Viridian PR has gone from strength to strength – not least because that first contract I signed with Veganthropy Foods has led to much more work from other businesses, who heard about the new relationship between our companies and wanted to get on board with us too.
Nolan has really struck on something of an ethical gold mine here. There are plenty of environmentally conscious companies who were apparently just looking for the right PR firm to represent them . . . and we’ve filled that niche wonderfully.
Okay, so Kevin and his e-bikes were a non-starter, but that’s been just about the only thing that has been. We now have seven lucrative contracts under our belt – getting signed at a rate of more than one a week – with even more on the horizon. It’s all been quite incredible.
The mood around the office has improved immeasurably. There’s a spring in everyone’s step that hasn’t been there for months – if not years.
The pot plants are also looking extremely healthy and happy, thanks to Young Adrian’s ministrations. It’s a bloody good job he’s got time to water them all, because I sure as hell haven’t. I’m pretty much rushed off my feet every day. But I don’t mind one bit, because all of it is so insanely positive right now.
When you stumble upon providing a morally upright and profitable service that other people are very keen to have, it makes coming to work something of a joy. Not only have I increased my pay packet, I’m also doing something worthwhile for our planet.
It’s a heady combination.
To be frank, it’s got to the point that I’m constantly looking around every corner for the thing that’s going to ruin it all . . .
It’s not going to be my relationship with Nolan, I can tell you that.
Oh no, no, no.
I have been super disciplined about maintaining a strict degree of professionalism when I’m around him – just to make sure I don’t give him any ideas. I still have no clue as to whether he actually has feelings for me, beyond those of close employer and employee, but I’m not risking it.
Oh no, no, no.
Having said that, we have naturally grown to become friends, given how closely we’ve been working with one another on all of these new clients. We just seem to click with one another when it comes to how we approach Viridian PR’s expanding client base – echoing each other’s ideas quite a lot, and agreeing far more than we disagree.
I haven’t even found it much of an issue that I’m not really an environmentalist. Nolan’s enthusiasm for the subject is more than enough for the both of us, and when you get right down to it, a client is a client is a client – what particular business they happen to operate is pretty immaterial.
So what if I’m not as committed to ‘the cause’ as Nolan probably thinks I am?
Would it really make any difference to how I do my job?
Would it really make any difference to how we work together?
I don’t think so. Not for one moment.
All I care about is that my workplace is vibrant, exciting and fun again. And I really do have Nolan to thank for that.
I’m very pleased to be working for and with him, and am more than happy to keep things on the professional level that they’ve been operating at so well.
Any kind of romance would be entirely unnecessary, and something I can firmly put out of my mind!
‘Ellie?’
‘Yes, Nolan?’
‘Would you like to come out to dinner with me?’
Gngh.
The pencil point snaps as I press down way too hard on my notepad.
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no.
My heart starts to hammer at roughly the same rate it did when I watched Nolan’s Cyclocity spear him towards that roundabout. I’m not sure whether that was a worse situation than this is, if I’m honest. Okay, no one is risking life and limb this time – sat as we are in Nolan’s office, discussing how we’re going to approach Hempawear’s next radio campaign. But the ramifications of what might happen next could be so much worse than crashing headlong into a roundabout on a bamboo e-bike.
Why did he have to ask me that?
Why did he have to ask me out on a date, when things have been going so well?
And how the hell do I respond? Given everything I’ve been saying about keeping things strictly professional?
‘Oh, I’m sorry Ellie,’ Nolan says in a hurry, when I don’t answer. ‘I shouldn’t have asked you that. It’s inappropriate of me.’
‘No, no . . . it’s fine, Nolan. It just took me by surprise a bit,’ I tell him, voice a bit shaky with the shock.
And how do I answer?
What I should say is this: No problem Nolan! It’s not inappropriate at all, and I’m very flattered. But I think at this stage, I need to keep my work relationships professional. I hope you understand.
Yes indeed. That is what I should be saying.
Right now, in fact.
