Queen Of Speed
Final chapters of our fun serial
Indianapolis, 1927
Get out of the pool, Bill!” Algie Thistleglove commanded as he stood over them in his black swimsuit, his muscular body tensed and threatening.
“Don’t talk to me like that!” Belinda Constantine snapped back, her chin high, as she bobbed in the water.
“I said get out – now!” The aristocratic tones were edged with steel.
Belinda pushed herself out of Drew Falcon’s arms and swam to the ladder.
“Bill…” Drew reached for her, protectively, but the Englishwoman was climbing from the pool, water dripping from her canary-yellow swimsuit.
“I expect you’ve been with this Yank all night!” Algie barked. “How dare you!” “Yeah, watch your lip, buster!” Drew swam for the ladder.
“You stay out of this!” Algie grabbed Belinda’s wrist. “We’ve a race to win!”
“Then win it yourself!” She snatched her arm back and massaged her wrist. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I can beat Pete Rawlings in your car, but I won’t let Drew risk his neck trying to beat me in his.” “What’s his neck to you?” Algie said. “I won’t race against him.” Belinda backed into Drew and he put protective hands on her wet shoulders. He felt her tremble, but her voice was firm. “If I drive today, it’ll be in the Falcon.”
“Why, you little…” Algie stepped forward, his palm raised.
“Cool it, Algie!” Drew pulled Belinda back, his hand raised in a block.
“You’re under contract,” Algie reminded her triumphantly. “Drive for him today and you’ll never race again!”
“Then we don’t race today!” Belinda retorted. “You can keep your contract and you can have your ring back, too! I’m fed up of you treating me like a piece of property. Come on, Drew.”
“Don’t be stupid, Bill!” Algie jerked her wrist once more. She spun around with an uppercut that smacked him square on the chin. Algie landed in a dazed heap. Drew couldn’t help grinning. “You told me she could knock a man out, Algie, but I didn’t think I’d ever see it!” Algie rubbed his jaw. “Take her, then!” he spat. “But don’t think you’ve won, Drew, because this isn’t over yet!”
Vrrrrrrrrrung! Fifteen thousand people cheered as the cars whipped past the stands like hornets. The Falcon was a red blur in the lead, Pete Rawlings hunched over the wheel in his chequered face-scarf and goggles.
“He’s good!” Belinda sat on the edge of her seat in a shimmering sky-blue silk dress, matching hat and long pearls.
“Not as good as you!” said Drew, as the pack swept by in the Falcon’s wake. “You’d be in front – but Algie’s crate’s getting nowhere with his stand-in driver.” “Well, I won’t be racing for a while!” As the trailing cars hurtled off around the track, she sat back with a sad sigh.
“You could always take a crack at the heavyweight boxing title!” Drew waggled his fists playfully.
“Oh, stop it! Algie is so angry he’ll never let you buy out my contract.”
“Everyone has a price, even Algie. You can be back for the Italian Grand Prix”
“Everyone has a price, Bill – even Algie. He’s not such a bad egg, really. We’ll have you back on the track in time for the Italian Grand Prix.”
“Is that what you think?” The hot iron in Belinda’s voice jabbed Drew like a needle in the heart. “Not such a bad egg? You almost sound as if you like him.” “Bill, I didn’t mean…” “Everyone has a price, eh?” She glared at him. “That’s what Algie says.”
Drew heard his heart drumming in his ears as the unexpected distrust in Belinda’s eyes filled him with fear. “I’m not like Algie –” he began. “I’m not a prize in some stupid rivalry between you two,” she snapped.
“If you think I am, you can keep your contract, too. Racing’s my life – but if this is what it’s like, I don’t think I want to do it any more.”
She stood up to leave, not wanting him to see the tears prickling her eyes. “Bill, please!” He touched her arm, but gently, not as Algie had snatched it. She wiped a tear with her gloved hand and looked down at his pleading brown eyes as he took her other hand softly in both of his. After the past year with Algie, his tenderness felt like a refuge.
“You’ve had a rough time,” he said gently. “I have a farm in Iowa. How about we take some time away from all this?”
It’s beautiful, Drew!” They were leaning back on the buttoned black leather of an open-top carriage, the driver keeping the two white horses at a spirited clip as they bowled along a dusty road between rolling fields of green and gold.
“I was expecting the wild west!” Belinda laughed, gazing out at the old farm houses, silos and trees. “It looks more like Surrey!”
“The sort of place you might like to live, someday?” Drew grinned hopefully.
Belinda looked away, hoping the glow of the sun would hide her blushing cheeks. She’d been falling for the American carmaker from the day they’d met. Falling madly, giddily, wonderfully and, more recently, frighteningly.
He was so attentive, funny, warm, surprising and dazzling. Just thinking about him made her pulse race.
But it had been like that with Algie, too, in the beginning when he was working so hard to impress her – and possess her, as she now realised.
