Tag Archive for 'motorhome sales'

Motor home hire and rental prize-giving day arrives with Mandy’s fingers firmly crossed

Published on February 12, 2009 in motor home and motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , .

If Mandy had been religious, she would have prayed for good weather but, in the event, the weather on Ruarc’s motor home hire and rental prize-giving day was about as good as it possibly could have been for late November in the South of England.

As Mandy walked over to the motorhome sales office, she mentally ran through all the things that needed to be checked relating to the motor home prize-giving day. The sun was peeping from behind the tall trees and the rooks were cackling and swooping above.

By 11 o’clock when the gates opened, sunshine was pouring down and Ruarc’s motorhome sales was beginning to look almost festive. In the centre of the circle of motor homes had been placed a marquee where visitors could congregate and talk about their experiences and dreams of motorhoming. Outside the marquee there was a raised stage where the prize-giving would take place.

By midday Ruarc’s motorhome sales was humming with people chattering, laughing and enjoying the day. Even Ruarc lent a hand talking to the customers and Mandy saw him leading off a pair of sisters who were interested in a motorhome rental for a holiday in Italy she heard them planning.

Gladys was enjoying seeing all the people she’d been talking to for weeks on the telephone and was even exchanging kisses with some of them. It was almost as if Ruarc’s motorhome sales had suddenly grown an extended family. However, Mandy knew that each new member of the family was a prospective customer and the good relationships that were being developed that day would be needed to see the motorhome sales business through the next months and possibly years.

2 o’clock came, all too quickly, and the stage was set to announce the winners of the free motorhome holiday. This was a moment they had been working towards for weeks. Mandy’s fingers were firmly crossed that it would go well. How would all the people who had hoped to win a two weeks’ holiday feel when they found it had gone to somebody else? Perhaps there would be a riot. Perhaps they would no longer feel so friendly.

Ruarc, took to the stage and spoke into the microphone, in his rich Irish brogue, instantly charming many.

“Hello, hello. 1 2 3 … Can you hear me?”

The gathered crowd roared “Yes!” Many still had wine glasses in their hands and a contented glow in their cheeks.

“I have to make an announcement before I pass you over to the distinguished counsellor who has not only worked so hard judging your excellent entries but has also agreed to make the presentation of the prize.”

An announcement? Fear clutched at Mandy’s heart. She had no knowledge of any announcement. Ruarc was just supposed to welcome the guests and hand over to the local councillor. What on earth was he playing at?

“I, as proprietor of this humble motorhome sales business have been so impressed by the quality of the entries for this competition that I have decided to offer not one but three free holiday prizes and a few minutes ago, I asked our distinguished judge to select two more winners from the list of entrants.”

Loud applause greeted this announcement and someone even started off three cheers. Relief flooded through Mandy.

“I will now pass you over to our distinguished friend from the Council,” said Ruarc. He winked at Mandy, as he came off the stage. The wink said that he was still in charge and would  run the show as he wished. He was obviously enjoying her discomfort and his little surprise. Mandy suddenly felt she had been warned.

The councillor stepped onto the stage. He was a short round, balding friendly looking man. Mandy could see how many people would feel at ease voting for him. His best quality was that he was inoffensive.

“I must first thank Ruarc’s motorhome sales for the opportunity of coming here and presenting these prizes. Of course it was a very difficult task to choose the winning entries from so many. However, generously expanding the winners from one to three certainly made the choice a little bit easier.”

The names of the winners were called out and they all trooped onto the stage to collect their certificates detailing their prize except one of the winners who was disabled. Instead, his carer collected his certificate and took it down to where he sat in his wheelchair, looking pleased.

There was a lot of clapping and even some cheers. Then it was all over and people started drifting away.

“I hardly dare to ask,” said Mandy quietly to Gladys. “How many sales?”

“Two,” said Gladys.

“Oh!” said Mandy, disappointment washing over her.

“Zero,” said Gladys, with a triumphant smile on her face.

“Twenty! screamed Mandy with excitement. That’s fantastic. Now we really do have something to celebrate.

Katerina joined in the group hug and they were still jumping up and down with happiness when the first caravan appeared bearing Ruarc’s family.

Within minutes, one caravan had turned into a steady stream.

Mandy discovers motorhome competition celebration arrangements might have hidden problems

Published on February 9, 2009 in motor home and motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , .

