by Lucy Coleman
I can see she’s delighted but instinctively her head turns towards the rear of the plane where the noise level is elevating by the second.
‘Look, I’ll move your things over here. You get back to your husband to help out.’
‘Thank you so much. We’ve been dreading the flight as Hayden is going through the terrible twos. Before we were parents we laughed whenever we heard that phrase but now—’
‘Just go. I’ll sort everything.’
As we’re going to be in the air another twelve painfully long hours, now is the time to at least try to come up with a workable solution. Otherwise none of us are going to get any rest at all. I drag my hand luggage from under the seat and grab a few things I stuffed into the seat pocket in front of me.
Squeezing sideways along the row to the aisle on the other side, I see that the elderly gentleman has now put down his book. He’s already gathering together a collection of toys to place them on the seat together with the lady’s bag.
‘That’s really kind of you. I’ll just carry these things across and then I’ll settle myself in.’
When I return, I figure that at least sitting here I’m not dodging anything and I will be able to make a list of Cary’s latest revisions. I’m concerned we’re trying to pack in too much footage at his insistence. If we don’t get the pace of the video spot on, it will diminish the overall message. He should stand back now and let me finish the job in the right way.
Catching a sudden movement out of the side of my eye, I glance across to see Cary doing an about-turn in the far aisle. I can’t help suppressing a little grin at the thought of him waiting on me. Moments later he appears carrying a small tray that is almost brimming over.
‘The supplies have arrived,’ he declares with an engaging smile. ‘Wise move,’ he adds, lowering his voice to a whisper.
‘It looks like you ransacked the drinks trolley,’ I exclaim but I’m happy enough to take command of three single bottles of gin and three small cans of tonic.
‘I played the pity card and told her you were nursing bruises. When I explained where exactly you were sitting her face visibly sagged.’ Cary raises his eyebrows mockingly and I begin laughing. I didn’t realise he had a sense of humour.
‘Actually, I asked if there was any chance you could be moved to give the family a little more space. Unfortunately, the plane is full, but she was very apologetic and kept loading up the tray. I also have these.’ He pulls a selection of snacks from his pocket. ‘Crisps, mini chocolate chip cookies and Godiva chocolates. Help yourself.’
I hold up my hand and he deposits enough packets to make them spill over into my lap. Then he offers the contents of the tray to the nice gentleman sitting next to me, who declines with an amused smile on his face and indicates towards the still untouched drink in front of him.
Cary gives him an acknowledging nod and gazes down at me.
‘I’ll see you later, then.’ With that, he turns on his heels and hurries off. As I glance behind me I can see why – the family are heading back in this direction. Well, they’re trying their best to steer Hayden forward but it’s slow progress.
Surveying the stash on the tray in front of me, it seems Cary can be very persuasive, rather than dictatorial, when he wants to be. But then, grabbing a few freebies is one thing – upgrading me to first class is another, and it’s clear that hasn’t even crossed his mind.
Cary and I haven’t seen eye to eye on a few things during filming, but I was butting heads with him for a reason. Namely, I care because I’m a perfectionist too and I do know what I’m doing. He might think he knows best, but he could at least extend me the courtesy of listening to my advice before he steamrolls through the decision-making process.
Quite frankly, at times I’ve found him overbearing and intensely annoying. I can now add totally self-absorbed to the description.
‘I should imagine that will hit the spot.’
I turn to look at my new companion.
‘Absolutely! I’m Leesa, by the way, Leesa Oliver.’ I offer an outstretched hand and we shake.
‘George Richardson. Lovely to meet you, Leesa. And that was very kind of you to accommodate that young family. Takes me back a bit but I can’t remember my boys, or the grandkids comes to that, being quite so… energetic.’
I can’t contain a chuckle and I lean in, keeping my voice low. ‘Self-preservation, actually. That little guy certainly packs a punch!’
It’s George’s turn to laugh. ‘Are you heading home for Christmas?’ he enquires.
‘Yes. I’ve been working in Sydney for the past few weeks and we over-ran the schedule. Otherwise I’d already be back home listening to Christmas oldies on MTV, I suspect.’
‘Ah! No avoiding them, I’m afraid. I’ve been on a whistle-stop tour to catch up with two of my three grandsons and their families. Might be my last trip to Australia, as I find the jetlag a bit much these days,’ he admits.
‘Get them to come to you in future,’ I reply with a smile.
‘Now there’s a thought. But I’m not sure I could cope if they all arrived at once. So what line of work are you in, Leesa?’
‘My company makes promotional videos.’
George’s eyes light up. ‘You’re not in the market for any help, are you? Grandson number two, who lives in the UK, is having a career crisis. In his spare time he posts a lot of videos on YouTube – mainly featuring his other hobby: buildings that could be restored but have been abandoned. I had no idea people found that interesting, but they do and he attracts a phenomenal number of views.
‘He works in finance and I think it’s a waste because basically he’s a creative person. I keep telling him that while he’s still single, now is the time to try something different. He’s passionate about the videos he films and it gives him a real buzz. A little hands-on work experience would be invaluable to him at this stage.’
George’s face is animated as he talks about his grandson with great fondness.
