Espresso Tales - Alexander Hanchett Smith [107]
Bruce had immediately gone to find out what Petrus was. Then he had looked at the price. For a moment he thought he had misread the figures. But then he realised he had not: those noughts were meant to be there.
68. A Petrus Opportunity
Shortly before twelve, Bruce shut up the shop and made his way to the Bailie Bar at the end of the road. He was pleased with what 224 A Petrus Opportunity
he had achieved in the two hours or so that he had been working. He had dusted down all the shelves, swept the floor, and washed the front display window. That afternoon he would take delivery of furniture, including supplies of stationery and a filing cabinet. Then all he would need before he started selling would be the stock, which he was now about to arrange with Harry, his acquaintance from the rugby club and wholesaler of fine wines.
“Walked past your place,” said Harry as he came and joined Bruce at the circular bar. “Nice position. You’re going to clean up there, Bruce. No doubt about it.”
“You think so?” asked Bruce. He was pleased to receive this verdict from somebody in the trade. Of course he never really doubted it, but it was good to have it confirmed.
“Yes, but you’ve got to have the right stock,” said Harry. “You know what they say about retail? Position, position, position. Yes, that’s right, but you could also say: stock, stock, stock.”
Bruce listened carefully. “Could you?” he asked. Harry reached out and punched him playfully on the arm.
“That’s where I come in, Bruce, my friend! I’ll fix you up with deals that you just won’t believe. I’m telling you.” He paused.
“But let me buy you a drink? What will you have?”
Bruce smiled. “A glass of Chateau Petrus 1982,” said Bruce.
“Ha, ha,” said Harry. “Very funny. But you obviously know what you’re talking about. That 1982 vintage was amazing. Really amazing.”
They were served their drinks and went to sit down at one of the tables. Harry had with him an attaché case, out of which he took a red folder. “Here’s the list,” he said. “It’s arranged geographically. Shall we start with France?”
“I’m more of a New World man,” said Bruce. “California. Oz. New Zealand.”
“Very discerning of you,” said Harry. “And I couldn’t agree more. But you mustn’t forget the Old World, you know. People still like French wine, and you’ll have to sell it. That’s where I come in. I can get you the stuff that sells. I know what people want.”
Bruce liked Harry. He liked his directness and his confidence. He was the sort of man who let you know exactly where you A Petrus Opportunity
225
stood. There would be no shadow-boxing with him over price
– Harry would come right out with it, man to man, and you would know that the price he was asking was a fair one. Harry began to page through his list. “France,” he said. “Main choices: Bordeaux and Burgundy. I can do both for you at very good prices – including, since you mention it, Chateau Petrus. I did tell you about a Petrus opportunity, didn’t I?”
Bruce nodded. “I must confess I’ve never had a bottle of that,”
he said.
“Bottle!” said Harry. “Most people would count themselves lucky to get a glass! But . . .” He lowered his voice, although the bar was quite empty. “But I have my sources, and I can get you three cases, yes, three cases of the 1990! It’ll drink well in a few years, but it will keep for at least thirty. Not that it’ll be keeping on your shelves, Bruce! You put that stuff on your shelf, word gets round, and in no time at all you’ll have half of Scotland beating a path to your door.”
“What makes it so great?” asked Bruce.
“Oh, please Louise! – as our non-rugby-playing friends would say. That stuff is perfection. Balanced just right. Subtle aromas. Deep purple. Bags of complexity. Everything, all in one bottle. You taste it, Bruce, and you’ll think that you’ve died and gone to heaven. It’s the stuff the Pope drinks. Fantastic!”
“So that’s why it’s expensive?”
Harry nodded. “Look at the wine auction records. That