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Ever the cynic, I also knew that asking someone endless questions about themselves was also a tactic to avoid having to talk about yourself, so I was determined to flip the script now and givehimthe Spanish Inquisition.
‘So, Charlie,’ I said, tilting my head. ‘Enough about me, what doyoudo?’
‘Um, I’m a director for a, er, a food company,’ he stuttered.
‘Oooh, food. Ilovefood. What type?’ I asked.
‘Oh, er, sweet things,’ he added, avoiding eye contact. ‘You know, like biscuits, cakes, that kind of thing…’ For some reason he was being coy and trying to downplay things. I remembered Fran’s tactics when quizzing Erica about Lorenzo. Like her, I was determined to find out more.
‘Cakes are myfavouritethings in the world—beating even prawns. What’s the name of the company?’ I asked.
‘Erm,’ he said, hesitating. Nana Cromwell’s.’
‘Ah, Nana Cromwell’s!’ I said with genuine affection. ‘I adore their Ginger Dreams, and the Coconut Macaroons are my favourite.’ Charlie blushed again.
Oh, hold on a minute…that name rang a bell…
‘Cromwell’s?’ I asked, frowning, trying to place the name. ‘What’s your surname again?’
‘Er, Cr-Cromwell,’ he said, stuttering and avoiding eye contact again.
‘So, are you any relation to the Nana Cromwell family, or is it just a coincidence that you’re working for a company whose figurehead has exactly the same name as you?’ I asked, doing my best Fran.
‘Erm, yes,’ he said before pausing. ‘It’s the, yes, it’s the family business.’
‘That’s amazing, Charlie!’ I gushed. ‘Nana Cromwell’s is a British institution. They’re hands down the best biscuits on the market. I remember when I got my first Saturday job feeling so pleased to be able to go into Waitrose and buy my own pack because Mum would never get them. She always said they were too expensive, so we had to get McVities instead. Now on the rare occasion I get biscuits for the house, I’d never buy anything else. I love the fact that’s your family business. You should be very proud of your success.’
He was fidgeting nervously in his chair. You could tell he was feeling embarrassed about it all. See? I was right about him being bloody loaded. Nana Cromwell’s was huge. As a fellow business owner (albeit not on that same ginormous scale), I understood what it must have taken not just to build a brand like that but also to maintain it, plus make it grow so phenomenally.That’swhat impressed me the most. Much more than the money that came with their success.
‘So what do you do there at the business?’ I asked, genuinely interested to hear all about it.
‘Erm, well, I look after the retail relationship side of things, so dealing with the major retailers in the UK, but increasingly expanding our business globally. Hence my recent visit to Australia. We’re currently in fifty countries worldwide and intend to expand that to seventy-five in the next two years, so ambitious plans.’
‘Oh yeah, how was Australia?’ I asked. ‘You didn’t say much about it on your messages.’
‘It was fine, thanks. But business trips are never as glamorous as they sound. You get off a long flight and barely have time to drop your bags off at the hotel and have a shower before the driver whisks you off to a string of meetings with retailers, who are all trying to squeeze your margins so they can make more of a profit for their stores. And then there’s the negotiations to get the prime shelf space and secure the best promotions. It all gets a bit tiresome after a while,’ he said, sighing loudly.
‘I know what you mean, Charlie,’ I said, nodding in agreement. ‘I travel for press trips several times a year too, and it can be exhausting.’
‘Plus,’ he continued, ‘there’s the terrible carbon footprint from all the flying. Just one return flight from London to New York produces a greater carbon footprint than the whole year’s personal allowance that we need to keep the climate safe. It’s not what I want to do.’
Oh, wow. I was surprised to hear him say that.
‘What is it that you want to do, then?’ I asked.
‘I’ve always wanted to work for an organisation like Greenpeace,’ he replied, sitting up straighter in his chair as if I’d ignited a fire inside him. ‘There’s so much important work that needs to be done to secure the future of our planet. Issues like fracking, protecting our oceans and, like I said, dealing with climate change. These are real problems. Selling biscuits is just so trivial and mundane in comparison.’
He certainly sounded passionate about green issues.
‘Oh, I see,’ I replied. ‘So if you don’t want to sell biscuits, why don’t you just leave?’ I questioned.
‘If only it were that simple,’ he said, bowing his head. ‘The business meanseverythingto my father. It was him who started the company after his mother baked the cakes and biscuits for a high-profile event he was organising and everyone went crazy for them. For the past thirty-five years, he’s dedicated his life to the company, and as his only son, he’s grooming me to take over when he retires in two years’ time. It would break his heart if I left.’
His shoulders sank. He looked visibly upset just talking about it.Can’t be an easy situation.
‘Sorry. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this and we’ve just met,’ he added.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘That must be a terrible burden for you, though. Just because it’s your father’s life, it doesn’t mean it has to be yours too. You need to follow and focus on your own dream, not someone else’s. If you don’t want to do something, speak up and tell him.’
