Monthly Archive for January, 2009

Moral dilemmas and motor homes

Published on January 30, 2009 in motor home and motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , .

When Mandy got back to the motor home sales office, she half expected recriminations. She had no doubt that Ralph had realised it was her before he had shot his gun and no doubt he’d have told his dad.

Instead of a belligerent message, it was a pleasant surprise to find a pile of five pound notes and a scrawled message to say it was her pay to date. She counted the money and was surprised to discover there was even a bit more than her most optimistic hopes. Of course, there were no details about how the amount had been calculated or how it related to the basic salary that had been agreed during her interview.

She threaded her way to the other end of the motorhome into Ruarc’s office where he was going through some advertising copy.

“I thought the quicker we got the word out to the newspapers that we were now renting out motorhomes, the quicker we could get in some money to afford your salary,” Ruarc, muttered. It wasn’t a complaint but he seemed incapable of saying anything that didn’t have a hard edge.

“Thanks for the money,” said Mandy. “I must admit, it was a bit more than expected. But it would be nice to know how it was calculated and shouldn’t you be wanting my P45?”

“I’m not bothered about your P45, if you’re not,” said Ruarc. “I’ve got bigger fish to fry than worrying about paperwork. I need to order some more motor homes to satisfy all the motorhome rentals that I’m sure you’re going to produce for me and that means cosying up to my suppliers and getting motorhome discounts and a good line of credit.”

“I would have thought they would be very keen to get any business at the moment,” said Mandy. “Surely, if you are buying motorhomes in a recession, you’re in a strong position.”

“I may be in a strong position  buying motor homes because of the recession but the discounts I get from these people are exceptional. They are the sort of business people that need a lot of looking after … and they’ll expect some looking after when they come down and do business with me.”

Ruarc, leaned back in his executive chair. His eyes openly dwelling on Mandy’s long black hair, white blouse and tight green skirt that terminated just above her knees.

“You are a good-looking woman, Mandy. Normally Gladys would help me with a lot of the ‘looking after’ but she is not keen on coming in at the moment, what with feeling ill and all that. I could double the cash you have just received, if I could be guaranteed someone special would go away happy.”

Mandy’s eyes widened. She hardly felt shocked because Ruarc’s suggestion was entirely in keeping with the way that she already saw him. His admission that Gladys did not only provide secretarial duties was hardly surprising, given the number of times Gladys had disappeared into Ruarc’s office, with a knowing smile, before locking the door firmly behind her.

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or to be angry,” said Mandy, slowly. “I reckon you have a nerve even to ask me – not to mention legal aspects relating to harassment.”

“Just trying to put a bit of money your way, gal,” said Ruarc. “If you don’t want it, more fool you – there’s plenty of others that will!”

“I’m sorry, ” said Mandy, feeling her throat tightening, ” if you want somebody to serve the canapes and to engage in social conversation or even to negotiate a price, I am happy to help. But, if you want somebody to go with your business friend and and provide personal services, and Gladys isn’t available, I’m afraid, neither am I.”

Ruarc, got up out of his chair, walked over to Mandy until she was convinced that he was going to hit her but instead he merely sneered and walked passed her out of the motorhome office and away to the farmhouse.

Mandy slowly returned to her office to spent the rest of the afternoon telephoning the remainder of her client contact list. The pleasure of receiving her first wages was gone with this new uncertainty in her job prospects.

By the end of the day she had several more possibilities for motorhome rentals but no definite sales. It occurred to her that perhaps Ruarc was expanding his stock a bit too quickly before demand for this new service had properly been quantified. It worried her that she would be expected to satisfy excessive demand in his new business plan.

It also worried Mandy that Ruarc might still hope she would play a part in satisfying not only his business partners demands but also potentially his own in the absence of Gladys.

Ruarc had posed a moral dilemma to Mandy about which her opinion would normally be clear. Yet, scarily, she found herself wondering how far she might be willing to go to save her new job in motorhome sales.

Escaping the motor-home sales office for a walk by the river with Tom

Published on January 29, 2009 in motor home and motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , .

Mandy met Tom just down the road from the motor-home sales office as arranged. He was wearing a grey anorak with a hood and jeans. He handed Mandy some egg mayonnaise sandwiches wrapped in cling-film to put in her handbag.

“Something to munch at some stage,” Tom said, with a smile.

