It was almost 8 a.m. when Jinnie dragged herself out of bed and left Paolo snoring gently. She made her way to the kitchen, desperate for a cup of coffee, and the first thing she saw on entering was the twins with big bowls of Rice Krispies. Willie turned to his sister and said, “See, I told you Mummy was home.” Turning to his mother, he continued, “I told her you came in and kissed me goodnight, but she said I was wrong because you would have kissed her too.” Jinnie chuckled and replied, “I did kiss you both, but only one of you woke up long enough to say hello. But you went back to sleep immediately. I’m surprised you didn’t think you had dreamt it.”
A laughing Izzy quickly got Jinnie her coffee from the freshly made pot while Jinnie set about making herself an egg and bacon bap. She was soon sitting, chatting to the twins, who wanted to know where she had been, and she told them a tale about a training camp for the Army Reserve. Willie said, “Are you still in the Resistance then?” A laughing Jinnie remembered telling the twins she had been in the Resistance when they had all visited the three oldies and the Queen had turned up. Neither of them had ever mentioned it again, and she thought they had forgotten, but obviously not. Choosing her words carefully, Jinnie said, “No, the Resistance was disbanded after the War of Liberation, as there was no longer any need for it. But some of us were made Army Reservists, and we must go on training exercises every now and then. We just have to make sure that we remember what to do if there was ever another war. It’s highly unlikely ever to happen again, as the Germans are too busy arguing with the Russians. But they like to make sure I haven’t forgotten my training.”
“Oh,” said Willie, “we thought you might be something exciting, like a spy, but being a Reservist sounds boring.” “Yes,” continued Millie, “I wanted to tell the class that my mummy had a gun and shot at people.” “Well, you can tell them that I had a gun and shot at targets when I was in the Cadets at university, and I was a jolly good shot and won lots of competitions. In fact, Auntie Penny was in the Army Cadets, and she too is a good shot and has won lots of competitions. That’s why the Army keeps us both in the Reserves.” Jinnie decided that was as close to the truth as made no difference, and if the twins told their classmates, or Miss Evans, it could easily be verified.
As it was Sunday, it was lunch at one of the family’s houses, and it just so happened it was Mrs Walsh’s turn, and she hadn’t known if her daughters were going to be there or not. So, she had bought an extra-large chicken to roast and told James that if the girls were home, he would just have to find extra vegetables from the garden. Of course, she was delighted when Jinnie phoned her to say she was home and would be coming with Paolo, Izzy, and the twins. Mrs Walsh wanted to know if Penny was home, and Jinnie said she was, but she had a guest staying a couple of days, and she didn’t know if Penny was planning a lunch party of her own.
Mrs Walsh had immediately phoned Penny, and as a result, she, Dan, and Irena were coming to lunch, and Mr Walsh was dispatched to dig more potatoes and carrots, cut the biggest cabbage, and get more onions from the strings hanging in the shed. She, in turn, decided that one blackberry and apple pie was not enough to feed eight adults and two very nearly six-year-olds who adored Grandma Walsh’s blackberry and apple pie and custard and set about making a second one.
It was late May, and the day was warm and sunny—not as warm as Tunisia but pleasant enough for the twins to play football on the back lawn with Paolo and Dan, so the three girls walked down to the boundary with the field the horses were kept in. Only the old mare was gone. James had explained that she had been unwell and had been removed to the Royal Veterinary College at Brookmans Park, but they didn’t hold out much hope. This made Jinnie feel sad, as the old mare had been part of her growing up, as had all her foals.
She related the story to Irena, of how they had moved the horses out of the field when a German Headquarters Unit had set up camp in the woods in the small valley on the other side of the field, and how the Allied planes had zoomed in and decimated the camp and the wood in the process. And how SAS snipers in the roof of her house and that of a neighbour had finished off the job. Jinnie told Irena how one of those snipers was now married to the daughter of one of the directors of one of the companies she was Managing Director of.
Irena stared down the field and said, “I am pleased to see the woods are nearly recovered, the horses are still in the field, and on this lovely day it is quite beautiful here. My country also suffered under the Germans, but the land is still scarred. I pray, in a few more years, it will look like this.” The three girls watched the rural scene for a while before they were called to lunch. Mrs Walsh had excelled herself with lunch. Not only was there roast chicken, roast potatoes, and all the home-grown vegetables, but there were Yorkshire puddings and, much to the twins’ delight, pigs in blankets.
