The Chequered Flag

By Gary Cuthbert

This is the hilarious tale of what goes on at the Westscar Model Racing Club. If you have ever wondered what the elderly get upto, or what really happens at a club made up of older people, then this is the story for you. Set in the fictional coastal town of Westscar, laugh or cry as they move from one disaster to another.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gary Cuthbert
• Release date: Oct 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393186694

Gary Cuthbert

Gary Cuthbert has written several other novels and young children read a long books. He comes from the North East of England. Besides the Carter & Carter novels he also has available Store Wars, a humourous tale about a year in the life of a corner shop and its owner. In , Agents of the E.S.A. the world is a very different place, it is ran by super computer's. Desease and Crime are things of the past till a body is found and Agents of the European Security Agency get called in.  The Life and Death of Harry Stone is a dark comic story that features the real story of what happens when you die.  Check the website for all titles available. garycuthbertauthor.co.uk

Book preview

S.T.O.N.E. Independent Author Publishing.

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All characters and events are strictly the imagination of the author and any resemblance to any actual person or organizations is coincidental. The author retains all rights.

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Chapter 1

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The day was raining, never a good day for a funeral but then again when was it. The turnout had been rather poor, besides his old club mates nobody else from Westscar had bothered to attend, sure old Arthur's family had been there but they were not locals. Maybe it was the fact that many residents of Westscar had thought Arthur Coppingham had died years ago. The truth was he had moved into a care home nearer to his family, not that it made any difference because they still didn't visit him. Arthur had lived in the town all his life, well till the end bit, but that didn't count. Now he was dead, his family couldn't get away quick enough. If it had been up to them they would have held it closer to home, not this backwater of a northern seaside town. Arthur Coppingham had known how his family felt about Westscar, which was why he had drawn up plans for his own funeral. The appointed solicitor had received strict instructions, only when they had disposed of his body of at the nearest place available to his own home in Westscar could the solicitor then proceed onto the second part of his will, the dividing up of his estate. Even as the curtains drew around the coffin in the crematorium, the family had risen to their feet and almost ran out to the waiting cars. The rest of the guests had stayed solemnly to the end, standing with heads bowed till the very last note of the song. They had laid on their own tribute, one which they knew Arthur would have appreciated. 

Well, that was a funny how do you do now  wasn't it? Austin Riley, the elder statesman of the group, declared as he unlocked the door to the small Yorkshire stone building just off the high street, next to the big church. I can see why Arthur didn't like that lot, The building which had belonged to the church right up till the seventies was now the clubhouse for the local electric racing car club. Now these were not actual cars, no these were in fact small cars that ran on a special track which at some point most children will have owned or played with. To the members of the club, these cars were more real than any of those racing on actual tracks around the world. They spent their free time looking after every model they had, oiling them, cleaning them and improving them as best they could. Above the door was an old painted sign which read 'Th C equre  F ag', one time when new it had said 'The Chequered Flag'. When Arthur and the original members had first acquired the building, which at the time the church next door had decided was no longer needed, they had picked the name because they felt it sang out loud to everyone who passed that their purpose in life was to race.

Hurry up dear, its raining out here, sure we all could do with a cuppa, Mary Riley, Austin's wife hurried up proceedings.  From the outside of the building you would never of guessed what lay beyond. The first thing that took your gaze dominated the interior, set upon several specially built tables and covering the vast majority of the floor was a display/diorama , as you may have worked out already it was indeed a race track , built using wood with six lanes carefully built into it. Over the many years the 'track' had remained the same but various extras had been added, such as grandstands, pits, a lake (which originally held water but which they replaced by a painted lake). On the wall to the left and above the area that those actually racing had to stand, hung several large portraits. Each one was of a past president of the club. They draped the last one of which with a black cloth. Arthur Coppingham had still been president of the club, even though it had been several years since he had last been there. Austin Riley had of course taken over the reins. He expected that he would be the next official president and his own portrait would hang next in line.

The moment the door opened, Mary brushed past her husband and flicked on the lights as she headed to the rear of the building. This had been 'thoughtfully' added for the women, although controversial these days back in the seventies 'the kitchen' was thought of as a woman's place.

Hold up Mary, Elizabeth Maxwell also brushed past in Mary's footsteps, I think there is still some Battenberg cake in the cupboard, Younger than her fellow female Elizabeth Maxwell was slim and smartly dressed and for someone retired quit fashionable.

It was all so depressing, don't you think? Terry Maxwell declared, following into the building.

What do you expect? Everyone to hold hands and sing happy clappy songs, it's a funeral for goodness' sake, Austin Riley snappily replied pocketing the door keys. It was one role of the president to open and close the main door.

