Thrills and Spills

by Dominique Kyle

  “You’ve still got a bit of time yet,” Tyler comforted. “One year I blew out three engines in as many months…”

  I stared at him. “Is that even possible?”

  “Apparently so, because I managed it!”

  “Was it one of the years you won?”

  He gave me an are you mental look. “Unsurprisingly no. I’ve never kicked so many bits of metal in furious frustration in my life!”

  “How do you think the TV series is going?” I changed the subject.

  “They’ve had more expressions of interest to the BriSCA F2 website in the last six weeks than in the last six years,” he reported. “So I think it’s doing the job…”

  I sighed and looked around a bit paranoically just in case they were creeping up on us. “I really had no idea what I was taking on when I agreed to this. Currently they’re badgering me to do something girly in a skirt because their twitterfeed wants to see if I’ve got legs!”

  “We’ve already seen your legs,” Tyler reminded me, “and very nice legs they are too.”

  I suddenly remembered what else everyone had also seen on that episode and went a bit hot and cold. “Why aren’t they clamouring to see your legs?” I complained to divert any thoughts he might be having.

  “Because they’ve too much common sense!” He teased.

  “I’m a bit worried that it’s going to cause some jealousy on the Stocks scene…” I said.

  “What? Showing off your legs?”

  I slapped him hard on the arm. “No you idiot, me and Quinn. We’re new on the scene and we’re not typical are we? Most of the first year F2’s are from racing families and been around in the Minis or the Micros since they were eight. Won’t we be seen as muscling in and undeservedly taking all the oxygen?”

  Tyler did me the grace of taking my anxiety seriously. “I think you’ll find that because Satterthwaite and Rudd are respected round here, there won’t be as much backlash as you might imagine. Rudd and Satterthwaite were battling it out for years…” He saw my surprised expression and said, “you should take a closer look at some of the older championship winner tables… So no-one is surprised that they’ve both found a protégée to set against the other’s. And you are a bit of a novelty, so you’ll be fine. Not so sure about the Rudd lad. Rudd, in case you don’t know about him, is one of those drivers that reporters always put the word ‘controversial’ in front of. And that Quinn might just get up a few noses…”

  “He is almost impossibly annoying…” I agreed. “And I must admit, I was flicking through some old Unloaded issues the other day and there were just endless photos featuring identikit lines of men in dirty drivers’ overalls with hair so short they look like they’ve all just fallen off the back of the same army recruiting lorry, and compared to them, Quinn does rather look like an exotic bird that’s just flown in from the zoo…”

  Tyler emitted a crack of laughter.

  “Oh there you are!” A black nose of a camera thrust between us.

  I gave a yelp. “Oh my God,” I complained, clutching at my heart. “Will you please stop creeping up on me like that!” Shit, I hoped they hadn’t caught any of that…

  We both jumped up and away from each other like we’d been caught in flagrante.

  “So Nat, what do you think about more female drivers joining in the F2 Stocks?” They asked him, shoving the furry roving mike at him.

  “Oh I’m all for it,” he declared with a grin, then bared his teeth and turned it a bit pantomime wolfish, “as long as they can take the heat along with the big boys…”

  “So, Eve what would you like to reply to that?” They shoved it at me.

  “That he’d better be watching his back because I’m coming up fast behind him and will be stoking the heat up to boiling point!”

  And then I retreated fast.

  “What is it with you and Tyler?” Pete exclaimed when that piece of footage was aired shortly after a clip of me roaring in second after Tyler in the final.

  “We’re both competitive,” I dismissed. “Anyway, at least he’s stopped tapping me every time he goes past…”

  “I imagine that the revelations of last week’s show might have made him think twice about annoying you,” Paul said dryly.

  I took Jaimi and Lisa with me to shop for the dress to wear to the wedding. Lisa because she helped me buy the last one and is really arty, and Jaimi as a comfort blanket. “We’re only going into shops that have cubicles that I don’t have to come out of, I don’t want anything red, and you’re to call me ‘Anne’ at all times,” I insisted. They both thought I was mental, but hey, what’s new?