‘I’m all for encouraging people to follow their dreams and sometimes you just have to go for it, or you’ll never know where it might have led,’ I say. ‘I’ll give you my card and if he does decide to make the break, send me an email. I can’t promise I’ll be in a position to take on some additional help, but I can always ask around.
‘I know a lot of people in the business. Some are office-based but there are a growing number of businesses like mine who employ contractors to work from home. It keeps the overheads low and there’s little point in having an office, as most of the work requires us to travel around the UK when we aren’t in front of the PC.’
‘That’s very kind. It’s a tough industry to break into, that’s for sure. How did you start off?’
‘My ultimate dream was originally to become a screenwriter and producer but even starting at the bottom the job opportunities were thin on the ground. After university I began making edgy, low-budget music videos for YouTube. They were supposed to launch some previously unheard-of bands and would, in the process, kickstart my business. Well, that was the idea until reality set in and I grew tired of living like a perpetual student. There isn’t a lot of money at the lower end of the market.
‘I was lucky in that a friend of my father’s mentioned he was looking to hire a company to do a short promotional video to upload to his website. I managed to persuade him to let me have a go and that’s how it all began. My first photoshoot featured the latest in bathroom and kitchen designs. After that, a lot of my work came from word of mouth recommendations. Your grandson sounds like he’s made a really good start, though, and realises it’s all about hard work and commitment to build a reputation.’
‘I’ve always told him straight, if you want something, you have to be prepared to work for it. The trouble is—’ he looks at me and smiles ‘—I retired three years ago after more than forty years in the printing business. I sat around twiddling my thumbs for a couple of days and decided I’d had enough already. I guess one’s work eth
ic isn’t something that can be switched off just like that. I run a proof-checking service these days. Guess he takes after his granddad when it comes to motivation.’
I raise a toast to his grandson and we clink plastic cups. As I take that first, wonderful sip I realise Hayden has stopped moaning and, finally, peace reigns.
We will be arriving in Qatar airport at eleven-thirty this evening, which is three hours ahead of UK time. But our body clocks will still be on Sydney time, which is eight hours ahead of Qatar time.
‘I hope they have more gin,’ I half-whisper to my companion who raises his eyes to the heavens.
Fortified by a nice little buzz as the alcohol begins to kick in, I can at least settle myself down now and my body can finally relax. I glance across at Hayden. Well, this experience has confirmed that having kids isn’t something that’s right for me. But I think I had already sussed that one out.
2
It’s Going to be a Long Night
After another brief chat with George, I dig out my business card and we do an exchange. His bears the company name Proof Positive. Then it’s time to assemble my thoughts and get to work. George’s nose is in his book again and I leisurely glance through my hastily scribbled notes. I see that the first half of the page is covered with stray lines where my arm kept shooting across at an angle from a shove or a kick. Oh well, at least now I can write without threat of stabbing the pen into my own leg.
As the hours pass my eyes grow weary so I pack my notebook away and nestle back into my seat.
Unable to sleep, my thoughts wander. Cary Anderson is a very attractive man, I will freely admit that. Annoyingly, he has an inherently broody yet enigmatic appeal that, to me, is dashed the moment he begins speaking. It’s the tone he uses that comes across as arrogant and demanding.
With his short, curly brown hair and hazel eyes with a hint of green to them, he turns heads. He doesn’t tower over me at around five-foot-ten, some four inches taller than I am, but he carries himself with a sense of purpose. It makes him stand out in a crowd.
Or maybe it’s his passion for his work that gives him that air of absolute confidence; even though he’s probably only in his mid-thirties and young for a CEO. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Or people who won’t step up when it matters, and he is demanding, I can vouch for that fact. The other side to that, though, is that he makes things happen and expects those around him to do the same.
When his assistant at SPS – Solar Powered Solutions – initially made contact to arrange a meeting at their London office, the first thing I did was to look the company up online. They are one of the UK’s leading manufacturers of solar panels and remotely controlled wireless thermostatic controls. The SPS website was impressive and their mission statement grabbed my attention: profit from securing a cleaner future, today.
They have re-designed the whole heat exchange and absorption cooling system to reduce costs and improve efficiency. Apparently, it’s a game-changer as the installation consumes significantly less energy than anything else currently available. The resultant power savings mean that even a modest-sized home could expect a very good return, over and above the amount saved on their domestic usage, from day one. As with other systems currently on the market their combined installation can be controlled from a phone, iPad or PC. But they are offering a real option aimed at the mass market – the average man in the street who can now benefit significantly in the same way that the bigger users have in the past.
I will admit I was impressed and that was before I had the benefit of the many presentations Cary made at the Sydney Self-Build Exhibition.
He’s passionate about the need to reduce greenhouse gases and the damage it does to the planet, which is very commendable. If only he would climb down out of that tower of his occasionally, it would be easier to warm to him as a person. But maybe that’s the whole point. Keeping everyone at arms’ length is a clever way of remaining firmly in control and getting your own way.
I will be honest and admit I’m not looking forward to the eight-hour stopover at Doha Airport in Qatar. Cary and I will just be hanging around at the airport while we wait for the connection. That means making general conversation and, from what I’ve seen so far, that’s not something Cary’s inclined to do.
