The Way Barred

by Dominique Kyle

  Eventually he wandered up behind me and peered over my shoulder at what I was doing, and with admirable self-restraint, didn’t run a hand over my bum.

  “How long do you have for lunch?” He asked.

  “How long do we need?” I asked. We were pretty relaxed here now because we all worked hard and we all knew that we’d make the time up later if we took a longer than normal lunch break.

  “An hour?” Tyler bargained.

  I looked at my watch. “I’ll be back at one forty five, Dewhurst,” I called.

  Dewhurst nodded, and Tyler finally gained his prize.

  Somehow he persuaded me to meet up with him again later that evening by inviting Quinn and Daisy along too. We all sat around in a pub and chatted.

  “Hey, get this Ginty!” Quinn got my attention. “Your little brother has only invited me to front up his new band!”

  “What new band?” I queried blankly.

  “He’s got a whole new set together from his college course and he’s asked Danny to be on percussion and for me to sing. They’ve got a lead guitarist already, so it’s just the singing.”

  “So what do you think of them?” I asked.

  He span the beer mat in front of him thoughtfully. “Well they’re all music production students, so they’re pretty good. They’re a completely different genre though. The deal would be that they’d be willing to do some of the better B.S.E. songs but mostly they’d be writing their own and I’d have to do it their way.” He glanced up at me with a glint in his eye. “And I’m to tone down my dress style. Arrogant little sods…”

  Tyler was smiling at Quinn and holding my hand under the table. Now he rested a hand on my thigh. I covered his hand with my own.

  I laughed. “So what have you decided?”

  Quinn pulled a face. “Well I’m torn. It would be great to get back into the singing but I’m nervous, because I was calling the shots with B.S.E. and now Jamie would be telling me what to do…”

  “What do you think he should do Daisy?” Tyler asked.

  Every time Tyler spoke to Daisy she blushed. It surprised me at first, but then I realised that she’d only ever seen him on TV featuring as the highly respected celebrity World Champion. And not being from any mechanically orientated background, she hadn’t much in common with him, so was struggling to know what to say to him without looking silly. And he was being really kind and trying to draw her into the conversation.

  “I think he should have a go,” she answered in her soft voice with lowered eyes. “He can always drop out after a few months if he doesn’t get on with it.”

  “Oh well, tell me when your first gig is and I’ll come to support you,” I promised cheerfully.

  Quinn seemed unusually alarmed by that suggestion. “Oh please don’t, I’ll be far too anxious.”

  “You? Anxious?” I scoffed.

  He nodded.

  “Honestly Quinn, I promise I won’t rip the shit out of you like last time. I was off my face on opiates remember?”

  He looked sceptically sideways at me.

  “So what are they calling themselves?” Tyler asked.

  Quinn pulled a face. “Full Frontal.”

  “Oh God, as long as you don’t!” I exclaimed. “I never want to see you being led out with a policeman’s helmet covering your crown jewels again!”

  Tyler laughed enjoyably, looking between us. “Ooo, do tell!” He invited.

  Quinn screwed up his face. “Time I went to get us another round,” he said cravenly. “Tyler? Ginty?”

  After a second pint, Tyler and I left and then Tyler asked me to come back to the Travelodge with him, just as I knew he would. I growled crossly at him.

  “I absolutely promise, Eve, not to lay a finger on you. I just want to be with you that’s all. It’d be agonising to know you were just across town and not with me.”

  So he finally persuaded me and when we were laid curled up together in bed I asked him to massage my back. He was nowhere near as good as Quinn at it. He was quite clumsy, but it relaxed me and got me into a better mood, and I allowed him to give me a kiss. He tasted of the beer he’d had down the pub. Bitter hops and pink grapefruit. I kissed him again just to see if the pink grapefruit bit was right. He must have noticed something different about the way I did it. He laughed and said, “Your nose was flaring just then, what are you doing?”

  “Deciding whether you taste of pink grapefruit or ordinary grapefruit,” I said.

  He seemed slightly taken aback. “Is there a difference?”

  “Yes, they taste and smell quite different,” I said, amazed he’d never noticed.

  “And anyway, I’ve been drinking beer not fruit juice,” he pointed out.

  “Couldn’t you taste it as you drank it? Your pint smelt of grapefruit.”

  “I’ve never thought about the exact flavours of beer, I just know if I like it or not.”

  “You tend to pick the ones with citrus notes,” I told him. “Bitter, hoppy, barley and citrus. If they smell of chocolate, molasses or wheat you don’t tend to like them.”

  “Well I hope you like the taste of citrus then,” he said with an embarrassed laugh.

  “Kiss me again and I can decide,” I invited.

  He kissed me again, gently and exploring. His hand ran lightly up my body under my tee shirt and caressed a breast.

  Sensing sexual arousal coming on from his point of view, I pulled away sharply and turned my back. After a moment he moulded himself closely around me and held me from behind. I waited tensely for him to start something, but he didn’t. His breathing started to change into a near sleep pattern. I relaxed and started drifting off myself.

