The High Life (The Mercury Travel Club #3)

Chapter Twelve Get the Party Started

Charlie called me the moment our flight home from Amsterdam landed.

‘He’s having a launch party,’ he said with a note of panic in his voice.

‘Who?’ I ask, wondering what I’ll wear to this mysterious invitation. Then it dawns on me. ‘Oh, you mean Lorenzo don’t you?’

‘Yes, do you think we have to go?’

‘If we’ve been invited,’ I reply. ‘And aren’t you curious to see the place?’

Charlie mutters something non-committal.

After we’ve ended the call, I realise that, somehow, I hadn’t actually expected the opening to ever happen.

I get through the baggage reclaim and customs in a bit of a fog then say goodbye to our customers adding that I hope I’ll see them on another trip soon. Suddenly saying things like that doesn’t seem like a simple adios — it feels more like a heartfelt plea.

* * *

When the day arrives, Charlie isn’t at all keen on going to Lorenzo’s launch party but I remind him of my ‘Respect’ mantra and tell him we should be happy to help out fellow entrepreneurs. He sticks his tongue out at me but agrees to be an absolute saint when we are at the event itself.

I’m very curious to see what Lorenzo has done with the shop and how he plans to differentiate himself. After all, he’s opening up in the same street as a successful competitor and that’s either very foolish or equally foolhardy. His shop windows have been covered up throughout the refit and even today, the day of launch there’s still a big poster around them simply advertising the night’s event.

He’s gone for a rocket theme, which is a bit predictable given the name of the shop, but in my humble opinion, over-promising a little — unless he genuinely has found a way of getting customers into space. If he has then he’s definitely going for a different target market. He won’t get my mum up there.

‘Will there be food?’ Patty asked when I told her about the event.

Strictly speaking the evening is for the local business community but Patty would certainly provide an independent viewpoint, so I assure her there will be and she agrees to come with us. I know Caroline will be there as the owner of the book store as will many of the restaurateurs who’ve supported Mercury over this past year.

Charlie and I are proud of the offers or free gifts for our customers we’ve negotiated with local commerce — such as a bottle of prosecco with any booking to northern Italy, or a ‘cooking with spices’ book when they return from India. It’s been one of our selling points and shows how much we value our customers — and local businesses who supply us. I hope Lorenzo isn’t going to start making similar offers. It might not just be our customers who have their heads turned. The local business community might also prefer working with him.

Charlie paces the floor all day and constantly checks through the window to see if anyone is going into Lorenzo’s shop.

‘Act like it’s not happening,’ Josie tells him. ‘As you keep saying, there’s more than one pub on the high street and they survive. We’ll be fine.’

I agree with her but still, a fleeting image crosses my mind... a pub where the only remaining customer is the toothless old geezer who’s forgotten where he lives. I hope that won’t be us tomorrow.

‘Even the most loyal can easily have their head turned by the new and shiny kid on the block,’ says Charlie.

I give him a punch and say Josie is right, although it should be us reassuring Josie not the other way around. ‘No chance,’ I say. ‘Where else could people get the special blend of fun and chaos that we bring? We already have some fab reviews for Amsterdam.’

I take the details of some new offers that have come through to us and call several customers, just to show my colleagues that my mind is still on the job and, of course, to follow Richard’s advice — Focus.

Soon, the hour arrives for us to close Mercury and get ready for the party.

None of us go home first, so there’s a queue for the loo and for the mirror in our cloakroom. Josie has a quick squirt of deodorant then changes her top and freshens up her make-up. I hide in the loo and change into a bought-especially-for-the-occasion wraparound dress that exudes professionalism. I see myself as the more experienced business woman, confidently off to support a fellow small business. A woman ready to give advice on what he’s doing wrong. I would love to do something with my hair but Charlie is hogging the mirror. He’s brought what Josie calls his ‘pulling shirt’ — an expensive pale blue number that shows off his eyes perfectly.

‘Wow,’ she says when she sees what he’s wearing. ‘What are you trying to do — seduce him into shutting down?’

He ignores her and finishes applying his hair wax.

‘Peter’s going too,’ he tells us. ‘I can’t have his head turned by the interloper.’

‘That would never happen,’ I say.

Patty arrives as we’re all ready to go. She’s brought four cans of gin and tonic with her and pours them into the mugs lying on the draining board.

‘Classy,’ says Josie. ‘I’m glad some Aussie has rubbed off on you all.’

The three of them toast ‘defeat to the enemy’ and take a big gulp for courage. I don’t join in but instead scold their lack of business camaraderie. After all, Richard advises respecting your competitor before crushing them. Nevertheless, I take a drink at the same time. The bubbles fizz up my nose and I end up choking and coughing. Not exactly the elder-stateswoman image I’m going for.

