Just a Family Affair Read Online Free PDF Page A

staring at it.
    A baby.
    Why the hell hadn’t he thought of it sooner?
     
    Patrick had no concrete evidence, but he had a funny feeling that Mandy’s father wanted out of the brewery. After Keith Sherwyn had come on board, nearly five years ago now, things had gone swimmingly for a while. He had brought a much-needed lump sum and a significant amount of business acumen to the table.
    Now, they had run out of cash. Keith’s investment had allowed them to completely renovate and refurbish the Honeycote Arms, make a few long overdue improvements to the brewery itself and do some very basic running repairs to their other tied houses. They had just about managed to break even for the past two years, but now it was clear that if they wanted to move into substantial profit they would have to do for their other pubs what they had done for their flagship. Traditional pubs were all very well, but people expected tradition with a twist these days, not faded banquettes and the offer of a cheese and onion bap at lunchtime. Mod cons and luxury had become the norm; style and design were the buzzwords right down to the last knife and fork. And this couldn’t be brought about on a shoestring. A decent refurb was, on average, a hundred grand. To transform all their pubs into successful gastropubs like the Honeycote Arms meant a budget of more than a million quid.
    Realistically, they had three options.
    The easiest was to limp on as they were. Honeycote Ales itself sold a reasonable amount of beer, as the brew had a good reputation and a loyal following, albeit locally. The pubs had their established clientele, who weren’t big spenders but were regular enough to ensure a steady income stream. But they would only be prolonging the agony, postponing the day when the pubs finally fell into total disrepair and the ancient equipment gave up the ghost.
    The next option was to sell off a couple of pubs, giving them an instant injection of ready cash which they could then spread around the rest. But the Liddiards had always firmly resisted this path, as it diminished their property portfolio, and once you gave into that temptation where did you stop? The tied houses were their collateral, what made them millionaires on paper.
    Or they could sell up completely. They had offers all the time, from bigger breweries that would have the means to do everything needed to turn Honeycote Ales into a cash cow almost overnight. It would be tempting to take the money and run. But to Mickey and Patrick, that was anathema. Honeycote Ales had been in the Liddiard family since the middle of the nineteenth century. And even Keith, who had no such ties, had been drawn to the brewery in the first place because of what it represented - family values and age-old traditions. If he urged them to sell he would be hypocritical.
    But Patrick had sensed in him a certain malaise of late. Keith had been withdrawn and distracted. Never rude or uninterested, but he definitely had something on his mind. And the last time Mickey, in a moment of despondency when they had a quote in to underpin the subsiding Peacock Inn, had mooted flogging the whole lot, Keith hadn’t demurred. Which was tantamount to capitulation, in Patrick’s book. Keith was a fighter, bullish to the end. If even he was losing hope, well . . . then there wasn’t any. Patrick felt a tight ball of worry in his stomach when he thought about it. Keith could easily get rid of his share and walk away. He bloody well hoped he wouldn’t, but one of the first lessons Keith had taught him was not to be sentimental about business.
    Patrick knew he couldn’t manage without Keith on side. Keith was always calm. Practical. He didn’t mind facing problems head on. If Keith jumped ship, Patrick knew he wouldn’t be able to manage. He didn’t have the experience, the vision, the power of his own convictions that came with years of being hands on.
    And Mickey was useless. He just put his head in the sand. He didn’t