Deadweight: Lena's Friends

By Chris Graham

When young girls across the country start dying mysteriously, questions get asked. But are these deaths murders or even suspicious deaths?

 

Are these deaths murder? And if so, who is the murderer – or murderers? And what has that to do with the "blue movie" business? This is the mystery that Lena's Friends set out to solve.

 

When there is money to be made, some people have no scruples. And even respectable business people may have something to hide.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Cubitt
• Release date: Jun 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224362479

Book preview

Other Titles by Chris Graham

The Lena’s Friends Series

Transactions (Lena’s Friends Book 1)

Souvenirs (Lena’s Friends Book 2)

Coincidences (Lena’s Friends Book 3)

Retributions (Lena’s Friends Book 4)

Sharknose (Lena’s Friends Book 5)

Poetry

A Walk On The Mild Side

––––––––

Prelude

Pruvincia di Messina, Sicily.

The man got out of his car. Leaning against it to steady himself, he focussed a powerful pair of field glasses on the café terrace, with its tables and ornamental potted plants far beneath him.

The sound of the occasional shot echoed from the hills behind him from a local, shooting for the table. Even though casual hunting was now illegal on the island, it still went on.

The sounds made him smile as he watched a distant waiter clearing away the crockery from customers who had just left.

There was an elderly man, sat at one of the tables, drinking his morning coffee and eating sweet pastries. He was accompanied by a young girl of no more than twenty years old. The watcher assumed the girl to be the old man’s grand-daughter.

He lowered the binoculars. He hadn’t expected the girl. After considering for a moment, he glanced at the Tag Heuer on his wrist, then shrugged, before putting the glasses back to his eyes.

He continued watching until the waiter reappeared. He was carrying an envelope which he handed to the old man. The watcher smiled, assuming that the waiter’s watch didn’t keep such good time as his own expensive Swiss timepiece. Maybe the waiter could now afford to buy himself a better watch.

The cash he’d given to the young man earlier may not stretch to one like his own, but it would surely buy something reasonably accurate.

The old man thanked the waiter then took out his pocket knife to open the letter. The knife’s smooth wooden handle, with its fine silver filigree inlay and rounded silver pommel, shone softly with a lustre that only came from years of use. The pocket clip showed a glint of silver grey metal along its edges where the blueing of the steel had worn through.

Releasing the knife’s latch, he flicked his wrist casually to shake the slim tapered blade out in one slick and virtually silent motion. Any spring action the old knife had once had was long gone. The blade locked into the open position with a soft almost inaudible click.

He carefully slit open the envelope then lay the knife onto the table before withdrawing a single sheet of white paper. On the paper was printed a solitary line of text:

‘In memoria dei 156’.

There was no signature. The old man turned the paper over to see if there was anything else written on the other side, but it was completely blank. He then held it at an angle to the light to see if there were any indentations from other writing which might give a clue to the sender. There was nothing. It was clear that prior to being put through a printer, it had been a virgin sheet of plain paper. He looked at the envelope but it only had his name printed on it. It too appeared to be completely blemish free.

He shook his head, with a puzzled look on his face, then shrugged before crumpling the letter and its envelope into a ball. Dropping it into the large ashtray in the centre of the table, as the rubbish he’d decided it was, he thought no more of it.

Taking the knife, which had once belonged to his father, he pricked the tip of his thumb with the blade’s needle like point. Barely having broken the skin, he squeezed a tiny drop of blood from it. He sucked at his thumb, then released the lock to fold the blade away. It had long been an old family superstition that if you wanted a knife to look after you, it must only be opened if it was required to draw blood. Clipping the knife back into his pocket alongside his monogrammed fountain pen, he returned to eating his breakfast.

He signalled to the waiter for another espresso for himself and another cappuchino for his grand-daughter, then passed a plate containing a selection of treccine, millefoglie, and ciambelle pastries to the girl. She smiled at her grandfather, then after asking him if he was trying to make her become fat like some of the opera singers of old that he idolised, she took two pastries from the plate.

