Out of The Blue

by Charlotte Mills

  “These designs are the most current according to the feedback we had already received … You have a copy in front of you. The next meeting to confirm the designs is scheduled for next week with my colleague.”

  As we approached the end they seemed happy, maybe even impressed. Peter Richards was the first to speak.

  “Thank you. That was a great presentation. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we are looking forward to working with you on this project.”

  “Yes, absolutely. I think it’s a really exciting development,” I replied exuberantly, even though I was quickly losing the will to be the butterer-upper. “Lunch is catered for and then we have a short trip to a site we are currently working on within the city.”

  “I’m sorry, Robin, John and I need to get back to York after lunch, but Jamie will be on hand to take your tour.”

  I looked across to Jamie who smiled weakly in my direction. She really was very attractive. Things could be a lot worse, I pondered as I thought about how much time I would be spending in York in the next few months.

  ***

  Lunch was a simple buffet affair with too many canapes and too few pork pies for my liking. Although the pressure was off, I still wasn’t relaxed enough to eat normally, picking up a small triangular sandwich as I passed the buffet to get another drink.

  James decided it was safe to join us after Richards and Price had disbanded for their journey back to York. He was tucking into the buffet as he organised transport for the site visit. My Roadster was no contest for his SUV on this occasion.

  I stared blankly out the window at the semi-industrial landscape, hoping the weather would stay dry for our trip as I drank the last of my tea. A small voice behind me, calling my name, broke through my thoughts. I turned around to see Jamie Buxton with a friendly, warm smile on her face.

  “I’m not sure I’ve come prepared for a site visit.” She pointed to her heeled boots and dress trousers. I estimated she was probably a little shorter than me in bare feet.

  “I see … So you’re not always prepared like me, having to travel around with a selection of wardrobe changes in the boot of your car?”

  “Uh, no, sorry. My mother never let me join the scouts. She thought I was too much of a tomboy as it was. Who knows what could have happened if I’d had that kind of preparation training as a child. The mind boggles.”

  I struggled to keep a straight face at her story, resorting to a slight laugh as I spoke. “Okay, no problem, we’ll have some kit ready for you to wear when we get there.”

  “Great,” she said with a relieved smile.

  “So, you’re new to your job?” I asked.

  She looked confused for a moment until I clarified.

  “Peter referred to you as his new assistant.”

  “Oh, yeah! I’ve worked in heritage for quite a few years, but I’ve only worked with Peter for a couple of months, just after they put the project together.”

  That certainly explained why our paths hadn’t crossed before.

  James drove the three of us there in his four by four. He had telephoned Mike to meet us at the site base. Mike kindly took Jamie with him to get kitted out in high-viz and wellies while James and I got our own gear on. Spying James’s sparking wellies, I could resist a quick dig.

  “New wellies?” I asked as he neatly tucked his trousers inside them.

  “No! They’re old, o–” he squeakily replied.

  My raised-eyebrow look of innocence must have been too much; he finally twigged as his gaze travelled down to my own mud-covered boots.

  I couldn’t stop there. “Maybe you should spend a bit more time on-site, give them beauties a chance to see more than the inside of your car.”

  “Really!” His voice was barely audible. Frustrated he couldn’t produce his normal, quippy reply he resorted to violence, hurling his boot socks at me. I managed to catch them as they bounced off my shoulder. Taking advantage of his crouched position, I rushed over, stuffing them inside the back of his shirt, giving him a hunchback. I stood back, laughing as he struggled to retrieve them, eventually resorting to untucking his shirt to shake them out.

  “Ahem!” a voice came from behind us.

  I spun around to see Mike and Jamie Buxton smiling at us. They had obviously heard our little fracas. I was relieved to see that our client took it in good humour, although I’m not sure her two colleagues would have done the same had they been there.

  Our tour of the business site was successful; we managed to point out the various design aspects that could be incorporated into the Bonnington Hall project. I even saw Jamie take a few pictures on her phone, hopefully to show her boss when she returned to York. We parted company on return to our offices and I informed her I would be in touch with details of setting up site in York.

  Chapter 2

  Bonnington Hall was situated near Rawcliffe, northwest of York, and built in the 1850s by a local steel works businessman. The four-storey country pile had been unoccupied since the 1970s and fallen into disrepair. Surrounded by almost eight acres of fields, comprising grassland, woodland and boggy scrub, the immediate area around the house contained the remnants of landscaped gardens. The plot was surrounded by more undulating wood and grassland, with the river Cleat passing through the northeast corner, which, due to the surrounding elevated landscape, could provide a good site for a water wheel turbine to produce free energy.

  I sat at the folding picnic table we used to write up notes on our surveyed sections. The large army tent we used as a base was empty; the rest of the surveying team were already walking their sections. Gone were the days of perching on a log in the middle of nowhere, especially when you were a small team. We needed a base for safety if nothing else. I generally used this time to expand on notes made on my digital recorder about the sector I was surveying or ideas for the overall project. As I drained the last of my tea and shuffled my notes into some sort of order, the sound of car tyres crunching over the gravel driveway drew my attention. Squinting at the side windows, it looked like the yawner from the heritage department, checking up on us no doubt. I watched her negotiate the gravel in her high heels, suppressing a grin as she stumbled a little. She was accompanied by a younger man, in his twenties with long hair sharply tied back. A boyfriend perhaps? He was dressed informally compared to Jamie’s business-wear. I put my mug on my paperwork to prevent it from blowing away in the stiff breeze as they made their way towards me.

