by Lucy Coleman
Cary spins on his heels. He walks away quickly to catch up with Gayle, who has been swallowed up by the crowd.
‘This way.’ Harry indicates for me to follow him and we head towards a flight of stairs.
We walk in an awkward silence while I wrack my brains, eager to make small talk. I don’t want him to think Cary has said anything untoward about him if he senses my discomfort in his company. I need to hide it and appear bright and breezy, so I launch into the first thing that comes into my head.
‘Is this an annual event, Harry? How many prizes will be awarded this evening?’
He doesn’t look my way as we continue up the staircase.
‘Yes. Three. I’m surprised Cary didn’t enlighten you.’
Harry’s voice is monotonous and it’s almost impossible to attach any interpretation to the tone. His manner is slightly caustic, but then it wasn’t any different when I was first introduced to him in the bar.
‘He’s modest and hasn’t really said very much about the award.’ It’s difficult to instantly think up a response. I’m trying to be careful what I say and, to my dismay, Harry turns his head abruptly to look at me.
‘He hasn’t? You don’t find it rather tedious having to accompany Cary to a business-related event about which you know nothing?’
His eyes narrow as we reach a large balconied area and head towards a set of double-doors. A large sign indicates this is where the ceremony is being held.
‘I wasn’t sure I could make it tonight, but I managed to rearrange my schedule at the last minute. I would have been so disappointed not to be here tonight to support Cary.’
Hopefully that sounds believable.
Harry holds one of the doors open for me to step through. Unfortunately, there are barely a dozen people scattered around the vast seating area. Everyone is still downstairs, happily quaffing champagne and nattering away. He heads for the front row and we sit slightly to the right of the podium.
As I settle myself down, Harry begins speaking.
‘How long have you known Cary?’
Is he making small talk, I wonder? But Cary whispered that he knew how we met.
‘Since last December.’
‘Ah, yes. The exhibition. But you didn’t know each other before that?’
Instinctively I shake my head, almost before the words are out of my mouth. ‘No.’
I lapse into silence, glancing around the room nonchalantly and hoping he doesn’t ask me another question.
‘So, what exactly do you do?’
I turn my head back to the front, focusing on a young guy who is shuffling papers into a pile, before placing them on the lectern. At least I can avoid looking at Harry.
‘I own a company which specialises in producing marketing videos. We’re about to expand into the training sector.’ My tone hardens a little. This isn’t polite conversation; this is digging for information.
‘Your face looks familiar to me, though. I feel like I’ve seen you before.’
I stop to think for a moment. ‘I came to the offices for a meeting at the beginning of November to discuss the requirements.’
‘Ah, so you had met Cary before you worked on the video.’
I frown.
‘Not socially,’ I reply, firmly.
‘And that changed while you were away working together. I see. I’m sure Cary will be able to give you a lot of sound business advice that will come in very useful.’
Is he trying to imply that Cary and I have some sort of business connection beyond just a single contract? My hands are beginning to feel clammy. What exactly does Harry think he can prise out of me? I’m growing weary of this and turn to watch a steady stream of people suddenly entering the room.
‘I think I’ll pop to the cloakroom while the seats are filling up. Don’t worry if someone takes mine, Harry. I’ll probably stand to the side as I want to get a photo of Cary. See you later.’
With that, I make my escape without looking back.
*
Sidling back into the room, I work my way around to a good vantage point. Mercifully, I’m partially consumed by the shadows, as the lights have already been dimmed; all eyes are on the brightly lit stage. I’m out of Harry’s direct line of sight, too, which is perfect.
After a very slick PowerPoint presentation, the lights are turned up a little and the award ceremony begins in earnest with the third prize winner. Then the second prize winner takes the stage and as his speech draws to a close even my hands are beginning to sweat a little, so I have no idea how Cary must be feeling right now. And then suddenly he’s there, centre stage and looking every bit like a winner. Cool, calm and assured.
