The Collected Short Stories - Jeffrey Archer [103]
“What sort of carpet were you looking for?” asked the dealer.
“I fear your prices are way beyond us,” said Christopher politely. “But thank you.”
“Well, let me at least find out. Have you or your wife seen a carpet you liked?”
“Yes,” replied Margaret, “the small carpet, but …”
“Ah, yes,” said the dealer. “I remember madam’s eyes when she saw the Hereke.”
He left them, to return a few moments later with the little soft-toned, green-based carpet with the tiny red squares that the Kendall-Humes had so firmly rejected. Not waiting for assistance he rolled it out himself for the Robertses to inspect more carefully.
Margaret thought it looked even more magnificent the second time, and feared that she could never hope to find its equal in the few hours left to them.
“Perfect,” she admitted, quite unashamedly.
“Then we have only the price to discuss,” said the dealer kindly. “How much were you wanting to spend, madam?”
“We had planned to spend three hundred pounds,” said Christopher, jumping in. Margaret was unable to hide her surprise.
“But we agreed—” she began.
“Thank you, my dear, I think I should deal with this matter.”
The dealer smiled and returned to the bargaining.
“I would have to charge you six hundred pounds,” he said. “Anything less would be robbery.”
“Four hundred pounds is my final offer,” said Christopher, trying to sound in control.
“Five hundred pounds would have to be my bottom price,” said the dealer.
“I’ll take it!” cried Christopher.
An assistant began waving his arms and talking to the dealer noisily in his native tongue. The owner raised a hand to dismiss the young man’s protests, while the Robertses looked on anxiously.
“My son,” explained the dealer, “is not happy with the arrangement, but I am delighted that the little carpet will reside in the home of a couple who will so obviously appreciate its true worth.”
“Thank you,” said Christopher quietly.
“Will you also require a bill of a different price?”
“No, thank you,” said Christopher, handing over ten fifty-pound notes and then waiting until the carpet was wrapped and he was presented with the correct receipt.
As he watched the Robertses leave his shop clinging on to their purchase, the dealer smiled to himself.
When they arrived at the quayside, the Kendall-Humes’ boat was already halfway across the bay heading toward the quiet beach. The Robertses sighed their combined relief and returned to the bazaar for lunch.
It was while they were waiting for their baggage to appear on the carousel at Heathrow that Christopher felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned round to face a beaming Ray Kendall-Hume.
“I wonder if you could do me a favor, old boy?”
“I will if I can,” said Christopher, who still had not fully recovered from their last encounter.
“It’s simple enough,” said Kendall-Hume. “The old girl and I have brought back far too many presents, and I wondered if you could take one of them through customs. Otherwise we’re likely to be held up all night.”
Melody, standing behind an already loaded luggage cart, smiled at the two men benignly.
“You would still have to pay any duty that was due on it,” said Christopher firmly.
“I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise,” said Kendall-Hume, struggling with a massive package before pushing it on the Robertses’ trolley. Christopher wanted to protest as Kendall-Hume peeled off two thousand pounds and handed the money and the receipt ever to the schoolteacher.
“What do we do if they claim your carpet is worth a lot more than ten thousand pounds?” asked Margaret anxiously, coming to stand by her husband’s side.
“Pay the difference and I’ll refund you immediately. But I assure you it’s most unlikely to arise.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” said Kendall-Hume. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this sort of thing before. And I won’t forget your help when it comes to the next school appeal,” he added,