Irena said one of the things she loved about the UK was a traditional Sunday roast. They had nothing like it in Slovenia, but what were ‘pigs in blankets’? Penny tried to explain, but Irena was having trouble with the concept, so Jinnie took up the explanation in Italian. Immediately the twins were interested, and Willie said in Italian, “Mummy, why didn’t you tell us Irena is Italian?”
“I’m not,” said Irena. “I’m from a city called Trieste, but the Germans made it part of Slovenia. Trieste was part of Italy before the Germans invaded, so everyone there learnt German, Italian, and Slovenian. When I first met your Auntie Penny, I didn’t speak English, so we talked in Italian. But the British brought me to England after our own ‘War of Liberation’ and taught me English and how to be a proper soldier. So now I am high in the Slovenian Army.” “Gosh,” said Willie, “that’s difficult.”
Granny asked the twins if they had enjoyed their roast chicken, and Millie said it was ‘scrummy’, and Willie nodded along before asking, “Is there enough chicken left over for Mummy to take some home for Larry? He loves chicken.” “Of course there is,” said Granny. “There’s plenty for you to take home for Larry and even for you to have a bit more, but don’t forget we have blackberry and apple pie for afters.” The twins decided that a bowl of pie and custard was preferable.
On their way home, Willie said, “We like Irena. She speaks good Italian. Is she staying with Auntie Penny for long?” “I don’t think so,” replied Jinnie. “Probably only a few days. We are all going to a meeting in London tomorrow, and then she can go home. She may stay a few days because she has a friend in London, but I don’t know.” “Pity,” said Millie.
***
On Monday, Jinnie arranged to meet Penny and Irena on the stopping train to Finsbury Park. She got on at Hadley Wood and joined the others, who had boarded the train at Potters Bar. As usual, they changed onto the Victoria Line to Vauxhall at Finsbury Park. As usual, Irena raved about the wonderful transport service in London, which Penny and Jinnie took for granted. They came out of the Tube station and crossed the road to the SIS building. Jinnie and Penny had passes, but Irena had to sign in before they all went up to Meeting Room ‘D’. This room hadn’t existed when Jinnie had worked permanently at the ‘Cross’ but was part of the Belinda refurbishment. The three snipers were stopped at the door by security for a quick check before being let in. The room was dominated by a large meeting table and a projection screen. The seats at the table were almost all taken, but the ladies were directed to three empty chairs near the head of the table.
They had hardly sat down when ‘C’ and the PM arrived and took the two remaining seats at the head of the table. As ‘C’ shuffled the pile of paperwork in front of him, Jinnie stole a glance around the table. She recognised a few heads of department, a couple of Ministers, and several senior officers before her eye fell on the Italian Ambassador, and on his right-hand side sat Paolo. She had only thought, ‘He didn’t tell me he was going to be here,’ when ‘C’ called the meeting together and said, “To open the meeting, I would like to read the report from Captain Spinnetti, who was the Italian officer on the ground. Then I intend to ask our three operatives for their input and comments. I particularly would like to understand what, if anything, was wrong with the mission and what went right.”
‘C’ proceeded to read the Captain’s report, which was strictly factual, detailing how they had been landed a week before the snipers, replacing the SAS party, had established their HQ in the farmhouse, reconnoitred the launch beaches, and the SAS-built hides for the snipers. They had established the gangs’ routines and settled in to watch while awaiting the arrival of the snipers. When the snipers had been brought in by launch, the special ammunition had arrived with them. He admitted that he was surprised that the snipers were women and that no one at HQ had prepared them; consequently, they hadn’t prepared separate accommodation, and that had to be rapidly arranged.
The report continued, saying that from the first night the plan had worked perfectly. The snipers had been firing from a distance and had not been discovered. After three days of not being able to launch a single boat from any beach, the gangs were becoming frustrated. In fact, from the bugs placed in various gang camps, none of the three gangs had the slightest idea they were being targeted from a distance; in fact, they all thought they were under attack from rival gangs. (This statement brought a little laughter from those seated around the table.) The report continued, saying how the bugs had revealed that Gang A planned to attack Gang B, whom they believed were guilty of attacking them.