“You’re looking more and more like every woman’s dream man each time I meet you,” said Mandy, laughing. “Do you do ironing and clean house too? ”

“Only when I absolutely have to,” said Tom, giving Mandy a peck on the lips.

His welcome felt very natural to Mandy. There was none of the awkwardness between them that had accompanied their first kiss of the previous night.

“There is a public path just over there that runs alongside the river where it might be nice to walk,” said Tom. “I see you’re wearing sensible shoes. It might be a bit wet underfoot.”

“That’s me, sensible, “said Mandy.” I was even a Duke of Edinburgh girl guide when I was younger – a long time ago!”

The sun came from behind the clouds again, and, as they walked, Mandy enjoyed watching the flashes of light on the water with its smooth surface broken by insect life falling from the overhead branches and fish rising to feed.

Tom showed her how to use his binoculars and they watched a Kestrel floating high overhead.

Together, they walked in silence, enjoying the tranquillity and fresh smells of the river. After a while, they stopped to eat seated in the sun on an old wooden bench besides a stile with a sign saying ‘No Entry!’

“That sign is a load of rubbish and completely without any legality,” said Tom, reading from his Ordinance Survey map. “There is a right of way leading through that field.”

Mandy climbed up onto the stile with some difficulty in her narrow fitted green skirt, avoiding the barbed wire that had been placed across the top, and looked out across a field filled with strawberries. She knew Tom had been watching her as she had climbed and that gave her a thrill.

In the distance, a line of farm workers moved steadily across the field picking as they went. It looked like back-breaking work.

Tom joined Mandy on top of the stile. She became very aware of his body and looped her arm around his waist to support her weakening knees.

Tom traced the line of Mandy’s chin then tipped her face and kissed her on the lips. It was a friendly kiss, a kiss of good fellowship but a kiss with growing passion.

Mandy felt her pulse race and her breathing becoming uncontrollable. It had been a long time since she had split up from her husband and there had been nobody since.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang and a crackling noise in the branches of the hedge to her right.

In the distance, a man had detached himself from the line of workers and was shouting angrily.

“What is he saying,” said Mandy. “What was that noise?”

There was another bang and more crackling noises in the branches of the nearby hedge, closer this time.

“My God,” said Tom, “He’s shooting at us! We’d better get down quick.”

Back on the path besides the river and out of sight, they both breathed a sigh of relief.

As they walked back to the VW camper-van, Mandy linked her arm through Tom’s.

“He wasn’t really shooting at us was he Tom?”

“I think he probably just wanted to scare us away. Obviously, he has something to hide.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me,” said Mandy. “The man with a gun looked very much like Ralph, Ruarc’s son. They are a very nasty bunch.”

“I hope you are not thinking of reporting this to the Police,” said Mandy, slowly. “If you do, I could definitely say goodbye to my job and just as it is beginning to go well.”

“I have no doubt that he will be brought to book in the end,” said Tom, with a confidence that was reassuring but left Mandy wondering if he knew something she didn’t.

Motorhome hire and rental – Mandy implements her plan.

Published on January 28, 2009 in motor home and motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , .

Back in her office, Mandy set about putting her motorhome rental and motorhome hire plans into action. With her best smile on her face, in the hope her smile would be conveyed down the telephone line, she started ringing the telephone numbers on her list of recent visitors to the motorhome sales office.

Almost immediately, she had a success. A middle-aged couple she remembered well because they were so nice and polite had been thinking of buying a motor home so they could travel around Scotland but had been put off going ahead because of the dire economic news in the UK.

They were thrilled by the idea that they could try the motorhome experience for several weeks or even months without committing themselves to any large capital expenditure. The sale was practically made even before they had decided on any specific motorhome.

Ruarc, hearing the excitement in her voice, came into her office and lounged against the motorhome wall with his hands deep in his pockets.

When she suggested the couple come in at lunch time to sign the deal and select the motorhome they would like, he gave her the thumbs-up sign.

As she put down the telephone, Ruarc even looked slightly less belligerent than usual.

“Well done, gal,” he said. “You’re definitely on to something – keep it up.” Then he sauntered back to his office to get the paperwork ready.

A warm glow spread through Mandy’s body. She had succeeded in doing something successful. Although she didn’t respect or give a damn about what Ruarc thought normally, it had been a while since she had received praise from anybody and it felt good.

