‘And your name is?’
‘Samuel Ironside.’ He spoke very clearly and only then, he looked at Lily.
There was no pretence. In that moment, he felt strangely proud of her. She was not one of these upper-class misses with their feelings buried under deep layers of social propriety, the sort who might now stare icily at him, or turn away, affecting indifference. She was a real woman, that was how he remembered her.
His woman
, he thought, and now he saw that her gaze was fixed on him, utterly, deeply as if there was nothing else to be seen. He remembered with a terrible pang those dark eyes fixed on him with longing and devotion, where now he could see questioning and pain and, not far below the quiet surface, a quivering restraint of emotions.
‘A pleasure to meet you,’ Piers Larstonbury was saying. ‘I must say, Daimler have made some fine motors, very fine. I have yet to experience driving an Austin. But I’m sure I should like to.’
‘The Twenty and Twelve have been highly successful,’ Sam said. He did feel a personal pride in the models the company had developed since the war. ‘What do you drive?’ Piers Larstonbury somehow indicated that he should walk with them and he found himself drawn along in front of Cosmo, Lily and the boy.
‘A Daimler, in actual fact – a rather old model now. But I must admit to enjoying a Morgan as well. Damn fine cars. I’m not highly knowledgeable at all. It’s Cosmo who’s the expert there. He’s very keen to race – very keen indeed. He’s trying to find his way into it.’
As they strolled along the edge of the paddock, Sam told Piers Larstonbury about the new model of Austin being developed at the works – something more affordable for the ordinary driver. And then he found himself talking about Chitty 1 and Specials and somehow Sam announced that he was in the process of building one himself.
‘How absolutely marvellous! Are you a driver yourself?’
‘Not a racing driver,’ Sam said.
Piers Larstonbury actually stopped, gazing at him. Sam realized the man was not just being polite, he really did not know much about motoring. He was just a social day tripper, one of the ones who went to the Henley Regatta or racing at Ascot for the social scene, and Sam saw that he was eager to learn and prepared to listen with real attention.
‘Course,’ Piers Larstonbury said, ‘a chap like you with all the expertise – it’s ideal! I must say, I rather envy you. All rather new to me, this, you see. I’ve not come to Brooklands before. I came because . . .’ He said no more but the tiny tilt of his head towards Lily and Cosmo gave some explanation. Jack Pye had insisted that Lily was not Piers Larstonbury’s wife. So what was between them? Did Lily love him? Sam tried to stop himself speculating. He had seen nothing in Lily’s eyes which spoke of love for the man, but perhaps that was what he wanted to believe . . .
They had reached the railings round the paddock. Inside, there were a number of cars parked and clusters of members were standing talking.
‘I do wish you luck with your vehicle,’ Piers Larstonbury said. ‘It sounds immensely exciting.’
Sam knew he had given a misleading picture of the situation, but he was still taken aback to hear Piers Larstonbury speak as if the car was already half built. He could hardly admit now that there was no Special – that he had no money and nowhere to work.
‘Well – we’re definitely going for an aero-engine – chain-driven chassis, of course – a Mercedes.’ He found all their dreams pouring out passionately. ‘High gear ratios – we can sort that out with countershaft sprockets. It’d be fantastic to be able to test it on the hill climb here . . . My God,’ he finished, ‘she’s going to be good when we’ve finished. The likes of Chitty 1 will have to look out!’
‘Marvellous.’ Piers Larstonbury was looking at him intently. Sam could see he had impressed the man with his know-how and enthusiasm, and he turned to include the others in the conversation.
‘Cosmo – Mr Ironside here is in the process of building a Special himself – on a Mercedes chassis. I imagine you have ambitions to race her here when she’s finished?’
‘Oh yes, of course,’ Sam said, still full of conviction. Of course that was what they were going to do!
He could see Cosmo Fairford looking at him with a new respect which he found gratifying. But now he was also face to face with Lily again.
‘Cosmo is far more knowledgeable on the subject than I. A devotee, one might say. And a demon driver.’