They had received orders to let the gangs attack each other, and they did. The snipers joined in, shooting only armed men from all gangs. The inter-gang battle eventually led to all three gangs limping away, heavily reduced in manpower and leaving many bodies—both dead and injured—on the beaches. Local fishermen discovered bodies and called the local police, who rapidly called in the National Guard. However, all three gangs had abandoned their camps. The Captain’s people had recovered their bugs at the same time as delivering the snipers to Tunis Airport for a flight to London. The Italians had spent the day returning their farmhouse camp back into an abandoned hovel before being evacuated overnight by high-speed launch.
‘C’ then asked the girls if there was anything they disagreed with in the Captain’s written report, and the girls agreed it was all correct. However, first Penny and then Jinnie said there were a few points they would like to add. Penny talked of the frustrations caused by the mission continually being delayed because the special ammunition was not ready. She also talked of the last-minute changes to the programme. The outward and return travel had been supposed to be by US submarines. There was no criticism of the Italians, who had organised the last-minute changes to fast launches on the way out and transport to the airport on the way back with expertise. It was the last-minute withdrawal of the promised US submarine that could have wrecked the whole mission. Penny said, “I know that German agents infiltrating Europe isn’t a priority to the US, but it should be. Once into Europe, those agents are only a plane trip from the US.”
Then Jinnie spoke. She agreed with her sister’s points but added that she had to say that, technically, she could not fault the explosive ammunition once it arrived. It had performed exactly as designed and should become available as a standard option for snipers. She continued, saying that, apart from the submarine, the cooperation between the allied militaries had been outstanding, except for one tiny thing: the Italian field rations, which were not to British taste. This got a small laugh from the assembled politicians, military, and spooks.
Jinnie continued, “More seriously, I am a little more bothered by the way British Airways has implemented its agreement to upgrade agents’ flights. From what I have observed, the agreement with Virgin is done by a marker on passports that triggers the computer booking system to issue an automatic upgrade; that way, a minimum of people are physically involved. BA, however, brief their row of check-in agents to look for a particular name. In my way of thinking, this is a security risk. Once onboard, the cabin manager is invariably extremely helpful no matter which airline I have flown with, but how many people are aware I am on that particular flight?” Jinnie saw ‘C’ making notes and nodding.
The PM then spoke, saying that he wanted to thank everyone who had been employed in the planning, supply, and execution of the mission, which appeared to have been successful as, in the last week, not a single small boat had arrived in Italian waters. He had been in contact with the Tunisian Government intelligence services, and they had confirmed that the National Guard was now patrolling the area, and the head of the local police was being investigated for bribery. A large number of men and a very few women and children had been picked up from the area. While some had passports for other, mainly African countries, some came from as far away as Pakistan; all were to be deported. The PM concluded that all the nations involved had vowed to mount another operation if it was determined to be necessary. However, the Tunisian Government had said if a further operation was necessary, it would be an official Tunisian operation.
As the meeting broke up, Jinnie got to speak to Paolo. He explained that when he had left for the Embassy that morning, he had no idea that he was going to be asked to accompany the Ambassador to the meeting. It was only after he arrived at work that the Military Attaché had gone sick, and he had been asked to deputise. Jinnie had also spoken with ‘C’, who had said he had not known that British Airways had implemented the travel scheme in such a clumsy way. He would personally be speaking to their CEO and demanding better.
On the way back out of London, Irena said she intended to take a few more days’ leave before flying home, and she was going to stay with Big Willie, who had now purchased a house in Finchley. Jinnie told her that she had made a big impression on the twins and asked if she would still be in the UK on Friday evening, because if she was, perhaps she and Willie would come to dinner. The other weeknights were all school nights, and the twins had to be in bed early, but they could stay up later on a Friday or Saturday night as there was no school the next day. Irena said she was intending to fly home on Sunday, so as far as she was concerned, Friday was good, but she would confirm later as Willie might have something planned.
