“A good idea?” I stare at him in horror. I was counting on him to nix it. “But we don’t have the floor space!”
“We can get rid of some of the displays,” Jake says. “All those plastic boxes, for a start.” He shudders. “They’re fucking depressing.”
“We could sell yoga mats,” says Nicole. “And yoga blocks. And yoga …” She waves her hands around as though words are superfluous.
“Jake, people come to us for food storage,” I say desperately. “They know we have a good range.” I feel like I’m going a bit mad here. Do Jake and Nicole actually know our business? “Uncle Ned, what do you think?” I say. I can’t believe I’m actually appealing to Uncle Ned, but I don’t have much choice.
“I think leisure is a growth area,” says Uncle Ned sagely. “Yoga is very much of the times, not that I would know much about it!” He gives a hearty laugh. “What I would add is, if you’re going to consider leisure pursuits, then consider fishing.”
“Fishing?” My mouth drops open. What is he on about?
“There’s money to be made in fishing.” He eyes us all significantly. “Fishing equipment. Very popular. On the rise. Just my tuppennyworth.”
I’m speechless. Is that Uncle Ned’s “good business head” talking?
“Fishing,” chimes in Jake thoughtfully. “I mean, it’s the right image. The royal family fish.”
The royal family?
“Jake,” I say, trying to stay calm. “What have the royal family got to do with us?”
“I’m trying to be fucking aspirational,” Jake snaps. “I’m trying to turn our brand around. Look at Burberry. Look at …”
Two waiters are approaching our table with plates, and Jake breaks off. He shakes out his napkin and scowls at me and I feel my confidence ebbing away.
“How’s your own business going?” Uncle Ned asks Jake, as the waiters put down our plates, and Jake gives a secretive grin.
“I’m about to make a killing on manufactured diamonds. Earrings, necklaces, all that. It’s the next big thing.”
“Manufactured diamonds!” Uncle Ned looks impressed. “Now, that sounds like the future.”
Oh my God. Please don’t suggest that Farrs should start stocking diamond jewelry.
I must be strong, I tell myself firmly. I mustn’t be unnerved. I must say what I think. So when all the food has been served and wine poured out, I look around the table, screwing up courage to speak.
“I think maybe the problem is, we’re not all on the same page,” I say. “It’s like we all think Farrs is a different thing. Maybe we need, I don’t know, a mission statement?”
“Yes,” says Jake firmly. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said.”
“I’ve got some paper,” says Nicole, hauling a notebook from her bag, with Dream Believe Do on the cover. “Let’s all write down our ideas and, you know …”
She hands each of us a torn-out page and Jake summons a waiter, who gets us some pens.
“No, no!” says Uncle Ned with a laugh as Nicole tries to pass him one. “I’m simply here to facilitate.” He spreads potted shrimp onto toast and takes a huge bite. “But you go ahead!” he adds, his mouth full. “Very good idea. Very good idea.”
There’s silence as we all eat and write. Jake finishes in about thirty seconds, Nicole seems to be writing an essay, and I keep crossing out words and starting again. But at last I’m done and I look up to see everyone staring at me.
“Sorry,” I say. “I just wanted to …” I glance anxiously down at my page. “It’s quite hard, isn’t it?”
“No it’s not,” says Jake at once. “It’s easy. It’s obvious.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling inadequate. “Well, it wasn’t obvious to me. I mean, I know what I think, but trying to express it …”
“You’re not really a writer,” says Nicole pityingly. “I’ve always loved creative writing.”
“Well, let’s go round the table,” says Uncle Ned, like a headmaster at assembly. “Fixie, you start.”
“OK,” I say nervously. “The mission of Farrs is to sell sensible products at sensible prices, in a community of warmth and helpfulness.”
I raise my eyes to see Jake peering at me incredulously.
“Sensible?” he echoes. “Sensible?”
“It’s a bit boring,” says Nicole kindly.
“It’s fucking mind-numbing!” exclaims Jake. “ ‘Sensible products,’ ” he says mockingly, making a hideous face. “ ‘I’d like to buy some sensible products, please.’ How is that sexy?”
