by J M Gregson
Gerry’s father had been a Welsh miner in the Rhondda Valley in the years before Thatcher’s government had decided that Britain no longer needed its pits. Gerry had enjoyed the mixed benefits of a comprehensive education, then left school at sixteen to work in a steel works which had closed down when he was thirty-two. The closure had proved a blessing in disguise. After six weeks of the misery of unemployment and supporting a wife and two children on social security, he had obtained employment in a supermarket.
Initially he earned little more than he had been paid ‘on the social’. But Gerry had not only recovered his self-respect but revealed a talent for the retail trade hitherto unsuspected by himself as well as the world at large. Tesco had recognized this swiftly, and he had enjoyed three promotions before becoming manager of one of its new smaller outlets on a garage site. When thirteen years ago Martin Beaumont had been looking for a manager to expand the sales and the range of activities at the shop at Abbey Vineyards, he had shrewdly recognized in Davies a man of forty-four who had both achievement and further potential.
The entrepreneur who was the driving force behind Abbey Vineyards and the man who felt he still had something to prove had struck up an immediate, instinctive and productive relationship. Each was anxious to prove to a sceptical world that English wine had a bright and exciting future. In their different ways, both men were proving themselves. Both were therefore prepared not to count the hours they spent in pursuit of the development of the company into a more profitable enterprise.
There had been no destructive rivalry between them. Beaumont had been the entrepreneur content to make his savings, his working hours, his whole life dependent upon the success and prosperity of this enterprise. Davies had never aspired to be more than a trusted employee. He had devoted his loyalty and all of his newly discovered and newly recognized retail talents towards the commercial exploitation of British wine. Gerry Davies relished his confounding of a job market which had once deemed him unfit for employment. It gave him additional satisfaction to be making a successful career by steadily expanding the distribution of English wine. This was a product which more distinguished business heads than his had once dismissed as frivolous and thus unsaleable.
In a different way from those of Detective Sergeant Bert Hook, the wife and two boys of Gerry Davies were also at once surprised and delighted by the achievements of the head of the family. Gerry’s children were much older than Bert’s. They had gone to university and were carving out careers of their own, but they became steadily more admiring of their father’s achievements.
Gerry Davies had the ability to work productively and to mix socially with men with very different backgrounds from his own, and that too had been part of his continuing success at Abbey Vineyards. Jason Knight, the chef behind the success of the restaurant, was a very different man from Davies. Unusually among those of his calling, he had an excellent education, including a university degree. He was also well travelled and had an interest in business practice, which gave him very different thoughts about the future of Abbey Vineyards from those of Gerry Davies.
Yet the two men had got on well from the start. They had formed an excellent working relationship, being prepared to exchange ideas quite frankly and to heed and learn from the other’s very different experiences and expertise. From this had grown a genuine friendship, a relish of each other’s company and a concern for their interests and happiness. They moved easily within each other’s areas without either feeling in any way threatened.
Thus Gerry Davies was delighted to see Jason Knight come into the shop area, even at eleven thirty, the busiest time on a busy Saturday morning. The younger man waited patiently whilst Gerry helped an overworked assistant at the Dog’s Whiskers beer pump. Then he said quietly, ‘I’d like a word with you, Gerry.’
‘Sure. I’ll make myself free in a moment.’
‘A rather longer word. Want to run one or two ideas past you.’
Gerry was pleased to hear the jargon. He still found it difficult to believe that his working ideas could be considered valuable by senior and successful people like Jason Knight. But Jason didn’t do bullshit. He must genuinely have something to discuss; he wouldn’t just go through the motions to be tactful. ‘OK. When do you suggest?’
‘Can you do a late lunch in my little den? Say two o’clock?’ Jason had insisted on having his own small private retreat at the end of the kitchens away from the restaurant, where he could escape to save his sanity and keep his temper in those trying times which beset every chef, and Martin Beaumont had sensibly granted it to him.
The older man grinned. ‘Sure I can. I’ll let my staff have their breaks at civilized times. They’ll think I’m being unselfish, waiting until two.’
Gerry spent the next part of his morning persuading a hesitant lady in late middle age that she really would enjoy a bottle of their cheapest rose. It took him slightly fewer minutes to organize the delivery of a dozen cases of their best current dry white to a fashionable restaurant in the Cotswolds. Only then did he have a moment to speculate about what it could be that was important enough to Jason for him to arrange such a meeting. Only the closest of friends or associates were ever invited into the den. Only something which was really engaging Jason’s attention would dictate an exchange there in the middle of a busy day.
Sometimes Bert Hook quite liked being at the station on Saturday mornings. He couldn’t admit to it at home, of course — he maintained the conventional attitude of the overworked and exploited public servant there — but he rather enjoyed being in Oldford nick with few people around, as was usual at a weekend, unless there was a major case to justify the overtime.
You could tidy up your paperwork without interruptions or, as he was doing on this occasion, utilize your developing computer knowledge to explore the Internet. He was consulting the Open University website, with particular reference to graduation ceremonies, when he found John Lambert looking over his shoulder.