I agree with Terry, it was rather depressing, they didn't even mention his first love, the final member of the club added as he to entered the home of motor racing in Westscar.

His wife? She died thirty-odd years ago, I can hardly think even Arthur's kids would remember her, after all she ran away with that bloke from the bookies, Riley felt that only he himself knew the past president of the club, what with him being the longest member and current president in waiting.

No the club! Arthur spent his life here, it was his little place in heaven, away from all the trouble at home with his daughter, Bono Jarvis, the only one out of the members who wasn't married, replied. Bono was not in fact his actual Christian name, that was even stranger, Bond. He had spent his childhood being ridiculed about the name so as an adult had tried several others in hope he would find one he liked, Bono was the current one he was trying out. To the other members of the club, he was simply 'Jarvis'.

Heaven, ha, Riley scoffed well he's in the real heaven now right enough, The three men all held a secret, beneath the dark suit jackets they wore they had hidden away a shoulder holster. The first member of the club (nobody could remember who exactly) to wear one, had used an actual holster he had purchased from the Exchange and Mart, from the ex-military section. With a slight adjustment it did what it had been bought for, not, as you might expect, hold a weapon but it held a small plastic case. Over the years others had thought it such a good idea that they had fashioned their own. Inside each little plastic box, a detailed, fully working scale racing car was firmly held. Now as each of the members removed their own personal vehicle of choice and placed it on the wooden track, the newest member, Bono Jarvis asked a question.

Why do you get to get the inside lane? The other two males turned and looked as if he had asked them to explain the meaning of life itself.

I'm president! Austin Riley declared as if that was all the explanation needed.

So ? You are not yet actually Jarvis replied, trying to hold his nerve. He never liked to speak out, not even amongst the few members of the Westscar Racing Club.

Just a technicality but never mind, it's the way its always been done, Austin Riley never thought of himself as being pompous, it was just the way the club had always dealt with the passing of a member and he was interim president after all.

Now, now boys behave yourselves, its just a silly race after all, Mary approached carrying three cups of tea it's not as if it's an actual race, anyway. You go round and round till one by one you fly off the track and declare the winner is the person who just died. All seems rather pointless if you ask me, If she could actually see the face of her husband at that moment she might have thought he was having a stroke.

Oh, Mary, leave them be, Elizabeth Maxwell said, laying a plate with three pieces of slightly dried out Battenberg cake on the track itself.

ELIZABETH! Jarvis admonished. It was a rule that nothing, nothing at all went on the track.

Shut up, Brian Elizabeth replied, walking away.

It's BONO, BONO, is it so difficult for you people to get it right

Bono, Brian, its all the same, Elizabeth replied.

How are we supposed to keep track of your name , each week you have another one. Let's see you have been Bertie, Bertrand, Bernard, Bruce, Bri, Bryan with a 'Y', Brian with an 'I' , that's just the ones I can think of, Mary took a sip of her tea. What's wrong with your given name, anyway. It was good enough for that spy feller,

You mean James Bond ? Terrence Maxwell looked on not believing the stupidity he was hearing.

Exactly, Mary replied looking pleased with herself, Bond, James Bond. has that hunky man in it....

Daniel Craig ? Bond Jarvis enquired, looking pleased at the thought.

No the other one

Roger Moore? Terrence helped.

No, don't be stupid, he was the Saint, he can't be a spy as well,

Sean Connery? Austin Riley added pumping out his chest you know people have said I have a resemblance to him

Yes, the blind Jarvis said shaking his head you mean Timothy Dalton

No the other one, you know, the one that sings Mary could see him in her mind.

James Bond that sings? It came from a choir of three men singing the same song.

Yes with that woman, they sing those songs from that Swedish group,

Pierce Brosnan! the other female answered, joining the conversation.

Yes! that's it , see easy. See why can't you be more like him, he just accepted his name was Bond James Bond and got on with it, Austin Riley turned away flabbergasted that anyone could be so stupid. But don't get him started on women. He knew it wasn't the done thing but there had been a reason women had remained at home whilst the men went out to work.

Didn't you go by Bertha for one brief weekend as well? Terrence Maxwell suddenly remembered.

The three men warmed up their chosen vehicle, despite it just being a shame race it was never wise to race these little cars till they had warmed up. It was to be a twenty lap race, which one by one they would crash out of leaving the record book to record Arthur Coppingham  as the winner. It would be the last time they would record Arthur as being president, after that point they could hold a new election at the next general meeting they could set the wheels in motion. Each man lined up their charge ready for the lights to start the race. Austin, being interim president and this being his last duty, as such, switched on the counter that would eventually turn the red light on the starting system to green.  As the buzzer indicated the last seconds of the countdown, each man stood ready for the off.

