The High Life (The Mercury Travel Club #3)

Chapter Fourteen Heigh-Ho

I lay awake for much of last night wondering whether I should have called Michael. The answer is probably yes. A text can’t, and obviously didn’t, express the angst I’m feeling now. I’m sure it sounded like a brush-off and I didn’t mean it to but I feel a bit overwhelmed. I feel as if I’m on a shore watching two boats drifting away. One contains Michael, and the other, Mercury Travel. Except the Mercury boat isn’t drifting — it’s being stolen. I can’t let this happen. I have to perk myself up.

‘Because that cocky upstart is not ruining my precious Mercury,’ I tell my reflection as I get dressed for the day ahead.

I look at what I’m wearing and notice that subconsciously I’ve dressed down. I look like a 1930s austerity woman in dull browns and greens. I take it all off and throw it on the bed. Rifling through my wardrobe, I pick the brightest dress I can find, a purple number because I’ve heard this is the feng shui colour of prosperity and wealth. The colour of travel and people at the moment is unfortunately grey and I don’t think that would help us today. Despite the fact that I know I’ll be crippled by the end of the day, I add killer heels and make a mental note to pack some fold-up slippers in my bag for when I’m behind the desk. Make-up and earrings finish off the look and once again I am Angie Shepherd, entrepreneur. Victor not victim.

Despite my superhero outfit, the shop is quiet again. The customers who do cross our threshold are finalising bookings rather than making new ones. Still, I’m glad I dressed up. When someone tells me I’m looking lovely, I’m able to bluff: ‘Well, it’s a lovely day and things are going nicely. Who wouldn’t want to get dressed up for today?’

Charlie smiles every time I say it. He nodded at my outfit when I came in, so I can tell he knows what I’m doing. I manage to keep the smile going for the whole day but come closing I’m delighted to let it drop.

‘Why don’t we hang on for an hour or so and have a bit of a brainstorm,’ says Charlie as we lock up. ‘I can’t imagine you’re ready to walk home yet — those shoes must be killing you.’

I’m more than happy to be able to kick them off for a while, so take a seat and rub my poor tootsies. Josie pulls a flipchart into the shop and writes ‘Attack Plan’ at the top.

‘This isn’t just about Lorenzo, it’s about getting back our focus,’ I say. ‘We shouldn’t forget that we’re bloody good at this. Our customers have come back from our trips completely happy. He hasn’t achieved that yet. This is about Mercury showing people that we’re still doing what we do best.’

Charlie gives me a round of applause and hollers, ‘Here, here.’

‘And on that note,’ adds Josie, ‘I’ve designed a tapas and wine tour and I’ve got a discount on beginners’ Spanish for anyone going.’

I give the round of applause this time as Josie jots it down.

‘The “Around the World with 20 Artists” tour seems to still be working well. Is there anything similar to that we can do?’ asks Charlie.

‘What about “Around the World in 20 Beers”?’ says Josie.

‘Beer? Why would anyone want to do a beer tour?’ I answer and instantly regret questioning the idea, as Charlie looks rather impressed.

‘It’s just like wine tasting,’ says Charlie.

‘Oh yeah,’ Josie tells me, ‘and it’s huge now. Craft brewing is just massive in this country and abroad. It’s the same as craft gin distilleries ― they’re all the rage. You could pretty much go anywhere and the breweries usually give free tours too, so it could be brilliant value.’

‘And there are some gorgeous ones along the Romantische Strasse in Germany,’ says Charlie.

‘So there’d be something to keep everyone happy,’ I say, starting to understand the potential. ‘It’s a stunning route ― such a chocolate box type of place — it would be a beautiful place to visit even if you’re not interested in beer.’

‘Sounds good,’ says Charlie, ‘and I really think northern Europe is going to make a comeback for holidays. There was that TV show filmed there in spring and I think it opened people’s eyes. Some places are truly beautiful and it’s only a short flight. When’s the best time to go? I mean could it help us now?’

‘Definitely, October would be nice, lovely autumnal colours and not too cold,’ Josie says and we all agree. ‘It doesn’t need to be just Europe, either. We could take people to Boston. It’s really big on craft distilleries and they’d get the New England leaf-peeper experience too.’

Josie marks it up on the attack plan just as there’s a loud banging on the door. We all jump, never knowing what to expect these days, but it’s only Patty (again).

‘I thought you had a job interview,’ I say.

‘Brilliant, doing what?’ asks Charlie.

