Read Rosie for Free Online Page B

place. The desk lamp was turned on, and Rosie was hunched over the keyboard.
    Nick let himself in through the front door and poked his head into the little room. ‘What are you doing?’
    Rosie almost leaped out of the chair. ‘You made me jump!’
    He glanced at the screen, and then at his grandmother. ‘When did you learn how to use a computer?’
    ‘At night-school when your granddad was ill. It took my mind off things.’
    ‘You didn’t say.’
    ‘Well, I don’t have to tell you everything I do.’
    ‘Of course not. Sorry.’
    Then she said brightly, ‘I’ve found you a car.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘A new car. I’ve found one on the Internet.’
    ‘What? An Austin A30 van?’
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous. It’s an MG.’
    Nick sighed. ‘But I don’t want an MG. You can’t get pictures into an MG.’
    ‘Yes, you can. You can have a special rack on the boot lid over the spare tyre. I’ve checked. And, anyway, your pictures are quite small. Most of them would fit in the footwell at the front.’
    ‘What about when it rains?’
    She looked at him through narrowed eyes. ‘It does have a hood, you know.’
    There was nothing for it but to look over her shoulder at the advert on the screen.
    ‘You see?’ she said. ‘Perfect. Very sporty. Bit of fun. Take you out of yourself.’
    ‘I thought it was you we were taking out of yourself?’
    ‘Oh, don’t worry about me. Just a minute – I’ll print it off.’ And then, evidently fearful that she had overstepped the mark, ‘You don’t mind, do you, about me using the computer? I haven’t touched anything I shouldn’t.’
    Nick shook his head. ‘No. Not at all. I’m just surprised.’
    ‘And pleased? A bit pleased?’
    ‘Yes. And pleased.’
    The printer whirred and Rosie picked up the piece of paper and handed it to him. She stood up and indicated the finer points of the car. ‘It’s British racing green – you can’t tell that from the printout – with a red radiator grille. And the hood is black. It says it’s in its original condition and has had the same owner for the last thirty years.’ Her enthusiasm was infectious. ‘I’ve always loved those old MGs. Our doctor used to have one. He’d jump over the door without opening it. Smoked a pipe. We used to think he was very dashing . . . Well-mannered, too.’
    Nick read out: ‘“MG TC, 1949. Mechanically this car is superb. The engine, when being driven, has an excellent oil pressure and is entirely sound.” Well, they would say that, wouldn’t they?’
    ‘Read on,’ said Rosie.
    ‘“When on ‘tick-over’ the engine can hardly be heard. The gearbox, and all other parts related to the chassis, like brakes, steering, et cetera, are also in excellent working order. No visible signs of rust.” Probably been resprayed.’
    ‘And it has the original logbook, showing owners back to 1963, and all the bills and receipts for the last thirty years. It was bought in 1969 for a hundred and fifteen pounds.’
    ‘How much is it now?’ asked Nick, his eye drifting down to the foot of the page. ‘Bloody hell! Eleven thousand two hundred and fifty quid! Not a chance! I’ve just turned down a van for twelve hundred. This is almost ten times that.’
    ‘Yes, but look what you’re getting. It’s a very pretty car!’
    ‘But I haven’t got that sort of money.’
    Rosie’s eyes lit up. ‘I have!’
    ‘What?’
    ‘
I
could buy it.’
    ‘Don’t be silly.’
    ‘I’m not being silly. I could buy it as an investment. I’ve got plenty saved up and nothing else to do with it. The banks aren’t paying much interest. Much more fun to have a sports car. That way, you can drive it and I can come out for a spin occasionally. Can’t I?’
    ‘Well, yes. But no! I mean, this isn’t right.’
    ‘If you’re worrying about your sisters and their inheritance, don’t. I’ve sorted all that out.’
    ‘But I want a van!’
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Can you hear yourself? “I want a van”! What a