Cat O'Nine Tales and Other Stories - Jeffrey Archer [7]
“If all those figures can be confirmed by our accountants,” said Mr. Tremaine, “and you are able to sell the fish-and-chip shop for around a hundred thousand, it certainly appears to be a sound investment. But . . .” The two would-be clients looked apprehensive. “And there always is a but, when it comes to lending money. The loan would, of course, be subject to the post office maintaining its category A status. Property in that area is currently trading at around twenty thousand, so the real value of the post office is as a business, and only then if, I repeat, if, it continues to have category A status.”
“But it’s been a category A post office for the past thirty years,” said Chris. “Why should that change in the future?”
“If I could predict the future, Mr. Haskins,” replied the analyst, “I would never make a bad investment, but as I can’t I have to take the occasional risk. Britannia invests in people, and on that front you have nothing to prove.” He smiled. “We would, as with our first investment, expect any loan to be repaid in quarterly instalments, over a period of five years, and on this occasion, as such a large sum is involved, we would want to take a charge over the property.”
“At what percentage?” demanded Chris.
“Eight and a half percent, with added penalties should increments not be paid on time.”
“We’ll need to consider your offer carefully,” said Sue, “and we’ll let you know once we’ve made our decision.”
Mr. Tremaine stifled a smile.
“What was all that about category A status?” asked Sue as they walked quickly back toward the seafront, still hoping to open the shop in time for their first customer.
“Category A is where all the profits are,” said Chris. “Savings accounts, pensions, postal orders, vehicle road tax and even premium bonds all guarantee you a handsome profit. Without them, you have to rely on TV licenses, stamps, electricity bills, and perhaps a little extra income if they allow you to run a shop on the side. If that was all Mr. Quenton had to offer, we’d be better off continuing to run the fish-and-chip shop.”
“And is there any risk of us losing our category A status?” asked Sue.
“None whatsoever,” said Chris, “or that’s what the area manager assured me, and he’s a fellow member of Rotary. He told me that the matter has never even come up for discussion at headquarters, and you can be pretty confident that Britannia will also have checked that out long before they would be willing to part with a hundred thousand.”
“So you still think we should go ahead?”
“With a few refinements to their terms,” said Chris.
“Like what?”
“Well, to start with, I’ve no doubt that Mr. Tremaine will come down to eight percent, now that the High Street banks have also begun investing in business ventures, and don’t forget, this time he will have a charge over the property.”
The Haskins sold their fish-and-chip shop for £112,000 and were able to add a further £38,000 from their credit account. Britannia topped it up with a loan of £100,000 at 8 percent. A check for £250,000 was sent to Post Office headquarters in London.
“Time to celebrate,” declared Chris.
“What do you have in mind?” asked Sue. “Because we can’t afford to spend any more money.”
“Let’s drive down to Ashford and spend the weekend with our daughter—” he paused—”and on the way back ...”
“And on the way back?” repeated Sue.
“Let’s drop into Battersea Dogs’ Home.”
A month later, Mr. and Mrs. Haskins and Stamps, another Labrador, this time black, moved from their fish-and-chip shop on Beach Street to a category A post office in Victoria Crescent.
Chris and Sue quickly returned to working hours that they hadn’t experienced since they first opened the fish-and-chip shop. For the next five years they cut down on any little extras, and even went without holidays, although they often thought about another