Out of the Blue
By Charlotte Mills
Out of the Blue
First Edition copyright 2016 Charlotte Mills
All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without the written permission from the author. The characters, incidents and dialogue herein are fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Editor: Hayley Sherman
Cover Design: MP Designs
Titles by the same Author
Unlikely Places (2014)
Journey to you (2015)
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 1
I gathered my paperwork for the impending meeting; I hated first contact meetings. They always felt awkward, at least for me. I always deferred to my business partner, James. He was the sweet-talker that buttered up the clients, at least until this morning when he rolled in with laryngitis, unable to speak; somewhat of a new feeling for him I imagine. I have known James Cooper for almost ten years and in all that time I’ve never known him to be speechless until today. I checked the time on my phone; the new clients would be here in an hour.
I remembered back to those heady days at Manchester University where we first met while studying for our ecology degrees. Thrown together during our first seminar on ‘land use and rural issues’, told to discuss the ‘plotting of wind turbines along bird migration routes’ or something equally as ridiculous then present our findings to the rest of the group. After discussing everything except the topic, I confided in James that public speaking really wasn’t my strong point. He dutifully took to the floor and bluffed his way through, exuding confidence. It became a quid pro quo; I helped him with the practical aspects of the course and in return he tried to help me with my presentations. We had been firm friends ever since.
We were both lucky enough to work in the private sector after graduating and although my job was in the welsh National Park, we kept in touch, meeting up when I came home to New Mills to visit my family, something I did out of duty rather than choice. I was an only child from a moderately affluent family sent to private school at a young age. My father was a corporate lawyer for a French pharmaceuticals company, which meant a lot of traveling across Europe, leaving my mother to occupy her time with charities and good causes. As I grew older I felt very much like they were both going through the motions of having a child. When I compared my life to my close friends and peers, there seemed to be something missing in our family, a lack of cohesion, like three strangers. I never felt like an inconvenience but I wasn’t doted on either. I developed into a hardy perennial moving away to Manchester University straight after sixth form.
James and I returned to Manchester to start our landscaping company, Eco-Scape, almost seven years ago. It had been James’s dream for so long to create his own business. When my contact in Wales came to an end it seemed like the logical thing to do, but it certainly wasn’t easy. We both worked freelance while tendering for every job we could. Our first big break came when we secured a contract to landscape a corporate business on the outskirts of Manchester. Due to their location next to the greenbelt surrounding the city, we were able to incorporate a number of wildlife habitats, creating a ‘back of beyond’ feel. With some slick remodelling, this was continued within the structure of the buildings on the site. Since then the work had been steady, allowing us to set up in a good-sized office and employ several support staff.
I loved my job, every aspect of it, except for the buttering up. I really struggled to sell myself or potentially our services if today was anything to go by, which is probably why James and I make such a great team. Looking up at my rather stylish, old railway station wall clock, I had forty minutes to pep myself up. The initials for Great Western Railways were barely visible from this distance across the room; they had begun to flake off before it came into my possession two years ago – a gift from James to celebrate moving into our new offices. I walked across to the frosted glass that separated our offices. Cupping my hands around my eyes I could see his hunched frame at his desk. God, I hoped he was prepping for the meeting.
We moved to our current offices almost two years ago. After completing a couple of high profile projects in the region, we figured we deserved a better work environment, especially for visiting clients, like today. After securing a long lease, it took almost six months to convert the open-plan, top-floor loft into stylish offices. We shared the building with a large commercial printing firm on the ground floor, which had proved very useful in the past for mocking up designs for clients. The first floor contained a number of smaller offices for solicitors and accountants, most of whom we had managed to annoy during our re-fit. Our entire level was divided up with floor-to-ceiling industrial glass, frosted for the bottom seven feet, then two-way glass for the top three feet to allow the borrowed light to flood from one space to the other. It also meant we could write messages to each other without setting foot in each other’s office, which, considering the technology available to us, was ludicrous. I think it started as a joke when I had a cold; he was so afraid he’d catch it so he resorted to notes for communication. Either that or he’d been watching reruns of Vic Reeves Big Night Out again – “What’s on the end of the stick, Vic?”
Grabbing my long baton from the corner of the room, I selected two large bulldog clips from my desk drawer, secured an A3 piece of paper to it and scrawled, Have you got your voice back yet? I knocked on the frosted glass before holding it up for him to see.
Immediately, there was blurry movement through the glass. I stepped back in anticipation of good news. I often wondered if positive thinking could influence future events; glancing up at James’s reply, I’d still be left wondering as it read, No, but I have got your presentation ready.
Shit! What’s the point of being a glass-half-full type of person?
I saw another note flash up at the window above. Come round and I’ll talk you through it.