Tom Hutchinson rang later in the morning suggesting they should get together for a lunchtime walk. When she mentioned to Ruarc that she would be out of the motorhome sales office for a while at lunchtime, he hardly seemed bothered.

“I’ll look after the motorhome sales while you’re away,” he said, magnanimously.

“Where’s Gladys this morning,” queried Mandy.

“She’ll be in later, I expect, ” said Ruarc, non-committedly. “She rang this morning to say she had a touch of sickness.”

He looked rather uncomfortable and Mandy thought it wise not to question him further. Perhaps Ruarc thought Gladys’s illness might be something for which he could possibly be held to account and which might prove expensive.

Mandy went back to telephoning prospective rental clients. Occasionally she caught herself dreaming about a house in the country, children and security. With a secret smile, she realized that the man with his slippers by her fireside looked very much like Tom Hutchinson.

Motor-home sales staff meeting convened at the farmhouse

Published on January 27, 2009 in motor home and motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , .

The motor-home sales staff meeting was convened in the farmhouse kitchen with Mandy sitting on one side of the table and Ruarc, Ralph and Rita, who was Ruarc’s sister, sitting on the other.

Mandy had met Rita who spent most of her time in the farm shop tending to the steady but small stream of customers that dropped in, mostly collecting eggs laid by the chickens that clucked their contented way around the farmyard outside.

Rita’s face was almost as mean-looking as Ruarc’s. Ferret like, her dark features had something of a gypsy in them. When Mandy had collected eggs to eat from the farm shop, she hadn’t wasted her words. Her reply to Mandy’s enquiry asking the cost of the goods was simply, “Later.” Now Rita just sat there, silently, and, Mandy thought, rather venomously.

Ruarc started the meeting off.

“This meeting has been convened to consider the effing economic situation and the effing poor sales results of this motorhomes sales business recently … Since Mandy has been with us, mainly. So what have you got to say for yourself, gal?”

Mandy looked across at the three, their faces set and wondered whether it was a lynch party. She thought they were reckoning she would walk away from this table without a job and part of her wondered whether that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. As employers, they left almost everything to be desired. Perhaps it was better to be rid of them. Her problem was that at least it was a job, her accommodation came with the job and she didn’t think there was any chance of her finding another job elsewhere.

She decided the best form of defence was attack.

“Firstly, “she said, “I have sold five motor homes in the last three and a half weeks . I would have thought that the profits from those sales would be much greater than my meagre wages however high my bonuses.”

She saw Ruarc, mouth the word ‘bonus’ with contempt. Perhaps he was trying the word out for size. Mandy doubted whether it was a word normally in his vocabulary.

“However, I have two suggestions,” Mandy continued. Then she outlined her idea of improving the motorhome web site so it reflected more accurately new motorhome stock.

Ruarc’s main response was to moan that the motor home Web site didn’t need updating if she never sold anything.

Mandy’s suggestion to rent out motorhomes with a new motor home hire service drew more interest, though, especially from Rita who pointed out there may be cash income opportunities.

The mention of the word ‘cash’ brought knowing nods from Ruarc’s family. It was obvious they liked the word ‘cash’.

Mandy wondered whether there was a hidden safe somewhere at the farm where they stashed their wealth well away from the tax man.

It turned out that Rita was the Webmaster of the family and she agreed to update the Web site if Mandy would take the photographs of the new stock, if and when there was any. Rita also agreed to include motorhome rental details on the web site.

Ruarc, promised that he would include that the motor homes were now available for rent or hire in his newspaper advertising and the meeting was suddenly at an end.

As Mandy walked across the grass back to the motorhome sales office, she watched the rooks cackling and squabbling in the high trees above the farm, not a lot different to human beings, she reflected. The sun seemed to be shining more brightly and, amazingly, she still had a job and somewhere to live.

Perhaps, there was even still the possibility of romance.

She wondered when Tom Hutchinson would ring again.

Motor home hire – Mandy prepares do or die strategy

Published on January 26, 2009 in motor home and motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , .

The next morning Mandy arrived at work feeling in a good mood. Music from the little wind-up radio had cheered her as she woke up in her ancient motor home and the tiny trickle of water from the old motorhome’s shower had even felt a bit warmer and more plentiful than usual.