It was a hot lazy afternoon the next day and Mandy decided to look through the guest list for the motorhome competition celebrations  that were taking place on Saturday now only 48 hours away.

She was pleased to see that many of the motor home competition entrants were bringing families and friends to swell the numbers and a few Council representatives and officials were also going to be present.

“Typical Council officials, always keen on a free lunch,” moaned Ruarc, focussing only on the cost.

“We need them on our side,” chided Mandy, gently. “They may get a free lunch but, afterwards,they are less likely to stand in the way of any plans we have. Plus we might be able to get some advice from them on what we can or can’t do to develop the motorhome business and remember they are not charging us for their advice on this occasion.”

Ruarc nodded grudging agreement, he liked the idea of getting assistance for free.

Mandy looked down the list that Gladys had prepared and saw an entry she didn’t fully understand.

‘Ruarc’s family’, it said.

“What’s this entry described as ‘Ruarc’s family’”, she asked.

Ruarc was non-committal.

“A few of the family are coming over from Ireland.” He grinned wolfishly. “They like a free lunch too!”

“How many of them will there be?” said Mandy.

“You’ll have to talk to Rita about that. She’s the one whose been doing all the telephone calls.”

“All the telephone calls? Have you a big family in Ireland?” pressed Mandy. She didn’t really want to have to talk to Rita.

“For sure, our family is big – but they won’t necessarily all come over at the same time. You’ll have to talk to Rita, she is the one who does family stuff.”

On a day that Mandy saw as being critical to the future of Ruarc’s motorhome sales and its survival through the recession, the thought of possibly hundreds of surly Ralphs, Ruarcs and Ritas with their general lack of social communication skills mingling with prospective customers and business contacts suddenly filled Mandy with dread.

Mandy had hardly spoken to Rita for weeks. Her surly attitude and open contempt for what she regarded as hired and unnecessary help made it an event Mandy didn’t look forward to. Ruarc recently had largely accepted Mandy as a driving force for the business but Rita was a different matter and, ultimately, she had a lot of influence over Ruarc.

Filled with trepidation, Mandy resolved to see Rita later that day.

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.

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.

Under the awning of an Adria Twin motorhome

Published on January 15, 2009 in motor home and motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , .

Tom Hutchinson gazed at Mandy over his wine glass as they sat comfortably under the awning of the Adria Twin motorhome.

“It’s the old story, I suppose. I was too busy working hard to notice that I wasn’t spending enough time with my wife and when I got back from a major project, she was spending all her time with my neighbour and had no inclination to come back and spend time with me. It happens a lot in my line of work.”

“I would have thought that a writer would be working at home a lot and therefore would find it easy to spend time with his wife,” said Mandy, puzzled.

Tom Hutchinson hesitated, momentarily. “I do a lot of travel writing,” he explained, Mandy thought lamely.

Something didn’t ring true but Tom Hutchinson was the customer and she was the one needing a sale so she didn’t think it appropriate to press him.

It was enough to check the flow of conversation and, for a while, they ate and gazed over the rolling fields towards the sea, each in their own thoughts.

Tom Hutchinson was the first to break their silence.

“Marriage sucks,” he said.

“I’ll drink to that,” said Mandy.

They clinked glasses. The bond seemed to have been forged again between them.

“What about your boss’s farm. Do you think he makes a lot of money farming.

Mandy decided, suddenly, that Tom Hutchinson had asked too many questions about Ruarc’s business.

“I think there are two different kinds of businessmen in the world,” she said, cautiously. Whatever the economic climate, there are the sort of businessmen that succeed and there are the sort of businessmen that don’t. My boss is obviously very successful in his own way with his motorhome business and I’m sure that he applies the same business skills to his management of the farm. ”

It was a careful political answer. Both of them understood why – nothing more needed to be said. It was clear that Mandy had no intention of discussing her employer’s business any more.

They chatted inconsequential for a further five minutes and then, at Mandy’s suggestion, packed up and drove back to the Ruarc’s motorhome sales office.

Ruarc had gone out but there was a folded note under the windscreen wiper of Tom’s campervan.

Tom meets Mandy to try out an Adria Twin motorhome with the fixed double bed

Published on January 14, 2009 in motor home and motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , .

Tom Hutchinson arrived on time with a cold box and Mandy and he were soon bowling down the road in the Adria Twin motorhome with the fixed double bed.

