Did Not Finish

Lap Five

Alex’s funeral was held at a stone church on a rainy Friday in Guildford. Dylan came with me. The church’s small car park was reserved for the hearse and family, so I parked on the street. The service hadn’t started yet so everyone was milling around in groups in front of the church.

The scene sent me back to mum and dad’s funeral. I had felt so alone despite my grandparents’ presence. It didn’t seem possible that I’d never see my parents again. The funeral seemed to take place around me, as if I was invisible. The vicar talked about a future that couldn’t be true. I cried more out of confusion than loss.

Graham and about a dozen of the championship drivers stood huddled together in the graveyard, away from the congregation in what appeared to be self-imposed banishment. Derek was the notable absentee, which was understandable under the circumstances. Dylan and I joined them.

Our banishment wasn’t entirely self-imposed. I felt a number of the mourners staring at us with disgusted looks. I couldn’t blame them. We were an unpleasant reminder of what had killed Alex. If they only knew what we knew about the death threat, they would be chasing us off with pitchforks and torches. At least Derek had the good sense not to show his face.

‘Did anyone catch Redline on Tuesday?’ John Barshinski asked.

We all nodded.

‘Why’d they cut the crash out?’ John asked.

‘Out of respect?’ Graham said.

‘Cutting the crash out is one thing. Ignoring what happened is another,’ I said.

‘I don’t think they ignored it,’ Graham said.

‘Redline excised the crash and all mention of Alex,’ Dylan said. ‘That’s wrong. They didn’t have to go into details, but they should have said something about Alex.’

‘It could have something to do with the police investigation,’ Tony Hansen said. ‘The cops have been all over the track.’

Tony and Pete Hansen ran the race school at Stowe Park for anyone who wanted a spin around the track. They operated out of a small office at the circuit.

‘Have any of you been interviewed?’ I asked. It seemed natural that if they were investigating the crash, they’d interview the drivers.

Everyone shook their head.

‘I know they interviewed Derek and Myles,’ Tony said.

I hoped the police planned on widening their investigation, but maybe they didn’t have to. They might have a strong enough case against Derek already. That could explain Redline’s edited coverage of the race. Essentially, it was evidence the police wouldn’t want on display before a trial. That might explain why both Pit Lane Magazine and Motorsport News had limited their mention of Alex’s death to only a sentence.

‘Have the cops mentioned charges?’ I asked.

‘Why should they?’ Tony said.

‘Why do you think?’ John said. ‘Derek’s death threat.’

‘That was just talk,’ Graham said.

‘Was it? Alex is dead, isn’t he?’ I said.

‘Jesus, keep it down,’ Dylan said. ‘We’re at a funeral for Christ’s sake.’

I took a breath and dropped my voice. ‘There’s no way this was coincidence. Derek said he’d kill Alex and Alex died.’

‘That’s a pretty big accusation, Aidy,’ Graham said.

‘Are you really going to stand there and defend Derek?’

Graham shrugged. ‘No, but you can’t accuse the guy of being a killer without proof and you don’t have it. You were back in the pack and couldn’t have seen anything.’

‘But you could, Graham,’ I said. ‘You were behind Derek and Alex. You had the best view.’

Graham glowered. ‘They were a hundred yards ahead and I was more interested in the pack behind me than Derek and Alex. I didn’t see anything.’

‘OK, let’s calm down. We’re all friends here,’ Jerry Watt said. ‘Look, it doesn’t matter what we think, saw or heard. This is a police matter. We don’t know where they are with their investigation. They probably know all this.’

‘And if they don’t?’ I asked. ‘Don’t we have an obligation to tell the cops what we know?’

‘Which is what? Rumour and innuendo? That doesn’t help anything.’ Tony said.

I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting from everyone, but it wasn’t this reticence. I understood it though. No one was under any obligation to come forward. It wasn’t their place.

‘Can we talk about something else?’ Jerry said after a long moment.

‘Has anyone seen the car?’ John asked.

Pete Hansen nodded. ‘It’s locked up in the scrutineering bay. It’s a mess.’

‘Can it be rebuilt?’ Jerry asked.

‘Bloody hell,’ Dylan muttered.

‘I’m just asking.’

‘Repairable or not, the car shouldn’t be raced again,’ John said.

Few people would want to drive in a dead man’s car, but this had more to do with respect. The car had taken a life and it needed to be retired from the system. Steve had told me about a Formula Three driver killed in the seventies. Every one of the drivers and team owners put money together to buy the car and have it scrapped.

‘We should buy the car and have it crushed,’ I said.

