The colonel laughed. "And what about the auctioneers at Number 1? Have we still got our eye on them?"
"We most certainly have, Colonel. Mr. Fothergill, the proprietor, continues to go deeper and deeper into debt, having had another bad year. But somehow he manages to keep his head above water, if only just, but I anticipate he will finally go under some time next year, at the latest the year after, when I will be standing on the quayside waiting to throw him a lifeline. Especially if Becky feels she is ready to leave Sotheby's by then."
"I'm still learning so much," confessed Becky. "I'd rather like to stay put for as long as I can. I've completed a year in Old Masters," she added, "and now I'm trying to get myself moved to Modern, or Impressionist as they've started calling that department. You see, I still feel I need to gain as much experience as possible before they work out what I'm up to. I attend every auction I can, from silverware to old books, but I'd be far happier if we could leave Number 1 until the last possible moment."
"But if Fothergill does go under for a third time, Becky, you're our lifeboat. So what if the shop were suddenly to come on the market?"
"I could just about handle it, I suppose. I've already got my eye on the man who ought to be our general manager. Simon Matthews. He's been with Sotheby's for the past twelve years and is disenchanted at being passed over once too often. There's also a bright young trainee who's been around for about three years who I think will be the pick of the next generation of auctioneers. He's only two years younger than the chairman's son so he might be only too happy to join us if we were able to make him an attractive offer."
"On the other hand, it may well suit us for Becky to remain at Sotheby's for as long as possible," said Charlie. "Because Mr. Crowther has identified a further problem we're going to have to face in the near future."
"Namely?" queried the colonel.
"On page nine of his report, Crowther points out that Numbers 25 to 99, a block of thirty-eight flats bang in the middle of Chelsea Terrace—one of which Daphne and Becky shared until a couple of years ago—may well come on the market in the not too distant future. They're currently owned by a charitable trust who are no longer satisfied with the return they receive on their investment, and Crowther says they're considering disposing of them. Now, remembering our longterm plan, it might be wise to purchase the block as soon as possible rather than risk waiting for years when we would have to pay a far higher price or, worse, never be able to get hold of them at all."
"Thirty-eight flats," said the colonel. "Hm, how much is Crowther expecting them to fetch?"
"His guess would be around the two-thousand pound mark; they're currently only showing an income of two hundred and ten pounds a year and what with repairs and maintenance they're probably not even declaring a profit. If the property does come on the market, and we're able to afford them, Crowther also recommends that we only issue ten-year leases in future, and try to place any empty flats with staff from embassies or foreign visitors, who never make any fuss about having to move at a moment's notice."
"So the profit on the shops would end up having to pay for the flats," said Becky.
"I'm afraid so," said Charlie. "But with any luck it would only take me a couple of years, three at the outside, before I could have them showing a profit. Mind you, if the charity commissioners are involved, the paperwork could take that long."
"Nevertheless, remembering our current overdraft limit, a demand on our resources like that may well require another lunch with Hadlow," said the colonel. "Still, I can see if we need to get hold of those flats I'm left with little choice. Might even take the opportunity to bump into Chubby Duckworth at the club and drop a word in his ear." The colonel paused. "To be fair to Hadlow, he's also come up with a couple of good ideas himself, both of which I feel are worthy of our consideration, and accordingly I have placed them next on the agenda."
Becky stopped writing and looked up.
"Let me begin by saying that Hadlow is most satisfied with the way our first two years' figures have worked out, but nevertheless he feels strongly that because of the state of our overdraft and for taxation reasons we should stop being a partnership and form ourselves into a company."
"Why?" asked Charlie. "What advantage could there possibly be in that?"
"It's the new finance bill that has just gone through the Commons," explained Becky. "The change in the tax laws could well be used to our advantage, because at the moment we're trading as seven different businesses and taxed accordingly, whereas if we were to put all our shops into one company we could run the losses of, say, the tailor's shop and hardware against any gains made by the grocery store and the butcher's, and thus reduce our tax burden. It could be especially beneficial in a bad year."
"That all makes good sense to me," said Charlie. "So let's go ahead and do it."
"Well, it's not quite that easy," said the colonel, placing his monocle to his good eye. "To start with, if we were to become a company Mr. Hadlow is advising us to appoint some new directors to cover those areas in which we currently have little or no professional experience."
"Why would Hadlow expect us to do that?" asked Charlie sharply. "We've never needed anyone else to interfere with our business before."
"Because we're growing so rapidly, Charlie. We may need other people to advise us in the future who can offer expertise we simply don't at present possess. The purchasing of the flats is a good example."
"But we have Mr. Crowther for that."
"And perhaps he would feel a greater commitment to our cause if he were on the board." Charlie frowned. "I can well understand how you feel," continued the colonel. "It's your show, and you believe you don't need any outsiders to tell you how to run Trumper's. Well, even if we did form a company it would still be your show, because all the shares would be lodged in the names of you and Becky, and any assets would therefore remain totally under your control. But you would have the added advantage of non-executive directors to call on for advice."
"And to spend our money and overrule our decisions," said Charlie. "I just don't like the idea of outsiders telling me what to do."
"It wouldn't necessarily work like that," said Becky.
"I'm not convinced it will work at all."
"Charlie, you should listen to yourself sometimes. You're beginning to sound like a Luddite."
"Perhaps we should take a vote," said the colonel, trying to calm things down. "Just to see where we all stand."
"Vote? What on? Why? The shops belong to me."
Becky looked up. "To both of us, Charlie, and the colonel has more than earned his right to give an opinion."
"I'm sorry, Colonel, I didn't mean—"
"I know you didn't, Charlie, but Becky's right. If you want to realize your long-term aims you'll undoubtedly need some outside help. It just won't be possible to achieve such a dream all on your own."
"And it will with outside interferers?"
"Think of them as inside helpers," said the colonel.
"So what are we voting on?" asked Charlie touchily.
"Well," began Becky, "someone should propose a resolution that we turn ourselves into a company. If that is passed we could then invite the colonel to be chairman, who can in turn appoint you as managing director and myself as secretary. I think Mr. Crowther should also be invited to join the board, along with a representative from the bank."
"I can see you've given this a lot of thought," said Charlie.
"That was my side of the bargain, if you remember our original deal correctly, Mr.Trumper," Becky replied.