***
The following morning, Jinnie went into the Trattoria Trevi Group offices in Maple House. She was sat at her PC with a mug of coffee, checking her emails and a couple of letters that were on her desk, when a tentative knock came on her door. Looking up, she saw it was the young trainee from Travel whom she had suggested should get a passport. He said, “Dame Jinnie, I just wanted to thank you for prompting me to get a passport. My name came out in the employee draw, and I have won the top prize of a trip for two to Barbados and a meal in the TT Continental. We get to stay in a five-star hotel and have business-class flights. I have asked my girlfriend to come, and she is even more excited than me. I have bought a ring, and on the night of the meal, I am going to propose. We have been going out together since we met at school.” “Did you go to school locally?” asked Jinnie. “Yes,” came the reply, “Dame Alice Owen.” “I know it well,” replied Jinnie. “Both my sister and I were pupils there; I was even head girl for a while. But I left before the War of Liberation. Now, if your girlfriend becomes your fiancée, please come and tell me, as I have an interest in a company that supplies bespoke wedding dresses, and I am certain we can swing her the employee discount.”
Jinnie had just returned to her correspondence when the next person to bustle in was Nigel. He plonked himself down in one of her visitor chairs and, without saying good morning, said, “I was talking to Keith yesterday on a job, and in passing, it came to light that it looks like your Barbados house is nearly finished. We were organising the office and the link to the company network. He has installed a top-of-the-range PC with all the usual software on it. We were testing the links to SAP, and although we have had to go via LEO satellites as there is no high-speed fibre in the area, it was bloody good. The response was as good as anywhere connected by cable. In fact, I don’t think you will notice any difference to working on your PC here in Head Office. Jed and I have been cooperating, and the PC has a fancy bit of software on it so that it is dual-boot. When you log on, it asks which network you want—DKL or TT—and then it comes up on the right one. We have the operating system on one disk, DKL data on another, and TT on a third. And the whole thing backs itself up to the appropriate servers every night. It has the latest and greatest virus protection and business-level anti-spyware and anti-intruder software. In fact, I think it is probably more secure than anything here or at DKL.”
“That’s all good to know,” said Jinnie, “but you lost me ages ago. Provided I can do everything I can do in the office, I’ll be happy.” “There’s more,” said Nigel. “You have a high-speed Wi-Fi connection throughout the house and grounds, so you can use your phone or your tablet on Wi-Fi calling. The same applies to Paolo, Izzy, the kids, or anyone you give the password to, like your mum, dad, or sister.” “What does that mean?” asked Jinnie. “I suppose, in practice, it means that when you use your phone in and around your Barbados house, you won’t have to switch to the Barbados network. It will think it’s still in the UK, and you’ll pay UK rates for calls to the UK. Of course, if you want to phone locally, you’ll need to switch to a Barbados network, or you’ll get charged for an overseas call. Thinking about it, it might be cheaper to buy a cheap local phone for local calls.”
Jinnie managed a couple of hours before being interrupted again. This time, it was Alberto. He never came in early, as he was always at the restaurant till late, and even at his age, he was putting in 12-hour days. However, much like Patricia, he had largely withdrawn into a supervisory role and was letting his directors do their jobs while keeping an eye on what was happening. Alberto had hardly sat down when his PA appeared with two mugs of coffee and a plate of custard creams.
Alberto said, “Nice to see you back. I won’t ask where you’ve been, as I know you can’t tell me. I’ve been thinking about the business and how well things have been going. I’ve been doing a bit of analysis and trying to work out what our most profitable divisions are. Interestingly, we seem to have a decent profit margin everywhere. I was a little disappointed that the original restaurant business is not our biggest moneymaker—that’s the hotel division—but there’s not much in it. It’s a bit early to know if the Bournemouth Ennios is going to be as profitable as Southampton, but Brian’s spreadsheets say it is, and I’ve come to trust what he predicts. He tells me that in three or four months, we’ll be making a big profit again, as our current investments come online, particularly the hotels, Bearcat, and the new Continental in Antigua. By that time, we should also have paid your director’s loan back. So, I’ve been thinking—do we keep investing in the business, and if so, what part, or do we pay a bumper special dividend?”