His speech is passionate; it’s clear that it comes from the heart.
‘If we waste energy, we fail not only ourselves and future generations, but the planet, which is temporarily in our care. We are merely custodians for the period we are here. And we aren’t doing a very good job of looking after it.
‘The future belongs to us all. It’s time to invest in that future and that involves every single one of us. It’s all about the choices we make and where we choose to invest our time and money.’
There’s a solid round of applause as Cary punches a key on the laptop.
‘And this is the next step forward.’ The big screen behind him kicks into life, the Energy Solutions Industry Award logo being replaced by the opening shot of the video. Our video.
‘I would like to acknowledge the sterling work done by Leesa Oliver and Jeff Martin from Dynamic Videography, who filmed and produced this video to an almost impossible timescale. But, as it more than amply demonstrates, the recent energy awareness convention in Sydney was buzzing. Aside from doing numerous presentations, it was a very informative, and galvanizing, opportunity to meet up with other industry professionals. People, I believe will be instrumental in not simply rolling forward their current projects but want a stake in pushing the boundaries. This will result in speeding up what are already considered to be ambitious goals.’
As the video begins, I feel like I’m back in Sydney. But this time I see it from a slightly different perspective. Cary was buzzing the whole time – no wonder he was so focused; the nervous energy he was expending must have taken a monumental effort.
He wasn’t just being a salesman, he was there to convince anyone who would listen that doing their little bit could have a real impact. It wasn’t about preaching to those who were already on the bandwagon, but persuading the people who weren’t already on board. And that’s what I missed somehow.
How did I not really take in the solar panels on the back of Cressida’s home, or the little control panels Nicholas so diligently kept flicking open every time he entered a room? Or the wind turbines at the farm?
The only move towards the future of greener energy that I, or my family have made, is to use LED light bulbs. Protecting the environment affects us all and Cary is right, it’s the average man in the street who is lagging behind in the war on waste and the resulting damage it does.
When the video finishes and Cary is presented with his award, there is an outstanding round of applause that seems to go on and on. Whatever bad feeling he’s experienced at work, clearly he has the respect of his peers. Sadly, he’s so caught up in the constant battle he has to fight on a daily basis, that he won’t allow himself to enjoy the moment in a self-satisfying way.
But Cressida is going to love watching this when I play it back to her and even I feel a little overcome to have witnessed it in person. Well done, Cary – your mother would have been so proud to see you up there on stage tonight. Passion like that can only come from a person with a genuinely good heart.
22
Happy Valentine’s Day
‘I hope you’re prepared for one very proud grandma moment, when I email this to Cressida.’ I indicate to my phone, as we head away from the museum. ‘I only wish that she’d been here in person to see it.’
‘Yes, well, I had to put my foot dow
n rather firmly about that. As soon as she knew you’d be here, she was fine, of course.’ He shoots me a rueful look. ‘You didn’t have to go to all that trouble, you know. One photo would have sufficed. It’s not a part of the job.’
Was accepting that welcoming kiss when I arrived, or hanging on his arm and giving him frequent looks of admiration, a part of the job – or going too far, I wonder? But I didn’t see him complaining. This is all becoming way too easy for me, though. I’m enjoying it, being perceived as Cary’s love interest. Listen to me – if I can’t keep my emotions in check then I’m in danger of facing yet another big upset in my life. Rejection.
‘Job?’ I query, pushing my rather worrying thoughts aside.
‘Sorry, contract.’ He looks bemused, but I can see that he’s relieved tonight’s event is over.
‘Talking about jobs. Harry was grilling me about when you and I first met.’
Cary shrugs his shoulders. ‘Don’t fret about it. He was probably making conversation and couldn’t think of anything else to say. He’s not the most sociable of people. Few get on with him and many are wary of him, justifiably so from his past record. He’s not averse to turning information he comes across to his advantage. Even when the source is spurious and it’s tantamount to gossip. You know what people are like and sometimes a rumour can do a lot of damage.’
