Rise of the Petrol Queen

by Jon Hartless

  ‘Nevertheless, gentlemen, we must now adapt some form of handicapping system. One fair for all,’ interrupted Hepplewhite, firmly. ‘Perhaps some form of delayed start?’

  ‘Would I be right in thinking this system would see the fastest vehicles start at the back of the pack, after all the others have gone?’ asked Phipps, innocently.

  ‘That would be the logical ordering, yes,’ said Hepplewhite, ignoring a few exasperated sighs around the room. ‘I hope I can expect your full support on this, at least? Good,’ he smirked as his fellow directors nodded wearily. ‘We shall work out a handicapping system and I expect you all to set similar restrictions on the other tracks around the country. After all, it would look very odd indeed if only Purley were to introduce these measures, would it not? Then let us begin our work. I’m sure we can establish a framework before lunch.’

  11 The supposed correlation between Poppy’s disabilities and her moral character was a favourite theme of the media, then and now. Her remarkable height didn’t endear her to the small men of the press, either.

  12 This meeting, reconstructed from various diaries and letters of those present, demonstrates how Lord Hepplewhite was determined to curtail Poppy’s racing career and any chances of success.

  13 Market forces are something of a mantra for capitalists, then and now.

  14 Although dozens of British car manufacturers existed back then, most were small companies producing just a handful of cars each month. Very few had the resources to enter their vehicles into the larger racing events such as Purley or the Sussex. Foreign visitors to British tracks were often surprised at the small number of vehicles participating, and the lack of separation into size and class.

  Chapter Five

  Poppy Orpington’s working-class CRIMINAL associates! Exclusive revelations by STEPHEN DINWOODY of the Daily Post!

  Our intrepid reporter, Stephen Dinwoody, has bravely unearthed in Dudley the shocking TRUTH about the infamous PETROL QUEEN herself, Poppy Orpington! For he has discovered that her friends from school are little more than career CRIMINALS!

  Going undercover, Mr Dinwoody has searched the criminal archives of the Dudley area and found no less than FOUR people Poppy Orpington was at school with, and TEN more relatives of people she was at school with, have been in front of the local magistrates!

  The offences range from affray to passing forged cheques. It is no wonder the brazen Poppy Orpington plays fast and loose with morality, demanding attention wherever she goes; she is clearly from a criminal background!

  As the first race of the season moved closer, Poppy and Simeon busied themselves with their preparations. One of the first tasks was to hire a new pit crew, the original team having found other work after being stood down at the end of the previous season. The only returning member was Jack Talbot, who was contacted by Simeon as a matter of course as the two men had worked together before. Poppy was less than enthusiastic about the appointment.

  ‘Why?’ asked Simeon in surprise. ‘What’s wrong with Jack?’

  ‘He has an issue with women being in any position of power,’ muttered Poppy as she sat down at the desk in Simeon’s office at Pallister Hall.

  ‘Really? I didn’t notice anything untoward last year,’ replied Simeon as he tentatively took his place next to Poppy, ready to greet the applicants.15 The advertisements had been running for a few days in the local press and a large turnout was expected. ‘Are you sure you’re not just being a touch oversensitive?’

  ‘No, I damn well am not. You probably can’t see it but I can; the snide remarks, the leering, the whole attitude saying I should be at home having babies.’

  ‘Here he is,’ hissed Simeon as Talbot appeared behind the butler, Wilkinson, in the doorway. ‘Jack, how are you?’ he cried, over-compensating for the edgy atmosphere.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you, Lord Pallister,’ replied Talbot, shaking the proffered hand while ignoring Poppy. ‘I take it you’re hiring for an entire season?’

  ‘We are indeed.’

  ‘Do we have relief drivers?’ asked Talbot, his eyes flickering momentarily toward Poppy before turning away.

  ‘No, just Poppy,’ said Simeon. He noticed Talbot was focusing on the only other man in the room, prompting a few uneasy thoughts on male-female dynamics. ‘Take a seat at the desk; that way the three of us can ask questions in turn.’ He watched as Talbot ignored the easily accessible chair next to Poppy, choosing instead to walk around the desk to sit at the opposite end, next to Simeon. ‘Wilkinson, bring the first applicant through, will you?’ called out Simeon, fully aware of Poppy’s irritated expression.