After crossing the short stretch of grass between the motor home where she slept and the old motor-home that served as the business sales office, she immediately saw a note on her desk from Ruarc, her boss, in his untidy scrawled handwriting.

‘Staff meeting 11 o’clock prompt at the farmhouse with Ralph and my sister. Be there! And you’d better have some ideas about how this motor-home sales business is going to make money – or else!’

Mandy sat down at her motor home sales desk and wondered if this was going to the last day of her employment. Of course, it was completely unfair for them to expect her come up with solutions that they had probably missed for years and, anyway, perhaps there  weren’t any. The UK, like the rest of the world, was a recession and people were not buying motor homes, cars, boats or anything else that cost a lot of money.

Mandy sat down at her desk and leafed through the comments left by the visitors who had taken a look at the motor homes but decided against buying. Perhaps there were aspects of the business prospective customers might have criticised which could be improved – apart from customer care when Mandy wasn’t around, she thought bitterly.

Several visitors had mentioned the lack of an up-to-date Web site. It seemed that they were unable to identify whether there was any new stock. They thought it was a long way for them to drive just to find out the same motor homes were available as at their last visit.

Also a telephone call was not as good as a picture, especially as in one case the poor customer had been told that there was new stock only to arrive and find the new stock, probably entirely fictitious, had just been sold.

Perhaps a new or more up-to-date motor home sales Web site would give Mandy an excuse for ringing around her list of previous visitors and jolt somebody into action.

Mandy looked out through the window of her little office. The window really did need cleaning and the draught caused by the window being partially open all the time to allow the telephone wire through was still a nuisance.

The motor homes stood, solidly and immovably in the weak sunshine. They were a dream of adventure and freedom but they were also very expensive.

To buy a motor-home, the prospective owner had to put down a large amount of money, perhaps from a retirement settlement, or they had to be able to raise credit from a lender and credit was exactly what had stalled with the credit crunch.

It was a pity, Mandy mused, that the motor homes couldn’t be rented out until the economy got better. Motor home hire would help people who wanted a go on holidays and it would help Ruarc’s business because it would provide him with a positive cash flow. He might even be able to keep his suppliers happy by taking on some more motor homes, perhaps even provided on credit from his grateful suppliers.

Armed with these two ideas and wishing that she was armed with a crowbar  to knock some sense into Ruarc and his family, Mandy crossed the grass to the farmhouse where the motor home sales meeting was to be held.

Mandy goes dating and receives more than expected

Published on January 23, 2009 in motor home and motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , .

Tom Hutchinson picked Mandy up outside the motorhome sales office and drove through the night until they reached a quiet country pub.

Before they went into the pub, Tom Hutchinson passed Mandy a package.

“This is for you,” he said, smiling.

“What you mean, for me,” Mandy said in surprise.

“You mentioned the other day you didn’t have a radio. It must be very dreary living in that motorhome with no music. It’s a wind-up radio so even if your electricity gets cut-off you will still be able to listen to the music and keep up with the news.”

Mandy opened the package and gazed at the blue radio inside. Experimentally, she tried winding the handle and watched the green charging light indicate she was charging the battery. She pressed the on switch, tuned and listened for a moment to some classical music.

“It’s beautiful and just what I need. Thank-you,  I really don’t know what else to say. It’s so expected.”

“It can be the start of your new collection of household belongings,” said Tom Hutchinson. “The first of many nice things I hope. Now, let’s eat!”

Inside the pub, it was warm and welcoming. There was a man sitting on a high chair singing songs from the ’60s. The menu was simple but looked inviting. They both chose chicken in a basket and shared a bottle of house white wine.

For Mandy, after days of surviving on omelettes and fruit, even the chips were very tasty indeed and she suddenly found she had a very good appetite.

They talked inconsequentially – about their previous lives, where they went to school, previous relationships but never about the future. For Mandy, the future was completely obscured as if by an impenetrable fog and Tom Hutchinson didn’t appear to want to share with her any of his dreams.

At the end of the evening, they drove back together and arrived at the motorhome sales just before midnight. For a few moments they sat in the campervan feeling uncomfortable.

Then Mandy broken the ice by leaning over, turning Tom Hutchinson’s face to hers and gently kissing him on his lips.

“It’s been a lovely evening and thank-you for the radio,” then she opened the VW campervan door and got out.

Tom Hutchinson waited until she’d got the door to the motorhome open before starting up the VW campervan and driving off with a cheery wave.

