The layout was completely different.
“When we got the insurance money in, I took the opportunity to re-build from scratch and put in everything I needed,” Sue explained.
It was all on a big square, with a large area in the middle. She led me around showing me all the updated features.
“Swish,” I commented politely. I glanced briefly at the heads of the horses looking over the half doors. “I can’t see Quinn’s horse?” I murmured. I hadn’t met her eyes yet.
“Apple Pie?” She queried. “After the fire I sent all the horses back to their owners. I didn’t have any way of looking after them for months, and I didn’t think it was fair on the horses to bring them back somewhere they’d been so traumatised. I’ve started out with a whole new group and now I’ve got the right facilities, I’m going into breeding.” She stopped me at one of the doors and a glossy head looked out. “Poppy here is in foal – so next year you can come back and see the baby. And this one…” she took me on a couple of doors and clicked her tongue to try to get the attention of a slim and pretty red one with a light coloured mane and tail, “is my new darling – Rose of Tralee. I call her ‘Rosie’. She’s just turned four, so I’m starting her training…”
I knew what Sue was trying to tell me. This one was to replace Babbington Sentinel – Baby – who died. I looked ambivalently at the horse out of the corner of my eye and made no effort to reach out to touch. She shoved her head up and down against Sue’s sleeve, then reached a nose out towards me, flared her nostrils and huffed. I turned my back on her and walked away.
“I’m sorry,” Sue called out after me. “Eve, please, I’m so sorry…”
She must have darted after me because suddenly her hand was on my arm holding me back. I stopped still, being careful not to react by pulling away, though it took all my self-control to do so. I dreaded her trying to talk to me about it, but I was going to have to put up with it.
“Please forgive me, darling,” she said. “I got it so wrong…”
I took a deep breath but couldn’t say anything.
“I love you so much,” she said in broken tones. “Please forgive me for the way I’ve treated you…”
I darted her a quick defensive glance. Tears were pouring down her face. Suddenly the dam broke and all my grief flooded out. She gathered me to her as I sobbed and then she pulled me down to sit beside her on a hay bale. She hugged me and rubbed my back as I cried. I never quite managed to get around to saying sorry myself. But she seemed to get it.
Two days later, I walked back into work and high fived the nearest couple of guys. “What’s the crack?” I asked cheerfully.
They looked blank.
“What’s up?” I tried. Nothing. “What’s going down?” No response. I gave up.
“Ah – you mean what’s the goss?” Ben translated at last.
Sean grinned. “You’re the goss, Eve, you ought to realise that!”
I sighed, I’d been afraid of that. Alan appeared out of his office door and looked straight at me. “Upstairs,” he ordered abruptly.
Mr. Heskett had newspapers all over his desk. “So how are you?” He asked. “How did it go from your point of view?”
I bit my lip. “Pretty unpleasant. But I survived. I hope the coverage wasn’t too detrimental to Williams. They seemed to have got the idea that I was a race engineer but honestly, that wasn’t me, I made it clear I was just an intern.”
He nodded. “That was one of the girls on the switchboard. The press rang up to ask what your role was here and she rather vaguely replied to them that she thought you were a race engineer.”
Phew!
He pulled a couple of local papers to the top, but I was a bit surprised to see they were Berkshire ones. He started to read aloud to me a section from one. “Asked in court if local lad Anish Gilbraith, William’s newly confirmed driver for the coming season was attractive, Eve McGinty answered, ‘Yes, the magazines are going to love him.’ When the lawyer tried to imply that McGinty was sleeping with Gilbraith to gain access to his car, McGinty stated firmly that she had been asked to chauffeur him around while he was ill, and to encourage him to get back into his training. When asked why she wasn’t sleeping with him, she answered, “Because that would be unprofessional.” He looked up at me.
