A Twist in the Tale (14 page)

“I don’t know
how you could stand the noise and smell of that bazaar,” said Melody, obviously
glad to be back among the familiar signs of Gucci, Lacoste and Saint Laurent.

“We rather like
. . .”

“Rescued in the
nick of time,” said Ray Kendall Hume. “And the place I’m told you have to start
and finish at if you want to purchase a serious carpet is Osman’s.”

Margaret
recalled the name from her carpet book: “Only to be visited if money is no
object and you know exactly what you are looking for.” The vital last morning
was to be wasted, she reflected as she pushed open the large glass doors of
Osman’s to enter a ground-floor area the size of a tennis court.

The room was
covered in carpets on the floor, the walls, the windowsills, and even the
tables. Anywhere a carpet could be laid out, a carpet was there to be seen.
Although the Roberts
realised
immediately that
nothing on show could possibly be in their price range, the sheer beauty of the
display entranced them.

Margaret walked
slowly round the room, mentally measuring the small carpets so she could
anticipate the sort of thing they might look for once they had escaped.

A tall, elegant
man, hands raised as if in prayer and dressed immaculately in a tailored
worsted suit that could have been made in
Savile
Row,
advanced to greet them.

“Good morning,
sir,” he said to
Mr
Kendall Hume, selecting the
serious spender without difficulty. “Can I be of assistance?”

“You certainly
can,” replied Kendall-Hume.

“I want to be
shown your finest carpets, but I do not intend to pay your finest prices.”

The dealer
smiled politely and clapped his hands. Six small carpets were brought in by
three assistants who rolled them out in the
centre
of
the room. Margaret fell in love with a muted green- based carpet with a pattern
of tiny red squares woven around the
bor-ders
. The
pattern was so intricate she could not take her eyes off it. She measured the
carpet out of interest: seven by three exactly.

“You have
excellent taste, madam,” said the dealer. Margaret,
colouring
slightly, quickly stood up, took a pace backwards and hid the tape measure
behind her back.

“How do you
feel about that lot, pet?” asked Kendall-Hume, sweeping a hand across the six
carpets.

“None of them
are big enough,” Melody replied, giving them only a fleeting glance.

The dealer
clapped his hands a second time and the exhibits were rolled up and taken away.
Four larger ones soon replaced them.

“Would you care
for some coffee?” the dealer asked
Mr
Kendall-Hume as
the new carpets lay unfurled at their feet.

“Haven’t the
time,” said Kendall-Hume shortly. “Here to buy a carpet. If I want a coffee, I
can always go to a coffee shop,” he said with a chuckle. Melody smiled her
complicity.

“Well, I would
like some coffee,” declared Margaret, determined to rebel at some point on the
holiday.

“Delighted,
madam,” said the dealer, and one of the assistants disappeared to carry out her
wishes while the Kendall-
Humes
studied the new
carpets. . _

The coffee
arrived a few moments later. She thanked the young assistant and began to sip
the thick black liquid slowly. Delicious, she thought, and smiled her
acknowledgment to the dealer.

“Still not
large enough,”
Mrs
Kendall-Hume insisted. The dealer
gave a slight sigh and clapped his hands yet again. Once more the assistants
began to roll up the rejected goods. He then addressed one of his
staffin
Turkish. The assistant looked doubtfully at his
mentor but the dealer gave a firm nod and waved him away. The assistant
returned a little later with a small platoon of lesser assistants carrying two
carpets, both of which when unfolded took up most of the shop floor. Margaret
liked them even less than the ones she had just been shown, but as her opinion
was not sought she did not offer it.

“That’s more
like it,” said Ray Kendall-Hume. “Just about the right size for the lounge,
wouldn’t you say, Melody?”

“Perfect,” his
wife replied, making no attempt to measure either of the carpets.

“I’m glad we
agree,” said Ray Kendall-Hume.
“But which one, my pet?
The faded red and blue, or the bright yellow and orange?”

“The yellow and
orange one,” said Melody without hesitation. “I like the pattern of brightly
coloured
birds running round the outside.” Christopher
thought he saw the dealer wince.

“So now all we
have left to do is agree on a price,” said Kendall-Hume. “You’d better sit
down, pet, as this may take a while.”

“I hope not,”
said
Mrs
Kendall-Hume, res-
olutely
standing. The Roberts remained mute.

“Unfortunately,
sir,” began the dealer, “your wife has selected one of the finest carpets in
our collection and so I fear there can be little room for any re-adjustment.”

“How much?”
said Kendall-Hume.

“You see, sir,
this carpet was woven in
Demirdji
, in the province of
Izmir, by over a hundred seam- stresses and it took them more than a year to
complete.”

“Don’t give me
that baloney,” said
Kend-allHume
, winking at
Christopher. “Just tell me how much I’m expected to pay.”

