by Alicia Hope
Verity’s face coloured with indignation. ‘What about John Reardon?’ she demanded. But what she was asking herself was whether there was anyone in the whole company who didn’t know about the Reardon case.
‘There’s no need to side-step, Verity. I know you’ve been instructed to sack Reardon, and that you ... well ... stuffed it up.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ She glared at him incredulously, a storm brewing in her dark eyes.
He frowned. ‘I probably didn’t put that very well, I’m a bit tired.’ A patronising note crept unintentionally into his deep voice. ‘Look, you’re new at this game, and you can’t be expected to know how to handle these more delicate issues. There are lots of traps to fall into, and dangerous mistakes to make. But I can help you. Now, what we need to do first is—’
Verity jumped to her feet to glower at him. The storm was building to a crescendo.
‘Let me get this straight, Royce. You prance into my office after being away trying to get project approval behind my back, and then you have the nerve to accuse me of not knowing what I’m doing when dealing with confidential issues you shouldn’t even know about?’ Her eyes blazed into his and she took a deep breath, struggling to control her inner boil-over.
He ran an agitated hand over his head and lowered his eyes from her furious gaze.
She went on in a strangled voice, her words dripping with sarcasm, ‘I’m so glad I don’t have to unburden myself to you about the Reardon case, Royce, as you obviously already know it all! And of course you’d know better than me how best to handle it. I can’t even begin to tell you how comforting that is.’
She paused to take a breath, her chest heaving. ‘But as for your “kind” offer of assistance, I don’t want your help.’ Her voice grew calmer and she resumed her seat. ‘If I’m given half a chance to actually address this issue myself,’ she added, lowering her gaze to the papers on her desk, ‘I’ll be happy to bungle along on my own, thank you, even if I make a few mistakes along the way.’
Royce was cursing himself for sounding like a pompous pratt, and was unable for the moment to find anything to say to mend the situation. The furrows in his brow deepened as he stared at her, thinking, damn it, what’s wrong with me? It’s a real effort to take my eyes off her. She looks so riled, so ferociously alive. Unfortunately, it’s me she’s ferocious with.
‘I think you know where the door is, Royce.’ Verity’s voice held a resigned flatness, and her face was set and stony. She swivelled her chair away from him and fixed her eyes on her computer screen.
Royce stared at her without speaking, thinking that every time he opened his mouth he made matters worse. Against the backdrop of the window her profile looked determined, but also vulnerable. For a crazy moment he felt a burning desire to take her in his arms and apologise for insulting her. The intense feeling took him by surprise—he’d never wanted to hug his CEO before! He blinked, asking himself what the hell he thought he was doing. He felt shaken, more by his feelings than by what had just transpired, so he rose quietly and left the room.
Kerry looked up inquisitively as he strode past her desk, but he didn’t pause. She returned to her work, wondering what had passed between the two in the office. By the look on Royce’s face, it hadn’t been pleasant, and she wondered if there’d been trouble in paradise. Her lips twisted into a mean smirk.
As he strode along the hallway, Royce’s mind was racing. It was obvious Verity had heard of his attempted insubordination.
That, on top of everything else that happened while I was away, must have her feeling as though the whole world’s against her, he thought guiltily.
Suddenly, Claire flew out of the next office’s doorway without looking, and careened into him.
‘Oops! Sorry.’
He glared down at her and growled, ‘Do you make a habit of running into people? Might pay you to slow down in future, instead of charging around like a scrub bull.’
She took a step back and frowned at him. She was in the wrong, sure, but he was overreacting, and she resented having him vent his ill humour on her. ‘Sorry, your majesty,’ she murmured, moving out of his way.
‘What did you say?’ He stood very still, staring at her.
Claire took a deep breath, but his haughty demeanour triggered her temper. ‘Look, I’m sorry I ran into you, and yes, I should be more careful to watch where I’m going. But do you have to go out of your way to prove you’re a big fish around here, every chance you get?’ she retorted angrily.