“Why was it being reported round here?” I frowned. “I wouldn’t have thought anyone down south would be interested…”
“We had our own grooming gang scandal in Oxford not that long ago, so everyone likes to be reassured that they’re not the most evil town in the country don’t they? Plus Gilbraith’s the local lad round here, and we’re one of several locally based race teams, so it’s bound to be picked up by the papers and the regional TV.”
I sighed. “Sorry.”
He shook his head. “You can’t help that. And what with the recent kidnap drama and your part in that, they’re going to pick up on any mention of your name.”
“I did my best to shut down the speculation,” I said.
“Yes, I can see that,” he agreed neutrally.
I couldn’t tell how this discussion was going. How would all this affect my future with Williams?
“We need you to keep well away from all the media now,” Heskett told me seriously, holding my gaze. “You must refuse all requests for interviews from any source. You need to be really careful what you say about Gilbraith at all times. Don’t trust anyone. Remember the dirty tricks brigade from the gutter press may try to catch you out by posing as someone else and tempting you into passing over some information. Do you get what I’m saying?”
I nodded slowly.
“Gilbraith knows how to handle the media. He’s had years of coaching for it and we keep a tight hand on the reins. Leave it to him…”
I nodded again.
Heskett held my gaze for a moment longer then shuffled up the papers and tossed them to one side. “Now off you go and apply yourself. You’ve missed a week of your training and you need to concentrate, ok?”
“Ok,” I said meekly. But I had no idea what all this training was about really. They’d hardly even bothered to include me in the pit rehearsals over the past few weeks, so I was a bit worried that I was going to have a really minor support role in the team.
As my hand touched the door he suddenly asked casually, “So how does Nish seem to think he’s doing with his high altitude training?”
I stopped and glanced back. “No idea. Nish and I aren’t in the habit of texting each other.”
From the expression on his face, it appeared I’d given the right answer.
It was nearly two weeks further on, when Nish sauntered back into the simulator department while I was sitting alongside Mizo as he supervised me entering all the data. Mizo was so unsurprised I had to surmise that he’d been expecting him. But I was taken aback. I hadn’t even known Nish was back in the country.
“Oh, hi!” I exclaimed. “When did you get back?”
He shrugged. “Night before last… Took a day off to get over the travelling.”
I kept my face expressionless to mask my hurt that he hadn’t texted or rung me to say he was back.
“So what’s the score today?” Nish asked, looking at Mizo.
Mizo picked up a clipboard, and flicked through the papers attached to it. “Fill him in, Eve, will you?” He said.
I explained the aims and objectives of the session today, and what exactly we were looking for and expecting to see. When I’d finished speaking, Nish looked at Mizo who glanced up from the clipboard. “Hop in then,” Mizo said. While Nish was settling himself, Mizo said to me, “Now keep an eye on everything Nish is doing and let him know whenever he’s doing something that won’t work with this set-up, or when he could have done something better. If he keeps making a repeat mistake, then remind him ahead of time what the best tactics are for that particular stretch next time it comes round…” When Nish glanced round looking less than pleased at Mizo’s instructions to me, Mizo said coolly t
o him, “Off you go.”
I watched all the data carefully and let Nish know when he wasn’t performing at the optimum, and what he could do better. Thirty five laps in, when no doubt he was getting tired, especially as it had been at least six weeks since he’d last been on the machine, I had to tell him, “Nish that’s the fifth time you’ve done that – you need to get into sixth as soon as possible at that point and keep a trajectory well away from the kerb or you’re just wasting downforce.”
In response he just took his hands off the wheel and let the car career into the virtual barrier before shooting up in the air and landing with three big rolls. “Who’s driving this bloody thing? What the hell does she know about it?” He lashed out at Mizo.
“Well, that’s really mature, Nish,” I observed disapprovingly, as he hauled himself out of the seat. “You can’t throw your toys out the pram in the middle of a race and just get out you know…”
“Fuck off, Eve,” he snarled. “I don’t even understand what you’re doing here.”
