Ecurie Ecosse

“Chris Goble here. How may I help you?”

“Yes, Chris. It’s Martin Dale. We exchanged our Taurus wagon for a new Focus from you.”

“Yes, sir. I handled both sales.”

“Oh, yes, you did. Where is the Taurus now?”

“The Taurus? Oh, that’s gone. Used car manager doesn’t have enough space. It’s gone to the wrecker’s. Why?”

Martin dropped the receiver.

“Are you still there, sir?”

Martin hung up. The terrible truth was only a few minutes in coming. No-one at the dealership had checked the car’s interior, although personnel knew valuables were often inadvertently left behind by the seller’s family. The car had been towed away to a dump now re-branded as a ‘recycling depot’ two days later. It had been crushed to death on Thursday. The staff were proud of their efficiency. The car had been long past its useful life, so no-one had searched its interior. Or so they said. Who would keep anything valuable in it? There was no record of anyone finding a boxed die-cast model of the Ecurie Ecosse in the storage compartment or anywhere else, but the rough unsympathetic employees Martin spoke to at the depot could have been disingenuous or simply mistaken.  The Taurus was disposable, just like the childhood toys most of us grow out of. You have to love objects to cherish them as keepsakes. You cannot bring yourself to crush them callously. Martin knew this, and had been too ashamed to explain to them what he had lost through his own carelessness.

Eric eventually cashed Martin’s cheque. He was surprisingly understanding about their mutual loss. He was still young, with a thriving business and a life as an enthusiastic collector with money to spend ahead of him, and growing children who might some day take an interest in their dad’s collection. Martin went home to face his forgiving wife, who alone knew the real cost of her husband’s bereavement, and the crushing self-imposed burden of his own folly and guilt. That it was, after all, only a thing, a superannuated toy that not even his own children wanted, made no difference. His mistake had been a dereliction of duty and a violation of the treasured past, and the knowledge hurt. And he missed the Ecurie Ecosse transporter…