Royce regarded her incredulously and thought, what is it with me and women today? Is every one I meet going to tear strips off me? And what’s the deal with this one, a mere public relations officer, giving a senior manager a lecture on manners! What sort of public relations does she call that?
He studied her face more closely. He could sense this was someone who wouldn’t be afraid to tell him the truth. ‘It’s Claire, isn’t it, from public relations? Verity’s friend. I ... ahem ... saw you at the party.’
His abrupt change of manner took her by surprise. He seemed to have forgotten to be angry with her. She blushed at his reference to the party, recalling, if a little blurrily, her behaviour that night. ‘Um ... yes, that’s right.’
He nodded decisively. ‘Could you do something for me, Claire? Could you tell me exactly what’s been going on around here? I know there’ve been some problems, but I’ve only heard about them second or third-hand, and from a questionable source.’
She raised a scornful eyebrow, clearly aware who he meant.
He added, ‘I need to know if what I’ve been told is right, and if it’s the whole story.’ He looked intently at Claire, hoping she would trust him enough to tell him the truth.
She studied his face for a moment before answering candidly, ‘Well, a whole hell of a lot happened while you were away on your ... trip.’
He shifted uncomfortably. It was obvious she knew what he’d been up to while in the US. Perhaps everyone knew.
Claire looked to left and right. ‘Can we go into this empty office to talk? There’ve been too many conversations overheard by the wrong people recently.’ He was curious what she meant by that, but joined her in the office and closed the door behind them.
‘I assume we’re talking about the Reardon case, or do you mean the land grab, or Tony’s dismissal, or the media debacle? Verity’s had them all thrown at her lately.’
‘The Reardon case. It’s the only one still unresolved, isn’t it? She would’ve taken care of the other issues by now, I’m sure.’
‘How kind of you to assume that.’ She raised an eyebrow at him again. ‘And you’re right, she has.’
He took a deep breath and ignored the cynicism in her tone. ‘What about the Reardon case?’
‘Well, shall I start with the fact that the whole scenario was a set-up? Verity was instructed to sack him, but wasn’t given the necessary justification for termination, so she couldn’t use the prescribed disciplinary procedure.’
Royce had turned and was gazing into the atrium below, but Claire could tell he was listening intently. She went on, ‘And then, before she had time to prepare for the unpleasant task, someone–and I have my suspicions who–gave Reardon a heads-up on what was coming. So, of course, he accosted Verity, right under the noses of Miss Sharpe and a whole entourage of journos. They were here to do an article on RCL’s ‘newest and brightest’ female CEO. Thankfully, Miss Sharpe had some good ideas on how to mend the situation, and we managed to salvage reputations with some clever footwork. Sharpe by name and sharp by nature, hey?’
He didn’t respond, so Claire went on, ‘What’s more, because he had prior warning, Reardon’s been able to mount a legal challenge which the company has no hope of winning, as all the cards have been stacked against Verity.’
Royce stared at the floor and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. ‘I see. Well, that’s a different version of the story I was given. I was led to believe that Verity mishandled the situation, giv
ing Reardon the advantage.’
‘Oh, come on! She never got the chance to even try to handle it!’ Claire’s eyes flashed and she went on in a voice loaded with accusation, ‘She hasn’t been given many chances at all, so far, by lots of people.’
It was an obvious challenge, and he regarded her gravely for a few moments. But all he said was, ‘Thank you, Claire, for being honest with me.’ He looked away again, deep in thought, and just as she was thinking that might have been her cue to leave, he turned to her and said with a glint in his eye, ‘I’ll be more careful in future to not act without first checking the facts ... but only if you’ll be more careful too, to not go around barrelling into people.’
He nodded at her with a half‑smile, opened the door, and strode out.
Claire watched him go, thinking he looked tired and a bit ragged.
But, she found herself musing, despite appearing the worse for wear in a wrinkled suit and sporting a five o’clock shadow, that man still manages to command respect.
