Glass Ceilings Read online

  Back in her office, the twitch became a tingle of caution running through her veins.

  I wonder ... should I have been more curious about what Royce James is up to?

  Chapter Eight

  Outside, a bird suddenly flew close by the office window, startling Verity out of her reverie. She cursed under her breath and turned away, glancing at the executive diary in her hand. She’d been trying to do some forward planning, until her mind wandered ... and wasted precious head space on trivialities, she told herself crossly.

  Without intending to, she dropped the diary onto her desk with a thump. Invitations, notes to herself, and other incidentals spilled out of it onto the floor.

  ‘Damn!’

  Kerry’s face appeared around the doorway. ‘Everything OK?’

  Verity looked over at her with a faint smile. ‘Yes, just dropped my diary. Oh, Kerry, do you have the flight itinerary for the EC meeting yet?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll get it for you.’

  ‘And print me a meeting agenda too, will you?’

  Kerry returned a short time later with the documents. She handed them to Verity, who thanked her without looking up.

  A quick frown flitted across Kerry’s features. She hurriedly suppressed it, saying with careful innocence, ‘By the way, was that you I saw at The Conservatory last night?’ Her expression remained cool, but her eyes narrowed slightly.

  ‘Well, yes, I was there. I didn’t see you?’ This time Verity did glance up, with a cautious expression.

  ‘Jim and I were in the general dining area, outside the Watermark Room,’ Kerry said, adding irritably to herself, only because tight-arse Jim won’t spring for the fine dining room. She hurriedly swallowed her annoyance to add brightly, ‘Jim and I often go to The Conservatory for dinner, it’s such a lovely spot.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Verity murmured vaguely, dropping her gaze to the diary and flicking through a few pages. She didn’t feel inclined to discuss that subject any further with her PA—to Verity, the ‘personal’ in ‘personal assistant’ didn’t cover things like that.

  But Kerry wasn’t finished with her yet. ‘Was that Royce James you were with?’ Jealousy glittered deep in her eyes.

  Verity sighed and replied absently, ‘What? Oh, yes ... um ... we worked late on the EC presentation. We called in there for dinner on the way home.’ She snapped her diary shut and fixed Kerry with a direct gaze. ‘Thanks for the itinerary. I’ll have the final meeting agenda for you to distribute to the members first up tomorrow morning.’

  Kerry’s face darkened at the obvious dismissal and she murmured, ‘Of course,’ before turning on her heels and flouncing out. Throwing herself down at her desk, she slammed the keys to wake her hibernating computer, and waited with gritted teeth while it came back to life.

  So, Prince Charming has taken Cinderella to dinner, and to my favourite place no less—one he’s never taken me to, despite all my hints.

  Another part of Kerry’s brain whispered that not only had Royce not taken her there, he hadn’t taken her anywhere, which only incensed her to continue silently ranting.

  And was dinner all there was to their date?

  She frowned, before giving a spiteful snigger.

  Probably, Verity strikes me as a bit of a cold fish. Maybe Royce just feels sorry for her.

  Kerry’s eyes narrowed and her mouth set in a cruel line.

  Well, he might be feeling more sorry for her soon ... it’s time someone put her back in her place.

  She logged into her email with vindictive keystrokes, and pulled her telephone closer. She had a few important calls to make and emails to send before she left for the day.

  Later, as she was leaving, she gave a satisfied smirk and called out, ‘’Night Verity,’ thinking with sweet malice, pleasant dreams, don’t let the bed bugs bite....

  Verity sat back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment. With most people gone, the building was quiet. In the past, on the odd occasions when she’d been working back and there on her own, she’d found it a bit eerie. But now it was a pleasant relief from the continuous noise and stream of visitors to her office during the day.

  She thought over the issues brought to her since she’d taken up residence in the executive suite, and not for the first time, found herself questioning the conduct of her department heads. She suspected they were dumping their problems onto her, including those that fell into the day-to-day management category. She wondered if they’d done the same to Clyde.