Tom Hutchinson drove and Mandy sat in the passenger seat keeping quiet while he got used to the controls.

They climbed up the hill along quiet country lanes until they reached a viewpoint with the countryside spreading all around them. In the distance there was an estuary and behind them they could just see in the distance Ruarc’s motorhome sales and  farm.

Tom Hutchinson pulled into the parking area and switched off the engine.

“It runs very nicely,” he said. “A bit different from my rattly old VW campervan.”

Mandy smiled sideways at Tom Hutchinson. She was feeling very mellow.

“If you move the Adria Twin motor home over there onto the grass, we can pull out the motorhome awning and I’ve got a table and two chairs I put on the back earlier so we can eat in comfort… and I brought an apple.”

Tom Hutchinson started the engine again and pulled over to the grass as directed. Mandy felt relieved that the awning wasn’t difficult to open and retrieved the table and two chairs from the back of the motor home.

Tom opened up his cold box. Mandy observed that he had far more than he needed for himself and even a bottle of white wine at the bottom keeping cold.

“You are going to have to help me eat this,” Tom Hutchinson said.

“It looks an absolute feast,” said Mandy. “What on earth are those?”

“Caviar vol-au-vent!” Tom Hutchinson gave his easy smile.

“Don’t you think that caviar is a bit expensive for a working lunch? You must be a very well paid writer!”

“I get by. Unfortunately, my income is only ever as good as my next work. That’s the way it goes in my occupation. It’s a winner takes all market. I’ve been a winner a few times but that gives no guarantees for the future. How about you? Have you always sold motor homes? ”

“Certainly not. I did a degree in music but it’s a very difficult way to make a living – probably like writing – so I turned my hand to office work for a while. Then I got married and my career seemed less important as I followed my husband around Europe with his job in Finance. When we split up, after five years, I didn’t know what to do with myself so I started a ladies boutique but it never worked and I lost a lot of money.”

Tom Hutchinson passed Mandy the dish containing the caviar vol-au-vent and a glass of white wine with a smile of sympathy and pointed towards the motorhome sales business in the distance.

“Your Ruarc seems to be making money, even in the recession, how does he do it?”

“He tells me that he provides customers with what they want,” said Mandy. “He keeps quite a big stock and relies on turnover to make it worthwhile which benefits the customers through low prices so they keep coming back.” It was the official line and, even if Tom Hutchinson’s eyes were gorgeously brown, it wasn’t the time to change it. How about you? Are you successfully married as well as being a caviar and white wine writer?

Motor home advertisements keep Mandy busy

Published on January 13, 2009 in motor home, motorhome, online novel and serial novel. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , .

As it turned out, Mandy wasn’t able to ring Tom Hutchinson the next day. Ruarc had put motor home advertisements in the local newspaper which brought in a number of people to look at the motor homes and Mandy was kept very busy showing prospective customers around.

Of course, Ruarc didn’t miss the opportunity to moan that she had not made a sale to Tom Hutchinson there and then.

“Strike while the iron is hot,” he said, after calling her into his office, and he clapped his hands together for emphasis.

“Strike fast, like a snake, so they don’t know where you coming from. It’s the only way to make a sale. There’s no point in shilly shallying around. Your wages have got to come from somewhere at the end of the month.”

Of course, he was completely ignoring the fact that Mandy had just made a good sale of a rather old and decrepit motorhome that had been hanging around Ruarc’s neck like a millstone for months.

In the end, it was Tom Hutchinson that telephoned a week later early in the morning.

“Tom Hutchinson here,” he said.

“Good morning Tom, how you?” Mandy didn’t have to make an effort to make her voice friendly.

“Thinking of you – and the good deal you might be able too offer me on my VW campervan.”

Mandy felt a thrill going through her body and paused, lost for words. Tom had been thinking of her. It sounded good – but she told herself not to be foolish. He was a customer.

“I’ve only got the lunchtime today,” he continued, “but I could come around somewhere between twelve and 2 o’clock. I’d quite like to try the Adria Twin motorhome on the road. Perhaps we could take it for a drive while your Ruarc is looking at my camper van. We could stop off somewhere for a bite of lunch. ”

“I’m afraid that the arrangements here don’t exactly run to an expense account to pay for customers lunches,” Mandy grimaced down the telephone, feeling inadequate.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be my pleasure. Shall we say twelve midday?”