  “Hello, Robin, it’s good to see you again. Hard at work I see.”

  Really? I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic, as if I should be out in a field somewhere.

  “Hi, yes, we’re pretty busy. Should only take a few more days to complete the surveying.”

  “Really? I thought it’d take longer than that.”

  She still hadn’t introduced the man with her, so I continued to ignore him, too. “We have a good dedicated team on hand.”

  “Are you staying out here?” Jamie asked, as she nodded towards the campervan parked off to the side of the house.

  “No, no. That’s Mike’s, one of my team. He’s a bit feral, so it’s best he stays out of town on jobs like this. He’s more at home out in the sticks roughing it.”

  “I see. Sorry, Robin Carson this is Pete Nicholls. He’s new to the department. An ecologist. I wondered if you could use him for some of the surveying.”

  What the hell is this? We have our own team. I could feel my heckles begin to rise. Before I could answer, Pete piped up, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen between us.

  “I know it’s a bit of an intrusion on our part, but I’d just like to get involved purely for the experience of surveying for a project like this.”

  I softened immediately at his words. I’d been in the same situation not so long ago, looking for any way to gain more experience. He seemed genuine and even a little embarrassed at the situation he was in. “Sure, no problem. I can pair you up with one of our surveyors.”

  “Gre
at, thank you, Robin,” Pete replied.

  Jamie’s focus fell on me. I thought I detected a slight look of relief on her face. Her dishevelled hair seemed to gain more order in the wind as we stood there. She seemed to look at me for an age, making me a little uncomfortable.

  “Well, I’d better get going. I’ve got to check on the snagging progress in the main house.”

  I could have sworn I heard a collective groan from the workmen at her words.

  “Will someone be able to give Pete a lift back to town later?”

  “Of course. Leave him with me. I’ll set him up with one of my team. Most of them are staying in town except for hippy Mike, so he’ll be fine,” I said, turning to him, not wanting to speak about him as if he weren’t there. We both watched Jamie make her way to the main house.

  “Right then … Mike’s one of our most experienced surveyors and he’s just come back for something so I’ll introduce you to him. You just might need to stay downwind from him as I don’t think he’s showered in a few days.”

  “Right, I really appreciate you letting me work on this.”

  “No problem. Let’s go and have a word with Mike.”

  After settling our infiltrator with Mike, I still felt pretty burned about the situation. Taking my seat back at the picnic bench I made sure I was alone before fishing out my phone and sending James a text informing him of the spy in the team. My phone buzzed into life a few seconds later.

  “What’s up, Rob?”

  “They’ve brought one of their own ecologists in to spy on us,” I said with a little too much venom.

  “Woh there! You sound pretty pissed. What happened?”

  I took a deep breath before beginning my tirade. “Well first of all they just turned up and then Jamie Buxton just asked me point blank in front of him if he could join the team.”

  “Really? They didn’t say anything about an ecologist before.”

  “He’s new to the team apparently. It’s just rude, though, right?”

  “Of course it is. I’d be mad if it was me, but as I’m sure you’ve already realised we were that guy once, trying to get involved in stuff.”

  “I know, I know. That’s why I paired him up with Mike.”

  “Mike! You are pissed. How many days is it since he showered?”

  I grinned with satisfaction. “A few.”

  “Maybe she likes you. You’re the sleep aid she’s been looking for all her life.”

  “What!” I recalled her constant yawning at our first meeting.

  “Well, she did bring him out there; maybe she wanted to see you again?”

  “Me! No no, I really don’t think I’m her type at all. She’s a bit too tightly wound for me.” Thankfully I thought to myself. This was only the second time I had met Jamie. I knew I was exaggerating; I was just annoyed at her for unloading her ecologist on us.

  “Umm … I’ve heard that before,” James unconvincingly replied.

  I stood up from the bench as footsteps on the gravel came up behind me. I turned to see one of the builders from the main house grappling with a plasterboard on his way to the skip, no doubt on the orders of the snagging inspector. As he passed he revealed the bunched up small frame of Jamie as she fumbled with her mobile phone.

  “Shit! I’ve got to go. I’ll catch up with you later.” I ended the call before James could provide another snappy reply, wondering how much had she overheard. By the look of hurt and embarrassment on her face, every word. I broke the silence as her offended eyes settled on me.

  “Sorry, that conversation wasn’t for public consumption. My partner can be very childish and inappropriate at times,” I said, trying to shift the blame.

  She stomped off to her car before I’d even finished my half-assed apology. Fishing out her car keys, she angrily jumped in, narrowly missing her own leg as she slammed the door. Instantly starting her car and revving her engine, her window was down as she almost shouted over her own furious din. “I’m sorry you feel spied on and railroaded, Robin. I’ll get out of your way.” With that, she was gone, speeding off down the drive with such force that gravel sprayed me from head to toe. I felt a sharp scratch on the side of my face from a stray stone. I reached up to my face and felt the nick on my cheek. Inspecting my fingers, there were several droplets of blood.

