Formally Ray

A uniform for the fitting

Ray Mallin presses the waistcoat for the young usher and fits it to him before the afternoon show. His mother, who still brings old apples in the pockets of her coat, recognizes how Ray spent his first pocket money from this theatre by the shape of the pins sticking out of his sleeve. He bought a proper pin cushion and only cheats with his cuff when the costume has a tight armhole. It took years of working from the front room at home before the theatre let him keep a table there. He spent that time leaning a mirror against the door so he could see his own jacket while he worked on somebody else's. His mother named the habit before there was a car to attach it to.

Formally Ray sounded less like a boast when he found it handwritten on a scrap she had put under the BMW 635 CSi's keys. Capital letters and a period. She thought it matched the way he'd dress to take it to the track.

Brush-down at eleven

His first practice took place on a windy day. Ray brought one white cloth in a bag and one in a jacket pocket, having spent the previous evening getting the lip of the windscreen dry. The car looked smart long enough for him to find his allotted place. By eleven he'd cleaned the left side twice and decided the right side could be turned away from the other drivers. The next time he looked up, somebody in a dusty jacket was testing a line Ray had planned to try. His mother had come to see him drive. He caught her giving his good seat to somebody with a better view of the next corner.

He used his practice window after midday. The wind blew in the opposite direction halfway through. He remembers seeing the finer dust lift out of the BMW's path when he was steady enough to let the car turn as one piece. He very nearly looked sideways to see whether his mother caught it; then the next corner came far enough into view to matter more.

Two people's opinions

At the shared workbench he asks Samir Vale which rag ought to stay clean. Samir gives him more square inches than he had asked about. Ray uses the clean end to set the BMW key down and the outside to hold a dirty support while a crew hand steps away. Ron Stelleto has borrowed a cloth from him, too. They disagree over the odds that anybody looking at a scuff can tell exactly how a car picked it up. Ray has more sympathy for the question than he intends to admit. He's had to put repair time against a garment he'd like to tell a young actor to wear again.

He likes shaping the first entry and taking a stronger exit after he's sure of the wheel's position. In a dusty practice he can now attend to that while all the lights remain visible through the windscreen.

A seat to give away

His mother hasn't asked what time he's set aside for her seats. Ray would like to complete a full afternoon test in the clothes he arrived in, give her a lift home and leave enough time for a fitting. He's left one cloth over a seat he tells himself he never intends to need. A person from the paddock just moved it into the shade.