Games Lovers Play (14 page)

‘I do believe you're flirting with me,' she said.

‘Oh, but I am, make no mistake about that. Do you mind?'

She grinned broadly. ‘No! It's been a long time since that happened to me, and I'm enjoying every moment.'

When he eventually drove her home, Kay invited him in for a coffee, but he declined.

‘I won't, thank you, Kay. Not that I don't want to, but a cup of coffee wouldn't be enough – and if you capitulated, I wouldn't know if you did because you're on the rebound. Make no mistake, I want to make love to you, but only because you want
me
as much, not as a substitute for an errant husband.' Before she could reply, he took her into his arms and kissed her.

It was now March, and Sam, with his trusty mechanics, was preparing for another race, this time at Mallory Park Racing Circuit in Leicestershire. As usual, many hours were spent looking over every aspect of the car engine, to produce the fastest time. Eventually, they were satisfied and took it out on the usual trial run at the disused airfield in the New Forest, on the Sunday before the race, which was taking place on the following Saturday.

Connie had gone along to watch, as she would be working on race day and she was anxious to see how things had progressed. There was a chilly wind, and she pulled the collar of her coat up round her neck for added warmth as she stood with Tom, who was holding the stopwatch. Her heart was in her mouth, and she was taut with nerves. Her shoulders ached, her back was stiff and she held her breath as Sam drove to the starting point, knowing how important were the results.

Sensing her anxiety, Tom winked at her. ‘Relax, Connie; it'll be fine, you'll see.'

Sam drove over the set course to be timed. To Connie it looked very fast, but he finally stopped in front of Tom and Harry and got out of the car, saying they needed to adjust something in the carburettor. Then he set off once more.

Even to her unpractised eye, Connie could see this was a faster time … and it was. Thus satisfied, they loaded the car on the truck and drove to a local pub for a much needed beer and sandwich.

Tucked up behind Sam on his motorcycle on the drive home, Connie held him around the waist and leaned into him as she'd been taught, feeling the warmth of his body, wishing that he didn't have such a dangerous occupation. She'd seen so many pile-ups during the various races she'd attended, and she wondered how long before Sam would be involved in such a scenario. The odds were against him. One day it would happen, and she wondered how she would cope if he was injured. Because of such fears, she was particularly loving when they were in bed that night.

They eventually lay back on the bed, completely exhausted. Sam gazed at her and spoke. ‘Well, darling, that was something else! Where did all that come from?'

She couldn't let him know how anxious she was. She stroked his cheek, kissed him softly and said, ‘I just wanted to show you how much I love you, that's all.'

‘It's just as well I'm going to be away for a few days because a few nights like that and you could kill me off!'

Snuggling into him she murmured, ‘You will be careful, won't you?'

‘I'm always careful, sweetheart, you know that. I'm not a mad driver like Jake Barton.'

Although Barton was still banned from racing, he kept abreast of the meetings and who was driving and winning, and he knew that Mallory Park was a major race. He also knew that Sam Knight was entering. This stuck in his craw. Although he'd temporarily closed down his garage and was now employed as driver to Edward Harrington and had his own scam on the side, he longed to be part of the racing game again. He'd arranged to have two days off to watch the race and had carefully planned his strategy.

Connie felt somewhat bereft now that Sam had left for the meeting, and because she was unable to be there to see that he came through unscathed, she was very quiet at work. She tried to keep busy but for once she wasn't chattering away to her friend Betty between customers.

‘For goodness' sake, Con, do cheer up,' Betty urged. ‘You'll chase the customers away with that long face!'

But as much as she tried, Connie felt unable to be her usual cheery self, and she escaped to the stockroom for several items that needed replenishing. As she collected the boxes and turned to leave, John Baker walked in and shut the door firmly behind him. Seeing the predatory expression on his face, Connie became wary.

‘I've been watching you this morning,' he said softly. ‘You looked so unhappy that I wondered if you'd finished with the boyfriend?' He placed a hand on her arm and squeezed it.

