anywhere near his eyes. It reminded her of a shark measuring up its prey.
‘Don’t worry, this is a private track. The perfect place for you to learn how to drive this beauty. It’s extremely difficult and you will find it very different to driving anything else. It needs a very light touch in some ways but firm handling in others.’ He gave her a stern look. ‘You need to be confident. Best to start here where there’s nothing to hit.’ His perfunctory smile and patronising driving instructor tone pricked her. ‘We can start slow here, have a couple of lessons and get you used to it. It’s not the sort of car for a novice I’m afraid … but let’s see how you get on.’
With a smooth grace that belied those long jean-clad legs he uncoiled himself from the driver’s seat, leaving the engine idling. Laurie scowled. He bloody would. Scrambling out of her own seat and slamming the door, she went round the back of the car to where he stood holding the driver’s door for her. He took her elbow to guide her in, calloused palms grazed her skin as his larger hand cradled her arm making her conscious of how tall and broad he was. The gesture, old fashioned and courteous, gave her a sudden pang. For all his brusqueness, he was a gentleman. Not something she was used to at all.
Mutinously she glared at him, even more cross that he’d managed to make her feel like a gauche teenager.
As soon as she sat down, she arranged her seat to suit her, checked the mirror on the dashboard and ignoring him, looked down the track.
One mile. A smooth circuit. Privately owned, once an airfield but abandoned long ago in favour of a newer, shinier one closer to the town.
Rubber burns scarred the surface, veering off left and right, the harsh punctuation marks of cars put through their paces. Her nose twitched as if she could still smell burning rubber and the memory of the pistol shot of a blown tyre hit her along with a punch of adrenaline. The wash of unexpected and lost memories surfacing so suddenly left her dazed.
Stuff Cameron bloody patronising Matthews. She pulled the car door closed and before he could get to the passenger side, she depressed the tiny clutch, and pushed the gear stick into first, forgetting how different the gearbox felt to modern cars. It distracted her for a moment and then her muscle memory rescued her and anticipating the kick, she flicked her foot off the clutch and pressed the accelerator.
The car leapt forward and the acceleration fired up through her. In the mirror she caught sight of Cam’s surprised face. She allowed a brief smile to cross her face and focused on driving. She knew that all her attention would be needed, like hanging onto a bucking bronco. The steering wheel seemed huge, its span larger than anything she’d driven … for a while. Now she was in the driving seat she knew exactly where the speedometer was.
It was just like riding a bike, well nearly. The speedo in front of her, the revs. Oil, water and fuel gauges lined along to right on the minimalist dashboard. She knew what she was doing. OK, not quite. It had been a long time, but the memory of things she didn’t know she’d forgotten rose up like flotsam on the surface. It all came back to her. Her skills were definitely ropey. Hanging onto the steering wheel, she focused, trying to remember all the things that Miles had told her, sitting exactly where Cam had been sitting.
‘Steer into the corners. Keep your speed up. Don’t brake.’ She could hear his voice, the commands clear and bright in her head.
Riding the adrenaline driving through her system, she hit the clutch, rammed the car into second, and braced herself for the leap forward as the car speeded up and then in no time the transition into third. It wasn’t smooth, it was spiky, inelegant and not worthy of the car but the heady response of the accelerator beguiled her. Reckless, she accelerated, unable to resist the siren call of speed, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Under her foot, she could feel the power trembling ready to answer her call; she depressed the pedal watching the speedometer needle leap forward. Outside the track shimmered and blurred as she concentrated on steering a straight course. Even this felt familiar; although she hadn’t been on the track for ten years, she knew it like the lines on her hand. With a wry smile she gave into the devil rising in her blood. Served Cam right for being so patronising. Feeling the car buck as she hit seventy, she pushed on still to reach eighty.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ said Cam as she pulled away without him. Shaking his head, he folded his arms and waited for her to bunny hop to a halt the first time she tried to change gear. If you weren’t used to driving vintage cars they were very different to modern ones. She’d find the clutch very tricky. He steeled himself to hear the whine of the engine when she messed it up but surprisingly she wasn’t doing too badly. The car picked up speed. She’d probably got up into third. Not bad. Better than he would have expected and she was holding it steady, going all of thirty. She had no idea what the car was capable of but that was OK, he’d soon show her. In hindsight he should have done a couple of circuits before handing over to her. Now she’d tootle round the track in third and come back all pleased with herself. Damn he’d missed an opportunity to show her the car needed healthy respect.
Then his ears pricked up as the engine note changed and he heard the growl as the revs increased. Bloody hell.
‘Slow down. Slow down.’ He took a sharp breath. Shit, she was speeding up. Christ, right at the wrong time. Half way down the straight. And still accelerating. She couldn’t take the bend at that speed. He started forward unable to take his eyes off the car, a macabre compulsion, knowing that any moment she’d hit the bend, lose control of the car and come flying off and then plough straight into the wall there. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Breathing heavily he willed her to slow down. For God’s sake, please.
Miles would never forgive him if he killed his niece on her first outing.
But even as he prayed, he heard the whine of the engine. Sweet Jesus. Thank you. The car flew into the bend but held the road. She must have dropped down to third. Sheer luck rather than judgement. Thank God. She’d probably scared the shit out of herself. Wait til he got hold of her; he’d bloody kill her. What the hell did she think she was playing at? Did she have any idea how bloody rare this car was?
What the … he stared as she began to speed up again out of the bend. This time the acceleration was even faster and she came roaring down the straight. With mounting fury, he watched as she came up to the new bend and this time took it even faster than the last. Stepping out onto the track, he waved to her to stop. When she was three hundred metres away, he realised she had no intention of stopping and he shot back. The car zipped past leaving him doused in a trail of exhaust fumes.
He stared down the track after her, his mouth firming into a line. Where the hell had she learned to drive like that?
Here of course. Miles had owned this track for years. He shook his head at his own stupidity. She’d probably learned to drive on this track. While some more practice was certainly needed, he could see that she’d been well taught. Duh! Of course she’d been taught well, she was Miles’ niece but why the hell hadn’t the old bugger said anything?
With a mirthless laugh, he shoved his hands in his pocket. She might have said something, although he’d been so wrapped up in his own preconceptions, he’d not exactly given her a chance. You had to give it to her, she had balls. Not that he wouldn’t be reading the riot act. Taking risks like that in a strange car. An inexperienced driver. Anything could have happened. She didn’t know the car. It was stupid. Crazy. Dangerous. Gave a massive adrenaline rush like no other …and he should know. He also knew how easy it was to miscalculate and how frail the human body was in a high speed crash. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This time as the little car came back into view, he stepped out into the track making it clear he expected her to stop.