In so many ways, the two were similar. She hated to think it of Drew, but was he still in the trying-to-win-her stage? If he
succeeded, would the novelty wear off?
The carriage turned onto a narrower track that led past pig sties and cattle sheds to a small cluster of farm buildings.
“Home sweet home!” Drew beamed as they pulled up in front of the sweetest little timber-frame farmhouse Belinda had ever seen. Roses grew around a front door that stood open in welcome, chickens and ducks wandered the front yard and a couple of border collies ran up.
“Hey Flossy, Fly – Daddy’s home! I hope you like dogs?” he asked nervously. “I love them!” She grinned. He jumped down from the carriage with a crunch, and the gallant way he took her hand to help her out made her wish she was wearing a Victorian crinoline instead of loose wide-bottomed crepe-dechine trousers and navy sweater.
“Hey, Ma!” he called. “Come and meet the fastest woman on Earth!”
“I thought I taught you not to chase fast women,” came a mid-western drawl from back in the house.
“This one chased me! Kidding. Say hi to Bill, a genuine English aristocrat!”
“I’m not really!” Belinda laughed.
“Oh my, that accent! I’ve never met anyone from England!” Drew’s mother came bustling through from the kitchen, wiping floury hands on an apron. Her cheeks were as round and red as apples, her greying brown hair tied in a bun that was coming unravelled and she wore a grin that Belinda instantly warmed to.
“Welcome to Falcon Ridge, honey.” She clasped Belinda. “I’m Martha.” “Belinda – but please call me Bill.” “See, Ma, didn’t I tell you one day I’d bring home a girl to make you proud?”
“I’ve always been proud of you, Pumpkin. How are you, son?” She hugged him and Belinda noticed silvery tears in the eyes of parent and offspring. “Sorry I’ve been away so long.” Drew
squeezed her.
“You’re an important man.” Martha flapped away his apology. “He calls me every day, Bill – and he’s told me all about you. But come into the kitchen and tell me more. I want to hear all about those cars you drive. I have cookies, coffee…”
“Pumpkin?” Belinda raised a teasing eyebrow at him.
“You don’t have a nickname?” he retorted, playfully.
After dinner, as a maid collected their plates, Belinda sat back in her chair, more satisfied than she’d felt in years. Drew’s Michigan ranch was a classy mix of antiques and modern conveniences, but it felt like a showroom. His mother’s cluttered house was a home.
“That was the most delicious apple pie I ever tasted, Martha,” she said, sincerely.
“I can give you the recipe but, oh, you modern gals are too busy to do anything as mundane as cooking.”
“No – I’d like that,” said Belinda.
“Come over TO THE BARN with me. I have something to SHOW YOU…”
“Maybe you could show me how to bake a pie, while I’m here.”
“Drew insists I have a couple of maids to clean up, but what would I do with myself if I didn’t do my own cooking and raise my own hens?” Martha mused.
Belinda felt a stab of envy. She’d grown up in exclusive boarding schools for people who had staff. Cookery had never been on the curriculum. She was too ashamed to admit to Martha that she could barely boil an egg.
“It’s a beautiful evening.” Drew gestured to the window. “If you’ll excuse us, Ma, I’d like to take Bill for a walk.”
“You two go right ahead – I’m feeling quite tired.”
“Your mother’s lovely,” said Belinda, as they walked down the steps from the back porch. “You must have had a wonderful childhood here on the farm.” “I think this farm boy would have envied you the bright lights of London,” Drew replied. “High society, debutante balls…”
“Nannies, governesses.” Belinda smiled sadly as they crossed a lush paddock. She steadied herself on Drew’s shoulder and slipped off her sandals, enjoying the feel of the springy grass beneath her bare feet. “Mummy was a star to be admired from afar – not the maternal sort. I was Daddy’s girl – what little I saw of him. He was an army major. Killed in the Battle of Marne when I was thirteen.”
“I’m sorry, Bill.” He took her hand in both his and tenderly kissed her fingers. “I hope that none of us have to live through those times again.
“But hey – come over to the barn with me, I’ve something to show you.”
He dragged open the big doors and Belinda said in astonishment, “A plane?”
“We use it to spray the crops. And it’s perfect for your first flight.” “You’ll let me fly her?” “Hop in.” He made a step from his hands to help her onto the wing. “I’m gonna teach you the way they taught me when I volunteered to fight the Kaiser.” “Which is?” “We crank her up, you take the controls and we hope God’s on our side!”
Half an hour later, Belinda’s heart was drumming in her chest as the little biplane buzzed over the wheat fields, gently rising and falling like a dragonfly on the summer breeze.
“It’s just like a car!” she yelled over her shoulder from the open cockpit.
“I knew you’d be a natural!” shouted Drew, leaning forward in the cramped little seat behind her. “Head over to the woods and I’ll show you the river where I fished as a kid.”
With the sky turning orange, the snake of water shone like gold.
