Suddenly B2C websites were out of fashion; everyone wanted to be in B2B. B2C was business-to-consumer. B2B was business-to-business. Ninetyminutes was B2C.
The following Monday Bloomfield Weiss advised us to delay the IPO for a couple more months until the markets recovered. It was the kind of advice we had no choice but to accept.
That left us with a problem. We had big plans, but not much cash left to finance them. Guy and Owen could help a little. The winding up of their father’s estate had given them a million pounds each they could get their hands on. But that wouldn’t keep us going for long: we had been relying on forty. So Guy and I went to see Henry.
He gave us a friendly enough welcome when we met him in his Mayfair office. But despite the smile there was a frown on his high forehead, and he was fidgeting. Not a good sign.
Henry had been involved in the discussions with Bloomfield Weiss to delay the IPO further, and he knew we would need more money from somewhere. Nevertheless I took him in detail through our cash situation and the advice we had received from Bloomfield Weiss. I showed him forecasts for the next six months, which reflected the reduced expenditure levels I had been able to press Guy to accept. We needed ten million to see us through to October, by which time the IPO should have happened.
Henry was listening closely. When we had finished he ran his fingers through his thinning hair. ‘I have bad news, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘The answer’s no.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Guy.
‘I should explain.’
‘You certainly should.’
‘We had a big meeting here yesterday to discuss the latest market developments. We think there has been a fundamental change. It’s at times like this that venture-capital firms are tempted to throw good money after bad. We want to avoid that. So the message to all our investee companies is, conserve cash. You won’t get any more from us.’
‘But that’s absurd! If you don’t give us more funds, we’ll go under. If you do, you’ll make at least a hundred million.’
‘And if the stock market doesn’t pick up over the summer? What then? We put in yet another ten million?’
Guy calmed himself. ‘The business is going just as we said it would. Better. Our sites in Germany and France have started brilliantly; I wouldn’t be surprised if Germany outstrips the UK next year. Visitor numbers are still climbing, we went over four million last month. The retailing is losing money, but our own-brand stuff is doing well. You walk down any street in the country and you’ll see people wearing ninetyminutes.com T-shirts and sweatshirts. We’re building a brand here, Henry. And good brands, the kind of brands that are worth hundreds of millions, cost money to build.’
‘I know. But I can’t give it to you. It’s the firm’s policy.’ Henry glanced at me. ‘I’m sorry, David. I do understand all this. I’ve argued your case, believe me. But we’re a partnership and I need to abide by the partnership’s decision. No more cash.’
‘Let me talk to your partners,’ said Guy. ‘I’ll convince them.’
‘No point,’ said Henry, his voice cooling.
‘Let me call them direct.’
I raised my hand to steady Guy. Henry was our ally at Orchestra. Going over his head had no chance of getting us what we wanted. ‘So what do you suggest we do now?’ I asked him.
Henry raised his hands. ‘What can I say? The world’s changed. There is no more easy money. Batten down the hatches. Conserve cash. Make profits.’
‘But that’ll mean we’ll screech to a halt just when we’re pulling into the lead,’ said Guy. ‘This is a race. We put on the brakes, we lose.’
We had a real problem, and Guy and I sat down to figure out what to do about it. There really was no choice but to cut back. Stop the advertising campaign in its tracks. Freeze hiring. Hold back on the development of the WAP company in Helsinki. Delay plans for offices in Barcelona, Milan and Stockholm. And try to slow down the retailing express train that was speeding away, pulling truckfuls of cash with it.
We told the team. They had been through so many tribulations that they took another one in their stride. They all left at seven to have an ‘austerity party’ at Smiths.
Guy was less resilient. In March, he had been on a high. He had seen what lastminute had done and had genuinely believed he could do better. As far as he was concerned, Ninetyminutes was already the best soccer site on the Internet. Recognition of that fact was going to come in a matter of weeks and bring with it piles of cash. For Guy, that had been a given. He was already thinking how to spend it. Now he had not just to lower his sights, but to change his whole mindset one hundred and eighty degrees from expansion to efficiency, from investing in growth to cutting costs, from shooting for the moon to survival. It was a shock.
Long after the others had all gone to Smiths, he and I went for a pint to the Jerusalem over the road.
‘We’ll pull through,’ I said. ‘We always do.’
‘I guess so. If we cut back as much as you say we should, we’ll struggle on,’ Guy said. ‘But that’s almost the worst thing of all.’
‘What do you mean?’
Guy shrugged. ‘I always wanted to have either a huge success or a spectacular failure. Struggling along to break even until we eventually fade away is my worst outcome. It will be like death from a thousand cuts.’
‘We need to stay in the game.’
‘Oh, come on, Davo. You know as well as I do that once we stop growing it’s all over. The competition will pull away from us. Champion Starsat will start up its own site and they’ll overtake us. We’ll just be also-rans.’
Guy’s optimism was difficult enough to handle. His pessimism was impossible.
‘You never know,’ I said. ‘Maybe the others will have to cut back too. Maybe the stock market will bounce tomorrow and Bloomfield Weiss will be knocking on our door again. You have to keep going, Guy.’
‘Actually, I’m not sure I do have to. You and Ingrid can run things. Maybe I should slip away.’
‘That’s absurd.’
‘This is going the same way as everything else I try. Everything’s hunky-dory to start with, but then it just slides through my fingers. At drama school they thought I was a pretty damn talented actor. I looked good. After a couple of years I should have landed some decent roles. It didn’t happen. Instead I almost destroyed myself.’
‘This is different.’
‘Is it?’ Guy looked at me witheringly. ‘Ninetyminutes was a great idea. I thought I’d done well to get it this far. I thought I was good at this stuff. But then what happens? It runs into a brick wall like everything else.’
‘All successful businesses go through rough patches early on,’ I said.
‘Not this rough.’
‘Yes, this rough. Do you think your father never had times as tough as this? Do you think he gave up?’
‘Don’t compare me to my father.’
‘Why not? You do.’
Guy didn’t answer.
‘He wasn’t a superman, you know,’ I went on. ‘He was just another reasonably successful property speculator. There are many more like him around. Sure, he had flair. But he also had determination. He didn’t give up every time property prices crashed, did he? He can’t have done, or he’d never have survived.’
‘Perhaps he was lucky.’
‘Lucky?’ I snorted. ‘You make your own luck.’
‘Well, it looks like I don’t make mine.’ Guy stared into his beer. I stared at Guy.
Eventually he looked up and met my gaze. His eyes, usually so bright and forceful, were unsteady, hesitant. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do if Ninetyminutes doesn’t make it.’