It has been a long day on top of a bad night's sleep, and for both these things Gemma blames Frank.
But, damn him, he does have an eye for a good company, as well as a good photo shoot. The warehouse they visited this morning isn't so much a warehouse as a giant robot. The only people involved in its day-to-day running are cleaners who, Agnes checked, are paid above the minimum wage, and the truck drivers who take things in and out of the unit. Other than them, a small fleet of technicians is enough to maintain hundreds such units across twelve countries, with the help of some computer engineers thousands of miles away in Poland and India. The unit they visited was keeping a chain of pharmacies and test labs supplied with medicines and reactants, including some with very specific temperature control requirements. Keeping propolis lip-balm from melting shouldn't be much of a challenge for them.
After a couple of hours Agnes had to be physically prised from the handrail of the viewing gallery, else she might have died of starvation before she gave up watching. Dozens of hydraulic arms glided on rails above three storey-high shelving units, then descended with smooth precision to the correct shelf and picked or dropped parcels of completely different sizes and shapes without ever dropping one. Above them, another network of baskets on rails criss-crossed each other at death defying speeds, dancing without ever colliding.
"It's like a hive in there, but even cleverer," Agnes said, lighting up a cigarette as soon as they'd exited the building.
Merely to be considered for investment alongside a company this clever is hugely flattering, Gemma reflects on the Eurostar home. But there are issues too, which Agnes in her enthusiasm is overlooking.
One issue, mainly: Frank had given Gemma the impression that the warehouses operated a lease model. And indeed there is a pretty expensive monthly service contract to be entered into, but this is on top of actually buying the warehousing space and this was not what Gemma had in mind. Nor indeed is it how she operates in the UK.
Therein lies the secret of Queen Bees' expansion over the last ten years. She wasn't lying to Frank, that day at the gym: Gemma really doesn't like shopping. She doesn't like to buy things, and she doesn't like for Queen Bees to own them. Their factory? It's not theirs, it makes things for lots of different people, all Queen Bee does is check regularly that they do so without breaking rules, dropping standards or exploiting any of their workers. That's what the Queen of Quality and Ethics does all day, three and a half days a week.
Nor do Queen Bees own their UK warehouses. Their offices are not theirs either, they rent. They don't own shops, obviously. All Queen Bees like to own is the essential – the bees themselves, because that is the only way to make sure that the income they generate goes to the right women.
Gemma has been doing maths ever since she and Hari boarded the train: to buy warehousing space in France rather than rent it would use upfront over half of the money they would be getting from Montage. And that in turn means that instead of being able to finance the whole of her original five-year expansion plan with the investment, they'd have to start borrowing by year two or three – depending on how quickly sales picked up. On the plus side, with this sort of technology, and the logistical support the company provide as part of their service plan, Queen Bees would be able to start selling in France much faster than anticipated, which could potentially shift revenues earlier into the plan, but...
They've spent much of the afternoon schmoozing buyers for a couple of department store chains and for Monoprix, for which Agnes has a particular fondness. Most of them seemed keen, so if they committed early it might be possible to go on without additional borrowing for maybe three years, by which time the EBITDA would have grown enough to allow them to borrow the next tranche of money without breaking their gearing covenant, but then...
Then there is the additional complication that Geoff has just gone on his two weeks' compulsory annual leave. It's a compliance/corporate governance requirement apparently for senior management to be physically away from the office for two consecutive weeks each year. So Queen Bee's deal is only a few days away from ready, but it can't be signed until Geoff gets back. Meanwhile unfortunately the French warehouse people are closing their accounts for the year in a week's time and can only offer the preferential rate they've quoted Queen Bees if they sign a purchase order before then.
Gemma snaps her eyes, and her laptop, shut. She is very tired, and somehow Hari playing Animal Crossing next to her ever since they left Gare du Nord has not been helping her concentrate. This is not a decision to make on numbers alone, anyway. Agnes has dreamt of breaking into France for years, and if this is the way to make it happen, then it is.
She reopens her eyes to check her phone, but Dylan's still not replied to any of her messages. He must be getting mauled out there, poor Dylan. She puts her phone away and shuts her eyes again. She'll call him when she gets home.
"Wanna look at my pictures from last night?" Hari offers.
"Sure, why not?" Gemma says, reopening her eyes. Deal and business plans notwithstanding, she is curious to see what Hari and Vikas got up to behind that Pyramid.
Hari scrolls back through her gallery until she's at yesterday's food pictures, and starts swiping. For every good shot there are about thirty indifferent ones, in Gemma's private opinion, but Hari seems attached to each in a particular way, and comments at length as to why.
Then again, Gemma remembers, yesterday would have been a very special evening for Hari, and for Vikas, so it's understandable that she would want to hang on to every memory. Occasionally Hari Whatsapps a shot she particularly likes, and they've got as far as the Louvre, and halfway around the Pyramid (honestly, walking around it doesn't look like it was worth the bother, and Frank and Gemma's angle was still, in her opinion, the best for her eyes as well as her feet) when Gemma realises that Hari is not, in fact, sending her pictures to Vikas.
"Hari, are you sending these to Martin?"
"He's… never been to Paris either," Hari answers sheepishly.
Really, that's a bit cruel: poor Martin! Hari cannot have thought this through, sending him pictures of her romantic stroll through Paris with another, much handsomer man.
