‘How much do you think you’ll offer?’
There was thousands in damage here. The car wasn’t worth much in this condition. The chassis wasn’t salvageable and most of the ancillaries were write-offs. There was very little of value. The whole thing was worth a grand at most, but that wasn’t a figure to toss out at a grieving family. Nobody wants to hear their son’s life could be reduced to a few hundred pounds.
‘How much do you want?’ I asked.
‘It’s not down to me. You’ll need to deal with Alex’s family.’
That wasn’t going to be a fun call.
‘You’re making a very nice gesture here, but I don’t think they’ll be interested in receiving offers for it. I talked to Alex’s father yesterday about returning the car. He doesn’t want it back.’
‘I don’t want to see any part of this car back on the track next season, Myles.’
‘I don’t disagree. I think the family will give you the car if you ask. Have you raised any money?’
‘I have commitments from several of the drivers.’
‘It’s a shame for that money to go to waste.’
‘We could start a fund and put the money towards upgrading the crash team’s equipment or something.’
Myles smiled. ‘I like that. It’s a fitting memorial.’
And it gave me an excuse to stay close to the activities at Stowe Park.
‘Come back to the office,’ Myles said, ‘and let’s make some phone calls.’
Eva Beecham fixed me with a disapproving glare when I followed Myles into the administration building. Myles diffused the situation quickly.
‘Aidy is putting a fund together in Alex’s name and I think we should help. Pull out the list of registrants for the Clark Paints Championship and we’ll make some calls.’
Eva printed off a list of drivers with their contact information. The list consisted of names, addresses, phone numbers and emergency contacts. Alex’s was there alongside Derek’s and my own. It also listed the name and number for emergency contacts. Next to Alex’s home address was his father’s name and mobile phone number.
We decided amongst us that it was best the money was sent care of Myles and Eva. Any donation was fine, but we would push for a donation matching a race entry fee, which was two hundred pounds. Getting that from every person seemed steep, but it was possible considering the emotional weight attached to the request. Every driver would like to think others would cough up the price of a race entry if they should die on the track. With two hundred multiplied by just the forty drivers registered to the series, we were looking at an impressive sum.
‘I’ll call Alex’s father to get the go ahead,’ Myles said.
‘You should call Pit Lane magazine, Motorsport News and the TV stations about what we’re doing,’ Eva said. ‘They should talk to you two about this.’
I liked the idea of the press attention, specifically from anyone at Redline. I wanted to see the uncut footage from the race.
For the next couple of hours, the three of us called dozens of drivers from across the country. The support was fantastic. About two-thirds agreed to donate the price of a race entry and none but a distinct minority refused to donate anything. It was a fulfilling, yet draining experience. I hung up on my last call and sat back in my seat. Eva was smiling at me.
Myles finished his call. ‘Aidy, that was Alex’s father. He’d like to meet with you tomorrow to talk about the fund-raising and the car. I said that would be OK. If it’s a problem, give him a call back.’
‘No, that’ll be OK.’
Myles handed me a post-it note with a phone number, an address and two p.m. circled.
‘Your father would be very proud of what you’re doing.’
‘Thanks,’ I said and wished someone had done something like this for him. Dad had died without receiving his Formula One signing bonus or taking out a life insurance policy.
The door opened and Derek Deacon walked in. He smiled at us. I felt like we were being sized up by a shark.
Derek’s appearance unsettled Myles and Eva. Despite being on their own property, they looked as if they’d been caught stealing. They didn’t have anything to feel guilty about. None of us did, but I tensed up along with them.
‘Eva, I got a message that you called. I was in the area and thought I’d drop by. What’s going on?’
Even though the question was aimed at Eva, Derek’s gaze was fixed on me.
I returned his gaze. I’d been glad when Eva had called Derek. He, more than anyone, had reason to give something back after he’d taken so much.
‘We’re putting together a fund in memory of Alex,’ she said.
‘That’s nice,’ Derek said in a sneering tone. ‘Whose idea was that?’
‘Aidy’s,’ Myles said.
‘That’s very good of you.’
I shrugged.
‘I’d like to do my bit. How much is everyone putting in?’
‘The price of a race entry,’ I said.
Derek smirked. ‘I like that. I’ll tell you what. I’ll go one better. I’ll donate my prize money for winning the championship.’
The championship winner received a thousand pounds. Derek looked to be trying to buy his innocence.
‘Are you sure?’ Myles said.
‘Deadly,’ he said turning his attention to Myles then back to me. ‘I don’t race for the money.’
‘That’s very generous,’ I said.
Derek shrugged the compliment away. ‘I’m a generous kind of guy. See you at the banquet,’ he said on his way out.
It was a nice performance. He was responsible for Alex’s death and he was acting magnanimous. His philanthropic gesture would get back to the racing community. He was going to come out smelling like a rose.
It was getting dark, so I stood up. ‘Look, I’d better go. I need to settle up at Chicane’s before they close.’
Myles shook my hand before seeing me out.
By the time I got back to Chicane’s, Chris and Paul had boxed up my order. I paid them and carried the purchases out to the Capri. Derek was leaning against the driver’s door.
I unlocked the boot and put the box inside. As I came around to the driver’s side, Derek made no move to stand aside.
‘That’s a really decent thing you’ve masterminded,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realize you were so philanthropic.’
Masterminded was an unusual choice of word. Philanthropy is never masterminded. I didn’t point out his poor choice of words.
‘It seemed the right thing to do.’
Derek nodded his agreement. ‘I saw you and Alex chatting on race day. You looked very chummy. I didn’t know you two were so tight.’
‘We weren’t.’
‘So why the big effort?’
‘I know what it’s like to lose someone close.’
‘That’s right, your mum and dad. I remember your dad well. I raced against him here in Formula Fords. Did you know that?’
I shook my head.
‘Nice guy. Terrible what happened to your parents. It just goes to show you can’t avoid accidents. Your parents couldn’t and Alex couldn’t.’ Derek stepped out from in front of my driver’s door and opened it for me. As I slid into the seat, he leaned in close and whispered, ‘Careful how you go, Aidy. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you too.’
I’d just received my first warning.
Lap Seven
Alex’s parents lived on a tree-lined street in an upscale neighbourhood in Guildford. They lived in an elegant Edwardian era detached house with a double garage and U-shaped gravel driveway. I parked Steve’s Capri alongside the familiar Range Rover I’d seen Mr Fanning drive to race meetings.