  There followed a frustrating hour as they went through almost thirty applicants with little or no experience of engineering; unemployment was high among the poor and working classes, meaning people were desperately applying for any job they could. It was something of a relief to find an applicant who actually had some relevant skill.

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Reginald Hall.’ The man, about fifty years old, wore a short, black, scruffy workman’s coat over faded trousers and a grubby shirt. His hands nervously squeezed his battered cap which he had whipped off in the presence of the aristocracy.

  ‘Any experience?’

  ‘I worked for several years at Cook’s Garage, in Netherton.’

  ‘Ah, a fellow Black Country16 native?’ asked Poppy. ‘You’re a bit far from home.’

  ‘Yes, miss; I’m afraid I was laid off last year and since then I’ve been trying to scrape by with what work I can get on a daily basis. The wife has the Worcester and Droitwich News sent up by a friend who lives local, and we saw the advert for this job and here I am.’

  ‘How did you get down here?’ asked Simeon. ‘On the buses?’

  ‘Er, truth be told, I hadn’t got enough for the fares, guv,’ said Reg, going slightly red. ‘I walked and hitched lifts on the lorries wherever I could. It was a close call; we only saw the advert yesterday afternoon, so it was decided I’d set off straight away and try to get here on time.’

  ‘Very enterprising,’ replied Simeon. ‘You must have been confident?’

  ‘Well, guv, I knows suspension inside and out, and I’ve worked on cars converted for motor racing so I’m familiar with quick release bolts and the like, but I admit I have never actually been in an actual pit crew but I hope that don’t hold against me. Here are my references, by the by.’ He held out a scruffy set of papers, flapping them in Simeon’s direction. Wilkinson slid forward, took the sheets and handed them to Simeon, who glanced through them.

  ‘Everything seems in order; anything you want to ask, Jack?’ he asked, unconsciously defaulting to male authority.

  Talbot asked a few technical questions which Reg successfully answered, after which he was ushered out to wait in the kitchen where tea and a sandwich would be provided before moving on to the practical tests. ‘We’ve finally found one man who knows his trade,’ exclaimed Talbot in exasperation. ‘I hope the rest have got some knowledge about them.’

  The day ground on, with just five men being kept back as possible recruits until finally only one applicant was left. ‘Bloody hellfire,’ hissed Talbot under his breath. ‘It’s a bleeding darkie.’

  Poppy bridled at the expression,17 but before she could say anything Simeon launched into the opening questions at the young man standing shyly in front of them.

  ‘Name, please?’

  ‘Yousef Guler, aged twenty one, down from Stourbridge today,’ he replied, his accent a mixture of Indian and West Midlands.

  ‘Any experience with being in a pit crew, or on motor maintenance in general?’

  ‘No to the pit crew, but for the last two years I have worked as a mechanic for the Dudley And Birmingham Omnibus Company, so I have experience of large petrol engines. I’m also used to being a jack of all trades on the buses doing steering, suspension, tyres, driving and even the electrics as the Dudley and Birmingham Omnibus Company is famously tight when it comes to hiring specialists.�
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  ‘Excellent,’ replied Simeon, repressing a smile; he knew one of the directors of the Company and “tight” was the very word. ‘I think you should qualify from the mechanical point of view but I should warn you the racing world is...’

  ‘I think what Simeon is trying to say is the racing is full of people who may not react well to you,’ said Poppy. ‘Many of them can’t deal with me without insults or slack-jawed incomprehension.’ She glanced disdainfully at Talbot, who stared ahead in a determined manner.

  ‘Thank you, Poppy,’ sighed Simeon. ‘Against that background, Yousef, do you think you’ll be able to maintain a professional demeanour and a good standard of work? A pit crew can be a hot-house atmosphere at the best of times.’ Yousef smiled, a little grimly. ‘I always have to work twice as hard to be treated with half the respect, both at school and in the workplace. “Indian boy should make the tea, Indian boy should carry water.” And, of course, my family are concerned for me working in a potentially difficult environment. Every day, my mother reminds me to not look any white people in the eye, not to speak back, not to argue – all for fear of reprisals, verbal or physical.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ muttered Talbot, snidely.18

  ‘Very much so,’ replied Yousef. ‘These are basic survival tactics we have learnt the hard way. But I worked hard and attended night school and got good marks under Mr Roger Davidson, who noticed your advert and sent the cutting onto me, hoping I may find a place here.’