"So… are you sending these to all your Lolita friends then?" Gemma asks, rather proud of herself for remembering the creepy technical term for Hari's crazy outfits, "I guess Paris photos are a thing?"
Hari looks at her, confused and then sheepish again:
"Do you ask because you think Martin will be jealous, boss?"
It's Gemma's turn to look confused. Of course Martin will be sick to his pasty, less-than-toned stomach with jealousy. How could he not? Hari's sent him several pictures featuring Vikas. The only way this could fail to make Martin jealous would be if Martin didn't care for her!
But wait: looking at Hari's wide, anxious eyes it now dawns on Gemma that Hari, of all people, might actually doubt that he cares.
"Do you… do you think Martin might have feelings for you, Hari?" Gemma asks.
Asking really dumb questions is one of the surest ways to get people to talk.
"I don't know, boss."
"Don't you?" Gemma asks with a broad, encouraging smile, and Hari's lips start to mirror hers.
"You think he likes me?"
It baffles Gemma why Hari or indeed anyone should find the prospect of pasty, gawky Martin liking them anything but cringey, but that is not the point. The point is that Hari somehow still doubts it and doubt can be a very, very powerful weapon.
"I think you'd be far better placed to know than I am. Has he said anything?"
"He said he liked my outfit last time…"
"Well of course, how could he not? I mean he certainly is a more discerning Lolita enthusiast than I am…"
"You liked it too?"
"Of course,"
"Sometimes I'm not sure if you…"
"This isn't about me, Hari!" Gemma laughs, "Besides, you know I would never tell a Queen what to wear or not wear. We were talking about Martin: perhaps he does have a thing for you. Did you actually coordinate your outfits last time?"
"Yes! Yes we did!"
"That is so cute," Gemma lies. "Did you take any selfies together?"
Kids these days: if they didn't, then it never happened. Period.
"We… we took a few but they didn't come off so we agreed to delete them."
"Oh, what a shame," Gemma lies again.
"It's difficult with his skin tone and mine, especially at night."
"Of course. And then didn't he spend rather a long time talking to Scott and Kristy? I guess they would have a lot in common – you know Kristy does investor relations and marketing for a fund very similar to Dylan's? I mean also quant, but with lower volatility and turnover so, you know, lower Sharpe Ratio, and with Scott working in Stat Arb..."
The last sentence achieves the desired effect of leaving Hari feeling out of her depth. But sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind, and if the woman foolishly chooses to associate with the likes of Martin then, sooner or later, she will have to get used to such sweet nothings as statistical arbitrage and Sharpe ratios.
"In fact come to think about it you spent most of that evening talking to Vikas, didn't you?"
Hari nods and begins to smile. You can almost hear the cogs clanking round in her head.
"But oh, didn't you share an Uber home with Martin?" Gemma asks, as if this were a pleasant last-minute recollection. It is neither. "Did anything happen then?"
Hari stares ahead of her then says:
"No, not really."
"Not really, or not at all?"
"Well, I thought it almost might, but then … he… well it didn't."
"Oh, well in that case…"
Hari turns big anxious eyes to her:
"What?"
"In that case you're fine to send him your pictures, Hari. Don't worry at all."
"What? You think Martin doesn't like me?"
"Of course he likes you! Who wouldn't? He's just not… well, interested, you know, in that way. You have to respect his preferences. He's quite a cerebral man. He likes talking computers and dressing up, and make up and shoes, but he isn't interested in kissing women. I mean if not you then who would he try and kiss at the back of the cab home? It doesn't mean he can't be a very precious friend, Hari, on the contrary. Do send him the pictures, I'm sure he's going to love them. Look how cute you and Vikas look on this one!"
"It's much easier with Vikas because of his skin tone," Hari says, begrudgingly at first, but then beginning to smile again.
"Is it now? You two certainly seemed very engrossed with each other last night."
"But he didn't try anything either – wait, do you think he's also gay?"
"What? First of all I never said Martin was gay. I'm not sure being so binary about sexual identities is terribly helpful, you know. Sexuality exists on a broad spectrum, but it's also not something that all people feel they want to engage with, whatever their gender identity. And I don't see what makes you think Vikas would be gay. He talked to you most of the evening at fussball, and all of last night, and right now he's having to be a gentleman around you because you're off limits, Hari. I thought that was obvious."
"Off limits?"
"We can't start dating people at Montage until the deal's signed, Hari, I thought I had made that clear?"
Hari nods with so much eagerness, it's clear she had no idea.
"That would be the most blatant conflict of interest, Hari! After the deal, obviously, it's a different story but now... well anyway, that's all that's keeping Vikas back at the moment, Hari, I'm sure of it."
"Are you, boss?"
"You two were inseparable last night! Was it fun?"
"Thanks, it was, boss."
"Great!"
"So… do you think I should clear the air with Martin then?"
"It's up to you. Either way he'll understand, if he's a good friend. But if I were you I wouldn't wait until Vikas asks you out to mention him to Martin. That would look a bit..."
Hari looks at her with immense, anxious eyes.
"I don't know, a bit opportunistic, perhaps... but like I said, it won't matter if Martin really is your friend."
Gemma's phone buzzes in her bag but she makes sure that Hari's OK before looking at it. It's Dylan.
Glad you're having a good time. PnL's fine.
Fine? Well if the PnL's fine then how come he's been offline for three days?
A Bee in her Bonnet is Copyright Mel Liffragh 2021, all rights reserved.