to do was break something, hit someone or shout at the top of his lungs.

But somehow as soon as it had reared it’s head it died back down again and all he felt was weak and tired.

He headed back upstairs, shoulders slumped and head bent, and threw himself on his bed, wrapping his arms around his face as he did so. This couldn’t go on anymore. A startling realisation hit him then.

If he didn’t change the way he lived his life he would end up sad and alone. He jerked his head up. And first thing’s first, he was not going to let Chelsea leave his life so easily. He was going to do as Alison had said he should in the first place. He was going to fight for her.

************************************************************************************************************

Terry pulled back his chair and sighed. Only waiting for one person now and that was Mike. Something was up with him lately, and even though he’d tried countless times to ask him, he had never uttered a word about what it was that was bothering him.

Now looking around the table he saw three or four faces with worried expressions and he knew that the other Pythons were wondering where he had gotten too as well.

The door slipped open and a silent figure entered. Michael walked toward the table and sat down in silence, not even uttering a word of apology for his late arrival.

John shuffled a set of papers and his gaze slid over Michael’s almost immaculate appearance. Apart from the dark rings under his eyes you wouldn’t have suspected him of acting strangely at all, but he had been.

Ever since the first week back from Doune he’d been jumpy, interrogative and absent. No one knew why, but even Alison was acting oddly. And now Chelsea had disappeared. Her flat was empty save for furniture covered with sheets, and when Eric had enquired after her at the BBC Centre, they had had no record of a change of address, nor did they have her telephone number.

Michael had tried finding her apparently, but from the look on his face he had had little success.

Graham coughed and the meeting began, somewhat hesitantly. Alison, invited on account of her being very pregnant now and Terry’s fear that she’d pop at any moment, was in charge of taking notes in Chelsea’s absence. Every now and then she’d glance up at the men and then look back down, shaking her head. She’d almost bore Michael’s eyes out with her stare.

Terry had blamed her behaviour since Doune on her hormones, but as Graham had pointed out, she’d have been more hormonal at the start of the pregnancy, than at the end. 

But today she seemed more on edge than ever.

And the meeting was going so slowly. Terry plodded on with a few more notes about Premieres of the Holy Grail that they would have to attend, but on account of Eric’s suddenly blooming schedule and Gilliam’s frequent disappearances to America they would have to split the Premieres into small groups as best they could.

As the final point approached John sighed loudly and decided to broach the subject they’d all been trying to avoid.

“Dose anyone know where Chelsea’s gone?” he asked pointedly and folded his arms. The silence descended and each looked at the other, no one able to offer much, and those who could remained quiet.

Terry sighed. “I don’t know why she would’ve run off like this. It seems so unlike her. After all the years we’ve known her, for her to disappear after Holy Grail…” he trailed off and shrugged dejectedly. Alison had been particularly upset that Chelsea had not been found and when he touched her arm she flinched slightly, before offering a small smile.

“Eric, you went looking for her at her flat, does anyone know where she is?” John asked.

Eric shook his head. He looked as pained as anyone, and he felt her disappearance keenly. John secretly suspected that Eric had fancied her all along, and was pining after her.

“I asked around her flat. She’s still renting, but no one’s seen her in weeks. Even her landlord is a bit bemused, after all he is still getting rent every week.”

“I just don’t understand where she could’ve disappeared to.” Terry said again.

“Or why…” Eric added and again the group fell silent.

Meanwhile Alison looked steadily at Michael, whose hands were gripped together on his lap and whose colour had drained from his face. She felt edgy again and couldn’t wait for the meeting to end so she could catch him alone. She was sure there was something she could tell him.

“Well what are we going to do about it?” John asked, ever the practical one.

Everyone shrugged. They didn’t particularly want to hire anyone else, and there was no one they trusted or liked as much as Chelsea.

“I suppose we just carry on without her.” Terry said and Alison shot him a harsh look.

“Aren’t you even going to look for her?” she asked and the men turned towards her.

“What would you have me do Ali? Search the entire country for her?”

She glanced at Michael. “If you wanted her enough that’s what you would do.”