  Although not privy to every matter previous CEOs had been involved in, Verity seriously doubted Clyde would have had much patience with minor issues like the ones presented to her now. Was she being treated like a glorified agony aunt, simply because she was a woman? That thought made her sit up straight and flick open her electronic calendar. With practiced skill, she scheduled a meeting in a week’s time, between herself and her senior staff, during which she’d outline her expectations of them in more detail. It occurred to her that they’d be well aware of their responsibilities already, having all held their positions at RCL for some time.

  They’re testing the waters, she mused. Well, they’ll know my depth soon, especially after I highlight the part my expectations will play in their performance appraisals, and in the anticipated productivity-based bonus calculations. And I wonder how they’ll take to the new team-based culture I want to implement throughout the organisation....

  After sending off the electronic meeting notifications, she closed her laptop and took some deep, calming breaths. She pictured the location of the approaching executive committee meeting. This year’s was on Loquacious Island, only a short plane ride from Perth. Verity hadn’t been to the island before, but the brochures Kerry obtained for the delegates pictured a lush rainforest setting, with turquoise water nudging fine white sand.

  Dragging herself back from the enticing vision, Verity looked at the itinerary and meeting agenda.

  Great, I should be able to get in a scuba dive while we’re there.

  The following day, Verity was away from the office, hosting a visit to the bauxite mine by a number of international VIPs. As they travelled along the private road flanking the overland conveyor, and linking the mine to the refinery, Verity again marvelled at the engineering feat that made this vital link possible. Without the conveyor to transport bauxite from the mine to the refinery some fifty kilometres away, production would halt.

  Now THAT would have the JVs hyperventilating, she thought, swallowing a grin, and that’s a fact.

  She glanced around at the other faces on the bus. It looked as though the visitors were enjoying themselves, despite the road’s ups and downs.

  This isn’t a trip for anyone who suffers from travel sickness, she thought sympathetically. I’m glad I’m returning to the refinery by helicopter, I’ll get back there in a fraction of the time.

  She turned to look out of the window again while their guide for the trip, Ben, one of RCL’s environmental officers, carried on with his commentary.

  ‘Earthworks have recently been completed on the five hectare disused gravel pit and stockpile area we’re currently travelling past,’ he enthused. ‘After contouring the earth to establish a suitable landform, we spread topsoil and then deep-rip to allow infiltration of water and help prevent erosion. Rocks, logs and cleared vegetation are used for erosion control, and to provide habitats for native animals. Now the drainage work is complete, the area will be fertilised and hand-seeded with a seed mix collected from the local area over summer, containing about eighty species of native grasses, shrubs and trees.’

  He paused to check everyone was still listening before continuing cheerfully, ‘Still awake? Good! Now, research is continuing into improving rehab techniques and establishing best practice methods.…’

  Verity was well aware of the company’s environmental programme, so she only listened with half an ear. The native forest they were passing through took her attention. She’d travelled the conveyor road many time
s, but still found herself in awe of the beautiful countryside bordering it. Being spring, the south west’s famous wild flowers were in brilliant bloom, their bright faces shining from the most unlikely spots, between large rocks or on gravelly slopes. Her eyes searched the ground for flashes of the iridescent blue of tiny Leschenaultia flowers, and the delicate white of native ground orchids. On one of her previous trips to the mine, the Easter lilies had been out in all their powder pink glory. She’d glimpsed clusters of their daintily rouged faces peeping out from among the trees.

  As they passed through another area under rehabilitation, she felt the usual swell of pride at seeing the company’s active commitment to environmental care. Workers especially recruited for the planting programme, were carefully placing seedlings into holes containing measures of fertiliser. Ben chose that moment to explain the planting process to the visitors, and Verity could see a shared appreciation on their faces for what the company was doing to return the environment to its natural state.