‘That’s a good idea,’ John said. ‘If all the registered drivers chipped in, it wouldn’t cost too much. And I really don’t want to see that car make an appearance somewhere next season.’

John’s willingness ignited unanimous approval. Between us, we formed a plan to get in contact with the other drivers. I would talk to the family about purchasing the car.

The hearse pulled up with two Bentley limousines containing Alex’s family. Alex’s parents climbed out from the first one. Mr Fanning had to lift his wife from the car. No one should witness this level of human misery. It was private and it should be kept that way. Seeing Alex’s mum reminded me of how much I’d lost and I touched my mum’s St Christopher.

My parents had died thirteen years ago. I’d been without them for over half my life, but my memories of them remained vivid. I remember squeezing the hell out of Mum’s hand as we cheered Dad on at tracks around Britain and Europe. I remember Dad lowering me inside his various cars and telling me that I’d be following in his footsteps. I loved the attention the teams and other drivers gave me. Dad’s exploits made me popular at school. They were fun and exciting times.

The years since hadn’t been so fun. I grew up without parents. My grandparents were great, but they weren’t my mum and dad and when Gran died, Steve was all I had left.

I thought of Alison and Alex’s parents going through their version of this; visiting a graveside to reminisce their loss. Nothing could have saved my parents, but I could have saved Alex. If I’d stood up to Derek, I could have prevented this family’s pain.

Alex’s dad guided his wife up the path into the church. He’d always carried himself with Cary Grant-like composure, but Alex’s death seemed to have snuffed out that youthful spark.

Alison and her family got out of the second Bentley. Alison followed behind the Fannings, flanked by her parents. She kept her gaze forward, not taking in her surroundings.

The funeral director called everyone into the church.

Dylan and I filed inside. Ushers directed family and friends to different seating areas. If it wasn’t for Derek’s selfishness, these same ushers would have been directing people to seating areas for Alex and Alison’s wedding.

The racing fraternity and acquaintances were directed to a section at the rear of the church. I had no problems with our second class status.

Myles and Eva Beecham came in and joined us in the pews.

When the congregation was assembled, the vicar asked for everyone to remain standing while the coffin was brought in. The pall-bearers carried Alex in with practised ease and placed his coffin on a stand in front of the altar. Alex’s mum broke down. Her tearful sobs bounced off the stone walls.

I thought about the day of the crash. When Derek sent Alex careening off the track, had Alex known he was going to die? I never thought about dying when I had a shunt. Repair costs and the disappointment of not finishing were at the forefront of my mind. Mortality never entered into it. I hope Alex hadn’t seen it coming.

‘Are you going to continue racing?’ Steve had asked me over breakfast this morning.

I’d said, ‘Yes,’ but it was said without mourners and a body hidden from everyone in a coffin. I asked myself the question again. Did I want to continue? My answer remained the same. I still wanted to race. Racing was a part of me. Alex’s death didn’t and couldn’t change that.

The vicar gave an eloquent service. He’d done his homework on Alex. He tied his tribute, even down to the hymns, to a racing and sporting theme. It could have come off as hackneyed or insensitive under the circumstances, but it was a touching and fitting send off for any driver.

When the service came to an end, Alex’s body was carried back outside. The burial itself was to take place at the family plot across town. This part of the service was for invited guests only and the drivers weren’t included. The congregation filed back outside as the pall-bearers loaded Alex back into the hearse.

Everyone formed back into their groups. Myles and Eva Beecham herded the racing fraternity to one side.

Mr Fanning emerged from the church and shook hands with the vicar before heading over to us. ‘I just wanted to say thank you to all of you for coming here today. It means a lot.’

‘We’re honoured,’ Myles said.

He shook each of our hands and I saw in his eyes that he was barely holding it together. He thanked us again before moving on to other mourners.

Alison went by, cosseted by her parents.

Myles took his wife’s hand. ‘We’re moving on to the burial. I wanted to thank you all for attending too.’

He turned to leave, but I stopped him with a question. ‘What’s the latest on the investigation?’

‘The police made a thorough investigation and have reached their conclusion.’

‘Which is?’ I asked.

Myles looked confused. ‘That it was a terrible accident.’

‘An accident?’ I said. ‘They didn’t think Derek’s threat was suspicious?’

Myles’s expression tightened and he grabbed my arm and dragged me to a far corner of the graveyard. ‘What are you inferring?’

‘Don’t play dumb, Myles. We all heard what Derek said that night.’ I lowered my voice. ‘Don’t pretend you didn’t hear him say he’d kill Alex.’

Myles leaned in toward me. ‘I heard him. It was talk.’

‘It’s funny how talk turned into reality.’

‘You need to watch your mouth, Westlake.’