Terry scoffed. “I’m sure Chelsea will return when she’s ready. She’s a grown woman after all, and I doubt that she made any decision without a lot of thinking and deliberation first.”

Alison looked back at her husband. “Maybe she just needs to know that she’s cared for here? Have you ever thought of that? Sometimes you guys treat her as though she’s a prop, and she’s worth more than that.” She looked back at Michael, who raised his head and had visible tears in his eyes. “Maybe she needs to know that she’s loved, more than she’s needed for Python.”

Terry looked strangely at his wife and his brow furrowed.

“Alison, you’re very cryptic about Chelsea sometimes. I’m sure there’s more to her than you tell me.”

She glanced at her husband and smiled, batting him away and holding back any tears she had. “And sometimes Terry you’re too suspicious for your own good.”

John seconded that and with a brief exchange over the table the meeting was adjourned until further notice and the party began to break up.

Alison slipped to Michael’s side while Terry, Gilliam and Graham laughed about an article written after the first Holy Grail Premiere, where Eric had suggested a title for their next film venture. She scribbled frantically on her notepad and ripped off the paper discreetly, folding it and touching his hand with hers and pushing the paper inside.

“It’s a long shot Mike, but it’s the best I have right now.”

He looked at her puzzled. “I’ve asked everywhere, driven to the places we loved, watched her flat, asked at friends, and I haven’t found a shred of evidence. How have you come up with a suggestion?”

She looked guiltily at the floor. “She was my friend Mike. I helped her and looked out for her as much if not more than anyone. She trusted me.”
“And?” he looked quizzical.

“On the paper is an address,” she said and cast a quick glance around. “It’s her favourite place to be she once told me. At least try it Mike, what have you got to lose?”

Michael unfolded the paper and looked at the address written there. “This is Scotland.” He said in a slightly shocked whisper.

Alison nodded. “She loved it there, Mike.”

He looked at her quizzically. “I don’t remember it Ali.”

She cast a quick glance around at the other Pythons before creeping ever so slightly closer.

“Do you remember a small town you once visited with her? She said it was a beautiful place in a glen, with high mountains all around and...” Alison struggled to remember her friends description, “a perfect sunset…she said it was one of the most idyllic moments in her life.”

Michael’s eyes dawned with realisation. Once he had taken her to a little town called Tathern in the middle of the Cairngorm Mountains. It had been a long way out from Doune, but it was a beautiful and romantic place, and often reminded him of the Swiss Alps. It had been a glorious day, and they had walked the streets hand in hand, until at last the sun began to set, and they had sat in each others arms in the middle of a heathy ridge, and Michael had smelt her perfume in the Scottish air.

His eyes glistened at the memory. “How did you know I was there?” he asked softly.

Alison smiled. “It makes sense now that I know you’ve been together for all this time. There are moments when Chelsea tells me things, and she lights up, and you can tell there is something special in that moment.” She looked at her hands, and then back up at Michael. “I bet I can name a hundred moments when you two have been together like that.”

Michael touched her hand gently and kissed her cheek. “You are a star Alison. My friend is the luckiest man alive to have you.”

Alison blushed and she sat up. “Just make sure you go and bring her back Michael. The strain is killing me.”

With another glance around the room Michael pushed back his chair and hurried out, trying not to catch anyone’s gaze as he left.

Terry looked over at his wife and his best friend, and felt an unfamiliar feeling rise in his chest, before pushing it away quickly. There was no way…it wasn’t possible…like he would...like SHE would… Again he pushed the thoughts away and focused back onto what Graham was saying to John, and trying to involve himself in the conversation. But the niggling thoughts ate at his mind, and he resolved to do some investigating, before he jumped to any strong conclusions.

**************************************************************************************************************

Michael pushed the car into fifth and then almost floored the accelerator, speeding the car off the motorway and onto a small mountain road, bumpy and uncertain, determined that he would reach the town by at least eight o’clock. The address, tacked firmly onto the dashboard fluttered in the breeze ever so slightly, and as he rolled the window down and rested an arm on the door, he sat back comfortably, wondering how she would have changed in the last month and a half.