Crossing the road, David Bowie’s ‘Space Oddity’ flows out of the new store and the doors are open. I wonder whether he’s managed to find more than one launch-themed song. I can’t think of many more — ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ — but that probably isn’t trendy enough.

We walk into the shop and at first I’m confused ― it looks nothing like a travel agency. Rustic wooden tables and benches run the length of the shop, making it look like some Nordic mountain hut. Along the centre of the benches are iPads for customers to use. There are no brochures anywhere. The fabulous aroma of freshly ground coffee is all pervading and at the far end of the room there are hessian bags of coffee beans and copper scoops. As if to demonstrate what we’re supposed to do, Lorenzo scoops up some beans, grinds them and puts them into an individual cafetière. He hands this to one of the guests who looks as overawed as we probably do. The walls have been completely stripped back and keep up the rustic-techno theme with old storm lanterns hanging beside huge plasma screens, displaying high-definition images of dream locations from Instagram. A blackboard lists Hot Destinations.

‘Oh no,’ I whisper to myself with a sudden realisation of what I am seeing. ‘It’s Gastro-Travel.’

I wish I wasn’t standing open-mouthed when Lorenzo makes his way to us and asks, ‘So what do you think?’

I genuinely don’t know what to say so go with the safe. ‘It’s very different.’

Fortunately Peter, who has now joined us, has his wits about him. ‘So tell me how you see this all working?’

Lorenzo is only too pleased to explain his vision. ‘Well, travel has become really commoditized with people looking for the lowest price and forgetting it’s about adventure,’ he starts. ‘That’s why you guys have done well — you keep adventure alive. But what you haven’t done is keep up with technology. You’re still showing people websites they could be viewing at home and using the old brochures — definitely not cool.’

We’ve just been told off.

‘We use the technology that suits our customers,’ defends Josie, ‘and our emails are definitely cool — I write them.’

Lorenzo suddenly looks impressed and shakes her hand vigorously. ‘You’re the one! I wondered who was writing all that mad stuff — they’re great.’

Peter asks about the screens and iPads.

‘The screens can show any destination at any time,’ explains Lorenzo. ‘You pick a picture and we take you there. It’s all visual — you choose with your heart. And if it’s raining I can fill this place with sunshine, or if there’s an ace programme on the Northern Lights, I can stream the catch-up channel and inspire people. The whole place can change mood with one remote control.’

‘Then the iPads,’ he continues, ‘they’re for making the bookings and transferring payment. Plus we’ll tell people they’re welcome to search for a cheaper price but chances are they won’t. I want the whole vibe of this place to say “take-off”.’

‘I want it to say bugger off,’ mutters Josie, and I elbow her discreetly.

‘And who do you think you’ll attract?’ asks Charlie.

‘Gen Z,’ says Lorenzo confidently. ‘So with you looking after boomers we should be friends. By the way, you have amazing eyes — I’m sure everyone tells you that.’

I swear Charlie blushes and Peter winks over at him as he does, while Josie chokes on her drink. There’s a bit of an awkward silence, so I decide to channel my inner Richard and extend the hand of business camaraderie, no matter how I’m feeling.

I make my big elder-stateswoman gesture. ‘I’m sure we can be friends,’ I tell him. ‘We’re both small businesses trying to compete with the big guys and we are targeting different people. I want to give you this — for luck.’

I hand him the boxed pen I got for winning the People’s Champion award.

‘This means a great deal to me,’ I tell him, ‘so keep it safe and you can return it to me when you win your own.’

He thanks me, puts the pen in his inside pocket and taps it to show it is safe. I tell myself it’s only a loan and I’ll get it back. Lorenzo then excuses himself to go and talk to the local press and we huddle.

‘I can’t believe you gave him that,’ says Charlie. ‘Has it ever left your sight before?’

In truth, even now, I can’t believe I gave it to him either. I was trying to show that I wasn’t scared of him and when I was thinking of a gift that would demonstrate this, my prized pen was the thing that kept springing to mind. I hope Lorenzo realizes how much it means to me and takes care of it.

‘It was an act of respect and camaraderie. I’m sure I’ll get it back,’ I lie.

‘Maybe,’ says Charlie unconvinced. ‘Anyway, what do we think of the place?’

‘I don’t like it myself and I don’t think it’ll attract any of our customers.’ I lie again and wonder how many fibs I’ll be allowed to tell before my nose starts growing.

‘I don’t know,’ says Peter. ‘Tablet sales are colossal among baby boomers and Gen X. I bet most of the Mercury Clubbers have one.’

I certainly do and I’m never off it. Patty joins us from her mission to mingle and eavesdrop on people.

