Chapter Nine Money, Money, Money
Michael hasn’t called since Sunday and if it weren’t for the impending appointment with the bank manager later today, I think I’d be in pieces. I’m pacing the house before heading into work, forcing myself to focus on this and this alone. I’ve read and re-read our investment proposal and it still looks good. I shouldn’t be nervous but I am. It’s a bit like attending a parent’s evening. I always knew that my daughter was no trouble at all, but still always had a niggling doubt that someone might know more than me and was about to spring it on me. The other thing making me nervous is that Lorenzo has been out and about a great deal this week, so I think the shop must be very nearly finished. Maybe the bank knows more about the new travel agency than we do. They might be bidding for the same resort — although heaven knows how they would have found out about it.
Peter also suggested that rather than borrow the money we could try and find an investor to help with the resort, arguing that we might be about to have our hands full. Looking for a third musketeer didn’t really feel right for either of us but we agreed to give it a go. Peter asked around his networks and quickly found a couple of people he knew were looking for an opportunity.
Charlie and I were rather shocked when, a couple of days ago, he turned up at the shop and said, ‘Guys, I know it’s short notice but can you meet someone for a coffee tonight? Just a chemistry meeting for now. He’s looking for a quick investment and might be right for you.’
We agreed to meet up and at the end of the day we were shaking hands with a very handsome young guy (unfortunately he’d be competition for Charlie being the most handsome man in the office, as he frequently likes to tell us. And on that note, I’m the most beautiful woman over forty here — we have very fragile egos at Mercury).
‘I’ve just sold my internet business,’ the investor told us over his flat white, ‘and looking to reinvest quickly with a bricks and mortar I could add value to.’
I nodded, assuming we were the bricks and mortar.
‘Your business is perfect for me,’ he continued. ‘You’ve got physical sales but no online presence. Your SEO is pretty non-existent and your social media feeds aren’t truly optimized. If I work on these and maximize their potential, I think we could clean up.’
‘And what travel experience do you have?’ asked Charlie.
‘The industry doesn’t really matter, the techniques are the same,’ he answered with froth over his upper lip. I resisted the urge to get out my hankie and wipe it for him.
‘I spent the whole evening flummoxed,’ I told Peter later when he asked us how it went. ‘I know we should do more on the internet but I think I want someone who talks beaches not bytes.’
Charlie agreed but Peter wouldn’t give up and sure enough, a couple of days later we were in the same coffee bar with a man whose perma-tan told us he either travelled extensively or lay on sunbeds. He caught Charlie looking him up and down in contemplation.
‘Golf in Portugal,’ he explained. ‘I’m just back from a week out there. The golf market is pretty lucrative, you know.’
I do know from one of my other failed attempts at a relationship early this year. The potential investor invited us to sit down and then called one of the assistants over to take our order. It’s a self-service café and they looked a bit confused by his request but did as they were asked anyway. He definitely had a presence but I quickly felt more like his underling than his partner and I could see Charlie bristling.
‘I agree,’ I croaked, referring to the golf. ‘We looked into golf trips earlier this year because ideas have really driven our growth, so we’re looking for someone who can create new markets.’
‘Music to my ears,’ he said. ‘I have so many ideas I could use to turbo-charge this business.’
He went on to tell us our growth was hindered by having only one outlet and a centralized business model (whatever that is), that we were missing out on the hipster market and sports tours. We could franchise the club idea and allow people across the country to start their own version of Mercury, then we could lay back and just watch the money roll in.
‘But we enjoy what we do. We travel with our customers and that’s part of the fun,’ said Charlie.
Our potential investor waved away his comment. ‘If I invest,’ he said, ‘I’ll take charge of these expansion ideas so you don’t need to worry about them. I’ll hire people who know the markets and I’ll double our turnover within the year. It might take a little extra capital from all of us to begin with but it’ll be worth it, we’ll rake it in.’
‘Sounds good,’ I pretended badly when he eventually let me get a word in.
So we didn’t like him either and increasingly we didn’t like the idea of someone else joining us. Peter did try telling us there was still plenty of time to find someone and perhaps the next one would bowl us over, but we both shook our heads.
We’re happy together and like an old married couple, we’re not looking for a threesome to spice things up. Hence today’s appointment to beg the bank for money instead.
I glance at my watch and know it’s time to head off rather than be late on today of all days. I imagine I will be on tenterhooks all day so to get myself in the mood for the day ahead, I look in the mirror and pull a really mean look. I don’t feel invincible and I need to, so I belt out the chorus of ‘Eye of the Tiger’, put my mitts up and start jabbing away to get me in the mood. I can’t help but imagine Patty’s boxing ring routine as I do.
