Open for Business

Our launch article appears in the South Manchester Chronicle this weekend and we get quite a few enquiries, so I spend today trying to turn them into bookings.

I’ve also been invited to go and speak at the local WI to talk about travelling safely and our women-only trips. The travel club seems to work better when it’s explained in person, so I’ll have to try to get as many opportunities as I can to talk about it.

Mum thinks I’ve gone mad as I also keep calling to check that she’s OK and suggest trips out together; after my fifth call to her this morning, she blows:

‘Will you stop mithering me? I’m busy,’ she tells me.

I utter a wounded ‘sorry’ and she softens as much as she ever does.

‘Are you poorly? Or has something happened? I thought you’d be busy with the new business.’

‘I am, Mum. I just wanted to check that you’re OK and you know that if you ever need me, I’m never too busy,’ I say.

‘I know that, girl. Now go and make tons of money.’

‘So you can boast about me at the Caravan Club?’ I ask.

‘Oh I already do that,’ she tells me. ‘No, so you can fly me first class somewhere. I hear they give you lovely free toiletries on first class.’

Satisfied that she’s not hiding some illness or dark secret, I decide to put the prediction behind me, except the part about rekindling old friendships. I haven’t told anyone about that but I wonder if she was talking about Alan?

Warm and fuzzy from knowing Mum is OK, I decide that sometime this year, I’m going to buy her that first-class flight and she can nick as many of the freebies as she likes.

Towards the end of the day, just as I’m packing my leaflets ready to go to the WI, I notice Charlie standing open-mouthed staring at the door.

‘Don’t look now but a giant tomato just walked in,’ he says.

I follow his line of vision to Patty dressed head to toe in red with swathes of orange scarves.

‘What on earth...?’ I venture.

‘If a renowned clairvoyant has said that these are my lucky colours then I want to attract luck every minute of the day,’ she explains.

Charlie and I just look at each other then nod, accepting this logical explanation.

‘And you think the more red or orange you wear the more luck you get? Is that how it works?’ asks Charlie, very bravely in my opinion.

Patty bristles a little but then chuckles at her reflection in the window.

‘I might have overdone it a tad today, it’s every red thing I have in the wardrobe.’

I explain that I’m off to do a talk and she offers to come with me for moral support. I’d never usually say no to any type of support but I’m concerned that she might scare off the customers in that get-up.

‘Could you at least lose the scarves?’ I ask.

She sighs at me but starts unravelling the yards of fabric adorning her outfit before declaring, ‘Oh you people, you’re just too conservative. Mind you, that lot was bloody warm.’

Somehow I was expecting to walk into a sedate crowd quietly chatting to each other. Instead the energy and noise erased any nerves I had and I felt instantly at home.

Throughout the night there is so much laughter and bonhomie. First of all, there’s wine (Patty and I are signing up next week), then plans to do a midnight walk for breast cancer and finally, after a tasting of some home-made pastries, I’m on.

I’m well versed in this speech by now; the Mercury Travel Club is my baby so I know I speak with passion and I do believe that people will have a great time if they join up.

‘For me,’ I tell them, ‘it’s about having a brilliant time, making good friends locally and perhaps learning a little along the way.

‘For example, it would be easy to run a champagne trip to the Champagne region but did you know champagne was drunk in 1966 at Formula 1 in Le Mans? It’s a stunningly beautiful French town that has something for everyone. So that’s where we go to celebrate everyone’s favourite bubbly; it’s not all about grapes and pressing, which can be quite dull if we’re honest. For all of our trips, we’ve thought of something a little bit different and of course, when you get back, there’ll be a little gift waiting for you to help keep the memory alive.’

There is an appreciative murmur (although I suspect that this group are nice to everyone who comes along – unless you’re Tony Blair).

It’s time for questions, which are generally quite easy to answer.

‘How do we know that you’re not going to go bankrupt?’ asks one lady.

‘My partner Charlie has run the agency safely for over ten years and of course we’re ABTA covered,’ I respond.

‘And you can trust her; after all, she’s a karaoke singer,’ comes a voice from the back. ‘What could possibly go wrong?’

It’s meant to be funny I think, but most people are confused and it knocks me off my stride. I strain to see the speaker at the back of the room. It’s Amanda.

In that second, it feels as if I’m on the school stage and I’ve wet myself in front of everyone. I feel the throbbing pulse in my neck spreading colour all across my face. I don’t know what to do.

Cool as anything, Patty turns to her and holds out a decimated plate of flaky pastry.

‘Here, try this,’ she says. ‘I hear you enjoy other women’s leftovers.’

Ouch. I am so glad she came with me. Amanda skulks out and takes all the attention with her. I get off the scary stage and the chairwoman leads a round of applause for my talk.

‘Well ladies, I’m certainly going to book up for this, it sounds fantastic,’ she says.

I am pretty certain that the last thing a husband-stealer should do at a WI meeting is insult the ex-wife, so inadvertently Amanda did me a favour. I know I got a bit of a sympathy vote tonight but if it gets the business off the ground I’m happy to take it.

I feel victorious.