‘So,’ I ask, ‘what are people saying?’

‘They like it and so do I,’ she says, ‘especially the free coffee.’

I picture our traditional-looking shop alongside this and know his is far too new and exciting to ignore.

‘We have to do something,’ Josie says to Charlie. ‘Not this but something to show we’re not past it.’

‘I agree. I wish we had Formentera sewn up,’ he replies. ‘But for now let’s see how far a little bribery will go — let’s advertise some special offers.’

He goes off to find a local journalist to see if we can get a feature. I spot Lorenzo talking to Caroline and wait until they’re finished before heading her way.

‘How was he?’ I ask as nonchalantly as possible.

‘Ambitious. He asked me to develop him a book tour themed around self-actualisation for Gen Z and Y.’

‘What the hell does that mean?’

‘Places of mindfulness and self-discovery, that kind of thing,’ she says. ‘Maybe reading the Dalai Lama’s book in Nepal while on a yoga retreat.’

‘And are you going to do it?’ I ask cautiously. I have no right to ask her not to.

‘I don’t know if I can turn down the business,’ she tells me. ‘But it’s strange he’s copying your book trips idea.’

I imagine anyone could have thought of it. Books bring places to life, so it’s understandable people would want to visit those places. I sigh, accepting that we really shouldn’t underestimate this guy. I know I have to get back out there, touring local clubs and groups to sell the benefits of Mercury. I spot the president of the local WI and head towards her. When I addressed that group last year, we were beseeched with bookings.

‘Hello there,’ I say cheerfully, ‘this place is amazing isn’t it?’

I’m relieved to hear her say it’s a little overwhelming.

‘Is there any chance of me coming along to talk about the gorgeous new destinations people are heading for?’ I ask. ‘We have some wonderful offers at the moment.’

She tells me she’d be delighted to hear me speak again and knows the WI members enjoyed my last talk. I start to breathe a sigh of relief but am stopped mid-exhale as she gets out a schedule and offers me a date in three months’ time.

‘Lorenzo has just offered us a series of workshops on travel photography and is giving everyone free access to airport lounges so we can start our travel in style,’ she tells me. ‘We’ve never been in so much demand.’

Her joy is my pain. So he’s trying to link up with Caroline and copying my talk-tour idea? Hardly the Gen Z audience he mentioned. What else is he up to? I sidle up to Charlie who looks every bit as miserable as I’m starting to feel.

‘No joy on the local press,’ he tells me. ‘Lorenzo has booked space for the whole of the summer with the condition that he’s the only travel agent in there.’

‘Can he do that?’ I ask.

‘If he pays enough,’ says Peter rejoining the circle. ‘I hate to say it but this guy means business. It wouldn’t surprise me if he sent those vouchers out before he opened on purpose. They forced you to start giving discounts didn’t they? You honoured those vouchers, thereby taking less money and potentially damaging the business.’

We look over at him holding court among a group of women, Patty included. They are hanging on his every word as he illustrates the story he’s telling by flicking up some images on the screens. Pictures of the Great Wall of China have the whole room engrossed and I can see how you could be tempted to book up there and then. Knowing we need a strategy but feeling defeated in the here and now, we decide to call it a day. We shake hands with Lorenzo, wish him luck and say goodbye.

Logically, it makes sense for him to copy us to begin with, after all we’ve done really well. But I hadn’t imagined he’d bother us as soon as he was up and going. The Mercury Travel Club isn’t just a business to me. I dreamt it up, invested everything I had in it and have loved every minute since. It’s more like a member of the family and right then, I feel as if my beloved child is about to be bullied by the new boy at school. I am already regretting handing over my pen and my maternal shackles are well and truly up.

Josie and I pick up our coats and are heading out of the door when Lorenzo leaves his groupies and darts towards us.

‘Can I have a word?’ he asks Josie, pulling her to one side.

I step out onto the street and wait, inhaling the fresh air. He can’t be trying to sell Josie a holiday surely. I try to stay calm and remember all of Richard’s advice. I’ve shown respect but I also have to learn from this competitor. I think through everything he’s said and shown us.

Our customers do like the personal service we provide but if he’s going to copy that, advertise everywhere and give fabulous discounts then they’d be mad not to take the cheapest price. No travel agent can afford to give much away, so hopefully, I think, he’ll stop that soon — but we have to do something until that happens. Thank the Lord that the one thing Lorenzo doesn’t have is a team like ours. We’ll think of something, we always have in the past and we will again. Josie re-appears, slamming the door behind her.

‘So did he try and sell you a holiday?’ I ask.

‘Not exactly.’ She turns to face me. ‘Sneaky swine thinks he’s God’s gift. He offered me a job.’