Sunday, December 30, 2007

West Wind


“My dad had one of those, back in the seventies.”

Winston looked up, using the distraction as an opportunity to fold the chamois over whatever miniscule dust motes it had picked up from the waxed surface. “One of these?” he said, looking up at the speaker. He took in the long legs and the briefcase and relaxed. Henry Gardner, from three doors down, was no-one to be afraid of.

“Yes, a Ford Zephyr, if I’m not mistaken.” Henry pushed his glasses up his nose. “Mark three?”

“Six.” Winston stood up and gave the wing a last wipe. “I picked it up for fifty quid, spent three hundred on parts and now I’m selling it for three grand.”

“Sweet.” Henry opened his briefcase. “Then you’ll want accidental damage insurance while it sells,” he said. “Neighbourhood like this one, anyone could drop a can of paint stripper on it from a high rise.”

Winston looked up at the clear blue sky. The nearest block of flats was in White City, thirty miles away. His eyes narrowed. “Was that a threat?”

Henry grinned. “Just an observation.”

“Good.” Winston read through the sheet and altered the figures with Henry’s own red pen. “Four grand cover for a fiver premium?” he said. “I’ll take it.”

1 comment:

Zinnia Cyclamen said...

Winston is a cheeky bugger. Wishing you a happy New Year; may 2008 be your Year Of Successful Publication - and this wish can be backdated to the end of October if that's more appropriate for you!