Well, if he can talk me through it, he can do the presentation himself, I thought as I propped my placard back in the corner.
I picked up a tissue on my way to his office, covering my mouth and nose as I entered. I saw a slight grin on his face as he caught sight of me.
“Is it safe to be in here?” I asked as I carefully edged towards his desk.
He looked a little frustrated as he attempted to answer me. The high-pitch tone that emerged shocked me a little.
“Oh my God! Stop talking,” I relented with the tissue covering my ears for effect. “With that noise the building will be overrun with all the strays within a five-mile radius.”
Walking closer to his desk to look at the computer screen I spotted a long object behind his desk. “What the hell is that?” I said, looking at a square tube with bent over ends resting against the wall. On closer inspection it looked to be made entirely of cereal boxes and masking tape. Was this how James occupied his evenings? I looked back at him. His mouth was open, just about to speak before he thought better of it and opted for his notepad instead. I walked over to the desk as he scribbled away and read over his shoulder. It’s a periscope so I can keep an eye on you this morning.
Cheeky bastard! was the first thing that came to mind, but I decided to bite my tongue after the berating I’d
already given him. Then I thought better of it. “What! You’re going to watch me from the kitchen?” It was the only room that overlooked the meeting room. I could imagine him sitting on the worktop, periscope in hand, observing my breakdown first-hand. Had he never heard of a webcam, instead of spending hours making his own cereal-box periscope?
He scribbled on his pad again, holding it up for me. Come on! This could be a really big project for us. It could lead to more work with them!
Maddeningly, he was right. Today’s clients were a restoration branch of York County Council; if we could get on the list of subcontractors it could, as he wrote, lead to lots more work. The project for York Council was actually quite interesting, re-landscaping the recently acquired country estate of Bonnington Hall, turning it into an eco-friendly and family-orientated nature reserve and educational centre.
“I know, I know,” I replied reluctantly and looked back at his handmade periscope. He had even used two sections of an egg box with the bottoms cut off to make two binocular-like eye holes.
He shoved another note under my nose. Just imagine them all naked.
“What! I’m not sure being surrounded by several middle-aged men with hairy chests is going to do it for me,” I said.
The smirk on his face grew with my words.
I watched as James flicked through the presentation he had prepared. It wasn’t the knowledge I was worried about; I could talk all day about the process, how and why we do what we do, and we had enough projects under our belt to refer to and use as reference material for our clients to get a better view of the outcome they could expect. It was standing up in front of them without the nerves getting the better of me. I had to sell us as a company, the trick being to sound professional and confident when I felt anything but.
I watched as he scribbled on his notebook, You’ll be fine. Go and get set up.
“Okay … I’m going.” I reluctantly grabbed the memory stick he offered me before leaving his office and stepped into the bathroom on the way. Flicking on the light, I stood in front of the mirror observing my unruly, long, black hair. Why had I been blessed with a double cowlick? I figured one could be quite annoying, but two? At least it was symmetrical, I mused as I pulled my hair back, holding it in my hands, considering putting it up somehow. No, I might need to hide behind it at some point, cowlicks willing. Letting it drop below my shoulders, I focused on my face, checking my make-up; not that I wore much, just the briefest of eyeliner to make my brown eyes stand out a little. I was lucky enough to be blessed with long black eyelashes, no doubt to balance out the cowlicks. I bared my teeth at the mirror like a dog angry at its own reflection, checking my teeth for lipstick. I hated being the front man; it made me focus far too much on my appearance. I was the one that worked in the field, quite literally. I felt much more at home walking around a muddy field in the rain, dishing out jobs to our site team.
I ran my hands under cold water in an attempt to stop them from sweating and dried them on the soft hand towels I had personally insisted on. No institution-green sandpaper towels for my delicate skin, much to the continued annoyance of money man, James. Flicking the light off, I walked in the direction of the conference room, memory stick in hand and fingers firmly crossed.
They’re here, flashed up via text on my phone.
Okay, time to buck up. We already had the contract in the bag, I just needed to wow them a little, demonstrate our competence and ability to run a successful project to put their minds at ease. I wanted them to walk away feeling confident at their decision to select our company to undertake this venture.
I almost tripped over my own feet as I paced in front of the large smart board. God help us all! I flicked on the projector, bringing up our company logo with an image of Bonnington Hall underneath it. I could see Helen, our receptionist, leading the way through the frosted glass walls, bringing them into the meeting room like lambs to the slaughter. I started off bubbly in an effort to hide my fear.
“Hello, good morning, I’m Robin Carson, co-founder of Eco-Scape.” I looked past them to the back of the room. Large squares of paper had appeared on the other side of the glass wall, no doubt for James to hide behind.