‘Working as a waitress in a cocktail bar.’ Patty grins, happy to be able to trot out the line she’s been rehearsing for days.

‘You do know Phil Oakey won’t be coming in to sweep you off your feet, don’t you,’ Charlie says. ‘How did you get on?’

‘They told me they’d let me know,’ says Patty. ‘In the sort of way that you know they’re going to say “no” as soon as they don’t have to do it face-to-face. Honestly, you’d think the world didn’t want gorgeous women in the prime of their lives.’

‘Never mind them, come and help us,’ says Charlie.

Patty looks at our flip chart and grimaces.

‘A beer tour? Doesn’t sound like my kind of trip. I’m more of a Kir Royale kind of girl.’

‘Then you’re missing out,’ Josie says. ‘You should try some of the fruity beers.’

Patty is not convinced, grimacing as if we’ve just force-fed her cod liver oil.

‘I get wine tasting,’ she says. ‘They’re all different but beer just tastes of beer.’

I knew there was a reason we were the best of friends. I don’t feel as daft questioning the idea now.

‘Rubbish, come out with us this weekend and my Matt’ll show you the difference between a Dizzy Blonde and a Nutty Brewnette,’ says Josie. ‘And they’re beers, not you and your best mate,’ she clarifies, seeing our puzzled expressions.

Patty makes herself at home and we’re restarting the brainstorm when Peter knocks on the door, far more politely than Patty did, it has to be said.

‘Got your message about the brainstorm,’ he says to Charlie. ‘Need any help?’

‘We could always do with a bit of extra brain power.’ Charlie leaps up to kiss him on the cheek.

I hadn’t known this session would turn into a free-for-all. I could have accepted Michael’s help if I’d known. ‘How do we tell people about all of this?’ I get us back on track. ‘We’ve got a brilliant idea but he’s bought all the advertising space and we can’t really trust our email for a while. He might use a fake address next.’

The silence that follows is broken only by the sound of cogs whirring in our heads. Well obviously it isn’t really but I imagine it happening as we all search fervently for a way to market our holidays.

‘You could use Facebook,’ Peter suggests, ‘but he’s bound to be following you.’

‘Even if he isn’t, we’d still only be reaching customers who’ve already travelled with us,’ says Charlie. ‘We need to be telling new people about these ideas to grow the business.’

‘How about creating a news story rather than trying to advertise in the local paper?’ I ask. ‘It’s worked before.’

‘Hmmm,’ replies Charlie. ‘The thing is that we’re not the news anymore — he is.’

I sigh, knowing that he’s right.

‘What about asking your customers to recommend a friend?’ suggests Patty lifting the low mood that threatened to settle. ‘They get a discount if they bring in a new customer? They like you so they’d probably do it.’

‘Not bad. Get customers we know to tell other people,’ I repeat nodding my head.

‘And we could do it on a much bigger scale than just our customers,’ adds Josie suddenly very excited. ‘I could link up with the bloggers and get them to talk about the trips.’

Charlie and I look at each other and then at Josie. Obviously we’ve heard of bloggers and some of them are rather famous but they usually have cookery programmes.

Seeing the confusion written across our faces, Josie explains, ‘There are blogs about everything including some really brilliant craft beer and CAMRA blogs. They’re followed by people who want to hear new ideas. I’m sure they’d love this. I’ll see if any bloggers would help. They’re looking for ways to make the blogs pay, so if we can maybe offer some sort of commission or discount for their members?’

Charlie and I nod. I’m sure we can do something and it would probably cost less than we’re giving away to match Lorenzo right now.

‘And Lorenzo will never be able to keep tabs on everyone who’s recommending us,’ Josie adds, showing that he’s never very far from any of our thoughts.

At least she looks fired up again. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile, truly smile, in days. With a plan to defeat her archenemy, Josie’s eyes shine and she cracks her fingers again — the signal she’s ready for business. I hope it works, not just for us but for her. She’s been completely gutted since the email debacle despite our reassurances that it wasn’t her fault. It’s been a good start, but we still need more.

‘An idea that’ll knock our customers’ socks off and have them queuing to get through the Mercury doors — that’s what we need,’ asserts Charlie. ‘Something that his nibs over the road can’t possibly copy.’

‘I know, what about a mystery trip?’ Patty declares with gusto. ‘Lorenzo can’t copy it if no one knows where they’re going in the first place.’