Chapter Twelve
Verity felt a burning desire to get away from her desk with its jangling telephone and the insistent pings of computer reminders and email alerts. Surely she could find a good reason to escape from the office for a while. And then it came to her, the commitment she’d made to herself as newly appointed CEO, to visit all the work areas regularly and be visible to the labour force. She aimed to address their main gripe, about management locking themselves away in the ‘ivory tower’ and remaining isolated from the everyday issues faced by ground floor staff.
Checking her electronic diary, she found a time window. It was long enough for a re-energising drive down the conveyor road to the transfer station, and then back again for a sweep of the refinery site and a few work area drop-ins. She buzzed Kerry on the intercom to let her know she would be out for a while.
‘Kerry?’
No answer.
‘Kerry, are you there?’
Silence greeted her again.
Verity rose impatiently to her feet and went over to the interconnecting door. The outer office was empty, no Kerry to be seen. She’d been away from her desk more often than not that day, as though she was avoiding her boss.
With good reason, Verity thought testily. There’ll be more than one bone to pick with her when I get the chance.
She went to her desk and typed a brief pop-up message for Kerry on the company intranet, thinking a little sourly, I wonder if Kerry’s absence is a sign there’s another unexpected visit or confrontation awaiting me. As soon as she’d sent the message, Verity went into the CEO’s en suite to freshen up. When she looked at her face in the mirror, checking her hair was still neatly tied at the nape of her neck, her thoughts unexpectedly flicked to Royce, and her brown eyes grew troubled.
She asked her reflection, why are you letting him get to you? He’s only doing what comes naturally to ruthless corporate types. It’s nothing personal.
She took a deep breath and tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ears.
He deserves no special consideration. So snap out of it.
She straightened to her full height, smoothed her smart linen suit, and turned briskly to grab the keys to her company car from off the counter. On her way out she collected her hard hat—she’d need it if she ventured into a work area—before striding purposefully over to the private staircase connecting the executive suite to the floor below.
Once on the ground floor, she was about to open the door to the car park when a voice behind her called, ‘G’day, Miss Parker. How’s things?’
She glanced around to see the environmental officer, Ben, grinning at her. She smiled warmly in return, ‘Good thanks, Ben.’
‘Hey, I wanted to let you know about that roo, the one we found trapped in the mud lake.’
‘Oh yes,’ Verity said, turning to face him, ‘what’s the latest on its condition?’
‘All good. He’s going to be OK.’
‘Oh, great. That’s terrific news.’
‘Yeah, we got him out with only a little bit of drama,’ and Ben rolled up the sleeve of his khaki work shirt.
Verity frowned at the nasty-looking gash on his arm, made by the roo’s strong claws.
Ben pulled his sleeve down again. ‘Thankfully, he hadn’t been in the mud for too long. There was only minor trauma to his skin, so we gave him the old hose-off treatment, followed by lashings of lanolin cream. But the way he fought us you’d swear we were marinating him, ready for roasting!’
They both chuckled at the mental image of lathering sticky sauce onto a feisty kangaroo.
‘Ben, that’s the best news I’ve had all day! But I’m sorry to see you paid a price for your compassion.’
‘Yep, it was a good result. And don’t worry about the arm, it’s nothing. Wish all of them ended that well.’
‘When you say “all of them”, just how many incidents like this do we have?’
‘Quite a few. A whole lot too many if you ask me.’
She regarded him thoughtfully for a few seconds before saying, ‘I have a job I’d like you to do.’
‘Sure, fire away.’
‘I want to commission a report by the environmental department, and I want you to be in charge of its preparation.’
‘Me? But—’
‘The report is to outline annual statistics on wildlife incidents, like this one, involving the red mud lakes. It will include details of all the outcomes, along with recommendations to address the problem, and estimated costings.’ She paused and eyed him shrewdly. ‘I believe you have your finger on the pulse with this, Ben, that’s why I’m asking you to take it on. And if you want to establish a quality action team to help with the task, I’d be very supportive of that too.’
