Elly’s Story

“I just need this man to okay the initial down payment,” Elly reminded herself as she took one last look in the mirror before grabbing her purse to rush towards the meeting with the banker. She felt and looked fabulous.

Born into a wealthy family, Elly’s multi-cultural background not only exposed her to some of the best education money could buy but it also led to her mad obsession with walking away from everything that was already “paid for”. Trained to be the perfect daughter, Elly however knew how to take advantage of her looks and her nonchalance towards most things mediocre.

She also did everything her family would disapprove of. She saw some of the darkest alleys of Amsterdam, bright lights of London and ‘beauté culinaire’ of Paris. She chased the hipster life, drank the finest wines at soirees one could only dream of, organised art shows at 19, and hobnobbed with designers, chefs, architects alike. Elly drank life like it was going to be her last drink.

And when it was time for her to walk through those massive glass doors of papa’s office, the ‘perfect daughter’ packed her bags and left town, and left no forwarding address. Just an apology. And one text to her best friend.

Elly signed up to be an exotic dancer at an upscale escort club. Her funds had run out and this was the one thing she had never tried before. “Why not?” she told herself as she slipped into her first ever pair of sequined hot pants. “Terrible, but why not?”

Now, had she not had that ridiculous affair with a chef, Elly’s interest in the food business would have stayed dormant. The affair died a colourful death but Elly wanted a restaurant. Within a year or two of working men and draining their wallets, she’d saved enough to think about it, made decent connections even, and if her posh certificate from Cordon Bleu from Paris did not come handy now, when would it?

Mr Angeliques was waiting for her at the bank. But he did not have good news. “Unfortunately, we cannot pass this loan, Ms Enchantment,” he said in his usual formal voice. “What the….! I mean but why, Mr Angeliques? My papers are all in order, aren’t they? You said so yourself,” Elly did not want to sound needy.

“Sorry, Elly. It’s what the bank has decided at the moment.”

She stood up from the plush chair. She’d never liked corner office holders. “Alright, have a good day then, mister.”

Mr Angeliques waited for Elly to leave and sighed, before picking up the phone and dialling a number he rarely dialled. The chat was short. “Yes, she’s on her way down.”

Elly stood on the sidewalk of the massive building, fighting back tears and looking for a taxi at the same time. Her heart was pounding and her feet had begun to hurt. Suddenly, she felt someone almost breathe down her neck.

“Ms Enchantment?” The voice was deep, soft, deliberate. She turned around and saw a man in a dark hat, dark trench and shiny Oxfords. The sun was in her eyes and she could barely see his face. It was the voice; there was something oddly familiar about the voice.

“Get away from me,” she said between gritted teeth.

“Ms Enchantment, I think you need to make this call. In fact, I insist you do.” The man pushed a card firmly into her hand and walked away; a limo was waiting in the distance.

She waited for it to disappear before looking at the card in her hand. It was black and had nothing but a gold circle that said ‘TGC’. Where had she heard of this name before? From papa? On the other side, a phone number. “This is not happening,” she mumbled. She pulled out her phone and dialled Light.