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I’m intrigued, in spite of myself.
‘How?’
‘It’s all about diesel,’ James continues, leaning back in his chair as if he’s about to dispense some incredible pearls of wisdom. ‘The third-party boxes have to get from where they are to here, then take the horses to where they need to be, bring them back and then go back to their base. That’s four journeys and four lots of diesel. See?’
‘Yes.’
‘Whereas our boxes start here. So they only have to make two journeys, saving a hill of money on fuel. That means we can charge less and still make a decent profit. We had to buy the boxes up front of course, and getting Becky through her HGV licence wasn’t cheap, but it didn’t take long for them to pay themselves back. We make our own cheese on site now as well. We sell it from our farm shop but I’m also in negotiations with a well-known supermarket chain and we hope to go national if that comes off.’
I’m starting to see why he asked for me. He’s finally figured out a way to make the farm pay, and he’s determined to rub my nose in it. Fair enough. If that’s what he needs to make himself feel more of a man, I guess I can suck it up for a while.
‘All of this must have taken quite a lot of investment. Did you win the lottery?’ I ask.
‘No. In a funny way, I have you to thank. Obviously, I didn’t have the money to pay the divorce settlement, so I had to sell some land for development. It broke my heart to sell it, but it’s probably been one of the best decisions I made, and it enabled me to put in the money to turn the farm around. It’s a shame that some of the potential investors I approached earlier didn’t share my vision; they could have done very well.’
‘Yes, my father mentioned that you’d asked him for a loan.’
‘Investment, not a loan. Anyway, it turned out that I didn’t need him in the end. We’ve done just fine on our own.’
Unbelievable. He’s completely re-written history, but now is not the time to challenge him. I have to remember he’s a client.
‘How did people locally react to you selling the land?’ I ask.
‘I’ll admit that I wasn’t very popular for a while. There was even a campaign in the village, with posters and stuff opposing the development, but they came round pretty quickly once I negotiated a couple of concessions from the developers.’
He’s loving this. He’s like the cat that got the cream, and I’m fighting the urge to slap his smug face.
‘Oh yes?’ I reply, keeping my voice neutral.
‘I can’t take all the credit, of course. It was Mum’s idea, actually, but I negotiated it. As part of the condition of sale, the developers had to put in mobile phone masts and high-speed internet. When word got out that they’d agreed, the protests stopped overnight.’
‘Well done you,’ I say, with false admiration. ‘So, tell us about this shooting weekend.’
As much as he’s tried to sell himself as the successful businessman, it quickly becomes obvious that his good fortune is solely down to the common sense of others, and luck. The weekend is purely his idea and, in typical fashion, he hasn’t thought it through at all. The meeting that I’d hoped would only last for the morning drags long into the afternoon, as we discuss meals, accommodation, transport, and all the other details that will make the difference between a triumph and a fiasco. The only high point is that he has had the main house redecorated inside as well, and it does at least look like the sort of place that could command the premium price the guests will need to cough up if James is going to stand any chance of making the event profitable. Emily and I take copious notes and try to keep my grandstanding ex-husband focused.
‘God, he was annoying!’ I exclaim, as we pull out of the farm track on to the road.
‘I couldn’t possibly comment,’ Emily sniggers from the passenger seat.
‘He’s got no idea how expensive putting on an event like this is. I couldn’t believe it when he said he thought the Co-op’s own-label plonk would be perfect for serving to the guests. These people are going to be forking out a fortune for this weekend, and he was planning to give them a couple of pork pies and a splash of cheap red wine. I despair, I really do. And as for the camp bed idea, good grief!’
It’s late by the time I get back to my flat, having deposited Emily at the station to catch her train to London. I’m dog-tired and tempted to work from home tomorrow, but I know Emily will need help and I’m meeting Elliott for a drink in the evening, so I climb into bed and try to get to sleep. It takes a while, as my brain is still digesting the events of the day. When I do finally fall asleep, I dream vividly and the only one I enjoy is one where Becky reverses a horsebox over James.
* * *
I’m unsurprisingly still a little groggy the next morning, so I order an extra shot in my coffee to try to get me going. Elliott isn’t on the platform today, which is a shame, as I would really like to see him. Spending the day with James has given him back too much of my head space, and I would have liked some of Elliott’s quiet humour to disperse it. Never mind, I’m seeing him later, and I have a proposal to put to him. He won’t like it, but I reckon I can sell it if I’m careful.
Emily and I spend the whole day working on our ideas for the shooting weekend. I’ve been phoning suppliers to try to track down genuinely local ingredients for the meals, elevenses, and afternoon teas the guests will be served during their stay from Friday evening to Sunday afternoon. Authenticity is key, so generic produce won’t do here. They will be expecting us to know the provenance of everything, especially any meat and game we serve. Emily was wondering about vegetarian options, and I’ve come up with a couple, but I’m fairly certain the type of people who enjoy standing in a muddy field blowing birds out of the sky are unlikely to be vegetarians. I’ve also had a long conversation with Ian the wine merchant and we’ve come up with a selection of wines that are complex enough to satisfy the most discerning palate, but not so expensive that they’re going to wipe out any profit. Emily has been tracking down beds, linen, and all the other amenities that the guests will expect for a comfortable weekend. We’re running multiple spreadsheets and the costs are mounting fast but, if James wants this event to be a success, he’s going to have to invest in it. By the end of the day, we’ve documented it all and sent it to Annabel for review and approval.
I’ve definitely earned the glass of wine that I know will be waiting for me, and I’m looking forward to catching up with Elliott after being focused on James for the whole day.
26
‘Please tell me you’re joking.’ Elliott’s face is a mask of horror.
‘No joke. I’ve booked us in for tomorrow night. It’ll be fun, even if we don’t meet anyone we like. And it’s a Friday, so it doesn’t matter if they’re all awful and we have to drink too much to make it bearable.’
‘But speed dating? That sounds like my vision of hell. What am I supposed to say?’ he splutters.