‘Well,’ Sam said, attempting to overcome his instinctive dislike of Cosmo. ‘From what I remember you started very young. Your father had you at the wheel from about the age of four!’
‘Yes,’ Lily added suddenly. ‘And for ever after.’
Piers Larstonbury looked from one to the other of them in puzzlement. Sam’s and Lily’s eyes met and held each other’s gaze steadily, somehow defiantly.
‘You two have met before!’
‘Yes.’ Lily was in command now, cool and detached as any upper-class mistress of the drawing room. ‘We have, briefly. A very long time ago.’
Sam felt her words like ice poured into him. They seemed loaded with cruel indifference. And he realized, foolishly, that they were waiting for him to leave. They could see he was not a BARC member and they wanted their tea. Sam felt small and deflated, like a small boy with his nose pressed up against a sweet-shop window. He had been a little diversion in their day of entertainment and now he was holding them up.
‘My colleagues are waiting for me over the other side,’ he said brusquely. ‘I just wanted a quick word with Mr Fairford here – for old times’ sake.’ He raised his cap with careful courtesy.
‘Well, it’s been a delight to meet you Mr, er, Ironside,’ Piers Larstonbury said, returning the salute. ‘And I wish you every success.’
And it was time for Sam to take his leave. It was over. And nothing had even begun.
‘Damn,’ Sam railed to himself, walking away. ‘Damn and blast it! And damn
them
!’
He felt like slamming his hat down on the ground, he was so frustrated and humiliated. He had not managed a single proper word with Lily. Unable to stop himself, he turned back at least to watch her walk away, to have a final glimpse of her.
His eyes caught hers, just as she had also turned to look back over her shoulder. Neither of them could pretend they were not looking for the other, and he saw Lily hesitate. She paused to say something to Piers Larstonbury, then turned back, leaving the boy, to hurry towards Sam.
He saw that she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her face had matured and there was a more chiselled curve to her cheekbones. She seemed more sophisticated and poised, more formidable. The sight of her utterly captivated him. They stood feet apart, in silence, for some moments. He looked into her eyes but her expression was guarded, frightened even. At last, as she said nothing, he could not hold back.
‘I saw you – earlier. I knew it was you.’ Looking very directly at her he said, ‘I’d know you anywhere, Lily.’
There was a moment, a flicker of vulnerability, but then she said coolly, ‘Major Larstonbury felt that he had been very remiss in not inviting you to be our guest for tea in the clubhouse.’
So Larstonbury was a major as well, Sam thought. Course, he would be. Officer class and all that.
‘I have people waiting,’ Sam said with dignity. ‘They’ll already be wondering where I am.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Family?’ He was glad she asked, that the question mattered to her.
‘No. Just a couple of pals.’
She seemed to decide something, and stepped closer, speaking fast and urgently.
‘Sam, you can help – please. I know you can. We’ve got to do something for Cosmo – set him on the right path. He’s been so unhappy. School has been a disaster for him and the family made him go into the bank and he
loathes
it. I’m so very worried for him. Everything has gone wrong for him . . . Losing his father the way he did – and Isadora. The one thing he wants to do is race – he’s good,
really
good. He drives on the estate, but he’s had such bad luck. Please, Sam – come back and talk about it with us. At least join us for tea.’
There was such appeal in her eyes and voice, such passion in her concern for Cosmo that Sam knew he was already being drawn in. For her, not for Cosmo: he’d do anything to be near her. But he had to be honest with her now. He didn’t want to make a complete fool of himself.
‘You must understand – we’re not far on at all,’ he said. ‘I may have misled Major Larstonbury. You see, we have no money to begin.’
Lily shook her head dismissively. ‘Oh, money! Money’s not a problem for these people.’
It was that which decided him. The way she spoke of them, distancing herself from Piers Larstonbury’s upper-class sort in a way which put her on Sam’s side. For all her learned sophistication it was a class alliance. She looked intensely into his eyes. ‘If you need money, you’re in the right place. And they need you. Come and have tea, Sam. You won’t regret it.’
