didn’t intend to talk anymore, and sick with himself, he increased the speed of the car.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled up outside the Caravan Mart.
The Quality Car and Caravan Centre was situated on the main highway, half a mile from the centre of Marlow. It consisted of a waste lot full of second-hand cars and a number of caravans and a neat wooden hut, painted white and green, that served as an office.
Kitson had scarcely brought the Buick to a standstill before a young man came hurriedly out of the wooden hut. He was the type that Kitson loathed more than most. He was handsome, bronzed and fair with a deep crimp in his hair. He wore a white tropical suit, a cream-coloured shirt and a flame-red tie. On his thin, bronze wrist was a gold expanding bracelet that held a gold Omega watch in position.
He came down the drive towards them like an ambitious bee who sees an exotic flower that must be milked for honey. Moving fast, he went around to the off-side door of the Buick and opened it to let Ginny out. He gave her a wide, friendly smile that made Kitson itch to hit him.
‘Welcome to Caravan Centre,’ the man said as he helped Ginny alight. ‘How wise of you to come to us! You’re looking for a caravan, aren’t you? You couldn’t have come to better people!’
Kitson who had got out of the car grunted. This buzzing, handsome wasp of a man badly bothered him.
‘Let me introduce myself,’ the man went on, moving quickly around the Buick and grasping Kitson’s flaccid hand and shaking it.
‘You’re right,’ Ginny said, suddenly very young and gay. ‘We are looking for a caravan, aren’t we, Alex?’
‘The best place,’ the man said, beaming. ‘I’m Harry Carter. This is an important moment for you, but I assure you, you can relax. We have never sold a thing to anyone unless we are sure they are satisfied. We have all kinds of caravans. Just what had you in mind?’
Freeing his hand, Kitson growled, ‘Something cheap.’
‘We have them at all prices,’ Carter said, his eyes on Ginny’s long, slim legs. ‘Suppose we walk around? You can then see what we have to offer, and I can tell you the price of anything that catches your eye.’
They followed him down the path made between the weeds to where the caravans were drawn up in two long lines. It took some time to find the one Kitson was looking for. It had to be at least sixteen feet long and not elaborately equipped. He found it in the middle of the second row and he paused to examine it.
It was a white trailer caravan with a blue roof with two side windows and two windows at the rear and in the front.
‘This might do,’ he said, looking at Ginny, who gave him a quick nod. ‘What are the exact measurements?’
‘This one?’ Carter seemed surprised. ‘I don’t think you’d be comfortable in this one.’ He looked at Kitson. ‘I didn’t get your name.’
‘Harrison,’ Kitson said. ‘What are the measurements?’
‘Sixteen and a half by nine. Frankly, Mr. Harrison, the trouble with this one is it’s been designed for a hunting trip and it’s pretty rugged. There are no conveniences. Not the kind of thing your wife would like to live in,’ Carter said, his eyes again straying to Ginny’s legs. ‘But if you like the layout I have another that’s fully equipped. Let me show it to you.’
Kitson didn’t move. He eyed the blue and white caravan, looking at the wheels, noting their strength, and the automatic brakes which he had been told by Gypo were important.
‘My husband is clever with his hands,’ Ginny said. ‘We plan to make the caravan we buy comfortable ourselves. Could we see inside this one?’
‘Why, sure. See this one, and then take a look at the other. You’ll see what I mean then. This one is really just a shell.’
He opened the door and Ginny and Kitson peered inside.
Kitson saw at once this was the one they were looking for.
The fitments were flimsy and could easily be removed. The floor looked
Twenty minutes later, he pulled up outside the Caravan Mart.
The Quality Car and Caravan Centre was situated on the main highway, half a mile from the centre of Marlow. It consisted of a waste lot full of second-hand cars and a number of caravans and a neat wooden hut, painted white and green, that served as an office.
Kitson had scarcely brought the Buick to a standstill before a young man came hurriedly out of the wooden hut. He was the type that Kitson loathed more than most. He was handsome, bronzed and fair with a deep crimp in his hair. He wore a white tropical suit, a cream-coloured shirt and a flame-red tie. On his thin, bronze wrist was a gold expanding bracelet that held a gold Omega watch in position.
He came down the drive towards them like an ambitious bee who sees an exotic flower that must be milked for honey. Moving fast, he went around to the off-side door of the Buick and opened it to let Ginny out. He gave her a wide, friendly smile that made Kitson itch to hit him.
‘Welcome to Caravan Centre,’ the man said as he helped Ginny alight. ‘How wise of you to come to us! You’re looking for a caravan, aren’t you? You couldn’t have come to better people!’
Kitson who had got out of the car grunted. This buzzing, handsome wasp of a man badly bothered him.
‘Let me introduce myself,’ the man went on, moving quickly around the Buick and grasping Kitson’s flaccid hand and shaking it.
‘You’re right,’ Ginny said, suddenly very young and gay. ‘We are looking for a caravan, aren’t we, Alex?’
‘The best place,’ the man said, beaming. ‘I’m Harry Carter. This is an important moment for you, but I assure you, you can relax. We have never sold a thing to anyone unless we are sure they are satisfied. We have all kinds of caravans. Just what had you in mind?’
Freeing his hand, Kitson growled, ‘Something cheap.’
‘We have them at all prices,’ Carter said, his eyes on Ginny’s long, slim legs. ‘Suppose we walk around? You can then see what we have to offer, and I can tell you the price of anything that catches your eye.’
They followed him down the path made between the weeds to where the caravans were drawn up in two long lines. It took some time to find the one Kitson was looking for. It had to be at least sixteen feet long and not elaborately equipped. He found it in the middle of the second row and he paused to examine it.
It was a white trailer caravan with a blue roof with two side windows and two windows at the rear and in the front.
‘This might do,’ he said, looking at Ginny, who gave him a quick nod. ‘What are the exact measurements?’
‘This one?’ Carter seemed surprised. ‘I don’t think you’d be comfortable in this one.’ He looked at Kitson. ‘I didn’t get your name.’
‘Harrison,’ Kitson said. ‘What are the measurements?’
‘Sixteen and a half by nine. Frankly, Mr. Harrison, the trouble with this one is it’s been designed for a hunting trip and it’s pretty rugged. There are no conveniences. Not the kind of thing your wife would like to live in,’ Carter said, his eyes again straying to Ginny’s legs. ‘But if you like the layout I have another that’s fully equipped. Let me show it to you.’
Kitson didn’t move. He eyed the blue and white caravan, looking at the wheels, noting their strength, and the automatic brakes which he had been told by Gypo were important.
‘My husband is clever with his hands,’ Ginny said. ‘We plan to make the caravan we buy comfortable ourselves. Could we see inside this one?’
‘Why, sure. See this one, and then take a look at the other. You’ll see what I mean then. This one is really just a shell.’
He opened the door and Ginny and Kitson peered inside.
Kitson saw at once this was the one they were looking for.
The fitments were flimsy and could easily be removed. The floor looked
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