Chapter 8
‘ D on’t forget you’ve both got that construction conference next week,’ Diane announced after knocking and popping her head around the door. Her tone was always so even and monotonous that a follow-up yawn seemed inevitable whenever she spoke, yet she never fulfilled the expectation.
Being a large woman, she preferred wearing pleated maxi skirts and simple but smart short-sleeved tops that hid her curvy figure. Her hair was always pulled into a neat ponytail at the back of her neck, and she had large, warm eyes; dark skin; and a pretty, round face.
However, just like her tone of voice, the scale of her facial movements was also extremely limited, so much so that I could picture her firing someone and receiving the news of having a terminal illness with the same wooden expression. I thought I’d seen her relaxing her face only once. It had almost looked like a smile… but it happened so long ago that I began to suspect I must have imagined it.
Like me, she was in her late twenties, yet she looked much older. Her position at Brooks O’Grady had probably contributed to that. She was filling a dual role by assisting HR with things like tracking the on-site team’s absences and ensuring everyone undertook their mandatory training, but also acted as a PA to David by managing his busy calendar and looking after the tedious higher-level admin.
Since David and I often had to attend the same events, she didn’t mind arranging my hotel bookings either. She was efficient and quiet, never making a fuss, and didn’t gossip – exactly the type of person I valued and respected .
‘Yes, it’s in my calendar, but I can’t recall seeing the Microsoft Teams meeting link,’ I said, still scrolling through my emails in the unlikely event I’d missed it.
‘Because it’s not online,’ Diane explained. ‘It’s in Manchester. I’m sure I told you.’
‘Wasn’t it in London last time?’ David asked.
‘That was probably a different one. It’s the end of quarter one, and you both are way behind on your CPD hours,’ Diane said, referring to our continuous professional development commitment. ‘And this one is also good for networking. You can boast about it on your LinkedIn.’
Everyone at the company – especially the two of us, as senior managers – had to hit a set number of CPD hours a year. The easiest way to make those up was to sign up for multi-day courses or attend day-long seminars. She was right; it was best to get them out of the way now. Trying to catch up towards the end of the year could prove a nightmare when there was the added pressure of reaching the company’s turnover and profit targets. (Financial years run from January to December for construction companies and from April to March for our clients.)
I decided to keep quiet about not having a LinkedIn profile and that if it were left to me alone, there’d be no ground-breaking announcement about my fantastic achievement of attending this life-changing two-day conference in the Midlands. I didn’t think David had a strong social-media presence either, but I was sure that if we took a selfie, Diane could get it posted on the company’s page on our behalf.
Brooks O’Grady was one of those rare British companies that had its headquarters in Manchester, not London. It was not one but a combination of two separate family names: the founders being Edward Brooks and Charles O’Grady – both of whom were from the Midlands – a century ago.
For a while, the firm had gone by the name of Brooks your breakfast and dinner are also covered,’ she replied. Of course I’d never thought she’d break any rules. ‘But I did book two nights as the conference has an early start. Thought you’d prefer to make the journey the evening before.’
She didn’t need to say, but it meant we’d be travelling back straight after the second day. I hoped an early start on the first day meant an early finish on the second.
‘Thanks, Diane,’ said David.
‘Do you want me to book train tickets too, or will you be driving?’
David hesitated, but I waited to see what he’d reply.
‘If the conference is within walking distance to the hotel and the railway station, I’d say train,’ he said eventually. ‘Thanks for sorting. ’
By car, the journey would have taken over three hours, so I nodded calmly in agreement, hiding my excitement. Not only was I to potentially spend a pleasant evening with him in the hotel restaurant but a long train journey there and back.
‘No problem, and don’t forget to take swimwear,’ she said, waving a hand with her back to us as she walked out and closed the door.
I turned to David. ‘Are you bringing any?’
‘Might as well. It’d be a waste not to use the facilities.’
‘Right.’
I was looking forward to seeing him with barely any clothes on, and I was already thinking about what to pack for myself. The first thing I selected was my red one-piece swimsuit, which had a very low-cut back and pushed my breasts up. I called it the Baywatch-babe-wear , as the looks I got when wearing it made me feel like a young Pamela Anderson.
Perhaps I’d finally get to decide whose body was better: Adam’s or David’s?
Why had Adam come to my mind at all? I wanted nothing from him, and he just kept rubbing me the wrong way. Yet it would have made for a fascinating experiment to be able to compare the two men’s physical shape and abilities had I, of course, remembered Adam’s performance in the first place…
I stopped myself from daydreaming. It was unlikely that anything would happen between David and me in Manchester beyond innocent flirting. I’d be crazy to sacrifice our fruitful working relationship for a steamy night.
Wouldn’t I?