  They also came round to help me dress on the Saturday afternoon. Anyone would think it was me getting married! But I was very grateful. Now that the cameras were always getting shoved in my face, I really needed to know from someone that I looked ok.

  I walked out, what seemed like hours later, in a cocktail dress in antique gold lace over a cream silk under-layer, with a high neckline, and the skirt to about a centimetre above the knee. I’d been anxious about the exposed shoulders due to the nasty knife scar on my upper arm, but Lisa had substantially hidden that with carefully applied foundation and powder which she’d matched to my skin tones, and she’d sourced a cream and gold flecked pashmina for me to drape over my arms, or my shoulders or even to cover my head if the occasion demanded it. I had some delicate gold coloured filigree earrings with tiny artificial pearls in them, and a matching bracelet, a tiny gold clutch bag, and high heeled strappy gold sandals. Finally they’d spent ages on my hair with straighteners and curling tongs and Lisa had piled it up with a fall of ringlets to one side with some tiny yellow roses pinned artfully into it which she’d sourced from the florist she used to work at.

  Kes issued an instant complimentary wolf whistle. Quinn just stared at me like I was an alien from outer space. Jaimi and Lisa saw me down the stairs to where Rajesh was waiting in his car and then went back up to talk to the boys, because they’d indicated that they wanted to button hole Lisa while she was there to talk about the sound system for tonight’s gig.

  Rajesh dutifully kissed me on the cheek. “You look gorgeous.”

  “Where’s Nasim?” I asked, looking behind me in the palpably otherwise empty car.

  “It wasn’t considered proper.” He rolled his eyes. “So Suki’s picking her up and we’re meeting her there.”

  “This’ll be the first time I’ve seen Nasim since she left our house you know,” I mused.

  Rajesh looked surprised.

  “I’m the corrupting influence remember?”

  As we drove out to the hotel, I thought I’d better warn him. “Raj, they get everywhere with those cameras, they’re watching you with telephoto lenses even when you think they’re not. Don’t make a single word or gesture towards Naz today that you wouldn’t want seen by her parents on national TV…”

  They’d asked me to text them when I was nearly there, so the cameras could be waiting at the entrance in readiness for our arrival. I walked in on his arm and a few seconds later, Nasim came in with Chetsi. Nasim and I hugged and then Pete and his female monkeys came back forcibly to mind as Nasim and I walked forward into the hotel ballroom clutching each other for comfort.

  “Oh my God,” I said. “Nasim have you ever seen anything like this?”

  “No, never,” she said, her eyes as wide as they would go.

  If I’d thought the last wedding exotic and colourful, this was off the scale spectacular. The ballroom had huge crystal chandeliers, massive gilded mirrors round the walls and was decorated everywhere with flowers, garlands, candles, and coloured silks. There was an enormous podium constructed at one end with a domed arch over it covered in flowers. I realised that the last wedding had been just a nice jolly home-made family one – this was pure theatrical Bollywood.

  “Do you think they’ve had to mortgage their house?” I said, awed.

  Rajesh appeared behind us. “Told you Aasha was a Diva!”
<
br />   I gave him a quick surreptitious pinch to remind him about the cameras.

  “Ow!” He complained then suddenly realised why I’d done it.

  He chivalrously took one of us on each arm. I peeped round him at the nervous looking Nasim, who was looking very lovely in a shimmering kingfisher blue shalwar chemise and eye make-up that made her eyes look huge and glowing.

  “This is where we have to run the gauntlet of Massijis and Mamijis,” I warned her. “I hope you’re feeling brave…”

  “Not to mention the Naniji, Dadiji, Buahjis, Chachaji and Chachiji, Taoji and Taiji, and numerous Bhaiyas and Didi’s,” Rajesh added naughtily.

  “Stop it!” I gave him a slap. “Naz is going a bit pale!” I said cheerfully to Nasim, “I just call them all ‘Massijis’ for shorthand, but I’m told that’s technically incorrect.”