Ben nodded silently and looked down at the floor, feeling proud that the CEO would assign him this responsibility, but also a little stunned. Preparing a report like this one was a task his department head would normally handle, so he wondered what the reaction would be to the news.
Verity noticed Ben’s unease and said, ‘If your manager has any concerns about this, tell him to refer them to me.’
Ben glanced up at her gratefully, and she added, ‘I’ll put all this in an email to you, so you have it in writing. I plan to request an allocation of additional funding in this financial year’s budget, assuming the recommendations in your report are feasible,’ and she gave him a meaningful look. ‘So I need it on my desk before the EC meeting. That doesn’t give you a lot of time. What do you think, is it do-able?’
The young man’s eyes had been growing increasingly wide as she spoke. This made him look a little like a startled possum to Verity’s hidden amusement. But he managed to stammer, ‘I … well … sure, I can do that.’ He paused to think before adding more confidently, ‘Yes, I can have it to you in time. It’s just a matter of consolidating the data we already have. Consider me on the job.’ His face broke into a wide grin.
‘Good, let me know if you have any problems. And take care of that arm. I hope you saw the MO about it? And lodged an incident report with Workplace Health and Safety?’
He looked sheepish, but hurriedly replied when he saw her reproachful expression, ‘I was just on my way to see the safety officer.’
She fixed him with a stern gaze and said, ‘Well, don’t let me delay you.’ Turning briskly, she threw him a quick, smiling nod, and then opened the door to head to her waiting vehicle.
She felt her spirits lift as soon as she drove along the conveyor road and away from the refinery. The sun was shining warmly and the sense of spring was almost tangible. A re-energising influence seeped into her.
If only this job didn’t require me to be penned up in an office so much of the time, she thought wistfully.
She was settling in to enjoy the sweet, though brief, sensation of freedom, when she noticed the sun glinting off something in the distance, near the refinery’s water pumping station. It looked like the reflection from a windscreen. But if it was a car,
why wasn’t it parked in one of the bays provided, right outside the station?
As she drew closer, she realised the flash she’d seen was indeed from a car’s windscreen, she could just make out the vehicle’s shape among the undergrowth. The way it was parked hinted at a deliberate attempt to hide it from anyone passing. Her radar gave a tiny jerk and she took her foot off the accelerator. It was standard procedure for RCL staff travelling the conveyor road to check on any stationary vehicles, as a safety precaution. It was a private road and break-downs could wait some time for rescue. It crossed her mind that if the car was from RCL’s vehicle pool, it would have two-way radio communication with the refinery, and could call for assistance if there was a problem.
But radios can fail.
There was no avoiding it, she had to stop and check.
In a swirl of dust, she pulled into a parking bay. When she got out, she slammed the door loudly as though to announce her presence, and then wondered why she’d felt this was necessary. Was it because of the stories she’d heard about the pumping station?
But they’re just vulgar gossip, she admonished herself, and I shouldn’t be giving them any credence.
As she made her way around the side of the building towards the other vehicle, she could hear scrabbling noises coming from the car, and caught a glimpse of some frantic activity inside it. She stopped dead in her tracks.
Oh no....
Two distraught countenances were visible through the steamy window for a fraction of a second, before they hurriedly withdrew from sight. Frenzied movements erupted inside the car. Arms and legs banged against doors, windows and dashboard, and items of clothing flicked around the cabin like crazed moths diving on floodlights. Verity gave an appalled gasp and turned her back on the car, trying to gather her thoughts.
Kerry, my PA, is ‘at it’ in a car, at the infamous pumping station, with a man not her husband. Verity screwed up her face and groaned. What have I done to deserve this?
The sounds of desperate action subsided, so she slowly turned around again and walked over to the car. At her rap, Kerry rolled down the window without meeting her boss’s eyes, and stared fixedly ahead. Although Verity couldn’t see all of the man’s face, only the fiery, shameful blush on his neck and jaw line, she recognised him from his profile. It was Roger, one of RCL’s electrical engineers.