“I wasn’t trying to be sexy,” I say defensively. “I was trying to represent our values—”
“Our values?” Jake cuts me off. “Our values are, one, make money, and, two, make money. You want to hear my mission statement?” He pauses for effect, then declaims, “Power. Profit. Potential.”
“Ah, now, that’s punchy,” says Uncle Ned admiringly. “Say it again?”
“Power. Profit. Potential,” repeats Jake, looking delighted with himself. “Says what it needs to say.”
“I don’t agree,” says Nicole, shaking her head. “It’s not all about power and profit. It’s about atmosphere.”
“Exactly!” I say in relief.
“It’s about vibe,” carries on Nicole. “It’s about … who are we? I’ll read you what I wrote, shall I?” She lifts up her page and clears her throat. “Welcome to Farrs, your gateway to serenity. As you walk in through our portals, your shoulders drop. You feel yourself relax. You’re on a journey. But where? Look around. See the possibilities. See a new you. See the dreams that you can achieve. Don’t sell yourself short … but know that you can be that person!” She’s speaking with more and more emphasis. “You can have it all. You can find peace. With the help of Farrs, you can break those barriers and climb those mountains. So near … so Farrs.”
There’s silence, broken by Jake giving a sudden snort of laughter.
“Sorry, Nicole,” he says. “But that is gibberish.”
“It’s not gibberish!” says Nicole hotly. “It’s inspirational! What do you think, Fixie?”
“I think it’s got a really good message,” I say carefully. “Only, is it a mission statement? It sounds more like, you know, the brochure to a spa.”
“You’re so narrow,” says Nicole, eyeing me with disapproval. “Both of you. That’s your trouble. You have such tricky personality types. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re an Adder,” she says to Jake. “And that’s not good, by the way.”
“Bring it on,” says Jake unrepentantly. He hisses at her across the table, and I can’t help smiling.
“That’s one of my other ideas,” adds Nicole, looking offended. “I want to profile everyone in the company. Then we can use people’s skills better. It’ll add real value. And I want to major on Instagram,” she adds. “We don’t do enough.”
“OK, that makes sense,” says Jake with grudging approval.
“Yes!” I say, relieved to find a point of agreement at last. “We could do far more with baking tips, we could share photos of customers’ cakes.…”
“Always with the bloody homespun, aren’t you, Fixie?” says Jake impatiently. “Instagram isn’t about a few old ladies’ Swiss rolls.”
“It is!” I say. “It’s about community and connection! What do you think, Nicole?” I lean toward Nicole, trying to engage her, but her eyes are absent.
“I think we need a face of Farrs,” she says. “It was you mentioning Burberry made me think of it, Jake. Remember when Emma Watson was the face of Burberry? She was everywhere.”
“Burberry,” echoes Jake with a loving sigh. “Awesome brand.”
“And the face of Farrs should definitely be me,” Nicole adds. “Because I have been a model.” She looks around as though daring any of us to point out that she only ever did one shoot, for the local paper. “We could take photos of me in store. In fact, I’m happy to take over social media. That can be my area.”
“I’ll focus on partnerships,” Jake chimes in at once. “Build up connections with some aspirational names.” He drains his glass and looks around. “Shall we get some more wine?”
“And you, Fixie?” says Uncle Ned. “What will you focus on?”
I stare at him, thoughts swirling furiously round my head. I want to say, “None of you get it! You don’t understand what Farrs is!”
But who will listen to me? No one except Mum. And I’m not bothering her with this; I’m not.
“Fixie, you’re so good in store,” says Nicole kindly. “You’re great with customers. You should focus on, like, sales and stock and running the staff and all that.”
“OK,” I say. “OK. But, listen, why don’t you two come into the shop? Actually come in and see the customers and, you know, remind yourselves of what it’s like?”
“Yeah,” says Jake thoughtfully. “That’s not a bad idea. What about tomorrow morning first thing?”
“I could do that.” Nicole nods.