  Sometime later, we all managed to retreat to the gobsmacking buffet which Rajesh assured us were just nibbles as there would be a big feast after the ceremony and Nasim seemed to have survived, if a bit shell shocked. I had noticed that although they had been exquisitely polite to her, the Massijis hadn’t treated her as warmly as they had myself on my first appearance. She wouldn’t know that herself, but Rajesh might.

  The cameraman was Roger, the one who’d told me about the chimpanzees. He was often assigned to me and I got along with him pretty well as he was down to earth and a good laugh. “Get plenty of flattering footage of the bride,” I hissed in his ear. “Or there’ll be temper tantrums later!”

  He grinned and promised he would…

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Nasim said gratefully to me. I took her hand and squeezed it briefly.

  “I’m beginning to understand why Raj couldn’t face running off to Gretna and getting cast out of his family,” I said privately to her. “He told me he’d always imagined his wedding being a big celebratory family affair and it would be too much of a disappointment to have some registry office ceremony with a couple of witnesses dragged in off the street. But I hadn’t been to one of these weddings when he said that, so I didn’t understand what a big deal it was…”

  Rajesh appeared at my side, “The bride and groom are arriving, so brace yourselves for an hour and a half of elaborate rituals!”

  Watching this episode the following Wednesday with the Satterthwaites, I was flattered by their response.

  “Wow, you look amazing Eve,” Jo said when I was shown walking in on Rajesh’s arm.

  Roger had clearly crept up on us with the mike, as they broadcast me and Raj teasing Naz about all the Massijis and her worried looking expression. Then there were some clips of Naz and me walking around arm in arm meeting the various relatives.

  “You look so elegant and confident, Eve,” Sue exclaimed.

  Pete squeezed my hand as though he wanted to signal that he agreed but was too embarrassed to say in front of his family.

  Then they showed my exchange with Nasim about Gretna Green and Raj’s hour and a half warning, and some key scenes from the Vivah Saskar with some beautiful close-ups of the bride and the groom. Thumbs up, Rog, I thought.

  During a lull in the banquet, (between courses there were drummers and dancers but on this occasion it had gone a bit quiet), the evil Annette turned up. Herding us into a quieter alcove she’d grilled us until the music levels had gone up so loud she’d had to give up. Quite a bit of the conversation was put into the episode. (I’d overheard her later on the phone to Sasha – ‘You’ll think all your Christmases have come at once when you see the footage – we’ve got a Romeo and Juliet love story, which covers both the Pakistani and Indian bases, honour killings, the lot!’).

  “So you’re saying that when your family found out about Rajesh, they took your phone off you, locked you in your bedroom and threatened to put you on a flight back to Pakistan?” Annette was saying.

  Nasim nodded. “So I climbed out of the bedroom window and ran away to Eve.”

  “Why to Eve?” Annette pushed.

  Nasim looked sideways at me. “She’s not scared of anybody.”

  “And were you scared, Eve?” Annette looked at me.

  “Well I was a bit scared of the whole battery acid thing, after all, I work with it and I know how dangerous it is, but in the end he just firebombed our house.”

  “Who?”

  Nasim lowered her eyes. “My older brother.”

  “But they’d already threatened they were going to do that, so I was on the alert for it and happened to be awake at the time so I ran downstairs and snatched up the fire extinguisher…”

  Nasim looked upset. “But it completely gutted their living room and I felt terrible…”

  “And where were you in all this?” Annette turned on Raj who looked like he’d been dreading that question.

  “Well I was living in a flat across the other side of town at the time,” he reported. “But Naz’s menfolk found out where I lived and if Eve hadn’t turned up just as they spotted me and made me leap on her bike to make a quick, and I must say, Eve, completely hair-raising getaway, I doubt I’d still have my wedding tackle intact for any future ceremony whatsoever…”

  “So Rajesh made a few chaperoned visits to our house,” I put in carefully. “Whilst he negotiated with his own family about whether he could marry Nasim, but they said ‘no’.”

  “Why was that Rajesh?”