And so he walked into something he had never expected, not in his most fanciful of dreams.
The clubhouse was an airy-looking pavilion, sporting a low turret and a veranda round the sides, with the atmosphere of a seaside resort. They were served tea round a small table in a wide room full of the genteel sounds of conversation and laughter and teaspoons clinking against china and the sweet scents of cake and strawberry jam. Piers Larstonbury behaved with utter courtesy, apologizing to Sam for his oversight in not inviting him the first time.
‘Miss Waters is so much better at these things than I,’ he said. And he shot a look at Lily which revealed, quite nakedly, his feelings.
He adores her
, Sam saw. He watched carefully to try and make sense of it all. Did she feel the same?
‘Not at all,’ Sam said carefully.
‘This is my son, Hubert,’ Piers Glastonbury said. The little boy, whom Sam guessed to be about five, had just taken a huge mouthful of jam sponge and he stared round-eyed at Sam, who gave him a smile.
There was a silence and Sam took a sip of tea, then turned to Cosmo. He could swallow his dislike of the fellow for Lily.
‘I gather you’re keen to race? What have you done so far?’
Cosmo came to life then. ‘I’ve driven always – on my uncle’s estate. He’s had a few motors, mostly saloon models, of course, but I’ve hammered those round the track. A couple of friends bring their motors – we have all sorts going round there. One or two Austins, a Mercedes, a Weigel . . .’
Sam frowned. ‘You mean you’ve got a circuit?’
‘Oh yes!’ Cosmo said proudly and for a second Sam caught a glimpse of the eager young boy. ‘I mean, not like here, of course, not banked and all that, but a track Uncle’s let me carve out round the grounds. He’s plenty of space, after all. There’s even rather a good hill for testing uphill speeds . . .’
Sam began to feel a real glimmer of excitement. He didn’t like Cosmo, but he could see the passion in him, the real hunger for motors and driving which gave him a sense of kinship. And surely the boy must have some of his father’s qualities?
‘Why not have a go building your own, then?’ he asked. ‘Plenty of people give it a go.’
Cosmo’s face fell, became almost sulky. ‘No idea where to begin, old man. I’ve had a few thoughts, but I’ve no expertise and none of my friends are in that line. They sent me to work in a bank . . .’ he finished in disgust.
While he was speaking, Sam noticed that Lily and Piers Larstonbury were quietly conferring beside them and he saw, with a dart of deep jealousy, that she had laid her hand on his forearm and was looking into his eyes. Piers Larstonbury gave her a smile of intimate adoration, then he looked at Sam.
‘She’s a great persuader, this young woman. Tell me, Mr Ironside. Where do most of these vehicles, these Specials, come to be built?’
‘Anywhere anyone gets the chance,’ Sam said. ‘At the back of workshops, in old barns and sheds – I’ve even heard of one or two being pieced together in people’s bedrooms. Course, there are also the workshops here.’ He sighed, not realizing how much longing there was in his voice. ‘This would be the dream place to do it. There are all those workshops away from the track with all sorts going on in them, and you’d be breathing the air in this place, with the company reps on hand for parts and right by the track and the test hill. A lot of these are company-owned, of course, most of the big firms have sheds here. Most amateurs can only dream of anything like that. They’ll work at it every spare moment they’ve got, hardly sleeping, hardly doing anything else to get it built, get it right. But they’ll still be in the shed at the bottom of the garden until what they build is successful. Then, with any luck, they can live on their winnings!’
Piers Larstonbury smiled at his wistful passion. Sam saw him exchange a glance with Lily. Her eyes burned with feeling and she gave the slightest, persuasive nod. Cosmo seemed unaware what was passing between them and sat eating cake, sunk back into his usual sulkiness.
‘Mr Ironside.’ Piers Larstonbury became businesslike, pushing his tea plate to one side and reaching into his breast pocket for a fountain pen and a small notebook. ‘I have a proposal to make to you.’