“I feel it my
duty to point out, sir, that this carpet shouldn’t be here at all,” said the
Turk plaintively. “It was originally made for an Arab prince who failed to
complete the transaction when the price of oil collapsed.”

“But he must
have agreed on a price at the time?”

“I cannot
reveal the exact figure, sir. It embarrasses me to mention it.”

“It wouldn’t
embarrass me,” said Kendall-Hume. “Come on, what’s the price?” he insisted.

“Which currency
would you prefer to trade in?” the Turk asked.

“Pounds.”

The dealer
removed a slim calculator from his jacket pocket, programmed some numbers into
it,
then
looked unhappily towards the Kendall-
Humes
.

Christopher and
Margaret remained silent, like schoolchildren fearing the headmaster might ask
them a question to which they could not possibly know the answer.

“Come on, come
on, how much were you hoping to sting me for?”

“I think you must
prepare yourself for a shock, sir,” said the dealer.

“How much?”
repeated Kendall-Hume,
impatiently.

“Twenty-five thousand.”

‘Pounds?”

“Pounds.”

“You must be
joking,” said Kendall-Hume, walking round the carpet and ending up standing
next to Margaret. “You’re about to find out why I’m considered the scourge of
the East Midlands car trade,” he whispered to her. “I wouldn’t pay more than
fifteen thousand for that carpet.” He turned back to nice the dealer.
“Even if my life depended on it.”

“Then I fear your
time has been wasted, sir,” the Turk replied. “For this is a carpet intended
only for the cognoscenti. Perhaps madam might reconsider the red and blue?”

“Certainly
not,” said Kendall-Hume. “The
colour’s
all faded.
Can’t you see? You obviously left it in the window too long, and the sun has
got at it. No, you’ll have to reconsider your price if you want the orange and
yellow one to end up in the home of a connoisseur.”

The dealer
sighed as his fingers tapped the calculator again.

While the
transaction continued, Melody looked on vacantly, occasionally gazing out of
the window towards the bay.

“I could not
drop a penny below twenty-three thousand pounds.”

“I’d be willing
to go as high as eighteen thousand,” said Kendall-Hume, “but not a penny more.”

The Roberts
watched the dealer tap the numbers into the calculator.

“That would not
even cover the cost of what I paid for it myself,” he said sadly, staring down
at the little glowing figures.

“You’re pushing
me, but don’t push me too far. Nineteen thousand,” said
Mr
Kendall-Hume. “That’s my final offer.”

“Twenty
thousand pounds is the lowest figure I could consider,” replied the dealer. “A
give-away price on my mother’s grave.”

Kendall-Hume
took out his wallet and placed it on the table by the side of the dealer.

“Nineteen
thousand pounds and you’ve got yourself a deal,” he said.

“But how will I
feed my children?” asked the dealer, his arms
raised
above his head.

“The same way I
feed mine,” said Kendall-Hume, laughing.
“By making a fair
profit.”

The dealer
paused as if re-considering, then said, “I can’t do it, sir. I’m sorry. We must
show you some other carpets.” The assistants came forward on cue.

“No, that’s the
one I want,” said
Mrs
Kendall-Hume. “Don’t quarrel
over a thousand pounds, pet.”

“Take my word
for it, madam,” the dealer said, turning towards
Mrs
Kendall-Hume.

“My family
would starve if we only did business with customers like your husband.”

“Okay, you get
the twenty thousand, but on one condition.”

“Condition?”

“My receipt
must show that the bill was for ten thousand pounds. Otherwise I’ll only end up
paying the difference in customs duty.”

The dealer
bowed low as if to indicate he did not find the request an unusual one.

Mr
Kendall-Hume opened his wallet and withdrew ten thousand
pounds in travellers’
cheques
and ten thousand pounds
in cash.

“As you can
see,” he said, grinning, “I came prepared.” He removed another five thousand
pounds and, waving it at the dealer, added, “
and
I
would have been willing to pay far more.”

The dealer
shrugged. “You drive a hard bargain, sir. But you will not hear me complain now
the deal has been struck.”

The vast carpet
was folded, wrapped and a receipt for ten thousand pounds made out while the
travellers’
cheques
and cash were paid over.

The Roberts had
not uttered a word for twenty minutes. When they saw the cash change hands it
crossed Margaret’s mind that it was more money than the two of them earned in a
year.

“Time to get
back to the yacht,” said Kendall Hume. “Do join us for lunch if you choose a
carpet in time.”

“Thank you,”
said the Roberts in unison.

They waited
until the Kendall-
Humes
were out of sight, two
assistants bearing the-orange and yellow carpet in their wake, before they
thanked the dealer for the coffee and in turn began to make their move towards
the door.

“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
Roberts in 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
mbbery
.”

“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 Roberts
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 Roberts 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 half way across the bay heading towards the quiet beach. The Roberts
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
Airport that Christopher felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned round to face a
beaming Ray Kendall-Hume.