She couldn’t blame him for the consequences. They were at least as much her doing, perhaps more. Suddenly her arms were about him, her mouth pressing against his, her whole being trembling with delight and anticipation. She sensed the shock that went through him and the next moment his embrace grew more fervent, more thrilling.
They were on the sofa, undressing each other with frantic hands, reaching for the moment they were now both desperate to achieve. She gasped as they became one, but then, suddenly, it was all over. He was pulling away as though desperate to escape. She had a view of his face that she would remember all her days. It was a blank mask, except for the eyes that were full of dismay.
‘We must stop this,’ he gasped. ‘I didn’t mean to-you’re all right, aren’t you?’
She was far from all right. The joy had been snatched from her at the last moment and she wanted to weep, but she forced a smile.
‘Yes, fine,’ she lied. ‘It was just-’
‘I know. I didn’t mean to-I didn’t realise-your first time. But don’t worry, I didn’t-not exactly-’
Had he made love to her fully or not? In her innocence she couldn’t have said, but it was plain that he wanted the answer to be no.
He couldn’t get rid of her fast enough. He called a taxi and paid the fare in advance, but didn’t offer to see her home. His words and manner were perfectly courteous, but it was the perfection of a mask. She wept for the whole journey.
For the next few weeks she had the sensation of seeing life at a distance: the row about Jared’s departure, his last race for Brent, the Brazilian Grand Prix, which he won, making him the World Champion Driver on points.
His picture was everywhere-holding up the trophy, being embraced by Mirella, regarding her with an entranced expression. How different from his shocked eyes as he’d pulled away from herself.
She guessed that it was her inexperience that had dismayed him. It threatened involvement, emotion, scenes-things he avoided like the plague.
Even so she clung to the hope that he would contact her, even if just to say goodbye. But there was no word from him, and by the time she first suspected that she might be pregnant he’d already left without a backward glance.
A visit to his apartment was futile. Already somebody else was living there. E-mail produced only an ‘address invalid’ message. Clearly Cannonball had taken him over completely. In despair she made one last try, getting his mobile phone number from the firm’s records and texting.
I really need to see you. It’s important. Kaye
In five seconds precisely, she received a routine reply.
Thank you for contacting Jared Marriot. This number is now closed, but he thanks you for your good wishes.
On the same day his engagement to Mirella was announced, and she knew her last hope was gone. She had too much pride to force herself onto his attention. She would have his child alone. She didn’t know how she was going to do it, but she’d made up her mind.
Her grandparents were magnificent, insisting that she should live with them. College had to be abandoned, but she stayed on with Brent until she gave birth.
Ethel encouraged her to return to work, but Kaye was swept by the need to be with her baby. So she left Brent and worked at home as a freelance translator. She also enrolled in the Open University, and emerged triumphantly with a degree.
Jared never married Mirella, who simply faded from the scene, to be replaced by many others in quick succession. The papers detailed every one.
Gradually Kaye learned to cope with reminders of the man who’d rejected her. She even named her son Michael, which was Jared’s second name. But that was the only hint of sentimentality that she allowed herself.
At last Mike started school. When she was sure he was settled in happily she decided to return to work full-time. Only half hoping, she contacted Duncan at Brent, and he welcomed her back with open arms.
Jared was long gone from Brent, and was now only mentioned when he won yet another Grand Prix, and then another.
‘Not that things are looking so good for him this year,’ Duncan observed. ‘He was rushed to hospital after a crash just before the season started, and nobody knows why. They say he spun off for no apparent reason. The press have gone mad trying to find out, but there’s a big mystery there somewhere. Luckily it’s working to our advantage, because his reactions seem a bit slower. This season he hasn’t won races that he’d have won before. Now, that’s enough about him. Where did I put that-?’
She got to know the other drivers, especially Hal, a pleasant man, whose wife, Stella, dropped in one day. Through their children, Stella and Kaye immediately established a bond.
It was a contented, even sometimes a happy life. In the dead of night she would creep into Mike’s room to watch her darling son sleeping, and she would know that, whatever trophies came Jared’s way, it was she who was the real winner.
And yet…
The air was filled with shouting, cheers and laughter. The noise surrounded Jared, battering him. But at the same time it came from outer space, taunting, threatening his sanity.
The winner’s podium was his natural place. He turned this way and that, spurting champagne, stretching his mouth in a pretence of a smile, waving at the crowd, struggling to make it all feel natural, as it once had. But the echoing distance seemed to fill him with darkness.
This was his first win in four races, and should have been a triumph-the moment when he recovered everything that had been his before the nightmare. But that was impossible. He might recover much, but not everything.
He forced himself to give the performance of a hero celebrating his victory, secretly thinking, If only they knew!
They knew a little about the accident he’d had just before the start of the season, three months earlier. He’d been testing out Cannonball’s new car when he’d swerved suddenly, overturned, and come to a shuddering halt.
Onlookers had been baffled. There were no barriers on the track, no other driver had been near him and the car was perfect. Nobody knew that Jared had been feeling ill when he started, and had soon been swamped by sickness.
At the hospital he’d been shut away from visitors. The press had speculated on the ‘terrible injuries’ he must have suffered, and cheered him when he’d returned quickly to racing. Nobody suspected the truth.
And nobody must ever suspect, lest he die of shame.
Outwardly he seemed to have it alclass="underline" just approaching thirty, at the peak of looks ability, health. That was what people thought, and what they must go on thinking.
He headed for the airport as soon as possible. There, booked on the same flight back to England, he found Hal, the driver from the Brent Team that he’d beaten into second place.
‘Sorry,’ he said wryly.
‘Oh, sure-if you had it to do again you’d let me win?’ Hal grinned. ‘I don’t think so.’
He was in his thirties, with an innate good nature that stopped him being hostile to Jared, despite their rivalry. He even managed to say, ‘It’s good to see you back on top form after your recent troubles.’
‘Thanks. They’re in the past,’ Jared said airily. ‘I’m my old self again.’
The words if only echoed in his mind again before he could avoid them.
Stern resolution! Banish those thoughts! Work at it! Be strong!
‘But I’m still behind in the championship,’ he continued with a shrug. ‘The title will probably be yours.’
‘Well, it’ll be nice to go out on a high,’ Hal agreed.
‘You’re really retiring?’
‘This is my last season as a driver. I’ll stay with the team, working behind the scenes, but I can spend more time at home with the wife and kids.’