  He looked around a bit wildly. “You’d best ask my older sister Sucheta, she’s done a bit of research into our family history recently…”

  In fact it had taken some time to winkle her out and bring her over in her gorgeous sari that I’d admired all the exquisite pleating in, causing her to admit that the Aunties had held a sari garbing session in the morning for all the youngsters who’d never learned how to pleat their own, but on the show they cut straight to her sitting down beside us.

  Sucheta explained to camera the terrible massacre that took place during Partition in which their Great Grandfather had been killed, and some of the associated atrocities, and how therefore their family had not been happy to receive a Pakistani daughter in law into the family.

  “And yet you are here, Nasim?” Annette pointed out. “How come?”

  “I went back home to my family and while Sucheta worked on Rajesh’s parents, I worked on mine, because both Raj and I would like to do it the right way and respect our parents and family, and now we have had a meeting between the parents haven’t we Raj?” She looked adoringly up at him, and he suddenly smiled back at her and Sue went cryptically, “Crack, crack, melt…” as we watched.

  Afterwards I’d asked Nasim why she’d dared to say all that on national TV and she told me that Sucheta had advised her that the best way to make sure her parents didn’t dare lock her up again or step outside the law, was to speak out publically about it whilst showing as much respect and honour to her parents as possible while she did so. Bloomin’ ingenious, Sucheta, I thought. You are one cunning cow.

  Sasha was ecstatic when she rang me up. “We’ll be following that storyline through for the rest of the year,” she congratulated me. Raj told me later that Annette had told him that if he was going to propose to Nasim he must let them know and they’d capture the moment on camera. She was also sniffing around to see if there were any other family meetings being planned.

  “They’ll be doing a spin off documentary on you two if you’re not careful!” I teased.

  Raj groaned. “Don’t joke!” Then he perked up. “Still, the family were pretty made-up with the fantastic portrayal of the wedding, Aasha’s lording it about like a triumphant Queen, and Naz said she can see her parents are wavering even more into thinking they might just agree…”

  “What, they now think your family must be completely loaded if they can afford a wedding like that?”

  “No kidding, Eve, you can laugh - but it’s all about prestige, and Aasha’s do has ticked all the right boxes.”

  My final session with my Sentence Supervisor and the cameras were there. Alan agre
ed to it as he thought it would be good publicity for the Youth Offending Service.

  “Well done, Eve,” he congratulated me when the paperwork was over. “You’ve completed your one hundred and fifty community hours and you’ve come to the end of your year’s supervision. What will you do with all your free time now?”

  “I need to work on my tarmac car – it’s still really sluggish.”

  “Ah yes, you know I had no idea you were so good at this driving malarkey till the documentary started.” He turned to Annette who was behind the cameraman. “She’s one of our success stories. I’ve had fantastic feedback on her from the two placements she has been on. I think you’ll agree that the Steam Engine Restoration project ideally suits her talents, and before that when she worked in learning disability I was told she had a real affinity with the autistic boys there.”

  “Why’s that then, Eve?” Annette asked me.

  I turned to the camera and said with a subversive smile, “I’m ok with obsessional. I can do obsessional. Hey Bobby!” I pressed my fists tightly together under my chin and rolled my eyes sideways. “Who’s this? 398cc,62bhp, 139mph, 160kg. And who’s this? 124.7cc, 13bhp, 72mpg, 115kg.” Then I gave an approximation of one of Bobby’s evil smiles straight into the camera and said, “And here’s a special one for you to guess – 6.3 litre twin turbo charged V8, 256mph, 422lbs with 1287hp at 6075rpm – and it’s worth a right good finger wiggle,” and I wiggled my fingers in demonstration under my chin with an ecstatic smile. “Give me the answer next time you see me – Belle Vue next Sunday would be good!”

  Alan shook his head. “See what I mean? I have absolutely no idea what she is talking about. Go away Eve and I hope I never see you again!”

  “One of those was my bike wasn’t it?” Quinn said frowning.

  “Yup.”

  “And one was your bike…”

  “Yup.”

  He was still frowning.

  “And the third..?” I prompted.

  He huffed for a bit then admitted defeat.