One black tea two sugars, one white tea with none, one latte one sugar, one cappuccino and an extra cappuccino for me later, and I was walking back with them all in a cardboard carrier realising that I was probably going to be expected to foot the bill for this lot. I was glad I’d put plenty of cash in my purse. My nose twitched excitedly as I passed the tightly knit groups of men round each warrior and his metal chariot. This was just brilliant.
As I handed the drinks out I overheard Rob saying to Quinn, “You’d better get down to the office ASAP to get that day licence or you won’t have enough time to fill the form in and get it registered before the race.”
“What’s this?” I asked Quinn sharply.
He avoided my eyes. “Rob’s letting me enter his banger in one of the races.”
I was speechless. Quinn was going to get to drive in a race and not only had he been keeping it a secret from me, but he’d clearly had no intention of my being here at all if he’d had his way! I couldn’t understand it. Wasn’t the point of being boyfriend and girlfriend to do things together and share the excitemene and challenges of life? In Quinn’s case apparently the only point of a girlfriend was to get into her knickers. This felt like the final straw. I marched away and found myself a place on the stands to fume. I was furious with him, and worse than that, I found I was insane with jealousy.
Due to this, I missed Rob’s final send-off from the boys, and before I’d realised what was happening, they were lining up for the first race. White novice roofs at the front, then yellow, blue, and red according to ranking, with the silver Points Champion and the gold World Champion right at the back, and the engines roaring seductively. The atmosphere became electric. I tried to fix my eyes on Rob’s car, his number and distinctive livery, but once they’d done the preliminary lead-in lap they were off at such a speed screaming round the track that I lost sight of him. People were yelling and shouting. Women were leaning over the barriers shrieking for their men. The whole thing was deafeningly loud. The ground began to shake, and I could feel the vibrations deep in my chest. Cars were nudged out of the way by skilled aggression from behind. One spun into the edge with a crunch and was left facing backwards where it stayed fronting up to the oncoming traffic until the main wrestling scrum had passed when it miraculously backed and forwarded itself for a moment then whirled itself round and threw itself back into the race. I lost count of the laps. I knew there were meant to be sixteen. Cars flipped and crashed. Quinn elbowed his way in beside me just before the final flag fell. I saw Rob’s car zoom through a split second later.
“Slight problem,” Quinn yelled to me over the cheering. “If you’re between sixteen and eighteen you need a parental consent form. Will you sign it for me?”
“Doesn’t Rob know how old you are?” I grumped at him. “Does Rob even know that you haven’t passed your driving test yet?”
Quinn shrugged, his eyes narrowed irritably and he wrinkled his nose in the way that he did when he was annoyed but trying not to show it. I knew exactly how to rub salt in the wound of his junior position to me. Only by a matter of a couple of months, but that meant that as a May baby he hadn’t turned seventeen yet, whereas I’d had my test booked for the week after my seventeenth birthday in late March and had passed it first time. Only the other day I’d walked in on Quinn mugging up on his highway code for the academic part of the test and he’d shoved the book hurriedly under his pillow. The pressure was on for him to pass first time as well, or he’d never live it down. Dad had found me throwing up the night before my test and been bewildered. “You can do it standing on your head! What’s the problem?” The problem was that it was so overwhelmingly important to me to beat Quinn to this test and to be able to say I’d passed first time that all my confidence had deserted me. Luckily it had come back the minute I’d got in the driver’s seat and started to adjust the mirror, so it had all ended well.
“Rob’s never asked so I’ve never told him,” Quinn muttered. He shoved the bit of paper at me. “All you have to do is tick a few boxes and sign your moniker there at the bottom.” He pointed out where. “And sign it ‘Kathleen’ not ‘Con’ will you, cos you’ve got definitely girly handwriting.”
I felt like wallopping him, but I did the job. It would have been churlish not to, but I wasn’t about to forgive him for leaving me out of all this. I mean, if I’d been a girl into dolls, false nails, rainbow my-little-ponies and pink puppy dogs I’d have understood his reluctance to include me, but given that I was a fellow petrol-head I couldn’t see what his problem was!
Turned out Rob had come in fifth, after the Gold, Silver, and two other reds, so he was on a high. It meant a number of points and entry into the final. However he’d sustained a small amount of damage in a shunting incident that needed repairing before the race and he fancied the odd bit of fine tuning of a couple of other things. I got sent off to the burger van, which again I ended up funding, but by the time I got back, Quinn was off down the office sorting his licence and race entry out, and Dave and Tolly had been loaned out to a friend who’d had such a big smash that it was going to be touch and go if he was going to get it right before his next race and it was all hands to the pump.
I sought them out to give them their burgers then stood watching Rob at work, handing him his burger at intervals when he clicked his fingers at me for it. Finally I pointed out that he’d missed something vital out on what he was doing and he swore ungratefully at the information. And by the time Quinn returned he found me with my leather jacket safely zipped up, shoulder to shoulder with Rob grovelling around on the ground. I was holding while Rob turned.