Having already been slightly dismissive about the craft brewery idea that Josie and Charlie loved, I don’t want to rain on this one but I’m beginning to wonder whether my friend had a few of her marbles washed overboard on that cruise ship.

‘Would we know where it was going?’ I ask — just to check.

‘Of course we would,’ Patty answers, looking at me as if I’m the insane one. ‘But customers would sign up with just the promise of an adventure.’

‘It’s exciting in principle,’ says Charlie, ‘but people can get cheap mystery trips online, and anyway, our Mercurians like to know it’s not “mystery” as in “dodgy”.’

‘So what if you call it a Luxury Treasure Trail then?’ suggests Peter. ‘That sounds more indulgent.’

‘It certainly does — how would it work?’ I ask.

‘OK then, how about this. You start by gathering everyone in a fabulous hotel for the night.’ Patty has taken up the reins and is making it up as she goes along. ‘It’s a dressy affair full of mystery and intrigue — think Da Vinci Code meets The Great Gatsby — then in the morning, they get a clue for where they’ll be staying the next night.’

‘I think the competitive element would really work in corporate travel,’ adds Peter. ‘It could be great team building.’

I start to see the potential of this and am suddenly buzzing.

‘I’m getting it. We start our Mercurians in a wonderful hotel, we have a luxurious dinner and at the end, give them the clue for their next destination.’

‘That’s just what I’ve said.’ Patty twirls her finger at the side of her head. I ignore her.

‘They can bring their own cars or we can hire them something really special like a Jag or Porsche,’ I continue, picturing the scene. ‘I think people would love it. They can work alone, in pairs, in teams. It’s entirely up to them. They can’t set off before breakfast but then the race begins. We award points for anyone reaching the next destination and bonus points if you’re first there. You have to send us a selfie at the location to prove you got there. That would mean the holiday would actually promote itself and we’d keep changing the destinations for the next trip.’

‘Would there be a prize for the most points?’ asks Charlie, and I nod enthusiastically.

‘I do like it,’ he adds hesitantly, ‘but it’s a helluva lot of work. How do we make up all the clues?’

‘My dad,’ I exclaim. ‘He’d love to develop this. After all, it’s a giant quiz and he’d be in his element.’

Dad has been running the caravan club quiz teams for years and has notebook after notebook filled with trivia about every subject you can think of. He’s the only person I know who actually reads the credits at the end of movies. He jots down the name of the producer, director, musical score and even the stuntmen. They rarely come up unless the film wins a BAFTA, so he could save a lot of time waiting until the award ceremonies, but he likes to tell me he’s a purist. He must have a book about geography. He could pick a country and invent a tour for us based upon the most obscure facts he has.

‘Let me just ask him,’ I suggest, ‘and if we like what he develops then we can put it out there and if not, we get back to the drawing board.’

‘What do you think, Josie?’ asks Charlie and we all turn to look at her. She’s suddenly looking a little deflated.

‘It’s fab but so much work for everyone,’ she says. ‘I’m really sorry — if it hadn’t been for me and the email, none of this would be needed.’

‘That’s rubbish.’ Charlie gives her a hug. ‘He’d have found another way to make things difficult, that type always does. And anyway, look at the silver lining: if you hadn’t sent that email we wouldn’t have this fabulous new idea.’

‘Will it be enough though?’ she replies gloomily, looking around at the empty shop.

‘Of course it will, grumpy-drawers.’ Charlie gives her a friendly punch. ‘Thousands of customers will want to take part, celebs will find out about it and it’ll be the new Gumball Rally. We’ll become famous, make millions and then bathe in champagne. You’ll have bubbles up your bits before you can say “Death to Lorenzo”.’ He manages to get Josie smiling.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I promise to pick myself up and get selling the hell out of these. I’m not really the advert for a happy holiday right now.’

‘If we had more goth customers you’d be perfect,’ I tell her and she pokes her tongue out at me, order restored.

‘Come on,’ calls Charlie, ‘group hug.’

The four of us gather for a squeeze. When I come up for air, I catch a glimpse of someone turning his back on us through the window. Michael walks away hurriedly. My shoulders drop, weighed down with guilt. Me, standing here hugging my friends and accepting their help must look awful after I’ve told him I’m too busy to see him. I try to untangle myself from the hug but he’s gone before I get to the door. I give him a call but it goes straight to voicemail. I try to sound cheery and explain I didn’t know either Peter or Patty would be coming tonight. I promise to call him tomorrow but tell him that he can call me at any time. I hear nothing all night.