“Personally, I don’t need the money from a special dividend,” said Jinnie, “so of those two options, I would choose investment. But I don’t know about the rest of the board. Of course, there are other options. For one, we could float the group on the stock exchange. We could, say, sell off 25% of the company. I’m not fully conversant with how these things work—Brian will know—but if we were to issue, say, 10,000 shares for every one share we currently have, everyone could sell off thousands of shares and make a lot of money, and we current directors could retain control. Again, it’s not something I would want. As I said, I’m more than happy to stay as we are.”
“I too would go for investment, but I really don’t know if the majority of the board would agree,” said Alberto. “I think some would like to take the money and retire. I’m the oldest of the original board, but some are not far behind me.” “Aren’t they all in the senior management pension scheme?” commented Jinnie. “Could we offer anyone who wants out a special payment into their pension pot? It might not be cheap, but isn’t there a clause in the shareholders’ agreement that says if anyone retires or wants to sell out, in the first instance, they can only sell to a current shareholder or the company? Only if neither of those options is taken up can they look for a private sale.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re right,” said Alberto, “but I’ll check with the company secretary. But who among the board would buy more shares?” “Me,” said Jinnie, “and I suspect Brian would be a buyer. Don’t forget he’s a director but not a shareholder. He’s said to me several times that he wishes he owned part of the company. The company could buy the shares and sell them to him.” “I had forgotten about him,” said Alberto, “and I think you’re right. But it might cost several million if two or three wanted to sell.” “I doubt it would be more than two,” replied Jinnie, “and in any case, I could probably afford that. Between me, the company, and Brian, I think we could manage the situation. I’m in Crawley tomorrow. I’ll have a quiet word with Brian and get his opinion on what we should do. Like you, I value his opinion.”
“Now, you mentioned where we should invest,” continued Jinnie. “Personally, I have a few ideas I’ve been mulling over. We have massive opportunities to expand the Aunty JoJo’s chain. I’d like to push hard in the UK, Canada, and Jamaica. A branch tends to trade profitably from day one and pay off the investment in a matter of months, so that’s not a high-risk strategy. Still on Aunty JoJo’s—what do you think about trying to open a few test restaurants in Europe? I’ve been talking to a friend in Slovenia who tells me it’s a virtual KFC desert. There are only two restaurants, and they’re at motorway service stations. She says it’s not as if people don’t like fried chicken—they drive out from Ljubljana especially to buy it.”
“That’s interesting,” said Alberto. “Do you know why KFC hasn’t penetrated?” “My friend says it’s because the Slovenian government has been wanting to encourage local businesses, and KFC has concentrated on other, easier-to-penetrate European markets,” replied Jinnie. “If we can join up with a local, especially one who has connections to the government, we stand a good chance of cracking the market.” “Why don’t you have a dig around and do a bit of a costing exercise?” said Alberto.
***
The following day, Jinnie made her now-normal early start for DKL Crawley. As had become her custom, she stopped at the burger van for an egg and sausage bap and a coffee before heading to her designated parking slot. She let herself in through the main entrance with her staff card, headed up the stairs to the first floor, and walked through the open office to her office at the far end. There were three or four people at their desks, and as she passed, Jinnie said, “Good morning” and got the same response. She put her breakfast on her desk, switched on her PC, and went into Ro’s office to switch the filter coffee machine on, ready for her second cup.
By the time Jinnie was back at her desk, the PC was sitting at the log-on screen, so she logged in and started the day by looking at last night’s accounts. The sales were excellent; all sections of DKL were performing well. Although it was the various businesses that leased the kitchens that made the big money, the busier they were, the busier the delivery business was. DKL charged the kitchens a fee for each delivery, and the delivery business was owned by DKL. The lease income was a given—an easy calculation that grew with the construction of every kitchen built and was carefully priced to be affordable to the restaurants while providing DKL with a return on its investment. But it was the fee-based delivery business that was the icing on the cake. The busier the kitchens, the more items required delivery, the more fees were paid, and, if accounts had set the fee at the right level, the more money DKL made.
Jinnie always looked at delivery numbers first when reviewing the DKL accounts. Provided they held up, the business was healthy, and for a Tuesday night, the numbers had been pretty good. Fridays and Saturdays were always the best, with Monday the quietest—except, of course, for bank holidays. Sundays were usually better than Mondays because of the ‘Sunday lunch’ trade, and Tuesday to Thursday business built up towards the weekend. But sometimes, something came along to interrupt the normal routine. A big football match on TV or the Olympic Games always boosted sales. However, for a normal Tuesday, yesterday’s deliveries had been pretty good. The new Trinidad kitchen complex was looking particularly good.