“Whoa-oh-oh!” Belinda laughed as they bumped down roughly in the paddock behind the farmhouse and
rolled to a halt outside the barn.
With the engine cut, she pushed herself up from the cramped seat and sat on the edge of the body, beneath the shade of the top wing. Drew perched on the back of the pilot’s seat, close to her.
“Thank you so much,” she said, every nerve in her body still zinging. “Anything in the world for you, Bill.” “That’s what Algie used to say.” “I’m sorry.” He winced. “Maybe we both just know good when we see it. But that’s the only thing he and I have in common, I promise you. How did you get hooked up with him anyway?”
Belinda sighed, the sunset tinting her curls and face with a glow Drew found unspeakably beautiful.
“I’ve always wanted to win at things, Drew. I suppose I wanted approval. I thought I was getting that from Algie, but I could win a thousand races and it wouldn’t make him love me. I was just another trophy for his collection.”
“Maybe it was losing our dads so young,” Drew said thoughtfully. “I never got chance to impress mine. Seems like I’ve spent my life trying to beat everyone at everything. Sometimes I feel I wound up the loneliest man in the world.”
She took his hand. “I feel the same, Drew. When you’re out in front, you’re on your own.” He turned to her, tears welling up. “Do we have to go on like that?”
Trembling, she said, “You don’t have to impress me, Drew.” “Nor you me.” Suddenly their arms were around each other, their lips pressed together as the dying sun painted their entwined form in a baptism of fire.
Drew… Bill! We meet again!” Belinda’s heart quickened warily as she turned to see Algie, the Italian sun gleaming off his blazer buttons and golden cravat as he crossed the drivers’ paddock in Monza. Engines were revving, a jazz band was entertaining the pre-race crowd and she was wearing a white lace dress and Chanel shawl as she strolled with Drew in his cream linen suit.
“No hard feelings?” Drew asked cautiously, taking Algie’s extended hand.
“Water under the bridge, old bean. You know Ritzy, of course.”
The Englishman jerked his thumb to where Belinda’s younger cousin was sitting prettily on the long bonnet of Algie’s green racing car.
Belinda remembered Algie flirting with the flighty redhead on the lake in England. She wondered if Algie had been twotiming her then – just for the thrill of the game. But it felt like a long time ago.
“Didn’t you notice Pete Rawlings’ contract had expired?” Algie indicated the man in the car. “He’s driving for me now.”
“Fair exchange, Algie,” said Drew, his arm around Belinda’s slender waist. “I’m sure my new guy will do OK against him.”
“I’m glad you think so, because I have a wager for you.” The Englishman took a
They EXCHANGED a smile. It was the MOMENT they’d been WAITING for
wad of folded paper from his inside pocket and waved it temptingly in the air. “Bill’s five-year contract. Beat my car today and she gets to race again. Are we on?”
Drew looked at Belinda and they exchanged a smile. It was the moment they’d been waiting for.
Calmly Drew took the contract and tucked it back inside Algie’s blazer.
“Keep it, pal. Bill and I have been talking and I wouldn’t be comfortable having her risk her neck for me.”
“Bill…?” Algie couldn’t believe she’d feel the same.
“I’m hanging up my gloves, Algie.” She smiled, her arm linked through Drew’s. “Nothing left to prove.”
“We’re gonna move back to the farm in Iowa,” Drew explained. “Take a few years out and raise a family. Have a good day at the races, Algie. It’s been nice seeing you.”
As Algie watched them walk off, arm in arm, he felt an emptiness inside. He’d spent his life slowly running out of rivals. In Drew, he thought he’d finally found a worthy adversary.
But if Drew didn’t want to play, what would he do with himself?
He glanced at his car, where Ritzy was leaning over the windscreen as she flirted with Rawlings. He knew he’d never find what Drew and Bill had found if he carried on the way he was.
He was thirty, the same age as Drew. Perhaps it was time he grew up, too.
Belinda and Drew were married in a little white wooden church near Falcon Ridge, cattle lowing in the sunny pastures outside and their horse-drawn carriage waiting in the shade of the lush magnolias for their short drive home.
The new ranch house Drew was building in the paddock behind his mother’s house would soon be finished. It was a modest single-storey building with just enough rooms for the two or three children they hoped to have, and a kitchen overlooking the rolling fields, where Belinda was looking forward to trying out the recipes Martha was teaching her.
They didn’t invite any of their friends from the international motor racing circuit to the simple ceremony. They’d never really been friends, just rivals.
As an elderly preacher led them through their vows, Martha sat in the front pew with some local folk who’d turned out in their Sunday best to welcome their county’s wealthiest son and his bride back to the close-knit community where he’d been raised like his father before him.
Belinda’s mother sent a telegram of congratulations. Bill knew her mum wouldn’t be comfortable at such a humble gathering. But she didn’t mind – because as she turned to kiss Drew she knew she’d found everything she would ever need.
The Queen of Speed had finally come to rest at long last.