Mandy put the telephone down and looked into the distance at the green countryside that lay around Ruarc’s motorhome sales. She noticed for the first time that the lambs were skipping in the fields and needed a few moments while her heart slowed down to its normal rate.

Then she walked through to Ruarc’s office and checked he’d be available at lunchtime to price up the VW camper-van.

“His wreck is not worth much, so don’t get your hopes up,” said Ruarc, uncompromisingly.

Mandy starts motorhome telephone sales

Published on January 9, 2009 in motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , .

When Mandy arrived at Ruarc’s motorhome sales office the next day and sat down at her desk, she felt a cold draft blowing on her shoulder.

The reason was easy to spot. The motorhome office window was open and a wire had been passed through which now meant that the motorhome window would be permanently open thus causing a draft.

The purpose for the wire was obvious. A rather antiquated telephone now rested on Mandy’s desk and there was a note besides the telephone saying:

“It’s time to get the sales going, gal! Get phoning.”

A scruffy visitors log lay besides the note. A brief inspection showed, in extremely scrawled handwriting, details of potential customers who had visited Ruarcs motor home sales office, left their telephone number and sometimes their address, but had somehow managed to escape with their money intact and without buying a motorhome.

“Have you seen the note?” roared Ruarc from the other end of the motorhome.

“I could hardly miss it given the draught through the window that the wire is causing,” snorted Mandy.

“I’ll get it fixed properly, when you get the sales up – as a bonus. The whole country’s panicking because of this recession and I’ve got more motorhomes coming in to put up for sale soon. You’re my great white hope! Get going gal! I’ll make it worth your while. Anyway, the fresh air will keep you awake! Think positively.”

Wearily, Mandy opened the visitors book at the first page and started telephoning.

As the morning wore on, there were no drop-in visitors to the Ruarcs (wrecks) motorhome sales, as Mandy was privately beginning to call his business. So Mandy was able to concentrate of her telephoning. It seemed that Ruarc was not the only one to hear the doom and gloom on the radio.

The feedback that Mandy received as she telephoned around previous visitors was that they had come away with an impression of really bad customer service. The general comment was that they thought the motor homes were OK but could rarely get anybody to answer to their questions or even open a motorhome for closer inspection. Few showed any interest in coming back, partly because of the transport cost of getting to such a rural location and partly because the unprofessional ambiance of the business had completely put them off.

Mandy put the telephone down once again after yet another unsuccessful sales pitch. Ruarc was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets watching her moodily.

“I’m getting a lot of negative feedback from previous visitors to your motor home sales, Ruarc,” she said.

Ruarc’s response was graphic and included references to the customer’s parentage that didn’t bear repeating. He then slouched off back to his office, hands deep in pockets, shoulders slumped.

After a while, he called his secretary, Gladys, into his office, presumably to cheer him up. Since she appeared to have done nothing so far that day except file her nails and check her bouffant blonde hair. At least he was at last giving Gladys a reason for being there, thought Mandy, bitterly.

After another ten calls, Mandy came across a man who currently had a VW campervan and wanted to buy something bigger. Like the others, he’d been unable to find anybody to talk to him when he’d previously visited but was prepared to try again, especially as Mandy promised to look after him personally.

There was something about his voice that Mandy liked. He came over warm and friendly. It had been a while since Mandy had spoken to anybody who was warm and friendly. She found herself looking forward to his visit at two o’clock in the afternoon and, surprised, even wondered if she’d been a bit flirtatious. Perhaps that was what it took to get people to come back to Ruarcs wrecks, she thought.

Mandy’s new motorhome sales job – first day

Published on January 6, 2009 in motorhome. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , .

The next day Mandy trudged resolutely across the grass towards the motorhome sales area. She’d worn sensible brown shoes and brown trousers reckoning that Ruarc probably wouldn’t approve but hoping they were functional for getting in and out of motor homes throughout the day in her new sales job.

Not that Mandy had much of an idea about how to sell motorhomes but it was a plan and any sort of plan at the moment seemed a good one.

The motorhomes were in a circle in the middle of a tarmac area which looked as if it was the remnants of an old World War II airfield.

Ruarc’s motorhome office rusted wearily a few steps away from the circle of motorhomes for sale. Mandy had heard locals in the village say:

“I dunno how he keeps that place going.”

