‘Well, there are things about her she didn’t like to talk about. Things she didn’t want either of us to know.’
Drake was starting to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was the same sort of feeling he’d had during his phone call with Breckenridge during the night. ‘What do you mean? What sort of things?’
At this, she picked up the pace, heading back down the driveway towards the house. ‘Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.’
With little choice, Drake followed her.
Situated to the rear of the house, and adjacent to the ivy-covered brick wall that encircled the garden, was a small garage. It was newer than the residence it served but constructed of the same grey stone and with the same slate roof, probably to satisfy some local conservation law. Unlocking the sturdy padlock holding the wooden doors closed, Jessica swung them open to reveal the building’s interior.
For the most part, it was exactly what Drake had expected in a garage that was seldom used. Cobweb-ringed windows, musty-smelling air, old tins of paint stacked on rickety shelves, and a few rusted gardening tools near the back.
However, most of the internal space was occupied by a vehicle of some sort, hidden beneath a dust cover. From the general dimensions and contours, Drake guessed it to be a sports car of some kind.
His suspicions were proven right a moment later when Jessica took hold of the edge of the dust cover and whipped it off, raising a cloud of dust that forced them both back a step while it cleared. Only then was Drake at last able to see the car that had been hiding beneath, its chassis gleaming in the hazy light filtering in through the grimy windows.
‘I don’t believe it,’ he gasped, stunned by what he was seeing.
It was a 1967 Austin-Healey 3,000 convertible. A British sports car that had long since been discontinued, the model had competed at countless racing events around the world, from Le Mans in France to Sebring in the USA. Just over 40,000 of them had been built, and they were still considered one of the best-looking cars ever produced.
Drake knew all of this, because his father had possessed an almost obsessive enthusiasm for classic cars, and this particular one had been his pride and joy. He’d bought it nearly derelict and painstakingly restored it to mint condition, even teaching his reluctant son a thing or two about engines along the way. Drake recognized the gunmetal-grey chassis immediately. This was the first car he’d driven after passing his test; one of the few times his father had allowed him to really push the machine to its limit.
He couldn’t help himself. Taking a tentative step forward, he reached out and gently ran his fingers across the front wheel arch, noting the faint trail they left in the newly settled dust. He hadn’t laid eyes on this car in over fifteen years, and certainly hadn’t dreamed of ever finding it again.
He heard Jessica move close to stand beside him. ‘The keys are in the glove box, in case you’re wondering.’
‘Where did you get this?’ he asked, his voice hushed. ‘I thought everything was sold off after Dad died.’
Parting with the car had been a heart-wrenching decision, but their father had left behind a trail of debts and unpaid bills when he died. And with neither of his children possessing much money at the time, there had been little choice but to sell off everything of value.
‘It was. She bought it anonymously at auction,’ Jessica explained. ‘She kept it in storage all these years, just waiting.’
‘For what?’
‘For you. She knew it meant a lot to Dad, and to you as well, even if you wouldn’t admit it. I think maybe she intended it as a peace offering, but...it never happened. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. I can’t say why. Maybe the time was never right, or maybe she was afraid.’
Drake closed his eyes, his hand resting on the bodywork clenching into a fist. He hoped she wasn’t
Drake was starting to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was the same sort of feeling he’d had during his phone call with Breckenridge during the night. ‘What do you mean? What sort of things?’
At this, she picked up the pace, heading back down the driveway towards the house. ‘Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.’
With little choice, Drake followed her.
Situated to the rear of the house, and adjacent to the ivy-covered brick wall that encircled the garden, was a small garage. It was newer than the residence it served but constructed of the same grey stone and with the same slate roof, probably to satisfy some local conservation law. Unlocking the sturdy padlock holding the wooden doors closed, Jessica swung them open to reveal the building’s interior.
For the most part, it was exactly what Drake had expected in a garage that was seldom used. Cobweb-ringed windows, musty-smelling air, old tins of paint stacked on rickety shelves, and a few rusted gardening tools near the back.
However, most of the internal space was occupied by a vehicle of some sort, hidden beneath a dust cover. From the general dimensions and contours, Drake guessed it to be a sports car of some kind.
His suspicions were proven right a moment later when Jessica took hold of the edge of the dust cover and whipped it off, raising a cloud of dust that forced them both back a step while it cleared. Only then was Drake at last able to see the car that had been hiding beneath, its chassis gleaming in the hazy light filtering in through the grimy windows.
‘I don’t believe it,’ he gasped, stunned by what he was seeing.
It was a 1967 Austin-Healey 3,000 convertible. A British sports car that had long since been discontinued, the model had competed at countless racing events around the world, from Le Mans in France to Sebring in the USA. Just over 40,000 of them had been built, and they were still considered one of the best-looking cars ever produced.
Drake knew all of this, because his father had possessed an almost obsessive enthusiasm for classic cars, and this particular one had been his pride and joy. He’d bought it nearly derelict and painstakingly restored it to mint condition, even teaching his reluctant son a thing or two about engines along the way. Drake recognized the gunmetal-grey chassis immediately. This was the first car he’d driven after passing his test; one of the few times his father had allowed him to really push the machine to its limit.
He couldn’t help himself. Taking a tentative step forward, he reached out and gently ran his fingers across the front wheel arch, noting the faint trail they left in the newly settled dust. He hadn’t laid eyes on this car in over fifteen years, and certainly hadn’t dreamed of ever finding it again.
He heard Jessica move close to stand beside him. ‘The keys are in the glove box, in case you’re wondering.’
‘Where did you get this?’ he asked, his voice hushed. ‘I thought everything was sold off after Dad died.’
Parting with the car had been a heart-wrenching decision, but their father had left behind a trail of debts and unpaid bills when he died. And with neither of his children possessing much money at the time, there had been little choice but to sell off everything of value.
‘It was. She bought it anonymously at auction,’ Jessica explained. ‘She kept it in storage all these years, just waiting.’
‘For what?’
‘For you. She knew it meant a lot to Dad, and to you as well, even if you wouldn’t admit it. I think maybe she intended it as a peace offering, but...it never happened. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. I can’t say why. Maybe the time was never right, or maybe she was afraid.’
Drake closed his eyes, his hand resting on the bodywork clenching into a fist. He hoped she wasn’t
Similar Books