  “Night, Sweetheart,” he whispered just as I was nearly gone.

  I took one of his hands and put it over one breast and held it there with mine, and then I fell asleep feeling properly safe with him at last.

  “Are you aware that you’re really near the top of the points table Eve?” Jo said to me at work the day before we were driving as a family in the Beast up to Cowdenbeath.

  “Sort of,” I said.

  “If you keep this up and we really put our back out, your Silver ambition could become a reality. Devlin’s still up there, and it’s a bit annoying that Tyler is going for Silver as well this year. But you’ve got a good chance…”

  Cowdenbeath Racewall. The infamous Racewall. Only the locals weren’t afraid of the racewall the legend went. Even their website claimed that only the bravest drivers took it on. Instead of a safety fence all the way round the tarmac track there was a concrete wall with a fence above it. The locals did usually win here. But this was a world qualifier so everyone was heading here. I’d driven here occasionally so had got the hang of it, but I couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated.

  “Forget about the wall,” Paul said, as though he knew what was in my mind. “Drive like you normally do.”

  So I did. And right at the end of the race, with Tyler leading at the front. I saw a small, just car sized gap between Tyler and the wall on the very last straight. I headed through it. Tyler saw, and he should have blocked me, but instead he braked sharply and pull to the left to let me through. I went under the chequered flag first, absolutely seething. When it was safe for everyone to pull up I headed for Tyler. I wrenched off my helmet, pulled myself out of the window and started shouting at him.

  “Why did you do that? Why did you pull back? Why did you let me win that?” I was utterly furious with him.

  He took off his helmet and pulled himself out too, and we stood between our two cars. “I didn’t want to put you into the wall,” he admitted.

  “Why?” I screamed at him. “You would have done it to anyone else!”

  “Yes, probably, yes I might have done but I just couldn’t do it to you. It doesn’t matter does it?” He dismissed.

  “Of course it matters!” I yelled at him.

  “Calm down, Eve,” he said.

  So I slapped him hard across the face. He grabb
ed my wrists and held them down. “We’ve already seen you carried out in an ambulance once. We don’t want to see it happen again.” He glanced across at the infield. “Get back in your car quickly Eve, a steward is coming.”

  But it was too late. The steward leant into my car and said, “Right, you’re suspended from racing from immediate effect. Report to the stewards’ office as soon as you’ve put the car in a safe place.”

  I said nothing, just started my car and drove off the track at the proscribed five miles an hour and took it back to the pits. Thankfully only Jo was there as Paul had gone to meet Pete.

  “What was that about?” Jo demanded.

  “I lost my temper,” I said heavily. “And now I’ve got to go to the stewards’ office.”

  “You’re a complete idiot!” Jo snapped at me. “You’re for it now! You’re going to get banned for attacking another driver. You stupid idiot! Why didn’t you just talk it over with him afterwards?”

  “I don’t know,” I hung my head. “I just saw red.”

  “Well you’d better go before Dad gets here,” Jo said abruptly. “If the scrutineers want to see your car I’ll take it over. I suppose they’ll leave you with the win…”

  I sat on a bench outside the Steward’s office feeling like I was waiting to see the headmaster. Wentworth came in and sat down beside me looking as glum as I probably did. He did a double take when he saw me.

  “What are you here for?” I asked.

  “Attacking from the infield,” he said gloomily.

  “Why’d you do that?” I inquired.

  “Dunno, guess I just lost my rag,” he said. “How about you?”

  “Ditto,” I said. “Lost my temper and slapped Tyler’s face.”

  He looked well impressed. “You smacked Tyler one? I’d never dare!”

  “Well we’re both going to get banned aren’t we, so it wasn’t worth it, was it?” I pointed out.

  He leant forward with his elbows on his knees looking miserable.

  “Makes you feel like you’re back at school doesn’t it?” I commented.

  “I still am actually,” he said.

  “Poor you,” I said.

  The door opened and they called me in. Wentworth showed me a discreet fingers crossed sign which was sweet of him.

  I sat down in the chair in front of them. There were three of them looking stern.

  “So what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I’m sorry.” I knew that would be expected of me.

  “What was that about?”

  “I was angry because Tyler threw the race because he was too squeamish to put me into the wall.”

  “We’re not in this game to kill each other,” the middle one said. “Safety has to come first. If he thought it was too dangerous to knock you towards the wall then he made the right decision.”

  “Yes but I challenged him and asked him if he’d have done it to anyone else, and he admitted he would have blocked or hit anyone else,” I said heatedly. “And not only that, he did the same to me once before last year – let me through when he shouldn’t have…”

  “And your point is?”

  “We are trying to get more women into this sport, but how can we do that if the men don’t feel they can treat us equally and won’t tackle us in a race in case we get hurt?”

  “I’m sure he didn’t pull back just because you are a woman,” another said irritably.

  I folded my arms. “Well call him in then, and ask him!”

  “I’m sure this is something you could just sort out down the pub together,” another one put in.

  That incensed me too. “How is it appropriate for a young female to ask a much older recently divorced driver down the pub to have a chat?” I demanded. “Call him in now and let us talk about it in front of you.”

