J. Gregson: In Vino Veritas

Beaumont frowned. ‘That was done on the basis of our previous lettings, which had been almost a hundred per cent during the summer months. It made sound sense to extend our plant when we were making handsome profits.’

Vanda North smiled. She was much more used to sustaining an argument than Jason Knight had been before her. ‘The extension may still make sound sense, if we take the long view. I’m merely flagging up that I anticipate problems in the next two years. We have to be flexible. The signs are certainly that we’ll need to extend our range of bargain breaks. Once we’re outside the peak summer season, we’re facing a vast range of competition. We’ll almost certainly have to accept lower profit margins, to keep the rooms occupied and hang on to the excellent staff we’ve recruited over the last few years.’

‘Well, I’m sure you understand the problems of this area better than anyone else in the room, Vanda,’ said Beaumont shamelessly. This sort of meeting wasn’t the place to make policy decisions. Some time in the next few days, he would have a detailed discussion with Vanda North about strategy and how they were going to fill the new accommodation suites. He was better at enforcing his formidable will in a one-to-one situation than in this sort of formal meeting. ‘You are right to emphasize that we can’t ignore what is going on in the world around us, of course. The worst possible thing any of us could do is to press ahead with our plans in a blinkered way and ignore what is going on in the wider world.’ He paused for a moment, apparently to let them all dwell upon that thought, before looking down at his next agenda item. ‘Report on new initiatives introduced last year.’

A rather nervous voice said, ‘Yes. That’s me. I have the figures to hand.’ This was Sarah Vaughan, Director of Research and Development, at thirty-three the youngest person in the room. She had long blonde hair and the sort of delicate, pretty, brittle-looking features which often seem to go with fair colouring. Sarah had a Business Studies degree and some years of experience in the retail trade with a big supermarket chain. She helped to run the shop on the site, but also had the brief to initiate new means of developing the full commercial potential of Abbey Vineyards. She was normally self-confident and energetic, but she found herself a little overawed to be included today in this formal meeting of the six people who were the driving force in what was now a large company and a considerable local employer.

Sarah shuffled the papers which had been ready on the table in front of her since the meeting began. ‘The gift vouchers continue to enjoy a steady sale, but they are hardly a new or original idea. I think we can say that the guided tours we developed into a regular programme last year have been a success. It’s a difficult thing to measure, because we’re talking about the public’s goodwill — there are no directly measurable effects from the tours. But in my opinion the indirect effects have been valuable.’

‘I’ll vouch for that.’ The words came from a stocky figure, with the build of a prop forward and the face of one of the swarthy Welsh miners who had dominated the valleys fifty miles to the south of here in the not-so-distant past. Gerry Davies was the shop manager. He oversaw the sales of wines and the multiple associated products which had been the heartbeat of the enterprise since the earliest days of Abbey Vineyards. ‘And I’d say there are direct results. We sell considerable quantities of wine to the people who have been on the guided tours. More now than when we started. In my opinion they’re well worth while.’

The chairman nodded thoughtfully. ‘You think these sales result directly from the tours?’

‘Almost invariably. I’d say most people who go on one of Sarah’s walks buy at least one bottle of wine. Quite often someone will buy a case. I can say that with conviction, because I’ve seen the improvement since we’ve had a regular programme of tours.’

‘And why would that be?’

‘I’ve no idea.’ He shrugged his big shoulders and looked interrogatively at Sarah Vaughan.

‘I think I know why,’ said Sarah Vaughan slowly, ‘but I’m glad to hear that you think things have improved.’ She looked round the table, as if checking that she had a receptive audience. ‘You get better at anything by doing it. I noticed that I was getting more relaxed and confident myself, and I could sense that my talk was going better, that I had a better rapport with my audience as we went round the different areas. They began asking me more questions, for one thing, which I took as a sign of interest. So I didn’t just work on my own little talks, I watched to see who else went down well. When we began the tours we used anyone who was free at the time. Now I assign them as far as possible to three people: Gerry, myself and Joe Logan, who works three days a week in the shop but seems to have a gift for communication with the public. I feel the tours are more interesting as a result. I’m glad it’s paying concrete dividends in the shape of sales.’

There was a little murmur of approval from her fellow workers. Martin Beaumont said rather stiffly, ‘It’s good to hear that people like you are thinking about the job and how it might best be done, Sarah. This is the sort of initiative we’ll all need to show in the testing two or three years ahead. How is the “Adopt a Vine” scheme going?’

‘It’s really too early to say. This is probably the time of year when we should sell most memberships. We’ve only sold seven so far this year but we’ve had quite a lot of interest expressed. The scheme has the disadvantage that you lay out?25 and wait for quite some time before you get anything back for your money, so take-up is probably going to be confined to real wine enthusiasts.’

The ‘Adopt a Vine’ scheme was one of Martin’s own, which he had brought back from a vineyards convention. He would have preferred to hear that there was a more enthusiastic take-up, but he had no idea how that might be achieved. He was more concerned to get his own ideas across than to listen to those of other people, more conscious of his own reactions to items than of those of the other five people in the room. He said abruptly, ‘Item Four. Shop Sales’.

There was a moment of tension. Everyone knew that it was the sales in the shop, and above all else the sales of wines, which drove the whole enterprise. It was a long process planting the long rows of vines, then tending them for years until they reached commercial production levels. Those years had been endured some time ago and Abbey Vineyards was now a prosperous business. But it needed perpetual vigilance, awareness and industry to keep it so. There was still much scepticism among the public about English wines; there were still yearly battles, first to bring in a worthwhile grape harvest and then to sell the steadily increasing wine yield.

Gerry Davies took his time and spoke calmly. ‘So far, we seem to be immune from the worst effects of the recession. We are a specialist market with niche sales, which we all hope may not suffer the worst troughs of the economy. We shall know by the end of this year whether this is indeed so. Sales of our white wines have increased again, as they have done every year in the last ten — as in fact they need to do, since we are producing more dry and medium-dry whites every year. This remains the core of our business.’

Beaumont nodded slowly. ‘It does, but we are also producing more red each year. There seems to be a steady demand for it: a higher percentage of red wine from all sources is drunk in Britain each year, so we need to take account of that trend.’

Gerry Davies nodded. ‘So far, we are selling all the red we produce. However, we have to push the “rough but fruity and characterful” aspect rather more than I like to do, and we take a smaller mark-up on the reds than the whites. We could do with something to rival the Australian Shiraz. But no one as far north as us has come up with a vine to rival them so far.’