The watching man put the binoculars back into their leather case. Moving his Hardy’s fly rod to one side, he took a hand crafted, walnut stocked, Perugini & Visini from its case behind the car’s seats. Peering carefully through its sight till he was sure that the cross hairs were aligned perfectly on the target’s left temple, he squeezed the trigger slowly and deliberately.

He was too far away to hear the girl’s scream as her grandfather’s head appeared to burst open with the impact of the high velocity rifle bullet. Had he been closer, he’d have probably been able to hear the whining sound as the bullet, having passed straight through the old man’s skull, ricocheted off the flagstones before dropping over the balcony. Losing its deadly energy, it tumbled down through the leaves on the trees down below. The marksman heard a report from the mountains behind him. He wondered if it was the local hunter or the echo of his own shot.

Picking up the ejected but still hot brass cartridge from the ground, he winced as it burned his fingertips, then dropped it into his shirt pocket before sliding the hunting rifle into its case and laying it carefully behind the seat of his red Ferrari 360.

He got into the driving seat, started the 3.6 litre V8 engine, and drove off. There was no undue haste to his driving as he headed towards Messina and the ferry that would take him back to the mainland.

The wanton destruction of the very last Sharknose had been avenged.

(From: ‘SHARKNOSE’ - Seeing that toyshop has just reminded me of something. - by Chris Graham.)

1 – Bodies

The West of England

Struggling with its bulk and its recalcitrant castors, the two men eased a large flight case through the hotel room’s narrow doorway. Once out into the corridor, between them they wheeled it quickly towards the lift.

Are you sure this is a good idea? Someone might see us... Won’t it be better after dark, when no one’s around?

The older man shook his head, Not for putting it in the car... If we do that at dead of night, then it is going to look suspicious.

The other man seemed to agree. I guess that’s a point... Yeah, It’s a conference centre, I suppose... so putting a case we use for AV stuff into a Volvo estate isn’t really strange... as long as no one knows what’s in it. He smiled grimly, looking nervously from left to right.

Exactly, Ozzie. his companion answered. Now stop panicking. He struggled to steer the heavy case that seemed to have its own ideas about which way it was going. Just push the damned thing.

The younger man pushed. Open the lift, Des.

His colleague pressed the button. The doors slid silently open. Now help me shove. They heaved the case into the lift, Des squeezed in beside it, trying to make room for his colleague.

C’mon... squeeze in, Oz... Let’s get this over with.

No... Don’t worry. You go down with it.

Desmond grinned, If you climb on top of the case, you could go down on it... you’d like that.

Oz rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, shaking his head slowly in disbelief at his companion’s bad taste.

Have you no shame Des, that was terrible... No, I’ll run down the stairs, there isn’t room for both of us. The younger man headed for the staircase, but he was halted in his stride.

Ozzie... Hang on!

Now what?

You got the keys?

Yes... Of course I have Desmond. There was a mocking tone in his voice.

Both sets?

Desmond didn’t get to hear his less than complimentary answer as the lift door slid closed and, with a lurch, he began his downward journey.

Osborne Newton was waiting in the lift lobby when the door slid open. He reached out to pull the case out as his colleague pushed from within.

As the two men pushed the case through reception, the girl on the desk leapt to her feet to assist.

Let me get the door for you. She swung the door wide. The younger man flashed her a smile. His perfect teeth seemed to sparkle in the low sunlight that streamed in through the window.

Thank you my dear... Most kind.

As the door swung closed behind them, the older man scowled at him,

Don’t draw attention to yourself, you fucking idiot... We don’t want the stupid girl remembering this.

She’s more likely to remember a rude bastard who can’t even be bothered to say thank you... You’re the one who said it wasn’t suspicious. Chill out, Des... It’s OK... D’you think Grappelli would be panicking? Go and bring the car over, and mind you don’t scratch my paint as you get in yours. I had to park a bit close.

The older man walked off, muttering something under his breath that sounded like bloody hairdresser’s car!

* * *

Lakefields Academy old girls’ reunion.  

