have been quicker off the mark than us! They’re always complaining about the dust and noise – and of course there are always those that will complain because they can’t afford a motor, so it’s sour grapes against anyone who can.’
‘And all those with investments in the railway, of course,’ Susan Fairford added. ‘Like my dear father, who could never say a single good word about the motor car!’
She gave a genuine smile, seeming to relax for a moment, and Sam thawed towards her fractionally.
‘I seem to remember they were hardly allowed to get up any speed at all,’ Charles Fairford said.
‘We’ve come on a bit since the early days of steam engines. Remember the early vehicles – only go at two miles an hour in town, and don’t go out without a stoker and the fellow walking ahead with a red flag to warn everyone! At least we’re allowed to get up to twenty miles an hour now . . .’
‘Ah yes, thanks to Lord Montagu’s bill.’
‘A good Daimler customer,’ Sam said. The conservative MP Lord Montagu had brought the Motor Car Act onto the statute book in 1903. Montagu was a Daimler driver and motor enthusiast. ‘He’s brought it home that we’re here to stay,’ Sam said. ‘Even if there are still people jumping into ditches when they hear a motor coming round the bend!’
Charles Fairford laughed and his wife gave a faint smile.
‘It’s no easier here,’ the captain said, chuckling. ‘A fellow I know goes up to Mahabaleshwar in the hot season – that’s a hill station down near Poona. The whole town is utterly hostile to the motor car and there are signs everywhere. He said his favourite is one that says, “Any motor car found in motion while travelling to its destination will be vigorously dealt with”! I mean, I ask you!’
As they were laughing, the servants came to remove the soup bowls and bring in the next course, which proved to be beef olives.
After this hiatus, Susan Fairford began on Sam, with a battery of questions between mouthfuls of beef and potatoes. She had evidently had enough of talking about motor cars.
‘So where is it you come from exactly, Mr Ironside?’
‘From Coventry.’ He was about to add ‘ma’am’ but decided against it. He sipped his drink. The meat had a rather more fiery filling than he was used to.
‘Ah, the industrial Midlands! Rather like Charles!’ She gave a little laugh, as if the idea of Fairford and himself coming from anywhere remotely similar was too ridiculous for words. ‘Charles’s family have an estate in Warwickshire – Cranbourne – some miles from Rugby.’
‘Not that it’s anything much to do with me,’ Captain Fairford added. He refilled Sam’s glass with Scotch. He’d have to watch it and not get tight, Sam realized. He was pretty tired and he wasn’t used to much in the way of spirits. A couple of pints of ale was more his style. These colonials all drank a great deal, he had heard, what with the heat and nothing much else doing.
‘I spent school holidays up there,’ the captain was saying, ‘but apart from that, it’s a foreign land to me – as I was telling you earlier.’
‘And are you married?’ Mrs Fairford continued. She was very direct in her questioning, as if she had some right to know everything.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Children?’
‘Our first child is expected in June.’
He thought he saw a flicker of some emotion cross her face, but all she said was, ‘How nice. I wonder whether it will be a girl or a boy.’
‘I couldn’t say.’
‘No, of course not. How silly of me. And how old are you, Mr Ironside, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘Darling!’ Her husband reproached her.
‘No, it’s all right.’ He already thought her rude and condescending and this made no difference. ‘I’m just twenty-one.’
‘And your wife . . . ?’
‘Helen? She’s twenty.’
She paused, finishing a mouthful.
‘And have you always been a mechanic?’
‘I’ve recently completed my
‘And all those with investments in the railway, of course,’ Susan Fairford added. ‘Like my dear father, who could never say a single good word about the motor car!’
She gave a genuine smile, seeming to relax for a moment, and Sam thawed towards her fractionally.
‘I seem to remember they were hardly allowed to get up any speed at all,’ Charles Fairford said.
‘We’ve come on a bit since the early days of steam engines. Remember the early vehicles – only go at two miles an hour in town, and don’t go out without a stoker and the fellow walking ahead with a red flag to warn everyone! At least we’re allowed to get up to twenty miles an hour now . . .’
‘Ah yes, thanks to Lord Montagu’s bill.’
‘A good Daimler customer,’ Sam said. The conservative MP Lord Montagu had brought the Motor Car Act onto the statute book in 1903. Montagu was a Daimler driver and motor enthusiast. ‘He’s brought it home that we’re here to stay,’ Sam said. ‘Even if there are still people jumping into ditches when they hear a motor coming round the bend!’
Charles Fairford laughed and his wife gave a faint smile.
‘It’s no easier here,’ the captain said, chuckling. ‘A fellow I know goes up to Mahabaleshwar in the hot season – that’s a hill station down near Poona. The whole town is utterly hostile to the motor car and there are signs everywhere. He said his favourite is one that says, “Any motor car found in motion while travelling to its destination will be vigorously dealt with”! I mean, I ask you!’
As they were laughing, the servants came to remove the soup bowls and bring in the next course, which proved to be beef olives.
After this hiatus, Susan Fairford began on Sam, with a battery of questions between mouthfuls of beef and potatoes. She had evidently had enough of talking about motor cars.
‘So where is it you come from exactly, Mr Ironside?’
‘From Coventry.’ He was about to add ‘ma’am’ but decided against it. He sipped his drink. The meat had a rather more fiery filling than he was used to.
‘Ah, the industrial Midlands! Rather like Charles!’ She gave a little laugh, as if the idea of Fairford and himself coming from anywhere remotely similar was too ridiculous for words. ‘Charles’s family have an estate in Warwickshire – Cranbourne – some miles from Rugby.’
‘Not that it’s anything much to do with me,’ Captain Fairford added. He refilled Sam’s glass with Scotch. He’d have to watch it and not get tight, Sam realized. He was pretty tired and he wasn’t used to much in the way of spirits. A couple of pints of ale was more his style. These colonials all drank a great deal, he had heard, what with the heat and nothing much else doing.
‘I spent school holidays up there,’ the captain was saying, ‘but apart from that, it’s a foreign land to me – as I was telling you earlier.’
‘And are you married?’ Mrs Fairford continued. She was very direct in her questioning, as if she had some right to know everything.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Children?’
‘Our first child is expected in June.’
He thought he saw a flicker of some emotion cross her face, but all she said was, ‘How nice. I wonder whether it will be a girl or a boy.’
‘I couldn’t say.’
‘No, of course not. How silly of me. And how old are you, Mr Ironside, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘Darling!’ Her husband reproached her.
‘No, it’s all right.’ He already thought her rude and condescending and this made no difference. ‘I’m just twenty-one.’
‘And your wife . . . ?’
‘Helen? She’s twenty.’
She paused, finishing a mouthful.
‘And have you always been a mechanic?’
‘I’ve recently completed my