Jinnie was wondering if they needed to invest in further kitchen complexes on Trinidad when Ro and Jed bustled into the office. It was unusual for them to arrive together, so Jinnie commented on it as Ro poured coffee from the now freely brewed filter machine. Ro laughed and said, “It’s simple, my car’s in for a service, so Jed gave me a lift from the garage.” “Now you’ve got me thinking,” replied Jinnie. “Don’t we swap company cars every two years? Isn’t it time to swap yours?” “I never really thought about it,” said Ro. “The service light came on, so I booked it in. But I guess it is two years old. Am I due a change?” “Definitely,” replied Jinnie. “Speak to HR—they’re supposed to look after company cars.”
***
Just before lunch, Jinnie found Brian alone in his office and entered, closing the door behind her. Brian looked up from his PC and asked, “Am I in trouble? You’ve shut the door.” “Not at all,” replied Jinnie. “It’s just that I wanted to talk TT business for a few minutes.” Quickly, she repeated her conversation with Alberto. Brian nodded along and eventually said, “I’m confident that, by the autumn, the TT group will be moving £2 or £3 million—perhaps more—to the reserve account per month. That’s after paying back your loan and allowing money for the normal growth of Aunty JoJo’s, Bearcat Foods, and all the other businesses. I’ve even allowed £5 million for the purchase of another hotel. Most of the businesses have reached a size where we have momentum.
“For example, we’re adding five or six Aunty JoJo’s a month to the business. They trade profitably from day one, and it’s rare that they haven’t paid off the cost of investment by month four. Then there’s Ennio’s Bournemouth. It’s been open in its new guise for three weeks now. OK, it’s only about a third of the number of beds we’ll eventually have, and the new bar, business centre, gym, and expanded restaurant are all still to come. But it’s had very nearly 100% bed occupancy for those three weeks, and all the existing rooms are fully booked for the month of August. Rick is desperate to get his hands on more rooms—he’s turning business away.”
“I suggest I put a few scenarios together on a spreadsheet, and you, Alberto, and I can get together to work out a plan to put to the group board. I’m pretty sure they don’t realise just how quickly the group is growing and how much money we’ll be generating in just a few months. Now, where is the new hotel I’ve put money aside for going to be—in the UK or the Caribbean?” “Both,” answered Jinnie.
***
Thursday morning found Jinnie once again driving around the M25 to Crawley. She intended to spend a few hours at DKL before heading over to SuperBurger for the regular fortnightly board meeting. She was rather looking forward to the meeting, as the 12 refurbished branches had all been trading for a minimum of two weeks, and the new menu should have been rolled out nationwide. The trade press had been very complimentary, and, just as planned, the media had picked up Bill Furr’s article. Numerous national and local papers had reviewed the new menu. Not having a SuperBurger PC, this would be her first official news of how sales were going and whether the slow decline had been halted.
On arriving at DKL, Jinnie was somewhat surprised to see Belinda’s Porsche 911 in the car park. As usual, she made her way through the nearly deserted office to find Belinda had already made a jug of coffee, and she and Brian were in his office. Jinnie put her head round the door and said, “Hello! What brings you two in so early?”“Well, we really wanted to catch you,” said Belinda. “We have some news. Grab a coffee, and I’ll tell you.” “I’ve got one from the burger van, together with my breakfast bap. I hope you don’t mind me eating it while it’s still hot.”
Jinnie sat down with Belinda and Brian and listened as Belinda spoke. “Yesterday, Brian and I went up to Manchester about a big job I had been verbally told I’d secured. The development involves building a 22-storey office block in the city centre, and we and several others had tendered for the Cat A fit-out.” “Remind me what a ‘Cat A fit-out’ is,” said Jinnie. “OK,” said Belinda. “The developer usually just finishes the ‘core’ of the building, called ‘shell and core’ in the trade. That means a watertight building—walls, windows, stairs, floors, and probably the firewalls around the core, the lift shafts, and the lifts. They then get contractors to bid to put in things like a basic open-plan space on each floor, with a false ceiling, lighting, small power (but not very much, often these days in cable trays under a raised floor), basic carpeting, painting the walls (probably magnolia or white), and probably air conditioning, but sometimes a radiator system. And, of course, the communal toilets on each floor in the common area that includes the lifts, stairs, and circulating area. They’re usually finished to a higher standard than the open-plan office spaces. That’s the ‘Cat A’ fit-out.”
