Hancock was smiling. I liked that. Smiling was good. Then he had to ruin it by speaking.
‘From this, you’re planning to take a shot at the national series.’
‘Yes, I think it’s time for me to stretch my wings.’
‘Looking to follow in your dad’s tyre tracks?’
‘Yes,’ I said with a nervous smile. I felt I was losing this guy.
‘That’s great. The thing is, I was looking to sponsor you as a replacement for Alex in the south-west.’
‘Oh.’ Crap.
‘Considering all the great work you’ve done to honour Alex, I thought it would be good if we banded together in his memory and tried to win next year’s championship for him.’
I didn’t want another season in the Clark Paints series for two reasons. First, a race driver’s career is short. Dad was twenty-nine when he made it to Formula One and that was old. Most F1 drivers enter Grand Prix racing in their mid-twenties. At twenty-one, I was a long way from having the skills and experience to race Formula One. Staying in a regional championship for another year wasn’t going to enhance my career path. Second, I’d ruffled way too many feathers at Stowe Park. I’d lost a lot of friends over recent days and who knew how many I’d lose by the beginning of next season. By then, Derek might not be the only one willing to push me into a wall.
‘I see,’ I said.
‘Would you be willing to stick around in the Clark Paints Championship for another season, for Alex’s sake?’
He was trying to guilt me into this. Oh, that was a low blow. Especially when he was dangling money in front of me. I didn’t like how Hancock was boxing me in, but it was business.
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Please give it serious thought. I was hoping to put out a two-car team next year.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, you and Derek Deacon. Together, you’d make the perfect tribute to Alex’s memory.’
Was he serious? Not only had Derek won the championship at Alex’s expense, but he was also going to get Alex’s sponsorship money. Where was the justice? I did well not to show my shock.
Hancock jerked a thumb over at the track. ‘Are you racing in the Festival?’
Held every year at Brands Hatch, the Formula Ford Festival and World Cup is Formula Ford’s only international event. Two hundred drivers from around the world take part in a knockout event held over three days. Dad won it in ‘93.
‘No, I wasn’t planning on it.’
‘I want to reward your act of kindness towards Alex. He was slated to race, so I have a car leased for the Festival. I’d like you to take his place. Will you do it?’
I didn’t have to be asked twice. ‘Of course.’
‘I know you want to race in nationals next year, but if you’re willing to keep my offer open, then I’m willing to keep yours in mind. I’ll make a wager with you. If you make the top ten in the final, I’ll finance your national campaign. Don’t, and you race in the Clark Paints series.’
It was a bet heavily weighted in Hancock’s favour. The Festival is highly unpredictable. Usually the best driver wins, but there’s no accounting for mechanical failure or just plain bad luck. Either way, just making it to the final grid of twenty six cars was going to be a hard enough prospect.
‘Sure,’ I said.
We shook on it.
Hancock insisted we celebrate after that. We ordered dinner and he went for a steak half the size of a cow, while I ordered the chicken, the cheapest thing on the menu. I didn’t want to take advantage of the guy’s hospitality, even if he was trying to manipulate me into staying in the Clark Paints series.
With our business seemingly out of the way, our conversation turned to motor racing. Hancock told me he’d been a spectator since he was a kid. As a Kent boy, born and bred, Brands was his local hang-out. He remembered seeing my dad clinch the Formula Three crown here by claiming second in the race. I remembered it too. I watched the race with my mum from a hospitality box. I’d thought days like that would never end. I was wrong.
As we finished our dinners, he insisted on after dinner drinks. I never drank and drove, so accepting a drink meant I’d be stuck with Hancock for at least an hour.
When a pair of whiskies arrived, Hancock raised his glass. ‘Here’s to people always needing parts for their cars and making me richer.’
‘Amen,’ I said and clinked glasses.
‘How much do you know about me?’
I knew what I’d read off his website. ‘You operate the biggest car salvage and auction firm in the country.’
‘Yeah, yeah, that’s the business side of me, but what do you know about me?’
I couldn’t dodge the question, not that I saw the point of it. ‘Not much other than you’re a race fan and you’ve sponsored a few people over the years.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘Well, there’s a lot more to me than that,’ Hancock said. ‘Anyway, let’s have a toast. To great friendships — past, present and future.’
I clinked my glass against Hancock’s. ‘To great friendships.’
‘Alex was a good friend. I got to know him well over the years. His parents are great people and that Alison is a wonderful girl,’ Hancock said.
‘I agree.’
‘You knew Alex well then?’
‘Not well, but I thought he was a really nice guy.’
‘You pointed out his broken exhaust pipe mounting during qualifying, didn’t you?’
‘That was nothing,’ I said. ‘Drivers look out for each other.’
I felt a shift in Hancock’s mood. I didn’t know if it was the booze talking or not. My whisky represented my only drink, but Hancock had been hitting the wine over dinner pretty hard in addition to the whisky he’d ordered before dinner. There was a need in his eyes, like he wanted something from me, but instead of coming out and asking outright what he wanted to know, he jabbed at me with question after question in the hope I’d spill the answer he was looking for.
‘I saw you and Alex chatting just before the race.’
I realized he must have meant when Alex and I were in the men’s room. Hancock hadn’t been in there while we were, so he could only have seen us come out together.
‘What’d you talk about?’
I remembered how happy Alex had been to give racing up for Alison. The memory hurt. ‘The future, as sad as that seems now.’
‘So you didn’t talk about me?’
The question caught me off guard. ‘No, why would we?’
He tried to brush his weird question away. ‘No reason. Pit lane talk. You know. Your grandfather has an account with us,’ he said, throwing a new wrinkle into the conversation.
‘He does?’
‘Yeah. Goes back years. I wasn’t sure if you were discussing that.’
Hancock had lost me. I couldn’t see how that could be a topic of conversation. ‘No, we didn’t talk about anything like that. Sorry.’
‘No reason to be sorry. I just noticed that when you went your separate ways, you looked disappointed.’
This conversation had taken a very weird detour. Why the hell was Hancock watching Alex so closely? It was strange that first Derek, and now Hancock, had commented on my contact with Alex. More interesting still, both of them had read more into the encounter than really existed. What did they think Alex and I had discussed?
‘I had a lot on my mind and there was a lot of drama going on in the paddock that day.’
This was my test for Hancock. I wanted to see how he would react. He wanted to squeeze something out of me about that day and I wanted to know what it was. I hoped my reply would provoke an admission.
Hancock waved a dismissive hand. ‘That thing with Derek, he wouldn’t do anything like that.’