The car dealership

Dad knew it was a bad idea the moment Mum smiled.

Not a big smile. Not an obvious one. Just a small, quiet, oh-this-has-worked-out-nicely-for-me smile.

“Great,” Mum said, picking up her bag. “I’ll take Alfie to the birthday party at the British Library.”

Alfie stood tall, already dressed neatly, holding a book like he’d been preparing for this moment his entire life.

“There will be manuscripts,” he said calmly.

“Of course there will,” Dad muttered.

“And quiet,” Alfie added.

Dad looked at Barry.

Barry was upside down on the sofa.

Marmaduke was next to him, also upside down.

They were both humming.

Loudly.

“…Yes,” Dad said. “Very quiet.”

Mum turned to him. “And you’ll take these two to the car dealership.”

Dad blinked. “These two?”

Barry waved. “Hello.”

Marmaduke waved. “We’re helpful.”

Dad looked at Mum. “I’m ordering a car.”

“Yes,” Mum said. “And this will build character.”

“For who?” Dad asked.

“For you,” she said, already heading out the door.

And just like that—

Dad was alone.

With Barry.

And Marmaduke.

And a very important appointment to order a brand-new Audi electric car.

“Right,” Dad said, grabbing his keys. “We are going to a car dealership.”

Barry perked up. “Can we drive the cars?”

“No.”

“Can we touch the cars?”

“…Carefully.”

“Can we press buttons?”

“No.”

Marmaduke nodded. “Understood.”

Barry nodded. “We will press quietly.”

“No,” Dad said. “No pressing at all.”

The journey was short.

Which was good.

Because Barry had already asked seventeen questions.

“Is it a fast car?”

“Yes.”

“Is it faster than a rocket?”

“No.”

“Can it fly?”

“No.”

“Can it beep?”

“Yes.”

“Can I beep it?”

“No.”

Marmaduke leaned forward. “Can I beep it?”

“No.”

Alfie would have enjoyed this conversation.

Dad did not.

The dealership was shiny.

Very shiny.

Glass walls.

Polished floors.

Cars that looked like they had never been touched by anything, including reality.

Barry stopped in the doorway.

“…Wow.”

Marmaduke gasped. “They’re so clean.”

Dad nodded. “Yes. Let’s keep them that way.”

A salesman in a suit approached.

“Good morning,” he said warmly. “You must be here for the Audi electric?”

Dad smiled. “Yes.”

The salesman looked at Barry and Marmaduke.

Paused.

Very slightly.

“…And these are?”

“My helpers,” Dad said.

Barry saluted. “Hello.”

Marmaduke waved. “We won’t touch anything.”

Dad looked at him.

“…That is the goal.”

They walked over to the car.

It was beautiful.

Sleek.

Modern.

Full of buttons.

Barry’s eyes widened.

“…It’s like a spaceship.”

“Yes,” Dad said. “A very expensive spaceship.”

Marmaduke nodded. “We should test it.”

“No,” Dad said quickly.

The man began explaining.

“Fully electric, excellent range, advanced interface…”

Dad nodded, trying to listen.

Barry was not listening.

Barry was circling the car.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Like a small, curious shark.

“Can I sit in it?” Barry asked.

Dad hesitated.

The salesman smiled. “Of course.”

This was a mistake.

Barry climbed in.

Marmaduke followed.

Alfie would not have followed.

Alfie would have asked permission.

Marmaduke did not.

Inside the car, everything was… tempting.

Screens.

Buttons.

Shiny surfaces.

Barry reached out.

“Don’t press anything,” Dad said immediately.

Barry froze.

“…I’m just looking.”

Marmaduke leaned forward.

“…This one looks important.”

“Do not touch that,” Dad said.

The man continued talking.

“Touchscreen controls, climate settings…”

Barry blinked.

“Touchscreen?”

“Yes,” the salesman said proudly.

Barry looked at Dad.

Dad looked at Barry.

“…No,” Dad said.

There was a pause.

A very quiet pause.

Then—

Tap.

Barry touched the screen.

The screen lit up.

Bright.

Responsive.

Exciting.

“Oh,” Barry said.

Marmaduke gasped. “It’s alive.”