  The oldest one on the end glanced up the line. “She has a point. We probably should call him in. Has the last race finished?”

  One of them left the room and there was silence. They didn’t meet my eyes. One of them was scribbling some notes down. Another was tapping the desk with his fingers in an annoying rhythm.

  The one who’d gone out came back in. “He’s on his way.”

  Eventually there was a knock on the door and Tyler came in. I didn’t look at him because I didn’t want to see his expression.

  “Thank you for coming,” the middle one greeted him. Tyler shook all their hands in turn and sat down.

  “We wanted to hear your point of view about what went on at the end of the race. Miss McGinty here seems to think that you were being prejudiced about her sex when you refused to knock her into the wall in the final few seconds.”

  “I didn’t want her to get injured,” Tyler said sounding completely reasonable.

  “Well we’re not here to kill each other, it’s just a hobby. You have to consider the safety of other drivers when driving,” the main man applauded.

  I got annoyed. “But the point is Tyler, you wouldn’t have pulled back like that if it was anyone else, you admitted that when I challenged you on it!”

  Tyler rubbed his face. “Ok, I admit I over-reacted. You would have got through safely if I’d just kept a straight line. I didn’t need to brake and make space. And I admit that if it had been anyone else in the race I’d have let them take their chance.”

  I folded my arms, sat back and looked challengingly at the three stewards. “See?”

  “Miss McGinty’s point is that it if the male drivers react protectively towards the female ones, then it will be hard to have fair and even handed races as more women enter the sport,” the one on the left said to him.

  Tyler sighed. “Fair enough. I apologise for not treating McGinty as an equal. It was condescending of me to try to protect her.”

  There was a short silence. The middle guy looked severely at me. “That being said, it is never acceptable to offer violence to another driver whatever the provocation.”

  I hung my head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry Tyler. You told me to calm down and I should have listened to you.”

  “You are aware that it is a mandatory year long ban for violence and that you have brought the sport into disrepute?”

  “Yes,” I said automatically. I felt sick. A year? No, actually, I’d had no idea. Shit. “Sorry.”

  “You really can’t ban her for a year,” Tyler leapt in sounding appalled. “She’s the best thing that’s happened to this sport for years. She’s been a breath of fresh air. Look at the gate figures since the documentary! Look at the increase in applications for driving licences! And she’s already brought a few more women into the sport...”

  “I agree she’s behaved in an exemplary fashion on the track up until now but we can’t ignore violence. If all eyes are on her and she’s considered an example for others to follow, then her behaviour should be beyond reproach. If we don’t make an example of her then firstly we’ll be accused of favouritism, and secondly of reverse sexism in that we are implying that violence perpetrated by females doesn’t count.”

  “I wouldn’t call that violence,” Tyler defended. “It was nothing. It didn’t even hurt – honestly it didn’t bother me!”

  “I’m afraid we all know that Miss McGinty here is inclined towards violence. A conviction for GBH, her behaviour in the live action stadium last year towards you which was also unacceptable, we all saw her take a swing at Quinn in one of the November episodes, and then there was the glassing incident…”

  “What glassing incident?” I said blankly.

  “Yes, what glassing incident?” Tyler echoed surprised.

  They glanced at each other. They had obviously talked about this before I came in.

  “It was in the newspapers earlier in the year. Apparently you smashed a glass and went for someone in a pub.”

  I frowned. “In the newspapers? I dunno about that… I s’pose they must be talking about when that man went for me and Jo. I told him to piss off but he was drunk and said ‘How you gonna make me?’
So I smashed a glass and made as though to go for him and his friend quickly dragged him away. I certainly didn’t glass him!”

  They were all looking askance at me, including Tyler who was looking taken aback as well.

  I looked at Tyler. “Well if a bloke punched you in a pub, what would you do?” I demanded.

  He pulled a face. “Well I suppose I’d punch him back,” he said honestly.

  “And what am I supposed to do?” I asked him.

  There was a short silence during which no-one had the guts to answer my question.

  The man in the middle cleared his throat. “You have to understand McGinty, that since you’ve been on that documentary, the press still has some interest in you, and everything you do will come under scrutiny. You have to understand that you are a representative of our sport both on and off the track and you have to be careful not to bring our sport into disrepute.”

  Shit, I thought, that’s depressing.

  “On the other hand,” Tyler fought my corner. “It’s not like athletics or gymnastics is it? It’s a contact sport – more like boxing. You have to have the aggression and the jousting and the competitive rivalries or else it’s not entertaining for the spectators – they love the combative characters the best…”

  “But it needs to stay behind the wheel, on the track, and kept safely under rational control. And if it’s not ok for the men to punch each other we can’t say it’s ok for women to have catfights and bash each other with their handbags after a race can we?”

  I could sense Tyler urgently telegraphing to me not to go off on one about the sexist way he put that so I repressed my instincts and said politely, “You’re right, I can see the point you are making, and I unreservedly apologise for going for Tyler. It was completely unacceptable and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”