  ‘Guler, Guler,’ mused Poppy, a frown on her face as Yousef correctly answered the many questions barked at him by the peevish Talbot. ‘The name seems familiar; there was a young boy at school called Ali Guler, a few years younger than me.’

  ‘My younger brother, who also remembers you.’

  ‘Why didn’t you mention him?’ exclaimed Poppy. ‘I remember Ali; he got it from the bullies as badly as Amy and I did.’19

  ‘I did not wish to presume,’ replied Yousef. ‘I wanted to get the position on merit.’

  ‘You’ll certainly get your chance,’ replied Simeon. ‘Very commendable references. If you’d like to go to the kitchen, you can have a sandwich and a cup of tea, and then we’ll try you out on the practical tests.’

  ‘He’s got an attitude problem,’ announced Talbot after Yousef had left for the kitchen.

  ‘He’s not the only one,’ muttered Poppy.

  ‘He has the necessary knowledge, so as long as he passes the practical, he is in,’ said Simeon hastily.

  ‘We’d better get on with that,’ said Poppy, glancing at her pocket watch. ‘I may want to pop out later this afternoon, so I need Thunderbus in one piece.’

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Talbot, already annoyed at the potential hiring of Yousef. ‘You’re still running around in the car you want to race in?’

  ‘Thunderbus is my car,’ answered Poppy, sharply. ‘And it’s the best car on the road, so yes, I am driving it around.’

  ‘You’re going to run it into the ground before you even get onto a track,’ replied Talbot, emphatically. ‘And you know what will happen then? You’ll break down before the finish line is even reached.’

  ‘Jack does have a point, Poppy,’ said Simeon, acting as peacemaker. ‘Thunderbus is too valuable to be risked on the roads. You remember your father agreed to that? It’s silly to risk the engine and steering on day-to-day tasks.’

  ‘But every other car I’ve driven has been underpowered rubbish compared to Thunderbus,’ moaned Poppy, feeling put upon.

  ‘I’ll loan you my Ruffold Speedster to get around in,’ soothed Simeon. ‘Once we’re finished here, we can pop into Worcester and get the insurance sorted.’

  Poppy exhaled sharply but immediately felt bad at her reaction to Simeon’s generous offer. ‘Thank you, I appreciate that. I just prefer my own car. There’s nothing else like it; after drivingThunderbus,everything else is a

  disappointment.’

  ‘You may be surprised at the capability of the Ruffold,’ Simeon leaned forward a little in his chair. ‘The steering is light and nimble, and the engine is surprisingly powerful for a small vehicle. Just take care when driving it. You’re used to wrestling Thunderbus with your mechanical arm because the steering is ridiculously heavy. In a Ruffold, you just need to caress the wheel.’

  ‘Fine, yes, I give in,’ replied Poppy, holding her hand up in defeat. ‘I’ll drive the Ruffold and spare Thunderbus.Though I think you’re worrying unduly; we raced last year without any issues.’

  ‘Last year we only entered two races,’ retorted Talbot. ‘And both of those had a limited number of laps and few sharp corners.’

  ‘Which is why we are going to concentrate on tracks with long straights and few corners this year,’ said Simeon, nodding at Poppy’s prosthetic. ‘As we know, Thunderbus does not like tight turns, even with Poppy’s mechanical advantage.’

  ‘Yes, I remember the turning circle was as bad as a battleship,’ recalled Talbot, sourly. ‘Are we going to rebuild the car to improve the steering system?’

  ‘We don’t have the budget,’ said Poppy, firmly.

  ‘If we win a few races, we can consider it,’ murmured Simeon. He understood Poppy liked Thunderbus the way it was, even with all its flaws, because it made it far more her car than anyone else’s.

  ‘And what about the gearbox? Have you got that sorted yet? We don’t want it breaking again like it did at Purley.’

  ‘It’s been fixed,’ said Poppy.

  ‘Has it not been replaced?’ demanded Talbot, belligerently. ‘That charabanc gearbox was totally unsuitable for racing.’

