CITY ISLAND LINES
Flapping the lapels of his linen jacket, the gentleman walked calmly through the melee of the morning market. Even linen seemed to cling unwelcomely in this hothouse humidity. The best solution that he had found was to move slowly and try to stay in the shade of the stalls’ overhanging canopies. As he idly ambled toward the market’s edge, his lazy gaze was unexpectedly grabbed by a remarkable confluence of colour and pattern. The combination created a nearly shimmering effect, like a mirage appearing in the desert. He turned toward the stall to better assess this magic carpet. The vendor suddenly appeared, like a genie released from his lantern. ‘You like it? It’s a very special carpet, but I’ll give you good price.’ The gentleman was lean and tall and stood a good head taller than the vendor upon whom he now looked down with mild disdain. ‘How much,’ he asked coolly. ‘For you sir, only one thousand five hundred.’ ‘Preposterous,’ the gentleman snorted. ‘It isn’t worth half that!’ Soon after moving here, he had been taught the etiquette of this market: never insult a vendor by accepting the first offer, or even the second; never display genuine interest in an item, especially not one you really wanted. ‘Sir, this is a very special piece. It was woven by my sister. She is blind but magically creates such beautiful work. I could not part with it for less than twelve hundred’ ‘Robbery, ‘ the gentleman retorted. ‘You and I both know it is not worth anything near that amount.’ As he had been taught to do, he turned on his heels and began to walk away. ‘Wait, sir! Come back! I think this would please your wife. For her I make extra special price: one thousand.’ The gentleman smiled inwardly. Although initially uncomfortable with the serve and volley of bargaining, he had soon taken to it and now considered himself something of an expert. ‘How the devil could you know what my wife would like? She’s no fool, and she wouldn’t give you five hundred for it!’ The vendor raised his wizened face to meet the gentleman’s supercilious gaze. ‘Perhaps I do not know what your wife would like, but I wonder if she would like to know where you go every Wednesday afternoon and with whom you spend those happy hours.’ The gentleman felt a jolt of panic shoot through his body. What had previously been mild perspiration became profuse sweating. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he stammered. But the vendor called his bluff, ‘Oh don’t you? Well, perhaps my sister, the cleaner at the River Hotel, might help to remind you.’ Silence stood stolidly between them. Their eyes remained locked. ‘How much did you say the carpet cost,’ he finally croaked hoarsely. ‘For you, special price,’ the vendor replied placidly, ‘ three thousand.’ The gentleman reached into his jacket, pulled out his wallet, and carefully counted the notes. He passed the stack to the vendor. The vendor smiled deferentially, removed the carpet from its display hook, and carefully rolled it up. He proffered it to the gentleman, who snatched it with shaking hands. ‘I expect you to keep up your end of the bargain, ‘ he hissed. ‘Of course,’ smiled the vendor. ‘It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.’ 27 Feb 2018
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