Page 55 of Too Busy for Love

‘Is it safe to go upstairs?’

‘Yes. The building is actually very sound, structurally. I thought that was a plus when I bought it, but I’m coming to regret it now.’

We make our way back into the lobby, and Abby pushes open one of the doors to reveal not the sweeping staircase of Reginald’s photos, but a concrete one with steel banisters. It’s obviously been installed to save space and make room for the lift, but I can’t help feeling sad about it. I follow Abby up, being careful where I put my feet, until we reach a corridor.

‘Take your pick,’ she tells me, gesturing at the row of doors. I know which room I want to see, but it takes me a minute to get my bearings and figure out which door probably belongs to it.

‘That one,’ I say to Abby. We walk carefully to the end of the corridor and she pushes open the door.

The room is as tragic as everything else I’ve seen, and the curtain is still fluttering in the breeze from the broken window, but none of that matters. The view from here is magical, and I sigh with pleasure.

‘Are you going to tell me what this is all about?’ Abby asks after a minute or so.

‘Yes. Let’s go somewhere a bit more conducive and have a cup of tea.’

As I follow her downstairs and out of the front door, waiting for her to lock the steel gate securely behind her, I mentally start gearing myself up for the sales pitch of my life.

22

‘OK,’ I say to Abby once we’re ensconced in the tea room I scouted out for this meeting during one of my walks. ‘Before we start, I’ve made some assumptions. The first is that you want the quickest return on your investment based on the lowest outlay.’

‘Not quite the lowest outlay,’ she corrects. ‘We’re not a “pile ’em high, sell ’em cheap” construction firm. Our customers expect quality.’

‘But you still want the best return on your investment, right?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘So if I were to tell you that my idea could get you a much higher rate per square foot than yours, for a lower initial outlay, what would you say?’

‘I’d say bring it on. What’s the idea?’

‘Reopen it as a hotel.’

Her face falls. ‘Beatrice—’ she begins.

‘Hang on. Hear me out,’ I interrupt. ‘You’re going to tell me that it’s not viable as a hotel because it wasn’t viable before. You’re probably also going to tell me that you’re not in the business of hotels. Am I right?’

She sighs. ‘Yes, on both counts.’

‘But this is where I come in. Because Iamin the business of hotels, and I’m confident that there is a market that we can tap into. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that the council has a sudden change of heart and approves your planning application. As well as the repairs and redecoration, you’re going to have to make some fairly big changes to the interior layout. I imagine that’s expensive.’

‘It’s not cheap, but cheaper than starting from scratch.’

‘Fair point. But if you leave it as a hotel, you don’t have to make those expensive changes. You just have to bring it back up to standard. Now, which do you think makes more money per square foot per night. An apartment or a hotel room?’

‘It’s not as simple as that, from our perspective. I’m sure a hotel room is more profitable on a rental basis, but we’re not planning to rent out these apartments. We sell them and walk away. The cash goes into our next development.’

‘Let me put it a different way then. At the moment, the council is not going to let you do anything with the building, so your cash is tied up until it either falls down or they change their minds. We’re not talking about pocket money here. I’m giving you the opportunity to press ahead with a plan that they can’t turn down, and start getting your money back out in a much shorter time frame.’

She bites into her carrot cake and chews thoughtfully, taking a sip of tea to wash it down. I’m desperate to tell her all the other good things about my plan, but I force myself to stay silent. She needs a moment to absorb what she’s heard so far. Given that she’s no longer openly shooting me down, I must have made some impact.

‘What makes you think it’s viable as a hotel?’ she asks eventually. ‘If a big company like BudgetWise couldn’t make it work, that’s a red flag, don’t you think?’

‘They had the wrong model,’ I tell her simply. ‘They were catering to the lower end of the market and there are already lots of players in that area who’ve been here for much longer than them. Also, Margate just isn’t a chain hotel sort of place. People who come here want to immerse themselves in its unique culture, and a chain hotel doesn’t fit with that at all. What people want is boutique. That’s what The Mermaid was when it was successful, and that’s what it should be now.’

‘The Mermaid?’

‘That’s what it was called. There’s still a slab with the name at the top of the building. Here, let me show you something.’ I spread out some of the pictures I’ve printed off from my shots of Reginald’s wedding album on the table. Once again, I let silence fall as she studies them.

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