Knowing that, I wonder why Cary doesn’t seem at all concerned. We draw to a halt outside an Italian restaurant and when we peer inside, to our dismay, it’s packed solid.
I catch sight of a guy producing a single red rose from inside his jacket. Sadly, I suspect it’s made of silk but at least that means it’s intact.
‘Oh, I keep forgetting it’s Valentine’s Day! It won’t be easy to get a table anywhere, I should imagine.’ Cary looks apologetic. And I mean really apologetic, as if he was looking forward to this, too. ‘I should have booked somewhere. We’d better head back to the hotel, we might have better luck there.’
Cary grabs my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. My skin tingles at his touch and I find myself squeezing back. He deserves a lavish celebratory dinner at the very least.
As he raises his other arm to flag down a taxi, I still can’t believe he doesn’t want me to repeat my conversation with Harry. Maybe I’m feeling uneasy about it because I took an instant dislike to the man. Even though Cary has the measure of him, that doesn’t mean he should become blasé, or lower his guard. But he does seem more concerned about not disappointing me over having a nice, relaxing dinner together. Albeit Valentine’s Day appears to be little more than a nuisance to him, as it’s spoiling his plans.
I fleetingly wonder what it would be like if we were really seeing each other. Would Cary be plying me with flowers and chocolates? Or is he the sort of man who would pull a little jewellery box from his inside pocket, like they do in the films? Is there a romantic buried deep inside that often stiff, and decidedly rugged, exterior?
‘So, you’re definitely not worried then, about Harry?’
‘No. I think he stepped in because he wanted to be seen with a gorgeous-looking lady at his side. Harry and I go back a few years. He hails from Cardiff and his wife is an old friend of Grandma’s. He headhunted me to fill a position that opened up a few years back. He assumed I would be his ally as time went on, but I got the job on my own merits and rose quickly. He does harbour a grudge but don’t worry about it. I know all of his tricks by now.’
I feel I’ve overstepped my role a little and Cary shouldn’t have to justify his actions to me. Despite the alarm jangling in my head I have no choice but to let it go.
‘What happens to the award you were presented with? Do you get to keep it?’
‘Yes, I gave it to Edward to take back to the office tomorrow. I’m off to Yorkshire in the morning.’
‘That’s a pity.’ That he can’t take it home and that he’ll be heading off tomorrow, probably early. So, we only have a couple of hours left, at most, to catch up.
We sink into the back seat, finally able to relax and when we arrive at the hotel reception they confirm the restaurant is fully booked.
‘Can we get room service?’ Cary enquires, and my stomach rumbles a low growl of complaint.
‘Of course, sir.’ The man proffers a menu and Cary opens it, indicating for me to take a look. I lean into him, scanning the flowery writing for something hearty.
‘How hungry are you?’ Cary asks, turning to look at me.
‘Very. A gourmet burger would hit the spot.’
‘Make that two gourmet burgers, please. Room 601?’ Cary looks at me for confirmation that I’m happy to eat it in his room and I nod.
In fact, his room is a little bigger than mine, accommodating a table with two chairs in addition to a small sofa and a coffee table.
‘Take a seat. I’ll raid the mini bar. Alcoholic, or soft drink?’
Having sunk a couple of glasses of champagne I think it’s time to opt for water.
We slump down onto the chairs either side of the table. I immediately slip off my shoes, making an apology as I do so. Cary slips off his jacket, grinning as he stares at my wriggling toes.
‘That feels so good,’ I exclaim.
‘Happy Valentine’s Day!’ We chink mini water bottles. ‘I wonder what Grandma would say if she could see us now. “Not much of a romantic dinner for two, Cary”, I suspect!’
I laugh, finding myself sitting here and grinning at him. And feeling extremely comfortable.
‘Are you allowed to tell me what happened behind the scenes tonight? I thought it all went very smoothly. Were you nervous making your speech?’