  “Fuck!” I said under my breath, not wanting to attract any more attention than Jamie had created already.

  I retrieved a tissue from my pocket and dabbed at the wound as I examined it in the wing mirror of my car. Fortunately, it was only about a centimetre long. If I’d known I needed danger money for this job I’d have charged a higher fee.

  Returning to my current quadrant of the survey, I stomped around the area, mulling over the situation I had created with Jamie. I knew I needed to resolve the matter; considering the early stage of the project, I didn’t want it to be an issue that would inhibit the overall task.

  Settling into the task at hand I opened the 1:10,000 scaled map, plotting the various habitat types in the quadrant, making detailed descriptions of the areas, then used the Romer dot grid sheet to calculate the size of each area. No doubt my colleagues were using a more up to date GIS technological method, using tablets instead of this caveman method, but I tended to prefer this manual approach.

  Spying the plants in the boggy area I had just classified, I picked up a stick to jab the ground to check just how deep the watery mud was. The stick snapped off from the pressure I put on it. Regardless, I edged closer, tentatively moving the five or so feet towards the small clump of vegetation. Crouching down in the bog, I inspected the leaves of the specimen. The flower spike and buds were just beginning to develop. I was hoping for a Marsh Helleborine or maybe a Narrow-leaved Marsh-orchid. Unfortunately, I had been fooled and not for the first time with this particular family. I recalled at least two occasions when I hoped I had found a rare orchid only to find it was a common orchid species instead. Not that that was ever a total disappointment, with their delicately lobed flowers elegantly decorated with elaborate patterns. Although this particular species had yet to flower, an inspection of the size and shape of the leaves, shaped like a narrow arrowhead, told me it was an Early Marsh-orchid. Backing away from the imposter, I made my way via the shortest distance to the safety of dry land, squelching through the sucking mud. Halfway across, I felt a disquieting coldness on my left foot. Looking down, I saw my once-clean and warm, grey sock was now a muddy, wet brown and missing its wellington boot. I verbally expelled my frustration from the argument with Jamie at my wellington boot sticking out above a sea of mud before turning my back on it forever and heading back to base camp. Luckily, it was mostly grassland from here on back.

  I squished back to the base area we had set up, hoping no one would see my lack of boot as I headed for my car. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a small gathering around the picnic bench. The likelihood of being able to get to my car without being spotted was minimal. All at once, everyone seemed to look in my direction, including a face I didn’t recognise immediately with a red cap pulled low on their head. I squinted as they all leant to one side to get a better view of my squelching walk. It was the gravel spreader, Jamie. Dressed in walking boots and black cargo pants, topped with a short, waterproof jacket she looked decidedly hot.

  Breaking from the group, she headed towards me as I continued to my car, cutting me off as I reached to open the boot of my BMW Roadster.

  “Hi … Wow, nice car,” Jamie said, spying the emblem badge as I pulled up the boot. Her tone was light considering her anger earlier.

  “Thanks. You look a little more casual,” I said, trying to keep an even tone.

  “I was on my way to look for you, but Mike said you’d be back any minute. Have you, umm … lost something?”

  I saw her gaze drop to my feet as a look of resignation stretched across my face. She spoke again before I could get my words out.

  “Listen, I’m sorry about earlier. Can we bury the hatchet? We do have to work
together after all. My grandmother says I was born without a hand brake when it comes to my temper. What about a drink later? What did you do to your face?”

  Did she ever stop talking? Shouldn’t I be the one apologising here? My hand immediately went to my cheek. I could feel the rough dried blood and a slight tenderness.

  “Nothing, I caught it on a twig,” I replied, not wanting to make the situation any worse between us.

  “Did you put anything on it?”

  “A tissue,” I said dryly as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

  “Do you have a first aid kit?”

  “It’s nothing, really,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t press me on the circumstances of the injury.

  “Let me at least put some antiseptic on it.”

  I relented, pulling my personal first aid kit from the boot. Sitting on the edge of the boot rim, I watched as Jamie pulled an antiseptic wipe from its protective seal. Her eyes fell to mine as she opened up the wipe.

  “I’m sorry about our spat. Please don’t take it out on me now,” I pleaded.

  I saw a smile creep across her face as she prepared the wipe.

  “So, where are you staying?” she asked.

  “The Hilton, near the tower thing.” I grimaced at the cool touch of the antiseptic as it swiped over my cheek, leaving a sting in its tail.

  “Sorry.”

  I saw her jump as I gripped the edge of the car. I couldn’t tell if her slight grin was for the pain she was causing me or my ignorance at the historic surroundings.

  “Okay, I’ll meet you in the foyer at seven. We can walk to The Golden Fleece from there. They have a good selection of bar food, too.”

  I checked my watch. I had almost two hours to get cleaned up and write up my notes. “Sounds good.” I gathered up my various discarded socks, chucking them in my car as Jamie continued trying to make small talk.

  “It’s Open Mic Night, so there might be some good folk music on if you’re interested.”