Shaking her head, as the door closed behind her sister Emily, Charlotte Masters turned away from the bar with a gin and tonic in her hand. Looking around her, at the selection of young women standing around in small groups, she shrugged resignedly as they chatted noisily amongst themselves. Cursing Emily quietly under her breath, she began to wonder to herself if this had really been such a good idea.

‘Lakefields Academy for Young Ladies’ had always tried hard to position itself amongst the better independent girls’ schools, but it always seemed to be overshadowed by its more famous, almost near, neighbour Cheltenham Ladies College. As far as many of the girls who attended the school were concerned, they preferred its relative anonymity to the rival school, often perceived as more prestigious, just thirty five miles to the north.

The school’s ‘old girls’ association liked to arrange these get-togethers for its former pupils every couple of years, but Charlotte had never bothered with them before. It was only her bored sister’s suggestion that they attend that had persuaded her to come. Now Emily had disappeared after taking a call on her mobile phone.

* * *

Cranborne Chase.

As the older man got back into the car, the younger of the two swept the beam of a powerful torch around, checking for anything incriminating. The only thing was the body itself, but that was unavoidable. He held the light on it for a moment, then satisfied that it was laying quite naturally, as if she’d collapsed there, he switched off and joined his colleague in the car.

D’you reckon that’s how she was lying when we found her... Yes?

Does it matter, Des?

It does if someone gets suspicious... If the body’s been moved to a different position, then the way the blood has settled will show it to any half competent forensic pathologist. He turned to look at Oz, an unspoken question on his face. So, are you sure?

Yes... it’s fine... Exactly how we found her, OK? Now go... Drive... We don’t want to be hanging around here too long.

Too bloody right! Desmond shifted the car into ‘drive’ then gently pulled away along the dark lane towards the road. Why did the stupid little tart have to drop dead like that? I mean, in her fucking bedroom on the day before she was going home anyway.

I still reckon we should have called an ambulance, Des.

The older man interrupted him, Don’t be a twat all your life! You checked her over. She was dead... She was starting to go cold, for Christ’s sake... Just think yourself lucky that she was wearing her tracksuit things.

Joggers, corrected the younger man.

Yeah, whatever you say. he gave his companion a withering look, then smiled, That was inspired of you, though... rubbing her trainer soles on the grass. They’re bound to check them.

Yeah, that’s what I thought... Though she did come up here for her run most evenings, or so she said... Somewhere up here anyway. He paused, turning to look at his passenger, Did you put her car keys in her pocket?

Yes... Don’t panic... It’d look fucking odd if her car was parked up here on the downs while her keys were in her fucking room.

OK, OK... Calm down... Just checking. He glanced across at his passenger, You look a bit weird, Oz... Are you OK?

Not really, Des... D’you reckon we should knock it all on the head? I mean, if she died because of us. he looked worried, We don’t want any more, do we?

Ozzie, Ozzie, my dear boy... It’s alright. The drugs are perfectly safe. No one else has had any problems... Jesus, you’ve been monitoring everything, so you should know... It’s probably all this bloody exercising she did that’s killed her. He chuckled softly, Look, if we’d been meant to over-exercise, we’d all be born with Lycra skin and rubber soles, OK?

Desmond... There are times when your humour is out of place... This is one of them.

OK, fair enough, but we can’t stop now, we’re virtually finished... it works, and we’re gonna make a shed load of money... Just bear that in mind when you get all consciousy.

Consciousy? That isn’t even a word, Des.

The older man shrugged, So? You knew what I meant, didn’t you? He smiled, Just forget her... Look at all the girls we’re helping... an’ think of the money we’re gonna make, OK?

The main road was clear. There wasn’t a car light in sight. He pulled out from the trees, onto the moonlit ‘B’ road, and turned on his headlights.

On our way over, I noticed a skip outside that old cottage they’re rebuilding. Pull up there, and I’ll ditch the plastic sheet... Hopefully the skip will be taken off and dumped before anyone starts nosing around... it’s nowhere near the body anyway.