Cary is almost finished giving me the lowdown when there’s a knock on the door and he jumps up, eager to welcome in the waiter. This is no ordinary room service, though. The waiter lays the table; then the plates, covered with silver domes, are carried across with a little panache. As soon as we are seated he ceremoniously lifts the lids in tandem and wishes us ‘Bon appétit’ before leaving.
We’re both so hungry we begin immediately, not really appreciating the perfect presentation of the tall stacks, secured with wooden skewers. The triple-cooked chips smell heavenly and this is just the food to soak up that alcohol.
Silence reigns while we wolf down a few bites to take away the urgent hunger pangs before slowing down. Then Cary begins speaking again.
‘I don’t get nervous in a work situation because I know I’m in control. Where I flounder is when I’m having to deal with people’s emotions and hang-ups. Now, kids I can cope with because if you give them what they want they’re usually happy.’
I’m making quick work of demolishing this burger, but I stop long enough to answer.
‘Bribery?’
‘Now I don’t see it that way. Think about it; take my niece Daisy, for example. Her life is full of frustrations. Jackson is two years older and has more developed skills and a little more freedom; Chloe demands more attention as a three-year-old who is still prone to tantrums. Being the middle sibling makes it difficult for Daisy to shine, as she’s rarely the first to achieve anything by way of a milestone. Chloe is the baby of the family. For some reason, I’ve noticed, parents tend to pander to the youngest member out of nothing more than sentimentality. There are times when Daisy doesn’t feel noticed. Giving her some attention isn’t spoiling her and it makes her feel good.’
I have a flashback to Hayden, when Cary began playing with him on the journey back from Australia.
‘Well, you’ve more patience than I have; the seven-plus years’ gap between Beth and myself meant she was a constant thorn in my side from the moment she began walking and talking.’
Cary gives me a knowing little grin. ‘Ah, eldest child syndrome. You remembered the early years when life was simpler without a sibling to consider. Learning to share your parents, your toys maybe and your time isn’t easy. Life’s lessons can be hard.’
I burst out laughing. ‘Well, I don’t intend to have kids anyway, so it’s all ac
ademic to me. I’ll leave that to Beth. How about you?’
Cary frowns, putting down his knife and fork for a moment.
‘The hours I work I seriously doubt there’s a woman out there who would want to settle down with me. I’m not avoiding it, simply being pragmatic. I would love to have kids, but I’d rarely be around to enjoy time with them. Marriages like that tend to end up in divorce, so I might have to settle for being an uncle. Besides, I get to hand them back when they’re on a sugar rush because I’ve been feeding them sweets.’
Cary is a constant source of surprise. Things I think will probably have gone over his head, seem to resonate with him. He has a really sensitive streak deep inside him and along with that goes the ability to get hurt, because you can’t have one without the other. That’s why he tries his best to contain it, I suppose. Life has taught him that you can’t take anything for granted.
‘There’s something so satisfying when you spend time with a child on a one-to-one basis,’ he continues. ‘It’s grounding and it doesn’t hurt anyone to be reminded of life through a child’s eyes again. Actually, it was Jackson who inspired the project I’m working on.’
He’s eight; I look at Cary, cocking an eyebrow.
‘You don’t believe me? I took him on a ride to get up close to a wind turbine because he’s always been fascinated by them. We parked in a little pull-in and walked up to a gated field. It was a windy day and the hum of the blades fascinated him; he was nearly six at the time. I explained that it generated electricity and he asked why everyone didn’t have one in their garden, even if it would have to be a smaller version.
‘We talked then about solar panels and I explained a little about green energy and the environment. I admitted it was mainly down to the cost, because many people’s homes are smaller. They wouldn’t be able to generate enough power for their own needs, so it might not make it worthwhile. I thought I’d lost him on that one when he piped up, “But can’t the people with the extra power help them out to make it better for everyone?” And he had a point in a way, which I took on board.’