‘No one messes with Angie Rocky Shepherd,’ I say, doing a karate kick at my reflection and nearly losing my balance.
‘Stop it now,’ the sensible angel on my shoulder tells me. ‘Get there looking respectable for goodness’ sake. No scabs on knees or black eyes.’
I know banks don’t lend money easily these days, but Mercury has a good track record and even if it hadn’t, this is about the Formentera investment and our projections for that look very healthy. Weddings and all the hen and stag parties are huge business now, so they have to be able to see the potential there. The more Charlie and I talked through the opportunities we could develop, the more we truly believed that we simply could not give this chance of a lifetime up. It excites us in the same way launching Mercury did and we’re dying to have something to announce the second that Lorenzo opens up.
We’re both in the shop this morning. I’m too nervous to do very much but the team are keeping me calmer than I would be if I’d stayed at home. Charlie is practising our pitch to Josie: ‘So as well as weddings we could do vow renewals and maybe even picture-perfect engagements,’ he tells her, ‘with that private stretch of beach and those gorgeous safari tents we could make it the most romantic place on earth.’
‘I’d give you the money,’ says Josie. ‘But if I were the bank manager I’d also try and wangle a free visit, so be ready to offer some bribery.’
I’d already thought we could suggest that if we needed to, although I doubted the bank would be as blatant as our little Aussie friend. Her lack of subtlety makes her the perfect sounding board. She’s brutally honest with us and if we ever present an idea that she thinks won’t work she’ll tell us it’s a ‘massive no-hoper’. She doesn’t mince her words, so I know she believes in this, too.
‘You’ve tidied those brochures three times,’ says Charlie watching me pace the shop. ‘Shall I make us a coffee before we go?’
I shake my head. ‘Knowing my luck, I’ll spill it all over this blouse.’ I tidy things once more.
Three o’clock ticks round slowly but as soon as that big hand announces the hour, I exhale loudly: time to go. I nip to the bathroom to refresh my make-up and when I emerge, Charlie has put on a suit jacket and tie. He looks awfully serious.
‘We built this business, girl,’ he says and I’m not sure whether he’s trying to convince himself or me, ‘and we did it together. Now we’ve come up with another absolute cracker of an opportunity. They’d be mad not to back us, completely barmy.’
He gives me a kiss on the cheek before Josie pulls us apart, tutting.
‘Enough of that, we need a quick check,’ she says to me. ‘OK, no lipstick on teeth, skirt isn’t tucked into knickers and there are no ladders in the tights. Perfect, you’re ready.’
Then it’s Charlie’s turn. ‘Shoes polished, fly up, no “kick-me” Post-its on your back — you’re good, too.’
‘Go get ’em,’ she adds as she pushes us towards the door, ‘and don’t come back with less than a million.’
I smile, but butterflies and other less pleasant insects have already started swarming around my stomach. Charlie picks up the spiral-bound business plan and we’re on our way.
The bank is in the city centre — we could have gone to the branch across the road but we decided we’d rather not risk bumping into Lorenzo on the way. He would have asked what we were up to and unfortunately it’s in my nature to be polite, so I would probably have told him and kicked myself later.
The bank is in St Ann’s Square where there has obviously been a food market going on. It’s quiet now and the stalls are packing up. If mum were here she’d be going round each one asking for end of day bargains. I used to look at market stalls as just a place to buy things, but now I think about the entrepreneur behind them. Especially if it’s a really small stall, because they’ve probably just started up and it’s all they can afford. When we come out, I’ll buy something from one of them, but for now, it’s time to look after our own business.
This branch is extremely modern with high ceilings and bright décor. As we stride past the main reception through to the business lounge, I’m boosted with a little sense of pride. We’re here legitimately — we’re local business people — award-winning at that. I’m desperate to catch a glimpse of myself to see whether I look the part but the office is all etched glass and inspirational slogans. One of them reads: The only thing between you and your dreams is BELIEF.
‘Yeah, right,’ says Charlie, spotting it, too. ‘Turn us down and we’ll remind you of that.’
We sit down in the reception and this time I graciously accept the coffee I’m offered. As a real-life businesswoman, I must demonstrate the ability to drink coffee without spilling it. I take tiny sips and have a light-bulb moment: tiny sips and nibbles must be how celebrities stay thin and clean — you never see anyone at the Oscars with a red-wine stain down their Chanel.
Someone comes out of the manager’s office and I take a discreet glance at the customer leaving and try to decide whether he looks more worthy of a loan than us. He’s wearing hiking shoes and a baggy jumper, so either he runs a gardening business or an internet company, or he hasn’t made as much effort as we have. I guess you can’t tell who the successful business people are these days. I’ve never seen any pictures of Zuckerberg, the Facebook guy, in a suit and I doubt he’ll have any problems getting a loan if his billions ever run out.
