Chapter Fourteen

POPPY ORPINGTON’S clothes range is an embarrassing FLOP! Exclusive story by YOUR Morning Star!

The self-styled PETROL QUEEN launched her new clothing range some months ago, including dresses, skirts, blouses, and a disgusting copy of her racing clothes which are actively marketed at WOMEN and sweet, innocent GIRLS! But we can exclusively reveal that the whole enterprise was a waste of time, for the clothing range has FLOPPED!

Yes, the Great British public has spoken, and they have clearly said they DO NOT WANT this FILTH in our shops! The masses of clothes in the Poppy range, and the accompanying perfumes, soaps, and even jewellery, are now languishing in shops and windows across the land. I wonder how the supposed PETROL QUEEN feels whenever she passes a shop and sees the evidence of her own failure, and the good taste of the British public?

Goodge and Whittle, the manufacturer behind the clothes, have put a positive face on the DISASTER, claiming they are having trouble in keeping up with the supposed “huge demand” from retailers. But if this is the case, then why are the windows full of UNSOLD stock?

This is a victory for morality and the British public!⁵⁹

‘Miss Orpington, I believe?’ asked the race marshal of the Sussex track, looking with interest at Thunderbus before focusing on Poppy herself. He was a large, red-faced, cheerful man who, like Bob at Baggeridge, appeared to be at the mercy of the reams of paperwork he hauled around with him.

‘That’s right,’ said Poppy, tying her cravat into place around her neck. She was in her racing attire of riding boots, jodhpurs, loose blouse, waistcoat, goggles and face scarf, and although she wasn’t wearing her thick overcoat as the sun was hot and the heat from Thunderbus would roast her during the race, she did like something around her neck to keep her throat warm. She had long abandoned the blue coat Simeon wanted her to wear prior to each race.

‘I’m so glad you accepted our invitation to return,’ beamed the marshal. ‘Knowing we have the famous Poppy Orpington and Thunderbus here today has got the ground buzzing. My name is Popplewick, by the way, Sam Popplewick, but most people call me Wicksy. Of course, last year it was your father and Lord Simeon I dealt with, but it’s nice to see you moving into the driving seat. Oh, hello Lord Pallister, I didn’t see you at the back there.’

‘Hello Wicksy,’ replied Simeon, forcing his customary charm into place. ‘How’s the family?’

‘Thriving, thank you. The lad is off to technical college soon, and the young ‘un keeps asking if she can have a mechanical arm so she can drive a fast car like Poppy Orpington. You’ve definitely started something there, Miss Orpington. A lot of hero worship all round from many a young girl, so I hear.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ replied Poppy, taken aback at the idea she was being held up as a role model for anyone; she wasn’t sure she liked the notion. A jealous snort from the paddock indicated Amy was also less than impressed.

‘I’d better move on, lots to do,’ continued Wicksy. ‘We should be starting quite soon. Best of luck.’ With his large red hands snapping out around him to catch his errant sheets of paper before they escaped, Wicksy strode away to be replaced by Lorenzo and Anthony.

‘Hello, you two,’ said Poppy, giving both men a quick hug. ‘Are you racing or observing today?’

‘Both,’ replied Anthony as he shook hands with Simeon. ‘I’m a spectator today owing to a blown turbine, but Lorenzo is ready to race – and in something rather special.’

‘Oh, what’s that?’ asked Poppy.

‘An Albizzi Model 12’ said Lorenzo, proudly.

Simeon whistled. ‘Now that is a real rival for you, Poppy. The Italian Albizzi cars have a reputation for being fast. I’m surprised one has been allowed to enter; all British tracks usually refuse to host foreign cars because they’re too good.’

‘Between you and me,’ grinned Lorenzo, ‘I think Wicksy, while being delighted to get young Poppy and the famous Thunderbus back here, does not want a whitewash like we have seen so many times this season, for that is not exciting and excitement makes for the gates to be good, yes?’

‘Your English always breaks down whenever you get excited,’ observed Anthony with a smile. ‘But as you say, racing thrives on competition, and Thunderbus flattening the competition is only good for short term results. Hence Lorenzo can drive his Albizzi rather than a native English vehicle, as he has been forced to do in the past.’

‘That must have annoyed Lord Hepplewhite,’ observed Simeon.

‘I did hear through the grapevine he tried to talk Wicksy out of it, but the Sussex is an independent track,’ said Anthony. ‘Which also means there is no handicap on this event.’

‘Good for Wicksy,’ beamed Simeon.⁶⁰

‘What’s the top speed of an Albizzi?’ asked Poppy, eager to know more about her new rival. Thunderbus could average ninety to a hundred, on a good road, so as long as the Italian car was no better than that...

‘About ninety to a hundred, on a good road,’ replied Lorenzo, happily.

Poppy’s stomach lurched as she realised Thunderbus was finally facing equal competition, if not better. She had long held a blind spot for her father’s work, never seriously imagining any other car being able to beat the petrol engine;

now she had to reconfigure her mental landscape as the world suddenly changed around her.

‘There goes the warning bell,’ exclaimed Lorenzo. ‘I need to suit up. Best of luck, Poppy, I look forward to seeing you out there.’ With a cheerful wave, he and Anthony hurried away.