  The bus finally came to the last locked gate before the mine’s entrance. The driver operated the remote device that unlocked the gate and swung it open, and the bus trundled through. From there they travelled a rough track, scarred with ruts from heavy vehicles and equipment, to the mine’s office building. The manager was standing outside the entrance, waiting to greet them. The bus pulled in beside him, and when the door opened he stuck his head inside, saying, ‘Morning all, I hope you had a good trip. You certainly had lovely weather for it.’

  Verity looked into the welcoming face of Alan Stewart, RCL’s bauxite mine manager and her close colleague of many years. He courteously took her hand and assisted her down from the bus, while the visitors filed out behind her.

  ‘Thank you, Alan, and yes, it was an enjoyable trip on this fine spring day. A most interesting journey thanks to Ben, our capable host and commentator.’ Verity turned and gestured towards the young environmental officer, who grinned proudly.

  Following a short tour of the mine, and morning tea of homemade scones with local jam and cream, and pots of freshly brewed tea and percolated coffee, the visitors settled into the meeting room for a presentation by Alan and his staff. From the smooth, professional delivery, it was obvious they’d gone to a lot of trouble with their preparation. They presented the information in plain English, but without appearing condescending to those in the know. From the VIPs’ satisfied expressions, Verity could sense the morning’s PR exercise had been a success.

  The presentation over, she drew Alan and Ben to one side. ‘I want to thank you both. Alan, you and your team have done a great job, and so have you, Ben. It’s important RCL’s recognised for being a responsible corporate citizen, particularly regarding the environment. And I think you’ve helped achieve what we set out to do today.’

  The two men beamed at her.

  Later, Verity stood watching the visitors once again board the bus for the return trip to Perth. She smiled as the delegates shook her hand and expressed their appreciation. One Japanese gentleman bowed low before her, and gushed about it being a ‘most interlesting day’.

  As the last guest boarded the bus, Verity felt a light touch on her elbow. It was Ben.

  ‘You’re travelling to the refinery by chopper with me, aren’t you, Miss Parker?’

  ‘Yes, Ben.’ Her keen eyes noticed his unusually serious expression. ‘Why, is there a problem?’

  ‘No, not really ... well, I suppose you could say so.’

  Verity waited patiently for him to elaborate.

  ‘It’s just that there might be a roo caught in one of the BRDAs ... um ... I mean the bauxite residue disposal areas, what we call the red mud lakes. Where the sticky red mud from the refining process is—’

  ‘I know what the BRDAs are for, Ben, and where they are.’

  ‘Oh yeah, of course you do.’ He grinned sheepishly. ‘Sorry, still in tour guide mode I guess.’

  Verity nodded. She wasn’t upset with him, but she did resent the all-too-common assumption that, being a woman, she’d need process technicalities explained to her. She sighed inwardly and prompted, ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, like I said, they’ve radioed me that a roo’s been spotted too close for comfort to one of the red mud lakes. I was hoping, if you’re not in a huge rush, we could take a slight detour to fly over it? Then I can check if the roo’s actually in the lake. If it is, we’ll need to mount a rescue, or—’

  Verity didn’t hesitate. ‘Of course, Ben, give the pilot the details.’

  Ben smiled his thanks and strode over to where the Bell 222 helicopter, painted in RCL’s colours, waited quietly on the helipad.

  Verity also made her way to the chopper, accompanied by Alan Stewart. ‘Thanks again, Alan. I appreciate all your efforts today, and those of your team. It was an important exercise to get right, and you nailed it.’ Verity smiled at the wide grin spreading across Alan’s face.

  ‘You’re more than welcome, Verity ... er ... Miss Parker.’

  ‘Oh, Alan, please don’t stand on ceremony. I’m the same Verity you’ve worked with for years, and I’m certainly not about to call you “Mr Stewart” after all this time!’

  ‘Of course,’ he chuckled. ‘I just thought, now you’re CEO and all.…’ He stood a little straighter. ‘Hope we’ll see you down this way more often. It’s been a real pleasure having you here today.’

  ‘For me as well.’ Verity smiled and turned to climb into the cabin. Once strapped in, she nodded at the pilot to start the engine. Alan raised his hand once more before backing away as the rotors whirred into life, and the helicopter prepared for take-off.