“And you need to watch your language over the radio,” I pointed out reprovingly. “Everyone is listening in. If you need to query an instruction you need to do it professionally.”
He snatched up his jacket and glared at me, nostrils flared, and then turned his glare on Mizo. “I don’t know who the hell she thinks she is, but you can damn well make sure there’s someone here next time who knows what the hell they’re doing!” And then he stormed out.
Mizo gave a slight smile. “Guess that’s the end of that session then,” he said mildly, beginning to switch things off.
“What’s got into him?” I commented with a grimace. “I was only doing what I was told to…”
“And you did it very well,” Mizo reassured me.
“Was I too bossy or something?”
Mizo shook his head. “You were clear, concise, unemotional, and stuck to the technical, but you also stuck to your guns and he didn’t like that.” And then he grinned a bit. “And then you ticked him off proper good for a couple of things that he knows perfectly well he shouldn’t be doing and he didn’t like it.”
I sighed. “He got funny with me on holiday too. Said I was confrontational. He said that women are supposed to tip their heads to one side when they talk to a bloke in a sign of submission and he was narked that I didn’t.”
Mizo uttered a choke of laughter. “Well don’t you go tipping your head to him for God’s sake, will you? You need to stay on top at all costs…”
For a horrid second I thought he was referring to a sex act, like he knew that I’d been flat on my back under him already…
I glanced swiftly and defensively at him. “Why did you say that?” I asked sharply.
Mizo looked assessingly at me for a moment. “I guess they’re leaving it to the last moment to tell you, but I don’t think that’s fair myself. I don’t think they realise what a ticklish line you’re going to have to tread for a bit.”
“Tell me what?” I asked nervously.
“Ok, I’m going to tell you, but only if you promise never to let on to anyone that you already knew when they finally break it to you.” Mizo’s dark eyes held mine meaningfully.
I nodded cautiously.
“They’re training you up to be Nish’s race engineer.”
I stared at him in shock.
“Don’t worry, they won’t throw you in at the deep end straight off, you’ll just be the deputy for the first year – you’ll be working with Chris who Nish is inheriting from Bottas. Nish will be assuming that’s who he’s getting though no-one’s explicitly told him that yet.”
Chris? I thought. I’d barely spoken to the guy. “What does Chris think about that?” I asked.
“It looks like he hasn’t been told either…” Mizo warned. “I think they’ve been waiting to see how everything pans out, including your performance over the past couple of months, but I was in on a meeting on Friday where they were pretty much confirming it…”
I felt a bit in shock. The silence lengthened. “I don’t think Nish’s reaction just now bodes well… How’s he going to take it?”
“He’ll just have to lump it,” Mizo shrugged. “Time for him to knuckle under to a bit of discipline…”
“I still don’t understand what’s got into him though,” I said. “Last time I saw him he was fine with me…”
“Testosterone,” Mizo said bluntly. “That’s what’s got into him. It’s perfectly natural. He’s having to wind his aggression levels up. They’re all like that. They have to be. Super fit, super testosterone laden, super self-confident. They have to be self-absorbed and utterly goal driven. And the teams have to try to keep them ramped up to top performance ready to go for broke and risk their necks and be ready to kill themselves rather than lose a race, and yet also keep them in check as fairly likeable human beings and persuade them to follow team orders. Once they’re out on the track they’re beyond control, everyone knows that. And some of the teams kow-tow to them too much in my opinion, bending over backwards to allow them to think that everything is their own idea. Which is fine for a bit, but it means they get insulted whenever they suddenly get asked to follow an order and have a temper tantrum and deliberately sabotage it. Here at Williams we prefer to emphasise to our drivers that although they’re the most visible member of the team to the general public, they are just the tip of an iceberg where each member of the team is equally valued and required to selflessly play their part.”
I absorbed all this.
Mizo watched my face. “You’re thinking you don’t like him very much at the moment, aren’t you?”
I grimaced and said nothing.