‘You look pale,’ observed Simeon, supressing a rather smug expression.

‘I’ve just had a shock,’ muttered Poppy.

‘I did warn you,’ chided Simeon. ‘Continental cars are way ahead of our own manufacturers. That’s why the government makes it so difficult for foreign companies to import their goods; no-one would buy British if they had the chance to buy something better.’

‘What will it mean for my company if I lose?’ demanded Poppy.

‘Racing isn’t about just one victory or loss – it’s about the entire season. As long as you put up a good show, and get a good place, people will still be interested. Especially as you’ll be the only real petrol manufacturer. That’s the unique selling point, right there.’

Poppy turned to look at Thunderbus, biting her lip in sudden fear. The future she had been planning was unexpectedly under threat, mostly from her own arrogance. What would the press say if she failed against a foreign competitor? They would gleefully take the fresh opportunity to belittle both her and the company, which could have a disastrous effect on any future car sales. She stared at Thunderbus, nerves clawing through her, conscious of the appalling aerodynamic qualities of the vehicle.

A sharp bark of anger erupted from outside the paddock, interrupting Poppy’s sudden design concerns. She turned and saw two men, Algernon Hussey and Markus Williamson, glaring at her in antipathy. Both had complained ceaselessly about the presence of a petrol car and a working class female driver within the racing fraternity, though this was the first time either had felt brave enough to actually face her. ‘Have you got a problem?’ she snapped.

‘It’s not us who have a problem; this abomination shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the sport of kings!’ brayed Hussey.

‘You want to say that up close, you inbred streak of piss?’ snarled Poppy, striding out of the paddock.

‘How dare you!’ gasped Williamson, looking alarmed. ‘You should mind your language. And your place!’

‘My place? That is undoubtedly ahead of you two parasites.’

‘I say, I say,’ brayed Williamson, totally unaccustomed to being answered back. He had no idea how to deal with someone of a lower social standing who showed him no deference. Such things did not happen in his world.

‘Don’t think you can threaten me, girl,’ snapped Hussey, who was made of sterner stuff than his colleague. ‘I can have you thrown out of this event with a single word!’

‘Then let’s go and find Wicksy and get me thrown out,’ responded Poppy, jabbing Hussey in the chest with her finger to emphasise each point, driving him back several yards. ‘Of course, if you do that, you’ll be admitting you can’t deal with a girl. That you’re not man enough to deal with a girl. That you’re too pathetic to deal with a girl.’

‘Don’t think I’m scared of you and your mechanical arm,’ squeaked Hussey, losing his nerve as he felt Poppy’s strength. ‘Come, Markus, let’s not dirty ourselves here.’ The two men scurried away.

‘Ah, the sweet sound of gentle diplomacy,’ grinned Reg in a careful undertone; he and the rest of the pit crew, who had stopped working to watch the scene, were now accustomed to Poppy’s confrontational manner with anyone trying to belittle her.

‘Come on, Poppy, cease your wild and whirling words,’ called out Simeon with a conspiratorial grin at Reg.

‘Hamlet,’ snapped Poppy, stomping back into the paddock. ‘Is Thunderbus ready to go?’

‘Yes,’ muttered Amy, peevishly.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ demanded Poppy.

‘You’re always showing off your knowledge,’ muttered Amy, feeling a vast sense of inferiority at Poppy’s higher intelligence. The relationship had declined further as Poppy’s commitment to her new company saw her spend many hours away from home.

‘Why don’t you try reading, then?’ snapped Poppy, savagely.

‘And you notice Wicksy didn’t even say hello to me?’ whined Amy, glad to have something genuine to complain about. ‘It’s always about you.’

‘I can’t be bothered to do this, not before a race,’ snarled Poppy.

‘Is Thunderbus ready, Amy?’ asked Simeon, trying to keep the peace while feeling as though he were stuck between a rock and an explosive volcano.

‘Yes, all warmed up and ready,’ said Amy in a pointed manner, directing the remark solely to Simeon ‘There was one funny thing, though,’ she continued, making it clear she was a vital member of the team. ‘Two of the sparking plugs were loose and I don’t see how that’s possible, unless someone did it deliberately.’

‘Has Thunderbus been left unattended?’ asked Simeon, sharply.

‘Just for a moment, when I was looking in the spare’s truck for something.’

‘It could be coincidence but sabotage has been known before on a track,’ said Simeon in answer to Poppy’s look.

‘Then from now on, we always make sure we mount a guard whenever we’re racing, even if it means staying with the vehicle overnight,’ Poppy replied, violently pulling her face scarf and goggles into place. Ignoring Amy, she climbed into Thunderbus, started the engine, and with a flick of her mechanical arm steered out onto the track.

⁵⁹ In truth, Poppy’s clothing line was very successful, as was her range of cosmetics and toiletries.

⁶⁰ The Sussex was run by enthusiasts with support from local businesses, meaning the board was made up of tradesmen and not the aristocracy, relegating it to an amateur – and independent – event. Although Simeon’s old school friend, Sir Trevor Baxter, had been the chairman, the position was little more than a figurehead and in any case he had recently stepped down after a scandal involving unregulated betting. It is possible Lorenzo’s permission to run his Albizzi owed much to the board’s desire to move on from the scandal.