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they had watched the smart two-seater sports car being driven away by its new owner - it had always been a source of pride to Ned that he was the only child he knew who always got to sit in the front of his mother’s car. He had brightened, though, when the campervan arrived.
    It was second-hand, but in excellent condition, and unlike a brand new car it seemed to have a highly developed personality. There was a cosy feel to it that suggested happy times ahead.
    When Clara had first seen it, the salesman had explained that its previous owners were a nice couple who had only parted with it because they were upgrading to something bigger. ‘I had no idea campervans could be so well kitted out,’ she had said, as they stepped inside and she felt the soft fitted carpet beneath her shoes.
    ‘This is actually what we call a motorhome, and quite a modest one at that. You should see what we have at the top end of the market. The Winnebago, now that’s what we call deluxe.’ He pointed through one of the side windows to a massive bus-like vehicle that looked as if it might accommodate at least two touring rock bands.
    ‘Heavens! How many does that sleep?’ she asked.
    ‘Eight. One of the beds is queen-size. There’s even a washing machine and tumble-dryer on board.’
    Then, feeling disloyal to the modest campervan they were
    supposed to be viewing, she said, ‘Well, how about you show me what this baby has to offer?’
    While Ned carried out his own inspection - opening doors, trying the driver’s seat complete with armrests - the salesman had filled her in on the superior coachbuilt workmanship, the elegant interior, the spacious dinette, the two-burner combination cooker, the tilt tolerant fridge and the swivel cab seats. Ned had already discovered those - one minute he was facing the front, the next the back. With growing enthusiasm the young man showed her rattle-free lockers and cabinets. There were recessed halogen reading-lights, upholstered bench-seats, two surprisingly large wardrobes, a drop-down contoured hand-basin in the ingenious bathroom that contained a flushable toilet as well as a shower. He left the sleeping arrangements till last, showing her, with a magician’s flourish, the double bed over the cab, complete with little ladder, and the two single beds in the dinette area that could also convert to a comfortable double.
    ‘Did the previous owners have a name for it?’ she asked, when at last he drew breath.
    He gave her an odd look. ‘Not that I know of. I could check the registration document if you want - it’s in the office.’
    ‘No, that’s okay.’ She sensed he was humouring her, probably thinking that after everything he had just gone through, she was just another time-waster. ‘May I have a test drive, please?’ she said, keen to re-inflate him. ‘I’d like to see how it handles.’
    He was immediately back into his stride. ‘Certainly. Have you driven one before? It will feel quite different from what you’ve been used to.’ He cast an eye in the direction of her sports car.
    ‘I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it.’
    ‘Is it ours now?’ asked Ned, climbing down the ladder from the bed above the cab while the salesman went to fetch the keys.
    ‘Would you like it to be ours?’
    He slipped into the driver’s seat, grabbed the steering-wheel and brrmmed noisily, trying to reach the pedals.
    ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ She smiled.
    It was while they were driving home, after she had written a cheque for the deposit, that the campervan had been christened.
    Clara had been thinking of the ridiculous eight-berth monstrosity and had said scornfully, to no one in particular, ‘Winnebago. What kind of a name is that?’
    ‘Winnie, Winnie, Bago,’ chanted Ned. ‘Is that what we’re calling our campervan?’ he asked, looking up from the pile of glossy brochures he’d gathered from the salesman’s office.
    ‘We could shorten it to Winnie,’ she said. ‘What do you