Bert started a little guiltily and said grumpily, ‘I’m going to have to waste a day’s leave in May. Eleanor and the boys are insisting on attending the OU graduation ceremony, to see me parading in fancy dress.’
‘Quite right, too. I’ll need to take a day of my leave, too. I’ll have to confirm for myself that it’s really happened and old Bert’s made it at last.’
‘“Old Bert” can give you ten years, John Lambert. “Old Bert” isn’t operating on a special Home Office extension to his normal service.’
‘And “Old Bert” has been energetic enough and determined enough to study for six years in his own limited spare time and get himself a degree. Quite a distinguished degree, in my opinion. So much so that I absolutely insist on being present at the official recognition of your labour of Hercules.’
‘Bloody hell, John!’ A very mild expletive by police standards, but strong words for Bert Hook, who had eschewed all intemperate language since the birth of his first son. ‘This is getting out of hand.’ A happy escape suddenly presented itself to him. ‘I probably won’t be able to get tickets for everyone. They said in the letter that there was normally heavy demand and the supply was almost certain to be restricted.’
‘And it advises you here to make the earliest possible application for any extra tickets you might require.’ Lambert indicated a line towards the bottom of the screen. ‘Better get on with it, I’d say, Bert. Two extra tickets for Christine and myself. Try telling them an unbelieving chief superintendent needs to see the official confirmation of a copper’s achievement with his own eyes.’ He gazed into the middle distance. ‘I suppose I could always offer to take charge of security if there were real difficulties about getting in.’
Gerry Davies was thoroughly intrigued by Jason Knight’s mysterious summons. At two o’clock he proceeded cautiously to the chef’s den at the far side of his kitchen.
The lunchtime rush was almost over and Knight’s staff were winding down and preparing to close the restaurant and enjoy their own lunch
es. Jason had removed his chef’s hat and combed his dark-blond hair, but was still wearing his white overalls as he came into the small room which was his private domain. ‘Thanks for coming, Gerry. I know you’ll keep this to yourself — it’s not the sort of discussion either of us would want bandied about.’
‘This gets more intriguing by the minute. What is it that we need to be so cloak and dagger about?’
Jason grinned in that beguiling, almost schoolboyish way which was so engaging. ‘I take myself too seriously sometimes, don’t I? But I still think this is important to both of us.’
‘Then I’ve no doubt it is. I hope it’s nothing too difficult for a simple thick Welsh boy from the Rhondda.’
‘Don’t undersell yourself, Gerry. You’ve nothing left to prove. The company is doing well. Agreed?’
‘You’re better equipped to judge that than I am, Jason. But I think so, yes. Martin said it was at last month’s meeting, and from what I can see in the shop since then, we’re going from strength to strength.’
‘I would agree with that from what I see in the restaurant. But I think it’s Martin’s policy to keep us all a little in the dark about the success of the total enterprise. We each have a pretty good idea about what’s going on in our own section of the empire, but only the haziest notion of the overall progress of Abbey Vineyards.’
‘That’s inevitable, surely. It’s the nature of the beast.’
‘It seems to be, at present. I think it’s also policy on Martin’s part.’
‘But even if you’re right, there isn’t much we can do about it, is there? We could ask for a rise, I suppose, but if I’m honest I have to say that I think I’m already pretty well paid for what I do.’
‘You’re too modest for your own good, Gerry. I told you, you shouldn’t underestimate yourself, or what you’ve achieved here.’
Gerry Davies wasn’t sure whether he was pleased or disturbed by this. Bewildered was more the word, he decided: he couldn’t see where the conversation was going. ‘Jason, we know each other too well to piss about. What is it you’re getting at?’
‘I want to sound you out about an idea. In confidence, as I said at the outset. I haven’t spoken to anyone else about this, except to take informal legal advice on the situation.’ Jason supposed that a ten-minute discussion over a pint with an industrial lawyer in Ross-on-Wye Golf Club just about constituted that.
‘Hadn’t you better tell me straight out what’s bothering you? I’m not much good at guessing games.’
‘Sorry. Well, to put it at its simplest, I feel we should have a greater say than we have at present in company policy, and a greater share of the profits the company is going to make in the years to come.’
‘And how do we get that? Perhaps it should be obvious, but I’m out of my depth here.’
‘We should have shares in the company.’
‘But it’s a one-man band. Martin Beaumont set it up and took all the early risks.’
‘No. Not quite. Vanda North is a junior partner. I don’t know how junior, but she put money into the business in the early days.’
‘When they were living together.’
‘I presume so. I get the impression that she’s very much a junior partner, without any real say in policy.’
‘Perhaps she prefers it that way, whilst the company goes from strength to strength.’
‘Perhaps. I didn’t get that impression at last month’s meeting, or on one or two other occasions. But as I say, apart from taking a little professional advice, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to about this.’
‘So what are you suggesting we do?’
‘That’s what I want to discuss. The first thing to establish was whether you felt the same about the situation as I did.’
