you?â
âOf course,â she assured him.
âWe wonât even tell Jimmy. Not that I donât trust him, but heâs young and in his enthusiasm he might let something slip without meaning to. Weâll just say there is more work needed to be done before weâre satisfied.â
âToday was so thrilling, I canât wait for Silverstone,â she said.
He took her hand in his. âNeither can I.â
She knew by his expression he wasnât referring to the race, and she felt even more excited as she smiled at him.
Jake Barton too was looking forward to Silverstone. He and his men had been working on a Jaguar heâd bought for the race, and he felt at last he had a vehicle that would beat the living daylights out of Sam Knight. That was even more important to him than winning the race itself; such was his obsession with the other driver. This was a great concern to his mechanics, who were sitting together in a pub, discussing the forthcoming race over a pint of beer.
Charlie was the first to put his thoughts into words. âFor the first time ever we have a chance in this race at Silverstone, but that bloody lunatic could ruin it if he doesnât keep focused on the race itself. All he talks about is beating Knight, and that worries me!â
âMy thoughts exactly!â agreed Bert. âWeâve slogged our bloody guts out tuning that engine and working on the body to make it safe â but to what end?â
Sipping his beer Charlie was deep in thought. Putting down the glass he looked at his friend and said, âIf he screws up the race, Iâm off! Unless he can show me heâs a professional when itâs the big time, Iâm moving on.â He rubbed his chin. âI havenât forgotten how he decked me ⦠for nothing!â
âMe too!â Bert agreed. âThere are others who will appreciate what we have to offer; we wonât lose out if we put the word about.â He lit a cigarette. âThis race is his last chance.â
Unaware of the hostility felt by his two men, Jake was in his garage sitting in the driving seat of his Jaguar, slowly revving the engine, listening to it purr. Stroking the dashboard lovingly.
âYou little beauty,â he murmured. âWith you Iâm going to show that bastard, Knight, just how good a driver I am. Itâs time he was taken down a peg or two.â He started laughing until the tears ran down his cheeks.
Prior to the race the
Southampton Evening Echo
ran an article about the two local men who were entering. There was a picture of Sam and another of Jake Barton. The list of Samâs successes far outweighed his opposition, which only enraged Jake more as he read it and fuelled the overwhelming hatred he felt for his rival.
Connie was delighted, of course, as she and her father read it together in the sitting room, discussing the young man, her father filled with admiration for his achievements. He passed the paper over to Madge to look at. She glanced at it briefly and just sniffed.
George looked at his daughter and winked. âTake no notice,â he whispered.
John Baker, now living in a rented flat, also read the paper that evening as he ate his spaghetti on toast. He studied the features of the good-looking young man in the picture and was consumed with jealousy. Not only was he missing the comforts of home, but he was also missing the sexual excitement of his affair with Connie. Now this Lothario would be getting what he thought of as his.
His wife, Kay, had been to her solicitor and filed for divorce. He
was
now allowed to see his daughter on alternative weekends, which was heartbreaking for him, although she seemed to have accepted that he was now living elsewhere, and Kay â Kay was cold and businesslike when he called. In the hopes that he could stop the divorce going through and return to the marital home, heâd not caused any difficulty over finances;