  ‘It still won,’ retorted Poppy.

  ‘Barely, and it will break down again if it’s put in another race,’ snapped Talbot with an air of superiority.

  ‘And where do you suggest we find a gearbox which will fit?’ replied Poppy, struggling to keep her temper in check. ‘Thunderbus’ chassis is from an old charabanc; that’s why my father had to use the same gearbox.’

  ‘You’ll have to get one made specially; otherwise you have no chance of winning.’

  ‘We won last year with the same gearbox. We just need to keep a consistent high speed.’

  ‘Speed is a fallacy,’ snapped Talbot in irritation. ‘So what if a car is fast? If a track is mostly curves, or the car needs space to accelerate because it has lower range gears, you will still lose. You need to pay for a bespoke gearbox and start taking this seriously.’

  ‘Easy to say when it is not your money being spent,’ replied Poppy, her voice harsh. ‘The budget is not going to stretch to new gearboxes whenever you demand one.’

  ‘And what will the budget stretch to? Do you know? Who is actually running this show?’ demanded Talbot, glancing from Poppy to Simeon. ‘Christ, have you not even worked that out? Haven’t you sorted who gets what in prizes, how the cash is going to be distributed, who pays for expenses and funerals if you kill yourself out on the track? I assumed everything was under Lord Simeon’s control, now I find... ’

  ‘You find what?’ asked Poppy, her eyes narrowing. ‘That a woman is in charge? Is that what you don’t like?’

  ‘I like to know exactly where I stand,’ snorted Talbot. ‘Last time was easy as Lord Simeon was paying for everything, but now we have two taskmasters who don’t know what they are responsible for!’

  ‘This is nothing to do with having two taskmasters,’ said Poppy. ‘This is about you not wanting to work with women. You were a complete arsehole to Amy and me last year, and I noticed you never spoke against the actions of the first pit crew.’20

  ‘It’s always the same with you, isn’t it?’ snapped Talbot. ‘If anyone disagrees with you, it’s because they’re prejudiced. You can never face the fact you could be wrong!’

  ‘Simeon frequently disagrees with me but he has valid objections; he’s not disguising any bigotry or personal flaws,’ growled Poppy, embellishing a little in her anger.

  ‘You’re the one turning it into a debate on women,’ replied Ta
lbot, his face locked in a smirk of superior disdain.

  ‘Perhaps we should all calm down before anyone says something they regret,’ interrupted Simeon, his voice unusually sharp. ‘I’ll drive Poppy to Worcester right now to sort the insurance on the Ruffold; Jack, you can check the practical ability of the applicants. Everyone happy with that?’

  ‘Suits me down to the ground,’ replied Poppy, striding from the office without a backward glance at either man.

  As they drove to Worcester, Poppy gave full reign to her feelings, culminating in a character assassination of Talbot’s professionalism, experience, personality and ancestry.

  ‘Feel better now?’ asked Simeon, dryly, when Poppy had finally finished.

  Poppy’s colour rose at the implied criticism in Simeon’s tone, becoming defensive as her anger burned down to leave only the cinders of embarrassment behind. ‘I told you he had an issue with women being in charge.’ 21

  ‘Yes, and I think I can see what you mean,’ replied Simeon. ‘But Jack is under some additional strain. His wife is ill. Very ill.’

  ‘What? Then why is he even working?’ exclaimed Poppy, feeling guilty for her explosion despite genuinely believing Talbot deserved every comment.

  ‘I suspect they badly need the money for treatment,’ replied Simeon. He said no more, letting Poppy think things through for herself. At times he liked to remind himself she was still very young, more girl than woman, and somewhat inexperienced in certain ways. Hence her need for a firm hand and a private, sympathetic tutor. A man of the world to take the lead and show her the way.

  ‘If he has personal problems, he’s not going to be fit for work,’ declared Poppy, her tone harsh. ‘He’ll have to go.’

  Simeon glanced over in surprise. ‘Are you going to tell him?’

  ‘If need be.’

  ‘I’ll leave it to you, then,’ replied Simeon in relief; it was not something he wanted to do. ‘Have you given any thought about the funding issues? Jack is definitely right in that respect. We must decide on who has responsibility – and for which areas.’