He supposed her hair would be a little longer, and she might not have as many freckles as she had before, with her being in a sunless country and all, and he supposed she might be wearing more clothing in her cold climate, but Michael relished in the thought of her being the same Chelsea he had fallen in love with at the start.

Michael fumbled in a sweet packet and picked out a chocolate. He’d been on the road now nearly seven hours, and, not wanting to stop for an instant, he had gone without lunch or dinner, and was now eating anything he could find in the vicinity.

He bit the sweet and felt his jaw lock. It was so hard it must have sat in his glove compartment ever since he’d bought the car, and he sucked on it a little, before it finally gave way and allowed him to chew.

He wondered what she’d be doing right now. Whether she’d be curled up with a book and a cup of tea in a comfy wood cabin somewhere. Michael smiled as memories of her sitting in his armchairs, cuddled up with a book and a cup of tea sprang into his mind. He loved seeing her in his minds eye, liked the way she looked at him and smiled softly.

Michael shook his head. Why had he let her go? Why had he thought so little of their love to choose a TV programme over her?

And then there it was, in front of him, a glow of orange and white in a darkened night’s sky. Tathern grew in front of his eyes as he pushed his foot on the accelerator a little more and felt the car groan with the immense pressure it had been under for the last ten hours of travelling.

The streets grew around him and suddenly he was transported back to when he had first stepped out of the car and taken her hand in his, and walked in amongst the houses, smiling at the people and holding her with an arm.

And then, in the magic that sunset brings to lovers, he found himself remembering her hair, her eyes, her kiss, as they stood transfixed by the orange and reds, purples and blues that surrounded them as night met day.

He stopped the car and stepped out. He yanked the piece of paper from the dashboard and scanned the streets around him, hoping someone would be kind enough to recognise a tourist and show him the way.

But tonight the streets seemed empty, and Michael crossed the road and looked closely at a road sign, before realising it was hopeless. How could he find her when he hadn’t bought a map? All the shops were closed and there was no one about.

Deciding to be brave Michael stepped up to the door of the nearest house and knocked hard.

“Can I help you?” asked a voice to the side of him and a middle-aged woman with wild brown hair looked out from her window at him.

Michael smiled genially. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you but I’m looking for someone. I have this address, I was wondering if you could possibly direct me to it?”

He handed her the paper and she disappeared for a moment, before returning with some glasses propped on her nose.

“Wilde Way?” she smiled and glanced up at Michael. “It’s quite famous you know? Got a fantastic view over looking the glen.” She grinned and then pointed. “It’s up there.” She said and Michael turned to see.

The town, he realised, was built into the side of the valley, and was almost tiered. And four levels up, he saw a wooded area and then a small building, lit dimly with a yellow glow, looking out over the town.

He smiled at the lady and shook her hand. “Thank you very much.” He said and she folded her arms and looked seriously at him.

“Why do you want this address anyhow?”

Michael grinned happily. “There’s a young lady in one of those houses who I’d quite like to marry.”

The lady looked puzzled. “Up at Wilde’s Way?” she asked and Michael faltered for a moment.

“Yes?”

She shook her head. “If you’re after Miss Marsh she left yesterday.”

Michael’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“If it’s Miss Marsh you’re after.”

Michael nodded. “How do you know?”

The lady smiled. “It’s my house she rented.”

He almost slumped when he heard the news and sagged against the window frame. “Who’s up there now then?” he asked glumly.

“Nice family from London. They book this place every year, otherwise Miss Marsh would still be here now.”

Michael nodded dumbly.

“So I take it that it was Miss Marsh you were after?” the lady said cautiously and again Michael nodded silently.

The lady disappeared.

Michael stared at the empty space where she had been and then began to walk away.

Suddenly he felt a pat on the shoulder and the lady waved a piece of paper in front of his face.

“She left this. So I could send her a receipt for the bill.”

Michael took the paper and read it. Another address looked him in the face and he reread it.

“This is in the middle of Shropshire.” He said and grinned. “Thank you.”

The lady nodded and waved as he hurried to his car.

“Good luck to you young man.” She said as he revved the engine and sped away.