The Heat Is On Read online

  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 hence, to spice things up, our appointment to beg the bank for money instead.

  * * *

  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.

  ‘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 from these martial arts attempts.’

  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 it 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 off to the bank late this afternoon but for the morning, we’re both in the shop. 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 to 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 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 tell him, and 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 out of 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 head out of the door.

  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 and there’s a food market going on. It’s quiet at the moment but will pick up when the work crowds come out. I used to look at market stalls as just a place to buy things, but now I think about the entrepreneurs 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 says, ‘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 the office 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,’ smiles the manager. ‘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 to 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 the 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 tha
t’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 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 optimise 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 stall with tables alongside 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 a smooth white linen tablecloth. 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, who is 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.’

  Starry Starry Night

  ‘Can I take you out to dinner this Saturday?’ Michael asks. ‘We haven’t seen each other since last week.’

  I have to confess that when I saw Michael’s name appear on my phone, I nearly didn’t answer. I wanted to make the first move but didn’t know what I’d say. Typical Michael, he’s chosen his words perfectly: ‘last week’ to let me know he remembers what happened and ‘out to dinner’ to reassure me it’ll be on safe territory. He’s holding his hand out to me and all I have to do is take it. I want to but not yet. Fortunately, I have a genuine excuse.

  ‘That sounds really lovely,’ I say hoping he reads as much into my words. ‘But I have to work, I’m hosting one of the Around the World in 20 Artists’ weekends in Amsterdam.’

  ‘I thought you were doing the Barcelona one.’

  ‘Ah no, I’ve swapped with Charlie,’ I say. ‘He’s doing Barcelona and I’m doing Amsterdam. Van Gogh etc.’

  This is the trip I thought about with Patty. I’ve swapped with Charlie because Barcelona is months away and I wanted us to have our girls’ trip before she moves in with Jack.

  ‘I could do tonight but it would be late, we’ve loads to do before we set off.’

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ says Michael, ‘I can’t. There’s a big match on and I have to make sure that the pitch is perfect, then there’s a welcome dinner for the visiting team.’

  I’m relieved that we’ve both had the chance to turn each other down. We’ve spoken, we’re friends and we’ve agreed to get together when we’re less rushed. Result. I’m sure Patty is wrong about going with the flow. Things do have to happen in the right order to be perfect: Charlie and I finalise this proposal and send it off; we win the bid and take out the loan; Lorenzo turns out to be a damp squib and moves on quickly; the wedding business is a tremendous success and the loan is paid off in double-quick time; I move into my fabulous new home and then, when I’m sure everything is just as it should be, we make mad passionate love and live happily ever after. I’ve visualised it all happening just like this, so obviously it’s going to. We can’t just squeeze in a Thursday night and expect sparks to fly. That’s what went wrong last time.

  I’ve no time to think about that now. Charlie and I continue to work on our bid all afternoon. The first draft proposal that we took to the bank was pretty spot on so all we need to do is tweak some of the wording, adjust the numbers to give us a little leeway when it comes to negotiating, and ensure that our vision is as magical as it can be.

  ‘We should add a personal statement from you and Peter about your time there,’ I say.

  ‘Oh my god, yes,’ agrees Josie. ‘I could do a compilation of your honeymoon photos and you add a voiceover saying how much you love the place. It would probably mean so much to them knowing that one of the bidders really cares about what happens to the resort.’

  Josie and Charlie head off to put this together and I check everything is in place for the weekend. The five-minute video they come back with has me practically in tears. Against a backdrop of beautiful scenes from his stay on the island, Charlie simply says that the place means everything to him and Peter and that he wants to keep this paradise as perfect as it is so that other people can have the same fairy-tale memories.

  ‘I did it in one take,’ beams Charlie.

  I could tell. His words are so heartfelt, it couldn’t be a script. With this alongside the ideas and the numbers, we have to be in with a chance.

  ‘Are we ready to send this?’ I ask and Charlie nods.

  I compile all the pieces and we each check them one final time. Then, standing over the PC, the three of us count down, 3-2-1, and press the button. It’s done. I imagine our papers sprouting wings and flying across the ocean like they would in a Disney film. They flutter down and land neatly on a whitewashed desk in an office by the ocean. It sounds far more romantic than they get printed out in a grubby city centre admin cubicle and plonked into someone’s overcrowded in-tray.

  * * *

  The next day, our short journey to Amsterdam goes without a hitch and before long we’re leaving Schiphol and heading for the city centre. With all the travel club members safely unpacked and happy with the hotel, the first place we head to is the Van Gogh Museum. After all, it is an art tour.

  ‘Do you think when he was painting this pair of shoes he ever in his wildest dreams imagined people queuing up to see them?’ Patty asks contemplating one of the lesser-known works. ‘And why? I mean, you all have these blossoms and landscapes and flowers and then you have a pair of tatty black s
hoes – he could have at least picked a pair of nice ones.’

  ‘He’s an artist,’ I say. ‘He’s supposed to be unfathomable.’

  ‘He succeeded. So where are we going next little-miss-tour-guide?’

  I’ve always held that most couples like different things, so an art weekend has to have more than art to it or at least half my guests would be bored.

  ‘Next up we have a cycle tour of the canals and flower markets,’ I tell her, consulting my varied itinerary.

  ‘On a bike?’

  ‘Obviously – you can ride one, can’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so – haven’t done it for years but I guess it’s like – well, riding a bike.’

  We walk to the start of the tour and we’re all fitted out with bikes and helmets. Many of the group haven’t ridden a bike for years and there’s much laughing and squealing as we all start wobbling around the square. The bike-hire attendant watches Patty as she puzzles over the vehicle in front of her.

  ‘So how do I get on this?’ she asks.

  ‘You just need to put your leg over…’ starts the guide and I count to ten. One…two…

  ‘If I’m lucky,’ Patty guffaws, looking at the guests for some kind of applause. There is lots of giggling but I ignore her – I’ve heard it’s the best way to train naughty puppies, too.

  We negotiate the crowds of expert cyclists swooping in all directions. Everyone looks so confident and fast over here. I’m terrified to take my hands off the handlebars, so I can’t signal where I’m going; to compensate, I stick close behind the guide – but this means having to cycle quickly to keep up. By the time the tour is over, I’m gasping for breath and my heart rate probably matches that of an Olympic athlete. I’m glad we chose to do it as I think we saw more of the city, but I’m equally glad when we get back to the beginning and dismount, giving back our trusty steeds.

  ‘Ooh – my second-best feature is glad to get off that thing,’ says Patty rubbing her butt in a very unseemly way. I don’t ask her what her best feature is.