Good idea... Best be safe than sorry, though there shouldn’t be any reason for anyone to think the death’s suspicious.

His younger companion interrupted, A young girl’s body in a public place is always gonna be considered suspicious, Des... at least at first, anyway, he looked back to the windscreen, and the road ahead. It’s just round this next bend. Pull up beside the skip. The house has been gutted, so no one’s living there. Desmond lifted his foot off the accelerator. Oz turned to him again, What are you slowing for this early?

The driver nodded towards the mirror. There were a pair of lights in it.

To let him pass before we get there... We don’t want someone remembering seeing us pull up at the building site, do we? It might look suspicious, this time of night.

Yeah... Safe rather than sorry, eh? No harm in that at all. He took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one.

Des glanced at his passenger, Light one for me, Oz... Please.

I thought you’d given up... Jesus, you give me enough of a bollocking when I light up.

I need calming down, OK? And I bollock you when you light up in the hotel, that’s all. We’re supposed to be about ‘health’ and ‘nutrition’ aren’t we? ’sides, you’re not supposed to smoke in the hotel anyway.

As the car crunched to a halt on the roadside gravel, Desmond doused the headlights. Oz passed his own cigarette to the driver then got out and went round to the rear to get the plastic sheet. He slammed the tailgate closed, and within seconds was getting back into the passenger seat to light himself a cigarette.

Desmond started the engine, turned on the lights, then pulled the Volvo out into the deserted road and drove them away into the darkness of the night.

* * *

Lakefields Academy old girls’ reunion.

Charlotte spotted a face that she was sure she recognised, but somehow the body it was attached to didn’t quite match her recollections.

Lesley? Is that you?

Yeah? The girl turned to face her, Oh, Charlotte... Hi, how are you doing? Long time, no see.

Yeah... I’m great... really good, but I almost didn’t recognise you... You look absolutely fantastic.

Lesley beamed, Yeah... I’ve lost a few pounds since you last saw me, haven’t I? Is your sister here too? I haven’t seen her for ages... I saw her friend Wanda the other week in Bath. She wasn’t sure if Emily was coming or not.

Huh! Charlotte huffed, She was here earlier... but her feller rang her, so she’s buggered off to meet him. Lesley nodded, smiling knowingly.

Lesley Harman had been a school friend of the two sisters, but unlike the Masters girls, she had suffered with being overweight during her teenage years. However, despite having been the butt of many cruel jibes from less sympathetic pupils at the school, she hadn’t let it get to her. She knew who her real friends were, and they’d supported her on the few occasions when the ribaldry of the other girls had begun to get her down.

Now though, Charlotte couldn’t get over the transformation. While certainly no stick insect, Lesley was now a svelte, shapely, attractive, and traditionally sexy looking young woman. Leggy, and with curves in all the right places, she was nothing like the gauche plump girl Charlotte remembered so well. Had she looked like this at sixteen, teasing would have been the least of her problems. Fighting the men off, however, might have been a very different matter.

In many instances, it would be considered bad form to comment on someone’s weight loss, especially if they were still carrying a little more than was deemed fashionable, but with young Miss Harman this wasn’t the case, so Charlotte wasted no time in complimenting her friend.

Wow, Lesley... You certainly have done well. Lesley smiled appreciatively as her friend continued, How did you manage it? Like, have you been seriously dieting, or working out or something?

Lesley shook her head, No... Well, yes and no, really... I tried all that stuff, but all it did was build up my muscles under all the blubber

Charlotte interrupted her, Oh, come on... Blubber’s a bit strong, Les. You were never that bad... It was just a bit of puppy fat, and at least you were tall enough to carry it. Charlotte had been a good enough friend to get away with such a personal comment. Listen... if it’d been me, I’d have been well an’ truly in the deep doo doo... I’d have just looked like one of them funny little Lego figures kids play with, being such a stumpy.

