Espresso Tales - Alexander Hanchett Smith [41]
“I suppose I could,” said George, hesitantly. “I could sell some bonds and switch the funds. It wouldn’t break the bank.”
Bruce chuckled with delight, leaning forward to pat his friend on the back. “You’ve just made the best decision of your financial life,” he said. “We’re going to be going places together, you and me.”
George moved his lips in a hesitant smile. “I hope so.”
Over the next hour, Bruce outlined his plans. They were still in an incipient state, but they gathered flesh as he went along. He knew of a suitable shop, as it happened. He had surveyed it for the firm and the lease had then fallen through. He would Agreement Is Reached
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be able to get it from the landlord for a reasonable rate if they moved quickly. And then there was the stock. That he could get from the wholesalers, although he would probably have to go and buy some of it himself from the growers. That would be fun, and he could take George along too, although . . . perhaps not. George was slightly heavy-going – although very generous, it had to be admitted, and a most loyal friend – and a trip to Bordeaux would hardly be improved by his tagging along.
George suddenly smiled. “We could go and buy the wine together,” he said brightly. “You and me. We could fly to Bordeaux and then hire a car and drive round the vineyards, sampling the product. That would be great.”
“Yes,” said Bruce. “We might do that. Although we wouldn’t be able to leave the business too long, you know. Maybe it would be best to order from wholesalers.”
“You’re the expert,” said George.
Later, back in the flat, Bruce sat in his chair and contemplated what he had done. After George’s agreement, which had really been given remarkably promptly, it had occurred to him that he should perhaps have given his friend some time to mull over his proposal – perhaps a day or two. He also wondered whether it was quite right to spring the suggestion on him in the Cumberland Bar, in a social setting. But he quickly disposed of these objections. George was a responsible adult – even if a slightly malleable one – and he had given his agreement voluntarily. And the proposition itself was not a bad one. It was not as if he were asking him to invest in some highly speculative mining shares; quite the contrary. He was offering him a stake in a business, with stock, and premises, and, what was most important of all, expertise. There was no substitute for expertise; that was the real capital of a business and their venture would have it in abundance.
And then there was the question of the name. Anderson would have to come into it, of course, and Salter too, in recognition of the source of the capital. Anderson and Salter, Vintners. That sounded good. But Bruce had a better idea, and the mere thought 84
Bertie’s Idea
of it thrilled him: Anderson et Salter, Vinotheque. Brilliant!
thought Bruce. World beating!
26. Bertie’s Idea
While Bruce and George were having their meeting in the Cumberland Bar, during which they sealed the terms of their forthcoming partnership agreement, Bertie and his mother were in a George Street clothing shop. Bertie needed new socks, Irene had decided, as did Stuart. It was extraordinary how male socks migrated; virtually every wash produced a deficit of socks, but never of shirts or towels or indeed anything else. She had tried the expedient of securing each sock to its partner with a twist of thread, but this had simply resulted in the loss of two socks rather than one. It defied belief.
“Perhaps socks dissolve,” Bertie had suggested. “Or go down the plug hole.”
“Possibly,” said Irene. “But we must be rational, Bertie. These socks cannot disappear in the washing machine – they must get lost at some other stage in proceedings.”
“But then they’d turn up,” said Bertie. “And they don’t, do they?”
“We shall have to leave the issue for the time being,” Irene said firmly. “There is a rational explanation for everything, as you well know.”
“Except missing socks,