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.