Mandy, keen to sell the beautiful but expensive, dresses and accessories in which her boutique specialised in the small country village had listened to them as if they imparted pearls of wisdom.

Unfortunately, the local women came, talked but preferred to off to the department stores in the nearby town. Mandy’s overdraft with her bank continued to grow and, one fateful day, the letter from the bank came to say that her overdraft arrangement was at an end.

With her home guaranteeing the loan, and with houses not selling because of the 2008 Credit Crunch, Mandy had known but had been unable to forestall how it would all end.

Ruarc’s business, on the other hand, scruffily stumbled ever onwards.

Customers came in small numbers each day and most of them didn’t look as if they could afford even the second-hand motorhomes that Ruarc sold.

Nevertheless, motorhomes left in a steady stream from Ruarc’s secondhand motorhome sales. Their new owners proudly staring through the large windscreens hoping they were wouldn’t hit anything before they got home. Replacement used motor homes arrived with equal regularity to supplement those occasionally left by the customers in part exchange.

Mandy joined Ruarc who was standing at the saloon end of his office motorhome next to his desk.

By way of ‘hello’, Ruarc pointed to a grey / blue motorhome that appeared newly arrived and was standing outside some old cattle sheds on the other side of the field besides the farmhouse that Mandy guessed was his home.

“My son does them up,” Ruarc said, proudly, pointing towards the newly arrived motorhome.

“You’ve gotta allow 1,000 quid off the second-hand price of their motorhome for the work we have to do to get them ready for sale.”

“You usually have to do a lot of work, then,” queried Mandy.

“No way! We do the minimum. Ralph sprays the engine to get rid of any oil leaks and your job is to mop and scrub the inside of the motorhome with a strong detergent that gives them a nice clean smell so it’s seems as good as new – then it’s ready.”

“What happens if they break down after they’ve been sold. Do you give a guarantee?” Mandy said, hopefully.

Ruarc’s face puckered into a snarl.

“What do you think this place is, a charity?”

He aggressively poked his finger at Mandy breast bone. She backed away but Ruarc followed her until her thighs were pressed against a low filing cabinet. The filing cabinet slipped across the lino floor almost as fast as Mandy was trying to escape from Ruarc, obviously it was empty of documents. Probably Ruarc, didn’t believe in documents. His business wasn’t a charity.

“What do I say if they come back with a problem with the vehicle, though?” Mandy quavered.

“Tell them anything. Tell them I’ll talk to them later in the week. They won’t usually come back. It’s one of the advantages of being in the middle of nowhere. It costs them money every time the come here and they have to make quick decisions once they are here otherwise they’ve got to come again, which costs them more money. So they don’t come back unless they absolutely have to. Tell them anything you like but don’t write it down.”

Ruarc sleeked his shiny black hair towards the back of his head, suddenly looking shifty.

“Of course, that doesn’t apply to our special customers. I’ll tell you which those are and you’ve got to give them proper job treatment. They’re the ones that matter!”

“What you mean ’special customers’? Mandy didn’t at all like the the sound of these special customers.

“Never you mind, you’ll get used to it. That’s if you want the job?”

“You know I need the job!”

“Then stop worrying and get on with it, look there are some customers over there – your first sale!”

Ruarc, pointed at some youngster who were climbing into a small motorhome with a big luton. He threaded his way to the other end of his office and slumped heavily into his executive chair and placed his feet on the desk. Clearly, everything Mandy did as she showed the customers the motor homes would be observed. Obviously, he liked knowing what his employees were getting up to. Mandy had no doubt that if he didn’t like anything at all, he would make his anger very clear.

Gingerly, Mandy climbed down the rusty motorhome office steps and went to greet her first customers. Gladys was just arriving, half an hour late and, judging by the curses Ruarc hurled at her as she settled down into her typists chair to file her nails, Ruarc wasn’t pleased.

As she walked towards the young student couple, Mandy tried to remember she mustn’t reach up for anything or the customers would see the damp patches under her armpits. Her motorhome was currently without water and Ruarc’s belligerent attitude had produced a nervous reaction that easily overcome the anti-perspirant she’d hastily applied that morning.

Hunger gnawed at her stomach. She’d had two apples since yesterday. One for dinner in the dark – no electricity either – and one for breakfast.

Mandy forced herself to smile a welcome to her first customers.

“Good morning! How can I help you?”