Quinn made to take over from me but Rob grunted, “Eve’s got it under control here. If you want to do something useful then fight your way back to the noticeboards will you and check they haven’t changed any of the race timings – I can hear fuck all from those tannoys.”
Quinn glared at the back of Rob’s neck and glanced irritably at me, but he owed his racing debut to the guy, so was forced to retreat and do his bidding. I grinned to myself. Time for him to see what it felt like…
As Rob set off for his second race of the day, I prowled around sussing the place out. There were as many crowds watching the desperately patching mechanics in the pits as there were watching the races. The exhaust fumes were building up, at times a thick wreathing mist as the cars slowed down slightly then roared away again from the corner. The smell was heady, intoxicating, like evaporating liquer, and I was beginning to feel a bit light headed. Could you get drunk on the stuff?
Rob came in fourth this time, he would have come third except for the thump up the arse in the final straight he said. But still it was a good result. No serious damage done, so I didn’t feel the need to hang around being supportive. I went back out to watch the next races. The cars were smaller but quite similar to Rob’s with aerofoils on the roof and what looked like similar contact rules as the bumper nudging, shoving and flipping aside was indulged in with the same amount of vigour.
“What class are these?” I asked a bloke standing next to me.
“BriSCA F2s.” His eyes never left the track.
“What engines?” They had a different note to the F1s – less powerful.
“Two litre Ford Pinto.”
I watched attentively till the end and was about to move on when my attention was arrested by seeing what I suddenly realised was a female form getting out of one of the cars and pulling her helmet off. A female driver at last! They were in extremely short supply. So much so that it hadn’t occurred to me yet that every driver I’d seen so far had been male. All the cars were painted luridly bright combinations of colours. Hers was a bright pink and purple. I wasn’t sure I approved of her fulfilling such a stereotype. I tried to keep an eye on where she was moving off to and began to edge my way along the stands to get to her, but by the time I got any where near, she’d walked off in one direction and someone had driven her car off in another and I’d lost sight of both of them.
So this time, when the F2s came out again, my stomach clenched and I fixed my eyes on the pink and purple. She had a blue aerofoil, which meant she was in the middle rankings. I watched with interest, trying to work out her tactics. But she was getting bumped so often, hedged in tightly by bunches of vehicles, and shunted out the way so forcefully, I could see she wasn’t making much headway. She passed the finishing line in an indiscrimate scrum, nowhere near the front. Afterwards I kept a better eye on her and hunted her down to the corner of a completely different section of the pits. Unlike Rob, she wouldn’t have qualified for the Final in her format and she was clearly in a bad mood. She was standing with two men, one older and one younger who both bore a certain resemblance to her, and she was looking crossly down at her now battered and dented vehicle. She walked slightly away from the men to put her pink and purple helmet down on top of a tool kit box.
“Hi,” I ventured. “Saw the race. Looked like you were getting blocked in?”
She gave me a brief dismissive glance.
“So where are all the female drivers?” I asked. “I’ve only spotted you today.”
“That’s because there aren’t any,” she said coldly. Then she seemed to decide to ease up a bit. “Well only about three of us. All the others are in the ‘Mighty Minis’ or the special ‘Ladies Races’.”
“Ok,” I said. “That’s a shame.” But in the mood she was in, I wasn’t managing to get through her defences.
“Look I’m pretty busy-” She stone-walled, and then she turned away, spoke briefly to the younger guy who I assumed was her brother and stomped off in the direction of the Ladies loo.
The brother wandered round the car in a more sanguine fashion. He was dark and stocky, with a pleasant looking face, so I turned my attention to him instead.
“Are you part of her team?” I asked.
He seemed a lot more friendly. He flashed me a smile. “Aye, when I’m not driving myself.”
I smiled back. “Do you have a team card, or garage card or whatever, with your contact details on it?”
Yes he had. I took it and shoved it swiftly down into my shoulder bag. “Thanks,” I said with another smile and got myself away before the grumpy girl got back.
Back at my own base, Rob and Quinn were standing by what I presumed was the banger. A discontinued Vauxhall Cavalier with roll bar and welded up driver’s door. All the glass and exterior and interior trimmings had been removed, including all the seats except the driver’s, and the dashboard. Other doors had been bolted closed and a metal firewall fitted. I could see a powder fire extinguisher fixed where the driver could reach it easily.
Rob was leaning on the roof going over the rules with Quinn. Rob was about to leave for his Final and since Quinn’s race followed on straight after Rob’s, Rob wouldn’t be able to get back in time to see him off.
Quinn was frowning with concentration. He appeared to be dressed in borrowed gear. A one piece racing driver’s flame retardant suit and there was a helmet resting on the roof of the Cavalier.