Gerry paused for several seconds. ‘My first reaction is that I enjoy my work and like things the way they are. I feel that I’m doing a good job but that in return I am well paid for it.’
‘I thought you might feel like that.’ Jason Knight couldn’t quite keep the disappointment out of his voice. ‘I knew you’d be absolutely straight with me. But in turn I think I should urge you not to underestimate yourself. Martin Beaumont’s success probably owes more to you than you imagine.’
‘We all contribute to it. But that’s what we’re paid for. Martin took a chance on me when he gave me this job. I work hard partly because I love my job and partly because I want to repay him for his faith in me.’
‘You’re wrong about one thing in that. He didn’t take a chance when he picked you, Gerry. You’d proved yourself with Tesco. They promote talent, but they’re efficient and hard-headed about it. How many times did they promote you?’
‘Three. From very humble beginnings.’
‘I didn’t know it was three. But that proves my point. Martin wasn’t taking a chance when he chose you to run his shop and retail sales here: it was a hard-headed business decision. You were in charge of one of Tesco’s new small stores and no doubt making a success of it. He chose the best candidate of those he interviewed to come here. He’s a good picker — I’ll give him that!’
‘I think he was taking a chance. But even if you’re right, he put me into a job I enjoy and he’s paid me handsomely for doing it well. I don’t see that he owes me any more than that.’
‘Maybe not in the last industrial generation. The one where unions fought employers for whatever they could get and as often as not destroyed each other. But employee involvement is one of the modern trends. Even big companies are seeking to involve their workers in share schemes, to give them an ongoing interest in the prosperity of the company and reward them for good service. It’s the modern way.’
Gerry Davies grinned, his teeth looking for an instant very white against his still thick and densely curly black hair. ‘I don’t deny I’m old-fashioned and content with things as they are. I’m fifty-seven now — perhaps too old a dog to learn new tricks, Jason. Probably out of the ark, in your terms.’
‘I don’t believe that and I don’t think you do. All I’m asking you to do is to consider the situation here. We’re part of a successful enterprise which promises to become bigger and better — principally through the efforts of no more than six people. Martin Beaumont himself, who should without question remain the major beneficiary of his original vision and input. Vanda North, because she is at present the only one with any official share in the company above that of wage-earner. Alistair Morton, who has handled the finances of the company since the beginning and should in my book be its financial director. Me, who should be in charge of the restaurant and possibly the allied area of residential accommodation. You, who should be the sales director. Sarah Vaughan, who has made a promising start and should probably be in charge of research and development.’
‘You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought. But would these be anything more than grandiose titles?’
Jason Knight grinned. ‘Indeed they would. What I’m proposing is that we should be involved in the formulation of policy. In historical terms, I believe we’re still in the early stages of the development of a major company. We’re key figures, who have already proved ourselves in different ways, and we deserve to have our roles in shaping what will become a much larger concern.’
Gerry Davies tried to take this in. It made sense, once you adjusted your viewpoint. ‘You’ve got a wider vision of things than I have, Jason.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that. And there’s nothing wrong with being ambitious, is there?’
‘No. No there isn’t. But you’re pushing me out beyond the boundaries of where I work and feel comfortable.’
‘But not beyond where you would be competent. I’m pushing you — pushing all of us, if you like — to recognize what we’re capable of. It might be a little uncomfortable, even a little frightening. But it’s exciting as well.’
Gerry Davies thought hard about that, then suddenly smiled. ‘You may well be right. I haven’t got beyond uncomfortable at t
he moment.’
Jason Knight smiled in his turn, a little ruefully, a little at his own expense. ‘I get carried away a bit, don’t I?’
‘You do a bit. But I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just finding it difficult to adjust. In my terms, I’ve come a long way in a short time and I still sometimes go home and can’t believe I’m so lucky. I don’t say you’re wrong, but it’s a lot for me to take in.’
‘I say it’s not luck but talent and application which have put you where you are. But I appreciate what you say — taking on the idea of pushing for more power is a new concept. I’m not asking you to decide anything now. Give the matter some thought over the weekend and the next few days. Discuss it in confidence with your sons and see what they think. There’s no immediate hurry, though I think the sooner we move the better it will be for us. I shan’t say anything to anyone else until I have a reaction from you.’
Gerry stood up, then voiced a final thought. ‘Martin Beaumont regards this as very much his company. He won’t be easy to convince.’
Jason grinned at the older man. ‘There you are, I told you that you had the potential. You’re thinking like a strategist already, you see, not a mere employee. This is company politics among the senior staff, if you like. And you’re right, of course. Martin probably wouldn’t listen to any one of us as an individual. He’d say no, and if we persisted he’d tell us to piss off and look for other employment. But if we went as a group and told him we wanted in, I don’t believe he’d be willing to risk losing all of us at once. I’ll be interested to hear whether you agree with that view when you’ve given the matter some extended thought.’
Gerry Davies was very busy in the shop area for the rest of the day. During the rare moments when he had time to think about his exchange with his friend in the restaurant, he found that he had already accepted one thing at least.