I find myself shaking my head at the thought.
Settling back against the curve of the seat I feel too tired to sleep. That wired feeling gives everything an edge and it’s hard to shut down. I figure that closing my eyes might help and while resting isn’t sleeping, it’s better than nothing.
Half an hour later and there’s still no change. My eyes flick open when the seat begins to wobble and I stare at George, who is shaking. With laughter, thankfully. One look at the screen in the back of the seat in front of him tells me why and I start laughing, too. A grumpy-looking, furry, lime green character with attitude is doing some very mean things.
He slips out one of his earpieces.
‘It started a few minutes ago. The Grinch. He’s out to steal Christmas.’ He leans in to whisper. ‘Benedict Cumberbatch is the voice and they cast that very well. He’s certainly making me laugh. You should watch it. Beats tossing and turning in your seat and I’m sure he won’t really steal Christmas.’ He winks at me.
I put my earphones back in and George assists me in getting set up. It isn’t long before we are both stifling our laughs, as the majority of the people around us are snoozing.
I give him a thumbs-up, and settle back to watch the onscreen antics. George is right, Benedict Cumberbatch is so the right voice for The Grinch. Yo! Ho! Ho! Let the festive fun begin.
*
I learnt a few new things during the flight. Firstly, that a child awakes with renewed energy after only a couple of hours sleep. When I say energy, I mean Hayden turned his attention to climbing up the back of the seat in front of him. He almost succeeded in launching himself over the top at one point. But there was one more surprise to come and that was Cary stepping in when both of Hayden’s parents were reaching desperation point. We still had well over an hour to go before landing and they were seriously flagging.
To my surprise Cary’s head suddenly appeared around the galley curtain, one row in front. He was talking to a flight attendant and pointing in the direction of Hayden. The boy was jumping up and down in his seat as if it was a trampoline. She pushed back the curtain, giving Cary a very generous, full-lipped smile as she did so. Yes, lady, you can smile but you wouldn’t if you had to work with him. Looks can be deceiving.
As I surreptitiously watched him out of the corner of my eye, Cary seemed to be vandalising one of the inflight magazines. He was tearing out page after page. I noticed that Hayden was watching him, too. The little boy clambered over his dad’s lap for the umpteenth time, eliciting some loud groans – the guy must be black and blue with bruises. But the little lad wandered up to stand in front of Cary, who simply smiled down at him and said ‘Hi, little fella.’ Cary waved at Hayden’s father, who gave him a thumbs-up. Then he continued what he was doing.
It turned out he was making paper planes and when he launched the first one Hayden’s face lit up. As little legs scampered away to retrieve it, Cary continued making them until he had half a dozen on the tray next to him. Every time Hayden brought one back, Cary launched another with amazing precision. I almost laughed out loud as it was very reminiscent of a dog with a ball, but it worked.
One of the flight attendants was so impressed that he joined in to encourage the toddler and rewarded him with an apple. Hayden glowed under their approval and his mood lifted. Cary played with him for about twenty minutes, moving on to entertain him by juggling paper scrunched up into balls this time. I mean that man can really juggle!
Much to Cary’s mortification, when Hayden’s mum finally went to reclaim her son after the seatbelt sign was switched on, she gave Cary a hug. He turned to ruffle the boy’s hair and high-fived him before heading back to his seat.
As I prepared for an anti
cipated bumpy descent, I found myself wondering if Cary was married and whether he had young children of his own. I certainly wouldn’t have had a clue about how to keep a tantrum-inclined toddler occupied.
After I catch up with Cary on landing, we follow the snake of weary travellers through the terminal. ‘That was some juggling show earlier on,’ I muse.
He smiles and shrugs his shoulders.
‘Hayden is a bright little boy. Full of energy and too young to understand being cooped-up on a plane for all those hours. It’s about defusing situations and distracting them, at that age.’ He sounds like he’s quoting from a textbook on children’s behavioural management. Is everything in life that simple, to him – find the key to staying in control?
However, I am amazed by his response and sense of acceptance, as if Hayden’s behaviour was to be expected.
‘I guess, with a lot of ex-pat families heading home for the holidays, there were a number of youngsters on the plane. Yes, there was a bit of crying and scrambling around admittedly, but he was the only really disruptive one. That can’t be normal, can it?’
Cary’s face lights up with a quirky smile.
‘Clearly, you haven’t been around many young children. Even the angelic ones have their moments, believe me.’
‘Well, no, you’re right there, I haven’t. Children aren’t really my thing,’ I add, drolly.
Cary looks amused. ‘It’s a pity it’s such a long wait until we board our connection to Cardiff, but my PA has booked us into the Oryx Lounge. I’m hungry, how about you?’
A sigh of relief escapes my lips at the news as Cary indicates to a sign advertising the lounge. Hopefully, the facilities will help to make our wait a little more bearable, at the very least. I follow as he tucks in behind a steady stream of people all heading in the same direction.
‘I feel rather grimy. I’d like to freshen up before I eat,’ I admit.
‘No problem. The showers here are great. Endless hot water and immaculately clean.’