It wasn't at all what she'd imagined. From the way she'd heard trailer parks described by her stepfather, Sam had expected something with 'seedy' written all over it, maybe greying laundry hung everywhere, dirty kids, shouting matches being held at full volume with no regard for who was listening. This place was quiet, clean, spacious and respectable. And it was green. Tall trees dotted here and there casting shade over many of the plots. Bushes and hedges separating them, providing privacy. Many of the trailers obviously never moved, and some had flower displays in front that would put those in her neighbourhood to shame. People sat outside in the late afternoon sunshine, chatting with their neighbours. As she and Jason walked up the packed gravel road through the park's centre, many waved and called greetings. Older folk, mostly. There wasn't a noisy child or an argument in sight, and the few cars that passed them were driven slowly and carefully.
"Wow," was all she could say.
"Not the dump you were expecting?" Jason's face held a wry smile. "Most folks here are either retired, or young and working. Four or five of the racing team guys live here. Carl did, before he got married. There are strict rules about noise, speed limits, keeping the place clean. Abuse them and you're off. People live here because they want to."
"It's nice," she found herself saying. "What's that brick building?"
"Laundry room, site shop, and there's a set of bathrooms there too. The one thing that really sucks about living in a trailer is only having space for a shower. If you want to buy dinner, don't leave it too long - the shop shuts at seven."
Sam smiled. "I've got my lunch. I wasn't expecting to be treated."
"Well, coffee, milk, whatever." He turned off abruptly, heading up a narrow gravel path through a hedge. "This is it."
This area didn't look as permanent as some of them - no flowerbeds, and the two trailers here were the sort that you towed behind an ordinary car, not the giant ones that would need a crane to lift them. Rather to her relief, Jason was indicating the less battered of the two.
"I'll just check everything's hooked up," he said, and disappeared round the far side.
Sam took the opportunity to look across at the other pitch, which must by a process of elimination be Jason's. That trailer was very far from new, but it was clean, and obviously in good repair. The car standing alongside it gave a similar impression. Navy blue, not a model she was at all familiar with, but it just had that air of power about it. Somehow she wasn't surprised.
"All sorted." He reached under the trailer, pulled out a step, and inserted the key in the door. "After you."
Sam climbed in, worked her way past a table, and started opening curtains. It had that slightly musty smell of a room that's been shut up for a while, but nothing worse than that, and with the door open it was already dissipating. Behind her there was a solid 'clunk' and she turned to see Jason pushing open a skylight.
"Jeff moved out about a month ago - he's getting married, and this is too small for two." He flicked a switch, and the interior was illuminated. "Power's working." Moved to the other end of the trailer, folded up some flaps to reveal a kitchen unit. A couple of seconds later there was running water in the sink and a burning gas ring, and he nodded in approval. "Seems fine. I'll just check the bathroom." He opened a door to what she'd assumed had to be a wardrobe, and to her astonishment there was the very ordinary sound of flushing water.
"I didn't know trailers came with real bathrooms."
"They don't normally, not ones this size. Jeff got fed up with chemical toilets, and the axles on this one aren't up to the road any more, so he had it plumbed properly into the mains. I'd have bought it off him else, it's bigger and nicer than mine, but mine's still mobile and I like it that way. Plus the bed's a bit short for me."
Sam looked about, realising for the first time that she hadn't seen anything which qualified as a bed, and realised there was a blank wall with a door to her left, while that end of the trailer had a window. She opened the door and squeezed in. Certainly not large, but indisputably a bedroom, with a single bunk, narrow by house standards, across the end, a wardrobe to her right, and a low chest of drawers with shelves over to her left. This was considerably more musty. She opened the curtains, followed by the two side windows which had catches. Unfortunately the large end window appeared to be sealed shut.
"Jeff said there's bedding still in here," Jason said from behind her. "You might want to haul it out and air it outside for an hour. Anyway, I'll leave you to it. That's mine over there. Anything you want, just shout. When are you planning on going back?"
Sam took a ragged breath. "Tomorrow morning."
"And you're coming to the race tomorrow afternoon?"
"I want to."
"Then come. Bring him. Bring the whole darn family. You need to show them you're dead serious about this. And - give me your address. If you don't show, I think someone should go round there and check you're OK. Probably shouldn't be me, but Ed or Carl would, I'm sure."