Right at this very moment . . .
. . .
Well?
Go on then . . .
Say it to him.
‘Um . . . where . . . where would you like to go for dinner?’ I ask Nolan, finally looking up at his slightly worried-looking face.
No! That’s not what you should be saying! You should be shutting him down – not extending the conversation enough to give you time to think about it!
But I am thinking about it.
God help me, my heart is hammering, my hands are shaking, and I am thinking about it.
Nolan swallows. ‘Well, I thought we could maybe check out Paradise in Flight?’
‘Oh? The restaurant Nadia took on for us?’ I sound light and breezy, as if we were having a perfectly normal conversation about one of our clients, and not about the potential location for a bloody date.
‘Yeah. That’s the one.’ Nolan doesn’t sound light and breezy. He sounds like he’s just swallowed a bucket of sand. ‘I thought it would be nice for us to go there. On a . . . on a date?’
So that’s made it very clear, then. This is not just the boss asking his employee if they’d like to support one of their clients with a strictly professional visit. This is a man asking a woman out on a proper, full-blooded date.
And I’m still thinking about it.
Everything sensible in me screams that I should turn Nolan down flat. He is my boss, for crying out loud!
But then he’s also kind, generous, easy to work with, even easier to get along with, and has a smile that can be very disarming.
Not the kind of man I’m used to dating, it has to be said. I’ve previously gone for the chisel-jawed, big, blond and tanned look – just like Robert Ainslie Blake.
And look how that turned out.
I’m just not used to the kind of man Nolan is, at all.
Mind you, what I’m really used to is meals for one, too much Netflix, and a constant nagging feeling that I’m headed for my late thirties without having had a decent, long-term relationship . . .
Say no, Ellie.
You say no to a date with Nolan Reece right now, and get back to work. You remember work, don’t you? The thing that’s been making us so happy over the past few weeks?
Why would you want to complicate that? Why would you want to spoil it?
. . . because he’s lovely, and kind, and handsome in an unconventional way . . . and because he said I was beautiful and fantastic, goddamn it!
‘Yeah, okay,’ I tell Nolan, out loud. ‘That’d be nice.’
A smile lights up his face.
Oh, you bloody fool. You horny, bloody fool. This is wrong on every single level.
Not every level.
Not downstairs.
‘Great!’ Nolan says, jigging up and down a bit on his office chair. ‘How would tomorrow evening be?’
‘Absolutely fine. It’ll give me time to pick out something to wear.’
‘I’m sure . . . I’m sure you’ll look lovely.’
Blimey, super-awkward Nolan is not a Nolan I’m used to. He usually has a
relaxed manner about him when he’s with me. Seeing him all twitchy and out of sorts is like watching a sloth breakdancing.
‘Thanks,’ I reply, with a smile. I want to reach across the desk and pat him on the hand to calm him down a bit, but now that there is something between us I can’t do that without it looking way too forward.
And that’s the real issue here – and the reason why I should have turned him down flat.
Having something between us probably won’t work out for the best. It presents a whole series of potential scenarios that might not do my career any good at all. I’ve already broken up with one man in front of the entire staff, and I don’t really want to repeat the experience.
But then, Nolan is a very, very different man from Robert. I’m very sure he’d never suggest cable-tying a natterjack toad to anything, no matter how much it annoyed him.
Who’s to say things won’t be fine with him? Who’s to say that dating him will result in the same misery it did with Mr Ainslie Blake?
It could be fine. It could be great. It could end up making my working relationship with Nolan even better. You just never know.
Who’s to say, eh?
. . . as hastily constructed rationales go, it might not stand up to that much scrutiny – but I guess it’ll do in a pinch.
What won’t do in a pinch is the red dress I picked out last night for the date. Mainly because it pinches. I don’t mind a dress that’s a little tight, but something that actively causes me pain can go straight in the bin.
This is just as well, as I’m not sure it sends the right signals. It is a very sexy dress, even if I do say so myself. One of those ones that hugs in all the right places – but unfortunately pinches in all the wrong ones, telling me I have several trips to the gym coming up in my near future.
