‘The only downside is that it may take a little time to get the order to you.’
‘How long?’ asked Ricardo, frowning. He was also the sort of client who wanted everything immediately.
‘A year, perhaps. Maybe more.’
‘That sounds ridiculous!’ said Ricardo, sitting up as if he had been insulted.
‘Not really,’ said Roger diplomatically. ‘Like you, Milford demands perfection. We use the very best crocodile skins – the Australian Crocodylus porosus provides the finest, hardest-wearing leather and it can take the backs of three crocodiles to produce one small suitcase. To source so many skins that are free of teeth marks and other blemishes will take time.’ Roger looked at Ricardo shrewdly. ‘I could deliver them more quickly, of course, but then your luggage would not be the best in the world. You might not notice the skin blemishes but I would, and I want you to have the luggage you deserve.’
Ricardo looked pacified. ‘Thank you for your honesty.’
‘My pleasure. When they are finished you will have one of the most remarkable sets of luggage in the world.’
‘And you can even do cases for my polo sticks?’
‘We could make you a leather polo pony if you so wished,’ laughed Roger, accepting another drink off a white-suited butler.
As the afternoon progressed the two men got on famously. By remarkable coincidence they had both even attended the same public school – Stowe – although Ricardo had entered three years after Roger had left. The Perez family business had begun in tin, but they had expanded into many other areas including food, property and telecommunications, growing richer every year until they were one of Brazil’s pre-eminent families. Most importantly to Roger, they had become a family in a position to order nappa leather upholstery for their private jet, a family who needed bespoke leather luggage to complement it.
Ricardo was the son of Juan Perez, the current CEO of Perez Industries. In his early forties, with a crown of patent black hair and a handsome, if weathered, face, Ricardo was an impressive figure. Roger hadn’t been able to make out his exact role within the corporation, but he had quickly learnt that Ricardo was a keen polo player and largely spent his time overseeing corporate entertaining.
‘Well, it’s going to be a pleasure working with you,’ said Ricardo, lifting his glass. ‘My mother wanted to go with Hermès, but I can see we are going to have more fun.’
Roger lifted his glass towards Ricardo. ‘To fun!’ he cried and the two men laughed.
‘Let’s go,’ said the Brazilian, pulling his car keys out of his pocket. ‘I have some business to discuss with you.’
‘I thought we were already talking business,’ said Roger, following him out of the house and onto the long drive where Ricardo clicked open a Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow. The evening was drawing in and light was seeping out of the sky so that by the time they left the Perez family compound it was almost pitch black. It felt quite eerie listening to the sudden squawk of the lorikeets in the trees surrounding them, letting his imagination run riot about what other beasts could be lurking in the
foliage.
‘So, Roger, what do you think of Brazil?’ asked Ricardo after a while.
‘Well I can’t see much of it right now,’ he laughed, looking out into the thick forest, ‘but what I have seen is incredibly impressive.’
‘Precisely. We have the fifth largest population in the world, one of the world’s largest reserves of nickel, uranium and iron, and Sao Paulo is the world’s second biggest city. People talk about China and India as new economic superpowers but when a Mexican is one of the top three richest men in the world you know that Latin America is where it’s at. And my family have interests in everything.’
‘You don’t need to convince me about the merits of Brazil or of your family,’ said Roger, a little on edge at how dark and lonely it felt driving through thousands of acres of forest. Ricardo nodded.
‘The reason why my family has flourished is because we move with the times,’ he continued. ‘We are expanding constantly and diversification is the mantra of our business.’
There was a large pothole in the middle of the road which Ricardo chose to ignore, causing even the mighty Rolls-Royce to shudder. Roger felt a stab of envy at a man who could treat a Silver Shadow like a rally car.
‘Eco-tourism is a huge global boom area and where better than Brazil to experience it. I have my own company, which I am developing separately from the Perez Corporation, concentrating in eco-hotels.’
‘Eco-tourism?’ said Roger, surprised. He didn’t think Ricardo with his gas-guzzling motor and demands for a 33-piece set of luggage made from crocodiles would know what the phrase meant. Ricardo gave a quick sideways glance as if to read his mind and laughed.
‘It’s just business, like everything else, Roger. I want to develop a chain to rival Aman and I’ve already found my first property in Bahia.’
Roger’s eyes widened at the mention of Aman, a collection of luxury resort hotels in Jackson Hole, Morocco, Phuket, and all points in between. It was a huge international luxury business.
‘How come your father isn’t involved?’ asked Roger cautiously.
‘He had his fingers burnt with hotels ten years ago and refuses to invest in them again. Plus he’s getting older, more cautious. Anyway, it is something I need to do for myself, I need to have an identity beyond just being my father’s son.’
‘I understand that feeling,’ said Roger staring out of the window into the blackness. ‘I had to watch my older brother make many bad decisions with our family company. I had so many ideas but could implement few of them. It’s only after his death that we’ve managed to return Milford to its true position as one of Europe’s finest luxury goods houses.’
‘You and me are the same, huh?’ laughed Ricardo. ‘The son, the brother who wants to do his own thing. Who should be doing his own thing.’