  As they rose into the air, Verity found herself hoping she had made some more allies that day. Their numbers were increasing, albeit slower than she’d like.

  It was a smooth trip from the mine to the mud lakes, with very little wind and clear views of the passing countryside below. As they flew over the section of conveyor closest to the property that was the subject of the land grab, Verity smiled grimly and shook her head at what she saw below the speeding chopper. Some specially made covers, fitted as part of the company’s noise abatement trials, were missing from that section of the belt, no doubt stolen. And she had her suspicions about who might have done it.

  She pressed her lips together and frowned. It would be ironic if the very people with the most to gain from noise reductions, were guilty of stealing the covers. But if the company successfully implemented noise abatement methods, any hopes the neighbouring property owners had of receiving big compensation payouts, would be dashed.

  We have to buy that parcel of land, she reiterated to herself, otherwise it’ll be a costly thorn in RCL’s side forever.

  As they approached the mud lakes, Ben took a pair of binoculars from his bag and scanned the area, looking for any sign of a kangaroo. ‘There,’ he pointed, shouting to the pilot, ‘Over there, to the right!’ The pilot adjusted his course and they flew towards the largest of the refinery’s residue disposal areas.

  Verity leaned forward, straining to catch a glimpse, but they were still too far away to see the animal with the naked eye.

  Ben put down the binoculars and turned to speak to her. ‘It doesn’t look good from here, the roo’s in the lake alright.’

  Verity nodded her understanding, her brow creased with concern. She knew the residue areas were necessary, but wished there was some way to protect native animals from their dangers.

  ‘It’s the same old story,’ Ben explained resignedly, ‘the roo has come to drink from the pools of rainwater on the lake’s surface, and been caught in the grasping suction of the mud beneath it. If we can’t get ‘im out, he’s doomed to a slow death from hunger, or from the effects of the caustic mud eating into his skin.’

  Verity winced, but reminded herself that the company’s diligent monitoring of the lakes had resulted in many animals and birds being rescued, cleaned and treated, and released again.

  Ben went on, ‘For a rescue to be successfu
l, time’s of the essence. The longer the roo stays in there, the lower his chances of survival.’

  Verity exhaled slowly through pursed lips. She knew the animal was in real trouble if it had ventured too far in from the shore. The only safe way to travel across the surface of these lakes was on a ‘mud duck’, a purpose-built amphibious vehicle. But the duck was slow, way too slow to be of assistance in most rescues. In some instances the services of a professional shooter had to be called upon, to humanely destroy animals in distress.

  Verity hoped that wouldn’t be the case this time.

  ‘There, you should be able to see it now, out of the right hand window.’ Ben pointed as the helicopter turned to do a low pass.

  Verity looked down and spotted the kangaroo, a young red, floundering around in the deadly sea of mud. She lost sight of it as the helicopter swung around for another pass over the lake. As soon as she could see it again, she tried to estimate the distance from the distraught animal to the shore. Was it close enough to mount a rescue?

  Ben handed the binoculars to Verity, saying, ‘I think we should be able to get ’im out. He’s not too far from the shore, and by the look of his coat, he hasn’t been in for too long.’ He unclipped the land-based two way radio from his belt, but before transmitting, he looked questioningly at Verity. She’d been staring at the kangaroo through the binoculars, but put them down to turn and nod at Ben.

  He clicked the button on the two-way. ‘RCL base, this is Enviro Ben, over.’

  ‘Gentle Ben, this is RCL base, over.’

  A lop-sided grin crossed Ben’s face but he quickly became serious again. ‘RCL base, alert roo rescue team to proceed to BRDA two, ASAP.’

  He glanced across at Verity, adding, ‘Rescue has CEO authorisation.’

  Chapter Nine

  Royce strode into the Orix building and nodded at the security guard before making his way to the lifts. He hit the button and waited impatiently, running a tired hand over his face. It had been a long trip and he was jet-lagged, but he refused to take a break.