Bedding Down

Claire wasn’t leaving until she got what she’d paid for…

Claire lay on the bed and sighed as she sank into the mattress.

‘I think this one is too soft,’ said Tim.

Claire reluctantly agreed and they moved to the next bed. That mattress was much firmer. She tried bouncing and it was great. She smiled at Tim.

‘Is this the one? It’s nearly half-price in the sales.’

‘Reckon so,’ he said, lying beside her.

‘Can I help you, madam?’ asked an assistant, whose label pronounced that he was Gavin and pleased to help.

‘How quickly can you deliver this bed and those pine bunk beds there?’

Claire asked.

‘Um, I don’t know…’ he frowned.

‘Well, if you check with your manager, we’ll just make sure this is the bed we really want,’ she smiled at him.

After 10 minutes they were sure, so they went searching for Gavin. He was sitting in the office drinking a cup of tea and looked disappointed to be disturbed. And most unwilling to live up to his name badge.

‘Did you ask your manager?’ Claire asked him.

‘Oh, er, no, I couldn’t find him…’

‘Can you page him for me then, please?’ she asked.

‘Er, we’re about to close…’ he said unwilling to even move.

‘Better snap to it then, Gavin.’ Claire smiled. ‘You are Gavin, aren’t you? Or is that part of your badge wrong too?’

Gavin scowled at her and went through a door into the back of the shop.

‘I hope you haven’t sent him into permanent hiding,’ Tim joked, but fortunately a middle-aged man came rushing out.

‘How can I help you?’ asked Mr Braithwaite, with a smile.

‘I’d like to buy three beds off you today,’ Claire said. ‘If you’ll give me an extra discount.’

‘Oh, I don’t know…’ he frowned. ‘Everything’s already reduced in the sale.’

‘But you’re not exactly thronging with customers,’ said Claire. ‘OK we’ll go elsewhere. We haven’t finished checking out all the January Sales. I’m sure we can get all three beds at a better price.’

‘Wait!’ he said. ‘OK... I’ll give you a further 20 per cent off.’

‘It’s a deal,’ smiled Claire, who’d been happy to settle for 10. ‘Provided you can deliver them next week.’

‘How would Thursday suit you?’ he asked.

‘Perfect,’ smiled Claire.

‘Great news!’ said Claire, when she picked up her sons from her sister, Anna. ‘We’re getting new beds on Thursday.’

‘Hooray!’ they cried.

Claire smiled at Anna. ‘So, if Brian can borrow the van from work that morning, as planned, you and he can have our old double bed and Jamie’s cot for your baby. I’d offer you Rob’s bed too, but it’s falling apart.’

‘Brilliant,’ said Anna. ‘Oh, I can’t wait to get rid of our wonky bed! Brian can take it to the tip with Rob’s old one while he’s got the van.’ ‘Fantastic!’ grinned Claire. Claire rang the shop on

Wednesday. ‘Can you tell me what time tomorrow my beds are arriving, please?’ she asked.

‘Before lunch?’ Gavin suggested.

‘Can you be more specific?’

‘Not really.’

‘Fine!’ Claire sighed and rang Brian and asked him to come at 7.30am.

Next morning, Claire got the boys up early, stripped their beds and Tim was able to help Brian carry them out to the van before he left for work. As luck would have it, he was going away on an overnight course.

‘Make sure they put the beds just where you want them,’ he told her, as he left.

She waved goodbye and set to cleaning and tidying the bedrooms so they were ready for the delivery.

Rob and Jamie tried to help, getting under her feet, so, with promises of a picnic that afternoon if they were good, she sent them to the window to look out for the delivery van.

At 9.30am, she sat down with a cup of coffee, congratulating herself on a job well done and waited. And waited. And waited.

At 1.30pm, she rang the shop.

‘Where are my beds?’ she asked.

‘They’ll be there by 4pm,’ Gavin promised.

At 4.30pm, she rang again. ‘Ah, there’s been a bit of a hitch,’ Gavin said.

‘What?’

‘They’re in Swansea.’ ‘Swansea!’ Claire cried. ‘What are they doing there?’ ‘Being made.’

‘But you promised they’d arrive today! If they haven’t even been made yet, there was no chance I’d get them today. When will they be delivered?’

‘Can’t say…’ said Gavin. ‘What?’

‘Well, you get cross when I give you wrong information.’

Claire tried to control her temper. Suddenly, with a sinking heart, it came back to her. This was the shop who took three months to deliver a settee to her mum when they’d promised next-day delivery. ‘Can I speak to your boss please?’ she asked.

‘Just a minute…’

Claire hung on for ages. ‘Er, he’s out of the shop right now,’ Gavin said.

Claire scowled. No doubt that was what he’d told Gavin to say. Well, he wasn’t getting away with it!

‘Come on, boys!’ she cried, reaching for the pushchair. ‘We’re going out.’

‘Are we having our picnic at last?’ asked Jamie, excitedly.

Claire stroked his hair. Poor Jamie. And Rob. They’d been so patient. And now they hadn’t got a bed to sleep in for days, if not weeks. Perhaps they could play in the ball pool in the shop while she confronted Mr Braithwaite?

When Gavin saw Claire struggling through the door, laden with bags and a pushchair, he didn’t rush to help her. In fact he scurried in the opposite direction.

‘Hey!’ Claire cried.

‘Where’s your boss?’

‘Still out, I’m afraid,’ said Gavin.

Claire and the boys followed him down to the office, but Mr Braithwaite was nowhere to be seen. ‘Gavin!’ she called. He peered out from behind a filing cabinet.

‘Why didn’t you tell me my beds wouldn’t be delivered today?’ she asked.

‘Sorry,’ he shrugged, but he didn’t look it.

‘We’ve got nothing to sleep on tonight,’ Claire said. ‘This

She sat down with a cup of co ee, congratulating herself on a job well done

isn’t good enough! Please ring your boss.’

‘Sorry, we’re about to close.’

Claire glared at him. ‘Mummy! I need the toilet,’ Rob cried. ‘Now!’

‘OK, darling,’ she said. ‘Come on, then.’

Claire woke late the next morning. She stretched happily. She’d never had such a good night’s sleep. They’d definitely picked the right bed.

She gazed across at the boys, still fast asleep in their bunk beds, worn out no doubt by the hours of fun they’d had in the ball pool last night. Everything had worked out perfectly. All she’d had to do was make sure they were still in the shop toilets when the shop closed and they’d all had beds to sleep on…

‘Oi!’ called a voice. She turned to see Mr Braithwaite glaring down at her.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded.

‘Sleeping in my bed,’

Claire said, sitting up.

‘You can’t sleep here!’ he cried. ‘This is a shop, not a bedroom. Get up quick or customers will see you!’

‘Good!’ Claire smiled. ‘I can tell them all how you don’t keep your promises, how we haven’t got any beds, thanks to you, and that we’re staying here until we do.’

‘You… you wouldn’t!’ he spluttered.

Claire reached in her picnic bag. ‘Wouldn’t I just?’ she said, unpeeling a banana. ‘My boys are so looking forward to days of fun in your ball pool until our beds are delivered.’

But somehow, amazingly, they arrived four hours later.