A rather plump, middle-aged man with thinning hair was the first to step forward offering his hand in greeting. “Hello, Robin, we spoke on the phone last week. Peter Richards, Head of Heritage at York Council.”
“Yes, I remember. It’s nice to put a face to a name at last,” I replied as I remembered the endless toing and froing of emails and phone calls after we had been successful in our bid for the contract.
“May I introduce John Price from finance and Jamie Buxton my assistant who will be liaising with you during this project.”
I shook both their hands in turn, making eye contact. I was a happily surprised to see Jamie was an attractive blonde. I couldn’t help wondering why I hadn’t met Jamie before now; she was by far the most attractive of the trio. Looking almost as nervous as I did, she was almost my height with short, scruffy, blonde hair framing her slightly rounded face. Her blue eyes were vibrant in colour but slightly red-rimmed on this occasion.
“Unfortunately, my partner, James, is ill today. No doubt he’ll join us at our next meeting. Please help yourself to coffee, tea and cold drinks before we get started.”
As they huddled around the refreshments I began to unbutton my suit jacket but thought better of it. The slight feel of sweaty marks developing under my arms quickly putting me off. While they were preparing their refreshments I familiarised myself once again with the promotional materials and copies of the initial sketches I had placed for each of them at the conference table. I then watched nonchalantly as the blonde sat down at the conference table. She looked down into her lap as another yawn threatened to overtake her. She looked pretty zombified as she hugged her coffee in front of her, but then she tried to straighten up as the others joined her at the table. I looked back around the table at expectant eyes – well, most of them; a certain female was stifling her third yawn since sitting down.
I began with a little background on our company and our team before giving them an overview of our company’s declaration. I flashed a look to the periscope viewer at the back. To my surprise, he’d managed to get a note up on the glass.
Keep going! You’re doing well. Ignore the yawns!
God, even he’d picked up on it through his periscope. Great! I could feel my hands shaking a little as I picked up some of the maps. I waved them around before dropping them on the table, hoping no one noticed my uneasiness. I kept moving around, filling the room with my one-sided conversation, laying out the different phases of the project. It was all going well, very convincing, I thought, until I had to make eye contact with my quarry then the rabbit in the headlight look must have been all over my face. I swallowed back the queasy feeling.
“So, as you can see from the schedule, we are currently in the process of carrying out the desktop survey … looking at existing maps … aerial photography and previously conducted surveys of the area to develop a picture of the outlined site and surrounding area. The next task is to conduct a phase-one survey of the site to establish the current populations of plants, animals and habitats, their location and distribution across the site.”
I looked back up from my notes (I wasn’t even reading them; I just couldn’t face looking at my audience). I could see they had glazed over. Grabbing my remote for the projector, I quickly flashed up some images of the site we had already researched. I stopped on a large aerial view then clicked onto overlays on the map, demonstrating the overlapping of different habitats that may be found on the site. Looking back at the spectators, I attempted to explain what they were looking at.
“Information gathered from the phase-one survey will help us produce coloured maps, like you can see here, indicating different habitats … Alongside, target notes and population statistics will allow us to develop plans for development … whilst conserving existing species and habitats … In th
e past we have found sites that have been relatively low in terms of conservation interest have actually be strategically important in terms of stepping stones or wildlife corridors for species to travel around different sites, which we will obviously want to maintain. We have initially set out five days to do the phase-one survey, with a contingency of a further week if we need to do additional surveying or small mammal population monitoring. It coincides with May, which is an optimal survey time for most flora and fauna species, so it should mean minimal delays with the surveying aspect of the project.”
Taking a breath, I looked past my audience. I could see another note had appeared in the top of the window. Great, was all it said. Did he mean me or my lack of presentation skills?
I continued, “Information collected during the surveys will potentially influence the future schedule as we will have to work around any protected nesting species if they are present but this is a work programme we are currently operating with.” I flicked on another slide showing a month-by-month breakdown of the next twelve months with the individual tasks to be carried out with a small contingency for each of them. “So, there are a lot of options and possibilities for the site … not forgetting the need to incorporate the recreational aspect of the brief, taking on board the ‘end users’ of the site-projected visitor numbers, access to and around the site … balanced with visitor facilities and infrastructure, wildlife attractions and other features to attract visitors … including the educational aspect … I’d like to show you some of our previous projects so you can see how we have previously incorporated these qualities into a brief.” I flicked through a series of slides showing before and after images of previous projects, making sure I highlighted any similar aspects we had previously included in our tender for the project. Thankfully, there was a bit of banter from all of them, making it a bit easier on my throat, moving away from the pedagogy approach. The last few slides were of the initial sketches and designs we had produced so far.
Out of The Blue Page 1