And it’s probably best I don’t dress too sexy for tonight. I’m still on very shaky ground over this whole ‘date with the boss’ business, and should probably be a little more demure and practical with my outfit choice.
This leads me to my nicest, newest grey jeans, the three-quarter-length tailored denim jacket I got in the sale at M&S, the gorgeous little white top with the flower pattern on the collar, and the long gold necklace my mother gave me for my birthday.
I elect to wear my freshly washed and conditioned hair up in a high ponytail that takes me ages to get just right.
Pop on a pair of black high heels and I’m covering all the bases here. I could be here for some meaningful sex, or for a discussion about the state of society in the twenty-first century.
I’ve agreed to meet Nolan at this Paradise in Flight place – just because it feels right for a first date with your boss (aargh). It is a new client for us, after all.
Paradise in Flight is a wildlife park. Or more precisely, a bird sanctuary. Now this might seem like an odd location for dinner, but Paradise in Flight is a unique restaurant, because it comes with the chance to meet and greet a bunch of tropical birds while you eat. Built about a year ago, the restaurant is an offshoot of the Halliwell Bird Sanctuary and Wetland Reserve, and is the brainchild of Bernard Halliwell, a man who has forgotten more about birds than you or I will ever know about them.
The sanctuary hasn’t been doing all that well financially in recent years, so Bernard created the restaurant in the hopes it would increase visitor numbers, as well as the sanctuary’s reputation.
It’s a strategy that’s worked like gangbusters. So much so that Halliwell’s has been in need of even more good PR to help manage its new platform – and God bless Nadia for finding out about it and getting them under our wing (pun most definitely intended).
Luckily, my date with Nolan is taking place on a Thursday evening, so Paradise in Flight is not booked solid. There seems like a healthy amount of people here, but not so much that the place will be overcrowded.
The restaurant itself is slapped on to the side of the largest netted aviary at the sanctuary, so that the birds can be brought in to see the diners by the staff, and interact with happy customers as they knock back the red wine and tuck into their meals.
The entire menu here is of course vegetarian. There’s not a chicken dish in sight. It’d be a bit much to expect the parrots to put up with meeting you, if you’re about to tuck into one of their cousins. I’m not a vegetarian (chicken and bacon sandwiches are my touchstone), but I’m not surprised Nolan wanted to eat here as he’s been one for years now. And actually, given my recent associations with people like the O’Hares at Veganthropy Foods, I have no problem with meals that don’t feature meat now. I’ve started doing meat-free Mondays after spending so much time working with Petal and Mordred. The big ambulatory bush has even started sending me recipes via email, bless him. I’ve tried a few for my Monday meals, and some have come out very well, even if I do say so myself. The fact that I generally feel pretty good on a Tuesday because of it is something I try to forget about every time I go to the fridge to pull out the bacon and the chicken.
I am not the biggest fan of birds when they are alive and well, if I’m being honest. There’s something about those pecky beaks and beady eyes that puts me off a bit. However, Tripadvisor and Nadia both assure me that the food here is to die for, and the experience itself is something not to be missed.
The restaurant is certainly something that you couldn’t miss, even if you tried.
They’ve gone all out on that big neon sign and those fake palm trees, haven’t they?
I park my Mercedes at the bottom of the car park, as far away as I can get it from Nolan’s gleaming Tesla, and make my way over to the garish entrance, walking inside to the sound of tropical birds piped in from somewhere unidentifiable.
‘Hello,’ I say to the girl on front of house, as I walk through the atrium just beyond the glass main doors. There’s a rather cute bubbling fountain in the centre of it that helps give the place a nicely humid, tropical vibe. ‘I’m here to meet someone. The table’s booked under Reece.’
The smartly dressed girl looks down her list and finds Nolan’s name. ‘Ah, here we are. Your companion has already arrived. I’ll take you through.’