Lesley laughed. You mean ‘petite’... You’re hardly ‘stumpy’ with your figure... Everything’s in perfect proportion. All the fellers fancied you ’cos they didn’t have to be tall themselves to look good with you... Not like that long legged sister of yours. Charlotte took the compliment in the manner in which it was intended.

OK... I s’pose... but if you’re right, she paused, then why did I get all the muppets from Saint Timothy’s asking me to dance every time there was a school disco... I mean... let’s face it... They could’ve found a better local boys’ school to invite... and at least restricted it to the sixth formers. She laughed at the memory, realising that tonight was supposed to be all about memories, But you did alright though, Les, as I seem to remember... You always had fellers wanting to dance with you, even when we were in year nine...

Lesley interrupted her, Only ’cos I had tits... That’s all they were interested in. Faster dances, they could watch ’em bounce, an’ when it was a smoochy record they got the chance to squash up against ’em. She shrugged. Believe me, I got used to looking at the top of a dancing partner’s head while they were gawping down my cleavage.

Charlotte nodded, S’true, I s’pose... Well maybe, anyway... I know a lot of the girls were really jealous of your boobs, and of the attention you got.

Well... Yeah OK, Char... but I was just overweight really, Charlotte shook her head before taking a mouthful of her drink. Lesley then asked her, D’you remember that time they stopped a school dance early because of my tits?

Charlotte spluttered gin and tonic as she began to laugh, Oh yeah... Do I? Didn’t I hear that the kid sued his teacher for that?

Lesley shrugged, I dunno ’bout that, but it was, like, so funny at the time... Did you see it?

Charlotte shook her head, Not all of it. So... what happened, then?

Well, this kid came over and with a cheeky grin said that his mate thought I had ‘awesome tits’, then pointed to another kid who looked really, really, embarrassed... Anyway, one of the teachers was passing... one of theirs... y’know, like, patrolling the dance like they did... and he overheard. Lesley paused to sip at her drink, Well... this teacher slapped the kid around the back of his head... like, hard... then in a loud booming voice wanted to know why the kid wasn’t cowering in fear of me... The lad just looked at him... bemused, like... So did I. She sipped at her drink again, Then the record finished, so someone turned the disco off at that point an’ it all went quiet.

Charlotte shook her head in disbelief, No... Like, that must have been so, so, embarrassing.

Leslie nodded, Yeah... Well, all eyes were on us as this teacher went on... like, no one was even talking... Anyway, this teacher was asking this boy why he wasn’t gazing at me in awe... even quaking in his boots, or something, she smiled as she remembered. Of course, the kid said nothing... he just, like, stood there... dumbly, so the teacher said to him, ‘Oh? Struck dumb, are we Peterson?’... S’funny how I can still remember his name, isn’t it? Even though I didn’t know him... Anyway, the teacher carried on, ‘Yes, I suppose you would be speechless, wouldn’t you? If something was really awesome’ The boy was looking really puzzled by now... Me too. I wasn’t sure what this bloke was on about. Lesley grinned. Charlotte was still chuckling as her friend continued, Then this teacher told him he’d got some apologies to make... First to me, for what he’d said... an’ then to the English language for abusing it by using the word ‘awesome’ for something that was plainly not ‘terrible’ and not striking ‘awe and fear in equal measures to all and sundry’... He had a great way with words... everyone was silent as they listened. You really could’ve heard a pin drop... That’s not just a cliché.

Charlotte smiled. Yes... I remember that, but I was over the other side so I still couldn’t hear what was being said... at least, not all of it.

Lesley laughed, then went on, Anyway... the poor boy mumbled an apology and his teacher told him to go, and to report to him on Monday morning... And that was that... The party was declared ‘over’, and all because I was a bit overweight at fifteen... well, nearly fifteen... though at that time, I really believed that I had great tits.

You did, Les... better than mine were, Charlotte said.

Lesley smiled, Yeah? Who was I kidding, eh? A couple of years later, an’ I knew that it was a problem that had to be sorted... ’specially when I looked at you and some of the other girls... an’ that kid sister of yours had suddenly grown taller than you, even though she was a couple of years behind us... an’ all the growth seemed to be in her legs, like. She was so getting a lot of looks, wasn’t she?