‘If threatening someone’s life and making good on the threat has no consequences, I’ve got nothing to worry about.’

Myles’s cheeks flushed with anger. I knew I was pushing too hard, but I couldn’t help myself. I was angry too. I was sick and tired of everyone trying to rewrite events.

‘Considering what happened to your parents, I thought you would be more sensitive.’

I wouldn’t let Myles distract me with my parents. ‘Why did Redline edit the coverage and not even mention Alex’s death?’

‘Why’d you think?’ Myles snapped. ‘Some people understand the meaning of respect.’

‘Respect for whom — Derek or Alex?’

‘You’re a piece of work.’

‘Have you seen the TV coverage?’

‘I’ve seen the footage. It showed nothing. You should get your facts straight before you start mouthing off.’

Myles knew the dirty tricks of the racing trade. He was either lying or deluding himself. Alex’s car hadn’t simply spun out. It was launched into the air from locking wheels with Derek’s car.

‘Yes, Derek said something stupid, but it was just words. Alex died as a result of a terrible accident. You’d do well to remember that. I have to go now. I’m attending the burial on behalf of people like you.’ Myles couldn’t have injected any more disgust into his words if he tried.

He turned away from me to leave, but I grabbed his wrist. ‘Does this mean you’ll be installing a tyre wall and gravel traps at all the bends now?’

Stowe Park was one of the only tracks not to have installed gravel traps. In Myles’s opinion, dragging stranded cars from gravel traps slowed down the action for the spectators. It was a fair point, but gravel traps saved lives and drivers’ money.

My backhanded remark struck a nerve. Myles put his face in mine, but kept his voice down to a growl. ‘You little shit.’

Eva grabbed his wrist. She was a small, squat woman but she knew how to handle her husband. ‘Leave it. He isn’t worth it.’

Myles didn’t let go of his anger, but he obeyed his wife and headed toward his car. I’d lost the support of my fellow drivers. They’d already started walking away. If I had any backing for getting to the truth, it was gone now.

Our little row had failed to reach the other mourners, except for Alison. She was looking directly at me as she climbed into the idling Bentley.

Dylan waited until Myles walked away before approaching. He passed Myles and Eva on his way and gave them room as they hurried past.

‘That looked like it went well,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry, but I’m sick and tired of this crap.’

‘You’re preaching to the choir, mate. You just need to be careful. There are more people than just you involved in all this.’

I nodded and remembered Alison looking my way. ‘Did anyone overhear us?’

‘No, you got lucky, although any louder and you would have been in trouble.’

‘I’m glad to see everyone stuck around to back me up.’

‘What do you expect, Aidy? People are scared. They’ve seen something and they’re not sure they can believe it. They don’t know what to do. Hell, I don’t know what to do.’

‘Well, I do.’

I pulled out my mobile phone and dialled Steve’s number.

‘I’m not sure it’s respectful to make a call in a graveyard.’

I knew Dylan was trying to lighten the mood, but it wasn’t working.

When Steve answered, I switched the call over to speaker. ‘You’re on speaker with me and Dylan.’

‘What’s up?’ Steve asked.

‘I just found out that the police have completed their investigation. They’re calling it an accident. Case closed.’

‘And that bothers you?’

‘Yes, it bothers me. The TV coverage was cut, Myles is pretending nothing happened at The Chequered Flag and the cops closed the case. Unless someone steps up, Alex’s lasting memorial will just be a Did Not Finish classification on the official race record and that isn’t right.’

‘Why is this so important to you, son? Alex wasn’t a friend.’

Steve was testing me. I felt him pushing me from the other end of the phone line. There was no sidestepping the answer he wanted to hear.

‘Because I don’t want to see someone get away with murder again,’ I admitted. ‘They did with Gran. The hospital closed ranks to protect the surgeon who killed her.’

‘But he never worked again.’

‘He should have gone to prison.’

Six years ago, Gran died from blood poisoning after a routine replacement hip operation. It was obvious something was wrong during recovery. The excessive bruising should have told the surgeon something, but he ignored it and first signs of septicaemia. By the time he finally acted, it was too late. The post-mortem revealed a catalogue of mistakes that had occurred during the operation. Instead of this sparking a criminal investigation, acceptable risk got plastered over all the mistakes.

Steve exhaled. ‘God, you sound just like her. She was a terror when it came to injustice. She always fought for what was right and she instilled that in you.’

‘And is that such a bad thing?’

‘No. She’d be very proud of you.’

‘I know,’ I said.

‘So what do you want to do about this situation?’

‘Build a case against Derek and take it to the cops.’

‘Then let’s do it,’ Steve said.