She froze. ‘I'm fine, thank you! Now, please, let me pass.'

He stood with his back to the door and refused to move. ‘I don't like to see you this way, it bothers me. You still mean a great deal to me, Connie darling, I'm sure you know that?'

‘Go and find someone else, John. I'm not interested!'

His eyes narrowed. ‘How quickly you dismiss me now, when I can remember the time when you couldn't get enough of me! Let me remind you of what you're missing.'

He stepped towards her. Connie's arms were full of boxes, but she was determined to defend herself and quickly brought up her knee and caught him in the groin. He let out a cry of pain and doubled over. She managed to grab the handle of the door and open it. Turning she said, ‘You try to touch me again and I'll
really
do you some damage.' As she walked across the floor to her counter, she started smiling for the first time that day.

In the stockroom, Baker's hand was covering his genitals, trying to relieve the pain. Sweat beaded his forehead, and he swore beneath his breath. ‘By God, she'll pay for this!'

At Mallory Park, it was race day and the adrenalin was in abundance among the drivers preparing to do twenty laps of the course. Engines revved beneath open bonnets, men in overalls checked the tyres, tanks were filled with petrol and the drivers exchanged their last words with their crews.

Tom had checked the entry list and reported to Sam that the usual drivers were entered and, of course, a few that were new to the circuit. They were always the ones to beware of as they usually lacked the experience of the seasoned drivers.

He patted Sam's shoulder. ‘Good luck, mate!'

Sam gave him the thumbs up and drove to the starting line.

It started to drizzle with rain, and Tom frowned. Wet tracks were dangerous.

The noise from the engines was deafening as they waited for the starter to lower his flag. A few minutes later he did so – and then the race began.

Several cars fought for the lead, with one or two very close calls as cars edged too near an opponent, neither giving way until the last moment to avoid an accident that would take them out of the contest. Sam was moving slowly up the field with each lap, but there was a long way to go to the finish line.

It started to rain heavily. One or two of the new drivers came to grief early in the race due to their lack of experience on wet tracks, and the safety crews dashed around removing cars that had come to a standstill, clearing the way before oncoming cars would be endangered. They couldn't move them all, though, so the oncoming traffic had to manoeuvre round them, which was hazardous. A few of the newcomers played it safe, driving carefully, but by so doing were causing a problem for the faster cars, who would soon overtake the stragglers.

Tom cursed beneath his breath. ‘Those idiots shouldn't be allowed to enter,' he said as one of the cars veered suddenly, skidding – taking out another vehicle.

Sam was behind the wheel, concentrating on every car that was within his sight, anticipating their next move, his foot on the accelerator, quickly changing gear at every corner before pushing his foot to the floor to drive as fast as was safe. He overtook a straggler safely and then another, but to his surprise the second car suddenly sped up and sat on his tail.

‘What the fuck is this man playing at?' he exclaimed as he tried to shake him off. But no matter what he did, the car behind followed, benefiting from the tailwind.

There were six more laps to go, and Sam was now behind the leader, closely followed by his shadow. Sam had to admit whoever was behind the wheel of the other car at his rear was a good driver and he'd have his work cut out to lose him and pass the car leading the race.

On the penultimate lap, Sam saw his opportunity as they approached a corner. He moved to pass the leader on the inside, but the car behind him deliberately drove into the rear of his vehicle, shunting him across the track and on to the grass at the side, narrowly missing the car in front. His car spun three times and ended up crashing into a wall of rubber tyres in front of one of the stands. He was out of the race.

Race stewards ran over to him, fire extinguishers at the ready. He was safely out of the way of oncoming vehicles, but they wanted to check that he wasn't injured and the car wasn't about to burst into flames.

Sam turned off the ignition and climbed gingerly out of the driving seat. He felt bruised and his ribs hurt from the impact. ‘I'm all right,' he told the others, ‘but who was that bastard who took me out?'

No one seemed to know.