Inside the old motorhome, Mandy’s switched on her new radio to a music channel. It really lit up the small motorhome and made it a much better place. Clever Tom!

As she climbed into bed, she thought of Tom Hutchinson and that perhaps life really might get better for her sometime in the near future.

With the radio still on, she fell asleep and for the first time since moving into the old motor home between the trees on the edge of the wood, Mandy heard no screaming that night.

Motor home sales needed to save Mandy’s job

Published on January 22, 2009 in motor home. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , .

The next day the sky was overcast and everything looked slate grey outside. As Mandy gazed across to the motor home sales office, it seemed an oasis of light in an otherwise dark and damp day. The weather perfectly matched the way Mandy felt.

Nothing that Ruarc said, when she got to her office, made her feel any better.

“When you going to get a sale out of that Mr Hutchinson,” said Ruarc, belligerently. He had taken his favourite spot leaning against the wall opposite Mandy’s desk with his arms crossed.

“I don’t think he liked the price you suggested for his VW camper van,” Mandy stated flatly. “It was practically insulting.”

“Insulting was it, “Ruarc’s face suddenly became red and suffused with rage. “I’ll give you insulting.” He leaned forward and glared into Mandy’s face.

“Okay, the price you offer is the price you offer. It’s nothing to do with me. I passed the price on to him and there was nothing else I could do. He obviously didn’t like it. I suggested that a bit could be shaved off  the Adria Twin motor home but it didn’t seem to help, however, and I think he’s coming back again so there is always the chance that he might change his mind.”

“We need to make some more sales, gal,” said Ruarc, grimacing. ” It’s almost the end of the month and, at this rate it’ll be you that’ll be paying me wages for you being here.”

It was more than Mandy could take. She stood up angrily, glaring at Ruarc and stabbing her finger at the air between them.

“How dare you say that. After all the hours I have put in and the sales I’ve made, not to mention the cleaning I’ve done of your dirty old motor homes. In return, all I’ve had from the farm shop is a few provisions so that I could eat and some cleaning materials so that I could make that tatty motor home hygienic you are renting me to sleep in and a few threads of curtain material so that I could have some privacy from peeping-toms. Furthermore, why won’t your sister ever tell me how much I spend when I visit the farm shop. I ask each time and she always gives me some evasion. I want to know how much I’m spending as I go.”

“You are spending more than you can afford,” snarled Ruarc, pushing his face into hers. “And you’d better pull your stockings up, otherwise you’ll be out of a job. There’s a recession on you know and you can’t be choosy. Unless this business is profitable we’ll be shedding staff like the thousands of other businesses that are putting their workers on the dole all over the country. It’s your choice. Stay or go. I don’t care. And if you stay, I want more from you. That’s your last warning!”

Ruarc stormed out of Mandy’s office, crashed down into his executive’s seat and, minutes later, Mandy was not surprised to hear him calling for Gladys. Perhaps she knew how to handle him, thought to Mandy. Without any doubt, whatever Gladys did for Ruarc was certain to be out of Mandy’s league.

Wearily, Mandy started going through the telephone lists she had compiled from the visitors’ book and which she had separated into hopeless and not completely hopeless.

Sighing deeply, she started telephoning the ones that she hoped were not completely out of the question once again.

Unfortunately, her original assessment had been largely correct and not one revisit could be squeezed from the list of telephone numbers. By 6 o’clock in the evening, Mandy’s mood was as dark as the evening outside.

Then the telephone rang and it was Tom Hutchinson. He wanted to know if she would like to go with him to a local pub where there was some live music playing that evening.

Lost for any reason why she shouldn’t, but with strong misgivings, Mandy agreed.

Garage break-in confirms Mandy’s worst fears

Published on January 21, 2009 in motor home and motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , .

Mandy directed Tom Hutchinson to the edge of the housing estate where there were some rented garages and where she had stored her few belongings just prior to her home being repossessed.

As they approached the garage, it was clear that Mandy had been right to fear the worst. The garage doors were open and Mandy didn’t have to go inside to see that the garage was completely empty.

She slumped in her seat, trying not to burst into tears. At least she owed Tom Hutchinson that.

“Did you leave any financial information in the garage,” asked Tom Hutchinson, sympathetically. “Information such as credit card numbers and bank statements could be used to steal your identity.”