Charlotte agreed, She certainly was... and boy did she know it... Talk about precocious. Lesley finished her drink and put the glass on a convenient table.

Yeah... and I was just a fatty, there was no other word for it, but when I tried exercising to get rid of it, I seemed to end up looking like one of those weightlifter women from the Olympics... An’ that is so not a good look, believe me, especially when I, like, yearned... an’ I mean really, really yearned, to look like Emily. Charlotte smiled. She’d heard similar admissions before, from other girls. She had to agree that her younger sister was exceptionally good looking. Anyway, continued Lesley, some good came out of it... I did meet someone at the gym who pointed me in the right direction she leaned towards her friend, conspiratorially, then said, Medical research. Charlotte looked at her quizzically.

Research? How do you mean? What sort of research? Who by?

Yeah, like... there was this woman, she introduced me to this feller... He was looking for subjects... like volunteers, for some work he was doing on new slimming and health stuff...

Charlotte interrupted, Stuff? What? Like drugs?

Lesley shook her head. Not really drugs... least, I don’t think they were. More like, sort of, supplements an’ things. At least, that’s what they said they were. Charlotte looked at her friend with one of those looks that said it all. She wasn’t sure that she’d have been quite as trusting. Lesley picked up on this and tried to assure her, This was along with, like, matching up diet and fluid intake, all very carefully worked out... and of course there were exercise regimes too... but not all that working out an’ stuff, like I had been doing... and they monitored it all, like, everything, filming and photographing it and checking all sorts of performance figures. She blushed heavily, suddenly avoiding direct eye contact, before whispering, and I do mean everything.

Charlotte raised her eyebrows, Everything?

Lesley nodded. She drew Charlotte closer, so no one else would hear.

Yeah... everything... Even things like orgasms and the way my body responded to stimuli... You know... like, touching... that sort of thing, and how things like my nipples stiffening and my... oh you know... like, down there... got wet. Charlotte looked shocked. Something that didn’t happen easily, though it was more from the fact that this was her old friend Lesley relating it. She’d always thought her old friend to be naïve, but surely even Lesley would find this a bit odd.

Lesley! That so doesn’t sound like you... I mean... like, really?

The other girl nodded, Yeah, really... but it was all scientific, like... I was spending a few days at a time, stayin’ away at this place over near where Madonna lived... It wasn’t just me. There were others went there too, though not all at the same time... but as you can see, it worked... an’ it was fun, once I got over my embarrassment at some of the things they asked me to do and learned to enjoy it... I got paid for it, too... not much, ‘pocket money’ they called it, to buy coffees and drinks in the bar an’ stuff, she smiled, I even got off with a really good looking hunk of a feller while I was there... A guy called ‘Oz’, an’ that was before I’d lost it all, too. She grinned, her eyes crinkling up and appearing to sparkle, We did a bit of special research of our own... if you know what I mean. She began to look a little embarrassed again, her cheeks colouring once more.

Research, Lesley? Who was researching who? So much for the sweet demure Lesley of old, eh?

Lesley drew Charlotte closer and continued. Yeah... Oz was one of the scientific staff. Monitoring and filming the results... but when you’re naked and getting yourself deliberately aroused while someone’s monitoring and filming it... well... Y’know, sometimes you can get frisky and a bit carried away... ’specially if the guy monitoring you is a bit of a dreamboat... Funny though... the thing is... before that, I’d thought he was, like, gay... He so wasn’t though, and talk about a hard on... I wasn’t sure it would fit. She grinned broadly again.

Lesley? No? I’m shocked... You brazen hussy, you! Charlotte said, raising her eyebrows in surprise. She was thinking to herself that even she, in her own somewhat active sexual experience, had never committed her naked form to camera. Not consciously, anyway. At least she hoped that no one had ever been filming her.