I am then led into the restaurant proper, which really dives into the tropical theme with great abandon. There are rainforest plants everywhere. And a lot of perches for birds to sit on, close to the myriad of dining tables set out across the broad expanse of the restaurant’s floor. Above my head, I can see small, gorgeously coloured tropical birds flitting about close to the domed glass ceiling, grabbing food from the feeders that are strung up everywhere. It’s only when I really squint that I can see there is a fine mesh stretched right across the dome about three-quarters of the way up, that’s obviously intended to stop the birds from getting too low and disturbing the customers. I have to therefore wonder what birds all those perches are for.
There’s a nice, natural earthiness to the restaurant I definitely approve of. They’ve managed to make the whole thing feel upscale, without killing off the sense of a natural, rough-hewn charm. The dining tables are made of solid, reclaimed wood, and the tropical plants have been allowed to grow in a natural, slightly unkempt way.
It works.
Doing PR for this place should be a dream. It rather sells itself.
. . . I can tell what I’m doing here. I’m distracting my brain with work thoughts, because that’s far easier than thinking about what I’m about to do. This is the first date I’ve been on in a long time, and it shows. My legs are a little rubbery, my mouth is dry, and my heart is beating way too fast.
Should have worn flats.
Nolan looks equally tense as the girl takes me over to him. It’s incredibly strange that two people who have been completely relaxed around one another for weeks, have suddenly become so hammering awkward.
‘Hi, Ellie,’ Nolan says, rising from the table. He’s wearing an extremely nice dark-grey suit and a white shirt. He’s also had his hair cut.
He moves towards me with his arms slightly raised.
Oh, b
limey. Is he going to go in for a kiss? He very probably will . . . it seems appropriate. A kiss on the cheek here wouldn’t be out of the ordinary whatsoever. After all, we know each other well, and this is a date, after all. A cheek-kiss is to be expected.
‘Hiya,’ I reply, and lean in stiffly to receive the kiss.
His lips feel just as stiff against my cheek.
In fact, there’s every danger we’re both going to go so stiff that we instantly petrify right here on the spot, giving the birds a couple of extra perches to shit on.
And sit on.
With the awkward kiss out of the way, we both sit down at the table . . . and I relax a little.
Nolan seems to as well. Maybe it’s the fact that there’s now a barrier between us. One that’s quite similar in size to Nolan’s desk at work.
‘Well . . . this feels a lot stranger than I thought it would,’ he confesses, with a chuckle.
I laugh as well. ‘Yeah. I know what you mean.’
He stops laughing, and his expression becomes a little more serious. ‘Look, Ellie, I don’t want things to be weird between us. I won’t pretend that I don’t . . . you know . . . like you. But if this is all a bit much, we can just treat this like a work meeting, and leave it at that.’
I stare at him for a moment.
He’s given me the out that I need if I want it. Tonight can be nothing more than a meeting between two colleagues – possibly one that can be written off on expenses.
‘No,’ I reply. ‘Let’s not treat it like that. Let’s . . . let’s just see where it goes, eh?’
He nods, smiles and sits back. ‘Okay, let’s do that.’
Nolan seems to visibly relax even more, and I have to confess I do a little more as well. He likes me. He’s just said it out loud. And God help me, I think I like him too.
Quite a lot actually.
Eeep.
A waiter arrives at the table and takes our drink orders. We’re both on the softies as it’s a work night. Nolan picks up a menu. ‘This place is supposed to be fantastic,’ he remarks, as he looks at what’s on offer. ‘Not just the food, but how environmental they are. The whole sanctuary has net-zero emissions. They’re powered by solar, and nothing goes to landfill. I was looking over their business plan with Nadia. They’re really doing a wonderful job. Bernard is absolutely committed to animal welfare and the environment. He’s a great client for us. Makes Viridian look absolutely brilliant to . . . other people.’ Nolan’s eyes light up. ‘They give a good ten per cent of their profits to the WWF and RSPB every month!’
Going Green Page 13