“To be honest,” said Mandy, “nobody would want to my identity. I don’t have a bank account because it was closed. I don’t have credit cards because they were taken back. The contents of that garage was essentially the contents of my home, carefully packed. Do you think there is any chance for me to get them back?”

“It might be worth making yourself known to the local police. I know that they had been investigating this case but they couldn’t find the owner of the garage so it was just put on file. I am afraid I don’t think there is much hope unless the belongings were identifiable to you. However, you never can be sure. Miracles sometimes do happen.”

“Not to me,” said Mandy, through clenched teeth.

Then Mandy was gone. Uncontrollably, she doubled over and sobbed into her arms pressed tight against the VW campervan dashboard.

She felt an arm round her shoulders and Tom Hutchinson drew her to him, holding her tightly. It was the hug of a friend not a lover.  It was a hug that sought to comfort and not take advantage. It was a hug that went on for a long time and was very much needed.

Eventually, she her sobs quietened and Tom Hutchinson released her and then drove to the police station where she filed a statement that she was the owner of the belongings in the garage. The police wanted the belongings to be itemised in detail and Mandy promised to send them a list.

“Where to now,” said Tom Hutchinson, when they were again seated together in his VW campervan.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” said Mandy. “Right at the moment, I really can’t see much point in carrying on. Nothing has any point and the whole world, except you, seems to be against me.”

“I am definitely not against you,” said Tom Hutchinson, “In fact, I’d like to go further. I would like to be of help you and I think there is a possibility you might be able to help me.”

“How on earth could I do that? I’ve got nothing to offer. What would you want me to do?”

“I wouldn’t want you to do anything. All I would need  would be for you to keep your eyes open and let me know of any suspicious activities going on where you work.”

“I thought you were a writer not an investigator?”

“You could describe me as an investigative reporter,” said Tom Hutchinson, carefully. “what is even better from your point of you is that I even have a budget for any inside information that leads to a good story. Can I be completely honest with you?”

“It worries me to think you might not have already been completely honest with me. Especially as only a minute ago you were the” only person I could rely on.

“I said I was a writer and I am. I said I enjoyed our time together and I have. Nothing I said to you has been false, except perhaps that I don’t really want to buy a motorhome from your employer and the reason that I said I did was because I wanted an excuse to spend some time around the farm where you work.”

“What exactly is it you suspect? I can’t imagine a worse employer but also I’m not used to doing anything underhand. At least Ruarc gave me a job when I really needed one. “I think I would just be grateful if you would take me home,” Mandy said frostily.

As Tom Hutchinson drove slowly back to Ruarc’s farm. Neither of them spoke and when Mandy got down from the VW campervan, her goodbyes  were very restrained.

Later, Mandy found some eggs in her larder and made an omelette. Then she cried herself to sleep. It seemed that even Tom Hutchinson had an ulterior motive and wanted something from her.

For Mandy, the world had never felt so lonely and in the night she again awoke and heard the screams.

Rented garage break-in worries Mandy

Published on January 20, 2009 in motor home and motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , .

It was Tom Hutchinson on the telephone and he sounded concerned.

“Mandy, do you remember you told me that your belongings were in a rented garage in the town locally.”

“I did,” said Mandy, already her stomach was beginning to churn.

“I was doing some research for the local newspaper and came across a police report. I don’t know if it relates to your garage and your belongings. I hope it doesn’t but you may want to check to make sure every thing’s all right with your things.”

Mandy felt her throat tightening.

“I’m afraid I don’t actually have transport at the moment,” she said, quietly.

“You don’t need to worry about transport,” said Tom Hutchinson. “I’ll come and collect you.”

“You are a treasure,” said Mandy, simply,  “but it will have to be after 6 o’clock in the evening. I can’t see my boss giving me any time off.”

“I’ll collect you at 6 o’clock, then,” said Tom Hutchinson.

Mandy put down the telephone and wondered whether her life was destined to be nothing but a catalogue of disasters. If such a thing existed called Destiny, hadn’t Destiny already had its pound of flesh?

The afternoon seemed to stretch forever. Mandy mentioned to Ruarc that she would have to go promptly at 6 o’clock. He grumbled but didn’t try to stop her. Mandy didn’t tell him why. She didn’t think he would be bothered.