“He’ll settle down,” Mizo comforted. “He’s young and it’s his first season with the big boys. He’s suffering from a big overdose of self-importance and a tiny maggot of self-doubt. You did the right thing by remaining calm and professional with him. Just be the immovable object when he repeatedly bashes himself against you, and don’t take it personally.”
God, this was going to be fun, I thought sarcastically – not.
My phone rang as I lay on the settee eating my way through a tub of salted caramel and chocolate ice cream. I saw the name that came up, so answered it cautiously. “Yes?”
“Where are you?” Nish asked abruptly.
“Lying on the settee with my feet up,” I answered. “Where are you?”
“I thought you’d come round…” His tone sounded a bit whiney.
“Why would I come round when you’ve just sworn at me and been highly offensive?” I asked bluntly.
There was a short silence. “Ok,” he snapped. “Be like that,” and he rang off.
I went back to methodically scraping out the bottom of the cardboard tub. We’d have to wait and see how this panned out.
The following day I was back in the simulator department with Mizo waiting for Nish to arrive. Nish’s brow darkened when he saw me sitting there.
“Tough Nish,” Mizo said sharply. “Eve has to be trained up too, so you’re going to have to get used to it.”
Nish made sure he signalled his displeasure by his body language, but forbore to say anything. This time he argued with me all the way, fighting my every suggestion and ended up posting one of the slowest times he’d ever done.
“This is an expensive machine, Gilbraith,” Mizo said disapprovingly. “And you’re just wasting our time and money here. You need to pull your finger out to make sure the management don’t regret the decision they made to promote you.”
Nish slammed a hand against the wheel and said nothing.
“And respect the equipment,” Mizo snapped at him. “Williams can’t afford thousands of pounds to repair damage that was done just because you’re a bit miffed at having your judgement questioned.”
“When are they going to get down to business and team me up with Chris?” He said crossly. “Why am I being palmed off with the intern?”
“I’m sure they have their reasons,” Mizo sa
id coolly.
Nish got out of the driver’s seat. He gave Mizo an insolent look. “Well maybe I’ll wait until they’re ready to treat me with a bit of respect before I bother to come back,” he snapped, and walked out of the session for the second time in as many days.
Mizo glanced at me. “Think it’s time he was told, don’t you?” He said.
Next day, Mizo rang me at home. “They called him in at five today and told him you were going to be his new race engineer.”
“How’d he take it?” I asked anxiously.
“In stony silence, so I heard from the management. But he stormed straight into me after to sound off…”
“So not well then?” I summed up.
Mizo laughed. “Tough. I told him in no uncertain terms that he was lucky to be getting teamed up with new young talent on the scene by a visionary management team who were willing to take a punt on you two being a winning combination instead of them playing it safe and falling back on the tired old tried and tested. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
Next morning at nine am I was informed by the management of my new role.
“You don’t seem that surprised…” One of them commented.
“Well…” I hesitated. “I figured…”
“You think you can do it?” Another established.
“Yes,” I said confidently.
“And you think you can negotiate Nish’s behaviour?” Mr Heskett queried.
“Yes,” I said.
Alan nodded abruptly. “She’ll be fine,” he told them.
I was immediately paired up with Chris, who didn’t seem that rapt with me. I guess he’d be seeing me as the potential usurper. From now on I’d be working with him. But for the time being they just sent Chris into Nish’s training sessions.
Mizo reported back to me with a laugh, that Nish had started out by accepting everything Chris said to him, until they got onto one of the tracks that I’d recently done with him. And then he’d clearly been listening out for any place that Chris’s advice differed to what I had offered him. And then he’d said, “Eve told me to do x, y or z just there. So which one of you two do I to listen to?” And apparently Chris had said coolly, “You’re to follow the instructions of whichever one of us is speaking to you. If I think Eve has made a mistake, I’ll intervene to make sure you know my own alternative point of view.”
The Way Back (Not Quite Eden Book 6) Page 28
