Cherry appeared at last with the mechanic, a plump man, Gordon by name, long-haired and

with a beetroot complexion.

She looked sleek, her slim elegant figure costumed in a robe and a telling dress and on her

head an apricot turban.

"A nasty business" said Crispin, aching as he grappled with the motor, anger on his face.

Gordon looked at the car. "Rotten luck"! he said trying to appease him. "It's your pump".

"Kind of you to say so"! Crispin was not very amused.

"We thought it would be a problem once we had been diverted". "As we descended the hill,

we reached a spot, a toll gate and as I changed down into bottom a torrent of water came out

of the rad".

"I shut off the motor and although we were in bad shape, a cheeky man, daring us to

overtake, nearly caused us to overturn".

"I pulled over just in time," said Crispin.

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