“It’s really important you obey the race marshals without question,” Rob was saying. “Keep in formation during the first rolling lap, the race doesn’t start till the next lap. Remember, it may be full contact but this isn’t a Demolition Derby, I want this car back to fight another day. No contact on the infield, no deliberate fencing in, and absolutely no deliberate contact with the driver’s door. You’ll get suspended for any of those. You can push or spin a car towards the infield or fence but you mustn’t be in contact with the front of the car if it hits the fence. No attacking empty or overturned cars. If your car grinds to a halt for some reason, you need to sign to a marshal that you’re not injured with a thumbs up, and if he makes eye contact with you and you don’t make that signal they will automatically assume you’re injured. Never get out unless you’re escaping a fire and never take your harness off. If you can’t drive your car safely off the track after the race is over because it’s too messed up, stand at the front of your car and wait for the breakdown vehicle to come and rescue you. Ok? I think that covers everything.” He wacked Quinn on the back in a bracing fashion. “Good luck.”
As Rob departed for his own fixture, Quinn turned and pulled a face at me. “God I need a fag! But it’s no smoking in the pits and I don’t want to go too far away in case I miss my entrance…”
I could tell he was nervous. I would be too. But I semi-ignored him which was a bit mean. I was too jealous and angry with him to do the supportive clingy admiring female bit. But as Dave and Tolly came back to show him where to go, I managed to squeeze out a fairly convincing sounding ‘Good luck’ and then wormed my way to the front of the stands to get a good view of the race.
In actual fact, I was far more on tenterhooks during the race than I’d thought I’d be. Quinn appeared to have been put right at the back but as he sat there waiting for the off my heart started pounding in sympathy and as they did the first slow rolling lap and everyone cheered I started to feel butterflies. When the roaring starting in earnest I found myself gripping the metal barrier in front of me and staring fixedly at his bright green Cavalier. On the first bend he got thrown out and skidded, the dirt flying up, and he had to wrestle it back in. On the second bend he slowed a bit more going into it and got round it cleaner. After that he skidded and skiied his way round a bit more impressively, seeming to get the hang of it. I could taste the dust on my lips and I could almost visualise every turn of the wheel that he must be doing. At first, being at the back, he was having an easy time of it, as the bulk of cars were way ahead and hadn’t yet caught up behind him. But as the carnage began to build up there were spinning cars to avoid, wrecks against the fence or piled up on the inside on the grass, and the expert survivors were coming up fast behind him. Finally, as he swerved to avoid a Nissan Bluebird hulk which had just trashed into something ahead, another vehicle behind gave him a skilled nudge to the left hand side of his back bumper, throwing him in towards the centre and as he tried to hurl the car round back again another veteran gave him a good sharp shove from the other side to pass him from the inside spinning him towards the fence where some type of Ford ploughed straight into him and his race was over.
By the time I got back to the pits, Quinn was back and Rob was giving him a ticking off about something. But the Cavalier was relatively undented given that final mash-up, and Quinn had managed to extricate himself and drive himself back without aid unlike some of the others who were at this moment looking like they’d through an industrial crusher and were being towed off by huge tractors.
“I need a drink,” Quinn said, running a hand through the sweaty hair that clung to his forehead. He was filthy. No glass in the windscreen and doors meant all that dirt just got kicked up right through the car and out again I guess.
“Let’s go and wet your head then,” Rob agreed with alacrity. And they walked off without a backward glance at me.
I spent my time usefully, helping Dave and Tolly load up the banger onto their trailer and then Rob’s F1into its own trailer. Dave and Tolly then left to drive home with the banger, and I walked around gathering up all the gear that belonged to
us that I could see. After that I took a precautionary trip to the lavs and when I got back the selfish buggers were still nowhere to be seen. Finally, as the light was beginning to fade a bit and most of the other teams were leaving, the pair of them rolled back. Rob had had far too much to drink. His movements were all lax and his breath stank. He didn’t thank me for clearing up, just said, “All set to go?” Then he tossed the keys to Quinn. “I’ve had one too many, you’ll have to drive.”
More than one, I thought disapprovingly. Quinn rolled a panicky eye at me. That’s what comes of not telling the truth, I thought piously, what if I hadn’t been along? You’d have been right up shit creek then! But I took the keys off him and said loudly to Rob, “Quinn’s in no fit state either. I’ll drive.” I had to hope that Rob had ‘any driver’ insurance on his Range Rover, or I’d be done for it if anything went wrong. Quinn gave me a grateful glance.
“You’re navigating though,” I told him severely as I swopped my heels for my flat pumps, “because I was yakking too much on the way to pay any attention.”
I negotiated us carefully out of the stadium grounds and it didn’t prove that hard to get us back on the motorway, where I stayed mainly in the slow lane and prayed that no-one was going to make me back-up anywhere, as I’d never driven anything articulated before. Rob promptly fell asleep stretched out on the back seat with his jaw hanging open.
“So how did it feel?” I asked Quinn curiously after I was sure that Rob was well asleep. I wanted the truth out of him, not some macho set pieces.
“Brilliant!” Quinn said enthusiastically. “Like Ben Hur without the horse poo!”
“But what did it actually feel like?” I pursued.
“Like being in a computer game but suddenly realising it was for real and that your visor was splashing up, the sun was low and getting in your eyes and wondering if your bones were going to be rattled into a heap and your ear drums would split.”
Paradise Postponed (Not Quite Eden Book 2) Page 10