Midway through the afternoon, Mandy took a ten minute break from the motor-home sales office to get some provisions from the farm shop.

As she passed the large warehouse near the farm, she noticed that the doors were open and no longer locked. It seemed that the human cargo the warehouse had contained had moved out.

Mandy wondered what was now the fate of the poor people who had spent the night there. Could it be that they were illegal immigrants in transit?

Mandy thought it was probably better not to get involved. She had enough problems already. She’d never thought Ruarc’s business interests were likely to be spotless and her job was all that was providing her with food and lodging into the foreseeable future.

However, Mandy reflected, those poor people in the warehouse proved that however bad life seem to get for her, there was always somebody else who was worse off.

At least she seemed to have made one reliable friend in Tom Hutchinson who turned up as promised in his VW camper-van at 6 o’clock precisely to take her to her rented garage storage.

Lunch breaks not allowed at motorhome sales office for Mandy

Published on January 19, 2009 in motor home and motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , .

“Where in the blue blazes did you get to over lunchtime,” snarled Ralph, catching Mandy as she returned from helping the young couple who had been interested in an old Pilote motorhome.

“Gladys has gone off with my dad and I’ve been trying to manage a farm and the motorhome sales all at the same time. The sales office was locked so I almost had to refuse a delivery of some goods for the farm. In the end, I had to get in through the window by your desk to get the keys to the farm warehouse.”

Mandy pushed past Ralph then, unable to let his remarks go without comment, turned and gave him a withering stare.

“I was out with a customer demonstrating a motorhome, if you want to know,” said Mandy. “And I was doing it in my lunch break too – so you cannot possibly have anything to complain about. If your father hasn’t provided you with a key to the motorhome sales office, it’s not my fault.”

Mandy was pretty sure that Ralph must have been given the key to the office but assumed he’d probably lost it. She stalked off to the motorhome sales office, let herself in and set about getting cleaning materials out of the cupboard to remove the foot marks Ralph had left on her desk.

Ralph stormed into the office, towering over her threateningly.

“You are getting a lot too big for your boots, madam,” he said. “You’d better learn which side of the bread is buttered or you’ll be really sorry – and I reckon I’m gonna be the one that’ll teach you.”

With that he snarled and pushed Mandy’s desk forward so that she was pinned in her chair against the motorhome wall.

Mandy gasped as the breath was knocked out of her but, angry now, was undeterred.

“Okay, but why take it out on me? Why don’t you complain to Gladys or your dad? Where are they?”

“Yeah, my dad and Gladys are probably comfortable somewhere her husband doesn’t want to know about – fat lot of help they are.”

“All right, if I’m the only one who is here to help you then let me help you instead of shouting at me and assaulting me,” screamed Mandy at the top of her voice.

Her screaming seemed to get through to Ralph because he eased up pressure on Mandy’s desk and let her push it back into its old position.

“Perhaps you could help, after all” he muttered, turning on his heel. “Do you speak any languages?”

“A bit of French, a bit of Italian. I travelled pretty widely with my husband and his job over most of Europe. It gave be a smattering of quite a few languages.”

“You’d better come with me then,” said Ralph.

He took her over to the warehouse and Mandy could hardly believe her eyes. Spread all over the floor on mattresses like flotsam and jetsam were people who looked very much the worse for wear. There was an overpowering smell of body odour and a young woman was crying in the corner.

“Ask that woman why she won’t shut up,” demanded Ralph. “She’s upsetting the rest of them and they need to sleep to be ready for tomorrows crop picking.”

Mandy looked at the woman. She looked East European. As an opening gambit, Mandy tried speaking to her in French.

“Madmoiselle, Pourquoi est-ce que vous pleurez.”

Recognition suddenly flooded into the eyes of the young woman, already flooded with tears. She replied, also in French, although Mandy guessed it wasn’t her first language.

“J’ai besoin de quelques tampons périodiques.”

Mandy turned to Ralph.

“Does that give you a clue, Ralph? Tampons – comprenez – understand!”

“OK, I get it, grumbled Ralph,” mollified and beginning to get red faced. “I’ll get some from the farm shop. You can go back now and look after the sales office until my dad gets back.”

It was well past 6 pm but Mandy didn’t argue. She would have agreed to almost anything to get away from the smell in that warehouse.

As she got close to the sales office, she could hear the telephone ringing. It was Tom Hutchinson.