‘Ms Shepherd and Mr Hagan?’
Oops, our turn. I get up and shake the manager’s hand, trying to work out whether he has kind eyes or not. I think he does.
‘Really pleased to meet you,’ he says. ‘My mum loves your trips.’
At least he knows who we are. We enter the office and close the door.
‘You’ve had an impressive growth record,’ says the bank manager, reading our accounts. ‘You’ve done extremely well considering the many potential issues in travel.’
‘I think it shows the diversity in our offer and our experience in spotting a great opportunity,’ I say, getting my rehearsed argument out early in the conversation.
‘Our strategy is never to go head to head with family operators but to focus on our niches. Initially that meant baby-boomers and now we’re looking at weddings,’ adds Charlie in his rehearsed serious voice.
‘I know.’ The manager smiles. ‘As I said, my parents already travel with you — and who wouldn’t want to get married here?’ He flicks through the prospectus, obviously awed by the beauty of the place.
This seems to be going extremely well. He’s either going to give me the money or, as he’s not wearing a wedding ring, try and haggle for a discount for his own nuptials as Josie suggested. I’m distracted again trying to work out how much discount we should offer and whether that would constitute a bribe. When I get back to the real world, the tone of the conversation has changed.
‘But an impressive past doesn’t guarantee a future,’ he is saying, closing our proposal. ‘Times have changed.
‘Not only do we still have all traditional internet players — and they’re growing like fungus — I lose count of them — but companies like Groupon are now taking the weekend-break market and I have seen a full wedding package in one of their emails at an incredible price. So it’s even tougher out there right now and that’s if we manage a year without infectious diseases, terrorism or erupting volcanoes to disrupt travel.’
‘There is never a year without an obstacle,’ Charlie tells him, ‘but each time we’ve faced one, we’ve found a way around it. The core business is strong and people still want to go on holiday. We just have to continue to be inventive.’
‘And you have done to date,’ he replies. ‘I just think you’ll find it tougher, especially as you’ll soon have a new competitor right opposite to distract you from the very thing that’s made you successful.’
So he knows about Lorenzo.
‘In fairness to us,’ says Charlie, ‘we’ve faced challenges before, and anyway, this is about a completely bespoke venture.’
The manager nods but adds, ‘True, but you can only make a success of it if the core business is running well.’
‘We know the travel market and we’re both absolutely committed to this enterprise,’ I assert. ‘Whoever comes along, we know we can make it work. Charlie recently honeymooned on this island and has first-hand experience of the true potential, but beyond that the numbers and the forward bookings make this a sound investment. We wouldn’t be sitting here if we weren’t completely confident that as a team we have both the resourcefulness and tenacity to optimize this opportunity no matter what the competitive circumstances.’
I spot Charlie just managing to stop himself giving me a round of applause. My heart pounds. Bloody hell — where did I get that speech from? I’ll use it again.
Forty minutes later and the discussion is over. We’re back out in the fading sunshine and the city centre has started filling with people having post-work drinks. We find a small café with outside tables and get some coffees. I’m not hungry but I order cake just to help their sales. I exhale and we sit quietly for a moment taking in the decision we have to make.
The bank manager had said he could see the potential in the wedding business, that the proposal was robust if not cautious, and that as directors, we’d proven we had staying power. We’d both perked up at that point. Then he added that he couldn’t ignore the issues with the travel industry or the new competition, so he needed some security. The nuts and bolts were that should we win the second-stage bid, we could have the loan (I think my little heart leapt at that point), but only if secured on the Mercury Travel Club (it sank very quickly) or some other collateral.
When I think about it now, it’s as if the bank manager were a magician. He led us into a room with a long table covered in smooth white linen. He asked us to place the things we value most — our business and our pride — on top. If we put a single foot wrong, he was going to whip away the cloth and might leave us with nothing. And somehow he made us feel grateful for all of it too. I guess that’s banking for you.
‘What are you thinking?’ asks Charlie.
I picture Richard Branson, now wearing wings and a white suit like Frenchy’s guardian angel in Grease. ‘The Next Big Thing,’ he’s whispering to me.
I pull myself up and face Charlie. The bank will write to us to confirm the terms of the loan within the week but given what we know, we could decide it’s just too much of a risk. I can’t face going back to the shop and telling Josie that we were too cowardly and that we’ve given up already. If we truly believe in this, and I know that we do, it will be a success.
‘We can do this,’ I tell him. ‘We can do anything.’