Tom heard the announcement over the loudspeaker. ‘
Sam Knight is out of the race. His car crashed on the last bend.
' He held his breath. ‘
But it's all right folks, he's climbing out of the car and walking away. What bad luck!
'

Tom looked at Harry with relief.

Eventually, Sam was reunited with his friends, and he was fuming. ‘That bastard took me out deliberately, and I want a word with him!'

‘Who was it?' Tom asked.

‘I don't know, but I'm bloody well going to find out!' He stormed off.

‘There you are,' Tom said to Harry with a broad grin. ‘He's fine.'

‘Thank God for that! For a moment I wondered.'

Sam found race officials and lodged a complaint. ‘Who was the driver of the car?' he demanded.

They looked at the list of entries. ‘He's a new driver to us, name of Jim Beckett.'

‘Never heard of him. What's he look like? I want a word with him!'

‘Don't know, Mr Knight. When I spoke to him he was wearing his helmet.'

‘Where did he come in the race then?'

They looked at the result list. ‘Way down the list; after all, you overtook him. He was a lap behind.'

Sam was incredulous. ‘Of course, but as soon as I passed him, he sat on my tail. He drove well, so what the hell was he doing in that position?'

The official handed the list over to Sam. ‘See for yourself.'

After reading it, Sam handed the list back and went searching for the driver, to no avail. He then made his way back to his friends.

‘Well, did you find him?' asked Harry.

‘No, he's nowhere to be seen. It's all bloody strange if you ask me.'

Tom put a hand on Sam's shoulder. ‘Never mind. We live to fight another day. Let's pack up and go home.'

Jake Barton drove back to Southampton feeling well pleased with the outcome of the race. He'd made sure that no one had been able to recognize Jim Beckett, his pseudonym for the day, by wearing his helmet when anyone was near. He'd used another car that he'd worked on in secret so it wouldn't be recognized as belonging to him, and he'd achieved his aim by taking Knight out of the race. It was even more satisfying as Sam had been in prime position to win. Had he not shunted him off the track, Jake knew his nemesis would certainly have been on the winner's podium in first place.

But now Jake would have to keep his head down and find a place to hide the car he'd used. Besides, he might want to race again. It had felt so good to be back behind the wheel, to feel his heart thumping as he waited to start, the thrill of overtaking – pitting your driving skills against another – but he'd have to steer clear from any race which included Sam Knight for a while. Well, after today, he could live with that.

Kay Baker picked up the mail from the mat as she opened the front door, ready to take Susan to nursery school. She was running late so hurriedly put the two envelopes in her handbag, took hold of her daughter's hand and rushed down the path.

‘Come on, darling, Mummy's late,' she urged.

‘I'm all right, I'm riding,' chirped Susan and started to gallop, holding the reigns of her pretend horse.

Children's imagination, thought Kay, is a wonderful thing, and this morning it allowed her to arrive at the school gates just in time. She took Susan to the main door, kissed her goodbye and rushed off to catch the bus.

As she sat by the window she relaxed and caught her breath as she saw Edward Harrington's car overtake the bus as it stopped to pick up more passengers. She hadn't seen him since he'd taken her out to dinner, and she had to admit she was disappointed. There was no point in denying it, she was very much attracted to the man, and when he'd told her he wanted to make love to her, but not as a substitute for her husband, she'd been both shocked and excited. Ever since, she'd not been able to get him out of her mind.

He was an object of desire among the typing pool in the office, who thought him sophisticated, dishy, handsome and even more important … single.

‘I wouldn't turn him out of my bed!' said one when he was being discussed during a coffee break.

‘Ooh, me neither,' said another.

‘I wonder what kind of woman appeals to him?' said a third.

Kay had smiled to herself.
Well, as a matter of fact, ladies, I do!
But he hadn't approached her since.

When she settled at her desk, Kay took out the two letters. One was a bill, but the other was from her solicitors telling her that her divorce would be heard in the local court the following week. It made her feel sad. She still loved John – after all he was the father of her child – but she was no longer
in
love with him, and it brought home to her that their marriage was a failure. It was not something to be proud of.