September 2011
Charles closed the ledger with a sigh. 'We have to face it, we can't go on like this much longer, Jonathon.'
'We can't give up now, not after nearly 100 years.'
'It's terrible but we have little alternative.'
'There must be something we can do?'
'I think not, Jon.'
'But, what about all the staff?'
'Let's wait until Sam Webb gets here and see if the bank can help us.'
'Some stuffy old bank manager is hardly likely to care about a little company like this.'
'We'll just have to hope for the best.'
At that moment there was a knock on the door and in came a slim smartly dressed attractive young woman.
'Hello, I'm Sam Webb, from the bank. Tell me about your business.'
'Well,' said Jon, rather taken aback by this vision of loveliness, 'The jam and preserve company was started by my grandfather, and has passed down the line to my uncle and my father. Father died five years ago and now I have his share.'
'I've studied the books and it doesn't look good. Perhaps you'd show me around.'
Jon leapt to his feet. 'Love to.'
For what seemed to Jon hours, they toured the factory and the outside space.
'Why all this space?'
'It used to be a farm; the barns are over there!'
'What's in the barns?'
'Nothing much just old machinery, things grandfather turned out when they modernised. He never threw anything away.'
'Mmm, I'll have to have a think.'
'Right, now how about some lunch?'
'Maybe tomorrow, I may have a plan by then.'
Disappointed, Jonathan escorted her to her car, and spent the rest of the day alternately worrying about the company and worrying that Sam might be married.
The next day Sam revealed her rescue plan.
It took six frantic months to put the plan into action, but finally the work was complete.
A minor local TV star made a short speech, cut the ribbon and formally opened the new business premises. The jam and preserve company was open to the public.
The barn had been transformed into a museum; the old machinery had been set up cleaned and polished; in the barn, all the old artefacts were displayed on the walls. The cow shed was now a bright little shop selling the jams, preserves and pickles the factory had been producing for years. Jon escorted parties of visitors round the factory. The small barn had become a gallery for local artists and crafts people. Music played in the garden where the children jumped on Bouncy castles, the mobile catering van dispensed drinks and snacks, the ice cream van was doing a roaring trade. The public were loving it. The tills were filling up nicely.
At last the gates were closed, the exhausted but contented staff left for home. Charles, Jon and Sam sat in the garden. Charles brought out the Champagne.
'Thanks to you Sam we seem to be back in business, since you left the bank and joined the firm everything has changed, we shall keep expanding and improving. I'd like to make you a partner so here's to the Farr, Futchur and Webb Preserves Company.'
Jon grinned at Sam.
'I think we shall have to be the Farr, Futcher and Futcher Company.'