Rush 2: Firecracker (A Rush Fan-Fic)

Chapter Two

Niki went over to where the woman was filling up with petrol. "Nice car."

She looked up. "Thank you."

"Nineteen seventy-three MGB GT V8," continued Niki, "Only three were made that year and only about two thousand in total by nineteen seventy-six."

"You certainly know your cars," she said, replacing the nozzle, "I'm impressed."

"I told you, I'm a racing driver."

She looked Niki up and down. "You don't look like a racing driver."

"Why, what should a racing driver look like?"

She glanced over at James. "Tall with blonde hair, blue eyes and a wide-open shirt."

Niki felt somewhat crest-fallen.

She started to laugh. "I'm only codding ya."

Niki smiled and then looked at the bloodied tissues he was holding. "I was going to ask if…"

"…you could have some more tissues?"

"Ja, but if you could also give us a lift to the QPM Rover test track. They've got a tow truck there."

She glanced over at James again. "I'm not taking that eejit."

"Why?"

"It's a two-seater car. Or didn't you notice that? Go on, get in."

She strode off in the direction of the pay kiosk. Niki put his holdall in the boot of the MGB and got into the passenger seat. She returned, got into the driver's seat and started up the engine. Driving out of the petrol station, she pulled up alongside James and shouted, "We'll be back as soon as we can."

"What about me?"

"Sorry, no room," answered Niki.

She put her foot down on the accelerator and the MGB roared off down the road; the reflection in the car's wing-mirror showed James giving them a one-fingered salute. Niki looked at the speedometer. It was doing a steady forty miles per hour. He folded his arms contentedly and relaxed back into his seat. The woman looked across at him. "So, what's your name?"

"Niki."

She took her right hand off the steering wheel and held it out. "How do. I'm Q."

Niki quickly shook her hand. "Cue? As in snooker cue?"

She placed it back onto the steering wheel. "No, the letter 'Q'..."

"Is it short for something?"

"...as in QPM Rover."

Niki now knew who she was.

"But, if you can guess my first name by the time we reach our destination, you can buy me dinner tonight."

In any other situation, Niki would have gladly taken her out, but he did not want to mix business with pleasure. "I can't think of any names beginning with 'Q'."

"You're not trying hard enough. I hope you'll try much harder in a race."

They drove the rest of the journey in silence until they reached their destination.

"Come on," she said, parking the car and getting out.

"Where are we going?"

"To take a gander at that wound."

Niki retrieved his holdall from the boot and then followed her into the building and down a long corridor until they reached an office. On the door was a brass plaque engraved with the words Q. P. McNamara.

"Sit down," she said, pulling out a chair.

Niki sat down and looked around the room. A portrait of a distinguished-looking man was hanging above the fireplace.

"Now this might sting," she said, as she cleaned and dressed Niki's wound. He winced and then looked down at her left hand. She was not wearing a wedding ring. The office door opened and a man entered the room; the same man in the painting, albeit thirty years older.

"Christ, it's lashing out of the heavens." He looked at her and then at Niki. "Where's the other one?"

"Howya, Da. He's back along the road about a mile away. He totalled his car in a ditch."

"Christ on a bike. And you left him there?"

"I only had the two-seater and this one here was bleeding..."

"Jaysus. Go back and pick him up. I'll tell Paddy to bring the tow truck."

The man removed his hat and held out his hand for Niki to shake. "Q. P. McNamara. Owner of QPM Rover, but my friends and colleagues call me Quentin."

Niki looked puzzled. "But I thought..."

The woman started to smile.

"Oh, has she been letting on that she's the boss?" laughed Quentin, "Ah, she does that to all the new drivers. Mind you, we do have the same initials, except her name's..."

"Hush, Da."

"Oh, she's playing that game with you, is she? Right, girl, let's crack on. It's bucketing down out there. I'll just phone Paddy."

Niki stood up and looked at the woman. "I'll come with you."

A short while later, they were driving back along the same road with a rain-soaked James sat in the tow truck with Paddy; his car hooked up to the back of it. The woman pushed a cassette tape into the in-car player and a song by Manfred Mann started to play. She looked over at Niki. "So, if you can guess my first name by the time we reach our destination, you can buy me dinner tonight."

Niki turned up the music and grinned. "The Mighty Quinn."

She grinned back. "So, what's it going to be? Indian, Italian or Chinese?"

"I think I'd prefer Irish," said Niki.