BUZZ

BUZZ

BUZZ and the red light changed to green.

GEORGE LAZENBY! Bono Jarvis suddenly yelled out. The other two men turned to look at the sound of the voice, Riley on instinct squeezing the trigger on his control setting his car flying off the start line, even as he raised one eyebrow in very Roger Moore style to show 'what the f***' he looked down at his right hand and realised he was pulling his hand tight, unfortunately he didn't react quick enough and the little car he had set off flew straight on at the first corner and heading towards the floor feet beyond the edge of the track. I knew there was another Bond Jarvis said as if that was all the explanation needed.

Chapter 2

Austin Riley arrived at the clubhouse early, as he always did, he felt it was his duty as acting president to be first there and to have the doors opened ready to welcome the members. The fact there were only two other members was of little importance. Mary, his wife had left him to venture to the nearby shops, not being interested in little toy cars going round and around she always visited the little bakers and buy a few things to make the time pass by quicker. This time as Austin turned to face the Yorkshire stone building next to the larger church next door, he was confronted with three people stood in front of the door. The youngest of them appeared to be fumbling with something in the lock.

Can I help you? Austin addressed them thinking as he approached they would move away. Instead, the one fumbling away turned to face him.

Are you Mr. Riley? I'm Dean from McCauley, Davies and  associates, the one now calling himself Dean said extending a hand towards Riley as he came closer. Dean, from McCauley, Davies and associates, was in the understanding that both his name, Dean and McCauley, Davies and associates should mean something to the other person. It did not. Dean, to Austin Riley, looked like a schoolboy dressed in his father's best suit, he was in fact well past school age and the suit was his own.

Is that supposed to mean something to me? Why are you messing around with the door? Riley ignored the outstretched arm and brushed past till he was between these intruders and the door.

McCauley, Davies ? the house agents? Does it not ring any bells? Dean gave what he thought was a thoughtful look of concern, it actually looked like he was constipated. Gaining no recognition in the gaze on the older man looking at him, Dean turned to his two companions, a male well dressed if a bit flashy for Westscar and a much younger female who could easily be the males daughter. Memory you know, apparently the older generation forget things easily, Dean, from McCauley, Davies and associates had thought he had spoken in a quieter voice. There was nothing wrong with Austin Riley's hearing, however.

I can assure you boy I don't have a clue what you are talking about. If you can kindly leave the grounds before my members turn up, Riley inserted the key in the lock.

I am sorry about this, Dean said not addressing Riley but his companions He should have got a letter telling him of our visit, The male who was used to dealing with unusual situations, as he was the head of a building firm, one, if he said so himself, was very successful, also he had experience of dealing with older people having parents who he thought of himself as  being next to dinosaurs, took a step forward.

Mr Riley? My name is Dexter Haynes and this is my wife, we are looking to buy the church next door,

The church ? the church? but it's a church, you can't buy churches , its just not .....well its not proper it's a church, Riley seemed to think if he kept repeating the word church they would just go away.

Maybe I am not making myself clear. The church, Dexter said, waving a hand in the general direction of the building next door, is for sale. Me, well I am a successful  businessman and I now specialise in purchasing unusual properties and converting them in to something which has more of a use,

But it's a church Riley stuck on the same word. Dexter sensing the other mans confusion approached and laid an arm across the other's shoulder.

Look, all I need to do is take a brief look inside, just to see what the building is like on the insides,

I don't know what game you three are playing here but people don't go around buying up churches. Where would the vicar go to? Come to that, what about the congregation, where would they go? The local supermarket? No now just go away, we are about to have a meeting, With that Riley thought the conversation was finished and unlocked the door, as he did so Terrence Maxwell and Bond Jarvis (or whatever he was calling himself this week) came into sight. Can you believe this lot, Riley called out to his advancing membership, they think they can buy the church,

Really? Terrence called out well its been up for sale for years,

For sale? Riley couldn't believe his ears.

There used to be a sign somewhere Maxwell replied. Jarvis, who was the youngest of the trio, walked over to the little dividing wall between the church grounds and those of the club next door. He bent to retrieve something from the floor. It was a sign reading  'For Sale'.

I've never seen that before Riley couldn't believe his eyes they must have put that there earlier, Riley took a step forward which revealed the floor just beyond the door. The female, Mrs Haynes, who was a good twenty years younger than her husband, squeezed behind and picked up the post that was lying on the floor just where the letter box would have been. She picked it up and handed to Riley.

Pizza leaflets! Riley said, why did those delivering leaflets think it was even possible that they would ever want to order a pizza! He flicked through the post, two pizza leaflets (different takeaways,) one for orthopaedic beds and a letter with the words McCauley ,Davies and associates stamped across the front. 

"I knew the office