"I told you, he's not violent."
"He doesn't need to be violent to be intimidating. You can go his way or you can stand up to him, and it'll be tough on his turf. What will your mom say?"
"I don't know. I...they're not mean and abusive or anything like that, Jason. They just think they know what's best for me."
"What's best for you is making your own decisions. Trust me." Jason backed out of the door. "Like I said, shout if there's a problem, otherwise I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Good luck with your family."
.
Left alone, Sam considered her surroundings more thoroughly. A single table, with built-in seating around it. A tiny kitchen area, sink and double gas burner with cupboards above and below. The door to the bathroom, which she now opened. This obviously was newer than the rest of the interior, containing a standard lavatory and sink. The floor sloped towards a drain in the centre, and there was a showerhead on the wall above the sink. Not exactly a luxury bathroom, but everything you would need. Although she could see why the park also provided baths. The only other door led to the bedroom, which she'd already seen. Somewhere in here, then, was the bedding Jason had mentioned.
It took her a ridiculous time to find it - in a large locker-type space under the mattress of the bed. Sam wrinkled her nose, pulled the whole lot out, and hung it over the windowsill in the sunshine. That done, she considered what else she'd found. She did have her sandwiches for dinner, and her search had turned up a full set of crockery, a saucepan, and a jar of aging instant coffee. Milk and sugar would be good. This, of course, involved hauling all the bedding back in and closing up the windows, before carefully locking the door and heading for the shop Jason had pointed out.
It was a strange feeling, shopping for herself. Sure, she'd bought lunch before, had done for years. She'd done the family's shopping on occasion. She'd been buying the milk since she was old enough to trust with money and to be out on her own. This was the first time she'd ever bought basic food for herself and nobody else. Just her and her trailer. Well, hers for tonight, anyway.
Back in the trailer, Sam soon had all the bedding hung back out, the water boiling merrily, and the TV on quietly so as not to annoy anyone. This was certainly better than being home with Steve explaining to her in nauseating detail precisely why she shouldn't be changing her career plans, and her mother wringing her hands, trying to find some way to support her daughter while still agreeing with her husband. Because she would agree with Steve, Sam was sure of it. She wouldn't have put money on her mother even knowing that cars had engines. That her daughter might want to work with cars would be totally, utterly incomprehensible to her.
Coffee made, Sam sat down and got out her sandwiches - and then stood up again and found a plate. She stopped short of eating them with a knife and fork, but she felt the need to have a proper meal here. Not just a picnic. This was somebody's home, or had been. It could be again. She was lucky it wasn't already. If she was a penniless college student, or worked at the industrial park, this would be a very attractive alternative to a room in a tiny urban apartment.
Once done, she washed up carefully, left everything to drip dry, and pulled the bedding inside. She sniffed it experimentally. Much better. Which was fortunate, because there wasn't anything else. Jeff had obviously left things which belonged in the trailer - the crockery was plastic and fitted the rack, and the bedclothes wouldn't have covered a standard size bed - but everything else was gone. No towels, nothing on the shelves. Sam turned off the TV, showing a particularly irritating quiz show, shut the curtains to keep out the gathering dark, sprawled on the larger of the two seats, and spent a happy while imagining what she would do with the place, if it was hers. She was startled to look at her watch and find it was a respectable bedtime. And Jason had been right about the noise. Apart from the odd car, and a couple of low-voiced conversations from passers-by, she'd heard nothing all evening. This was quieter than her parents' house.
Thanking heavens for her habit of coming out wearing beauty parlour-suitable clothes and changing once she arrived, Sam stripped down to her T-shirt and crawled under the bedclothes. The evening sun had taken the dampness and musty smell out of them, and the bed was comfortable. With no towel or toiletries, she'd opted to avoid the shower, but it wouldn't kill her to go without just for once. She stretched out and turned out the light. It wasn't completely dark in here, but the curtains were thick and kept out all but a faint orange glow from the lights in the other trailers. There were no streetlights - once everyone else went to bed, it would be dark indeed. And now very quiet. Far away she could hear the rumble of the freeway, and once a train from the other direction.
She wasn't awake for long enough to hear the blue Nissan Skyline pull smoothly away shortly before midnight, its owner's face locked in a scowl.