Belinda continued, “When the building owner lets a space, it is the lessee’s responsibility to turn the Cat A space into the offices they want. That’s ‘Cat B’ and will include partitions to form offices and meeting rooms and their decorations. It will probably mean changing the lighting, adding lots more power and data cabling, and maybe upgrading the carpets. We often design and add furniture, computer rooms, tea points, kitchens, even canteens. Oh yes, I nearly forgot—the lease always states that, when the space is vacated at the end of the lease, the demise must be returned to the Cat A standard it was in when they moved in, unless the landlord agrees otherwise. This is called ‘dilapidations.’ We tender for Cat A, Cat B, dilapidations, and mid-lease refurbishments.”
“Thanks,” said Jinnie. “I think I’ve got my head round that now. So, you had verbally agreed a Cat A fit-out on a 22-storey building?”
“Exactly,” said Belinda. “We needed to tie up the exact specifications and a few loose ends, like the common reception—was it in our supply? We had put in a design and optional cost. Well, it all went very well, and we agreed on everything. We have a ‘Letter of Intent’ for the Cat A fit-out. The contract is going to the lawyers this morning. It’s a straightforward, standard contract, so I see no problem. Brian, Andrew, Willow, and I grabbed a pub lunch, then we went to meet the software developers who have taken 12 floors out of the 22, where we were joined by Jed.
“We had been introduced by the developers some months ago and had bid for their Cat B fit-out,” said Belinda. “Their specification was incredible—they only wanted the very best, with desks, chairs, storage, sound attenuation, a fancy boardroom, loads of cellular offices, meeting rooms, demo rooms, anti-static carpets, an enormous computer room, and all the latest data cabling. It went on and on, and I said to Andrew it was going to cost a small fortune. Anyway, we decided to bid what they had specified and offer reductions for cheaper alternatives—you know, Dulux paint instead of Farrow & Ball. Apparently, we were the only bidder to adopt this approach. No one else gave a 100% compliant bid, and we hit their budget.”
“Anyway,” continued Belinda, “they loved our design; Jed wowed them with a couple of computer points and killed every question they asked. Their IT director was extremely impressed. Anyway, we have another LoI.” “Really?” said Jinnie. “Yes,” said Brian. “Without any extras, those two contracts come to about £36 million. The landlord is putting us forward as his preferred fit-out contractor for the rest of the building. He says it’s easier dealing with a single contractor than multiple contractors. So, we could be in line for a good bit more work.” “You’ll be wanting to open a Manchester office soon,” said Jinnie. “I’ve been thinking about it,” replied Belinda. “We could take space in that office block and fit it out for virtually nothing.”
***
Jinnie walked into SuperBurger and headed for the boardroom anteroom. She was one of the first to arrive and made her way to the coffee and biscuits. She was joined by the HR Director, with whom she had become quite friendly, and they chatted about nothing in particular as the room filled. Unusually, Sir Percy wasn’t doing the rounds. He was normally one of the first to arrive and tried to speak to as many directors as possible before a meeting.
The door opened, and Jinnie looked up, expecting it to be Sir Percy, but it was the CEO who walked in. He looked around, obviously searching for someone, before heading over to Jinnie, who smiled and said, “Hello.” Looking grim, the CEO said, “Can you two step outside for a minute?” Jinnie followed him, wondering what was going on. The CEO made sure they were alone before saying, “Ladies, I’ve got some bad news to impart. Last week, Sir Percy had a serious heart attack. He has been in hospital, and I’ve only been allowed to visit him once. He was concerned about his board and asked me to get you to sit in for him today as he sees you as the future of the company. But just as I was leaving my office for the meeting, I got a call to say he has died. What do we do?” Thinking quickly, Jinnie said, “I chair the meeting.”
In Chapter 33 – Sir Percy’s legacy
© WorthingGooner 2025