“Barry,” Dad said, through clenched teeth, “please stop touching.”

“I’m learning,” Barry said.

“You are not learning.”

“I am.”

“You are experimenting.”

“That’s learning,” Barry replied.

The man smiled politely.

“It’s quite intuitive,” he said.

Barry pressed another button.

The seat moved.

Forward.

Back.

Marmaduke screamed. “IT’S MOVING!”

Dad lunged forward. “Okay, that’s enough.”

Barry sat back, delighted.

“This is the best car ever.”

Marmaduke nodded. “We should live here.”

“We are not living here,” Dad said.

Then—

Marmaduke spotted something.

A small button.

Low down.

Near the door.

“…What does this do?” he asked.

“No,” Dad said.

Too late.

Click.

The door opened.

Suddenly.

Wide.

A bit too wide.

Right into a nearby display stand.

There was a clonk.

Everyone froze.

The salesman paused mid-sentence.

Dad closed his eyes.

Barry whispered, “…That was Marmaduke.”

Marmaduke whispered back, “It looked important.”

Slowly—

Although it would have happened in real time, but when bad things happen, sometimes they look so slow – the display stand started to wobble.

A branded, metal water bottle wobbled… then fell.

Like dominos the bottles knocked into each other, falling to the ground like skittles in a bowling alley.

The glass inner of each bottle gave a tinny smash noise as it hit the pristine gloss floor.

There must have been 100 bottles on the stand.

Only one remained, once the noise stopped.

Mr Brand decided in panic to try changing the subject.

“Ho,ho! Looks like this one is mine!” he mock-laughed, grasping the remaining intact bottle in his white-knuckled, sweaty fist.

The salesman was so shocked he just kept up the sales patter.

Sweat patches appeared under the arms of the salesman… and through Dad’s shirt too.

“Can we see another car?” Barry asked.

“No.”

“Just one more?”

“No.”

“Just look?”

“No.”

Marmaduke nodded. “Fair.”

Dad tried again to focus.

“Let’s talk about the options,” he said.

The salesman nodded. “Of course.”

Barry wandered.

Marmaduke followed.

Alfie would not have wandered.

Alfie would have stood still.

Alfie was not here.

“Barry,” Dad called, “stay where I can see you.”

“I’m right here,” Barry said.

He was not right there.

He was… over there.

Near another car.

Touching it.

“Don’t touch that,” Dad called.

“I’m just checking it,” Barry replied.

“Checking what?”

“…If it’s smooth.”

Dad sighed.

Marmaduke tapped a tyre.

“It’s round,” he said.

“Yes,” Barry agreed. “Very round.”

Dad returned to the conversation.

“Colour options?”

“Yes,” the salesman said.

Barry shouted from across the room, “I like blue!”

“Thank you, Barry,” Dad said.

Marmaduke added, “And red!”

Dad nodded. “We’ll… consider that.”

Eventually—

Miraculously—

The order was placed.

Details confirmed.

Dad assumed the cost of the bottles would be added to his invoice – he wouldn’t be surprised.

As they left, the man smiled.

“Lovely to meet you all.”

Barry waved. “We helped.”

Marmaduke nodded. “A lot.”

Dad forced a smile. 

Outside, Dad leaned against the car.

Tired.

Relieved.

Slightly confused.

“Well,” he said.

“That went… okay.”

Barry grinned. “That was amazing.”

Marmaduke nodded. “Best shop ever.”

On the drive home, Barry leaned back.

“When does the new car come?”

“Soon,” Dad said.

“Can we press all the buttons?”

“No.”

“Just one?”

“No.”

Marmaduke thought for a moment.

“…Two?”

“No.”

Dad glanced in the mirror.

At Barry.

At Marmaduke.

At the future.

And sighed.

“…I’m hiding the keys.”

Back at home, Mum returned with Alfie.

“How did it go?” she asked.

Dad paused.

Looked at Barry.

Looked at Marmaduke.

Looked at Mum.

“…Educational,” he said.

Alfie nodded approvingly. “Excellent.”

Barry smiled. “We tested everything.”

Marmaduke added, “It moves.”

Mum raised an eyebrow.

Dad sighed.

“…I need a cup of tea.”

And possibly—

A very strong one.