Lesley went on to explain about some of the gadgets and things they’d used, and about the meal replacements and the food supplements. It was all getting a little boring to Charlotte, who’d never had to watch what she ate. ‘Petite’ was her natural state. This was just as well, as she had a healthy appetite for all things in life.

She decided to change the subject. Y’know... my sister isn’t gonna believe how you look now when I tell her, she fumbled in her bag for her phone, Let me take a piccy of you, to show her. She was here earlier, but she got called away... her feller... some kind of crisis, or something.

Yeah... You said... How is Emily? She’s at Bath Spa Uni, isn’t she?

Charlotte nodded, S’right... an’ I’m finishing up at Cardiff this term, she raised the phone. Now... Hold it there. She took a photo, That’s great. She dropped the phone back into her bag. Yeah... at least I thought I was finishing there. I’m finishing my degree course, but I might go on to do a PGCE... I did a bit in a few schools, like, giving presentations as part of my time with the parks authority... it was to do with my course... an’ I really enjoyed interacting with the kids, so I might go into teaching instead of the conservation work I was gonna go into.

You? Working with kids? I thought you hated kids.

Yeah... but these were different... they were teenagers. I’m thinkin’ ’bout it though, but I dunno really... not yet, anyway. I’ve got other more immediate matters to sort out first. She smiled, her face taking on the persona of an excited child at Christmas, I’m getting a bigger bike off a friend of a friend... She’s bought a Harley-Davidson, so I’ve got first refusal on her old Yamaha Virago.

Yeah? I, like, saw your mum earlier in the year... She said you’d passed your motorbike test as well as getting a driving licence... That’s well cool... My mother’d have kittens if I said I was getting a motorbike... she was bad enough over my brother’s moped. Charlotte laughed at the mention of her mother,

Most mums would, I s’pose... but my Mum’s not like most mums, is she? Let’s face it, most mums don’t buy themselves a racing car when they’re in their forties, then spend their weekends tear-arsing around tracks in it, do they? It was Lesley’s turn to look surprised.

What? Like, a proper racing car? Charlotte nodded as her friend continued, I mean... I knew she had that little sports car, the Mazda. She’s had that for ages, hasn’t she? and someone said that she went hill climbing with it... I think it was Sally. She got dragged to some place near Cheltenham with her boyfriend... Prescott, was it? something like that, an’ they saw her there, but that was her normal car, wasn’t it?

Yeah... But the MX5 wasn’t really fast enough for Mum. Not for her racing... not once she got a bit good at it, so she bought a second hand racing car... Then she tried circuit racing as well, after doing a few track days to set the new car up, and she liked it. Now her an’ Dad tow it on a trailer to meetings all over the place most weekends... They enjoy it, an’ she’s quick enough not to embarrass herself. She chuckled to herself, She’s even got some of Dad’s and her own clients’ businesses to sponsor her racing.

Cool. said Lesley again, obviously impressed, My mum can’t even get her Micra into a parking bay without making a big production out of it. An’ on the rare occasion that she goes on a motorway, she holds up lorries in the slow lane... She’s a useless driver. She’s got no confidence at all, even though she’s been driving for, like... well... like, forever.

* * *

A village in South Gloucestershire.

Marjorie Masters closed the door behind her husband, watching him through the window as he put the box of documents into the old family Jaguar’s boot. As he slammed the boot lid down, she opened the door again to call out.

David... Make sure you’re not too late home tonight. Only we’ve got to get the car on the trailer, and Charlotte probably won’t be around to help... She’s off this afternoon, back to Cardiff.

David looked up, as he opened the driver’s door, Don’t panic, darling... I’ve only scheduled the one meeting today, and that’s all pretty straightforward. I haven’t forgotten that we’re testing tomorrow. He leant inside the car to put the key in and start the engine so the blowers would clear the screen. I don’t want to be mucking about loading everything up in the morning, either... So you make sure you’ve got everything ready to go, OK?

Of course, dear... That’s what I plan to do.

He grinned at her, "I know what you’re like... lunch time will come along, then while you’re shovelling soup and a sandwich down you, you’ll think of some new part or something that might make you a little