Driven by Rosemary Smith

Author:Rosemary Smith [Smith, Rosemary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-08-26T08:00:00+00:00

A telegram from Alec Issigonis, designer of the Maxi, congratulating us on winning the Ladies’ Prize (Author)

Jean was a Yorkshirewoman and later became Baroness Denton of Wakefield. She was a very clever and talented woman and I got on well with her, but at that moment I hated her. I didn’t hold a grudge, I rarely do that, and when Jean became a Minister in Stormont she invited me to Northern Ireland on several occasions and we had good times together. Sadly, she has since died.

It was pure determination that we finished that rally – well, that and my outstanding driving skills, of course! But there were things that happened on the event that really annoyed me. There was another women’s team and we passed them broken down on the side of the road. When we offered help, they waved us on. ‘Finito,’ they said, indicating that it was all over for them. When we got to the next control, there they were, driving in. In any case, it didn’t matter, because in the end they didn’t finish. We won £1,000 and shared it between us. That was a lot of money and the equivalent today would be over £14,000. We all went into Mexico City and bought stunning white lace dresses. I had mine for years after: it had a round neck and an A-line skirt, well above the knees. I also bought a beautiful ruby and diamond ring, which unfortunately, was stolen years later from my home, along with an emerald ring I owned.

The next month, June 1970, Alice and I drove together in the Scottish Rally, in another Austin Maxi. We had spent so much time together and were now great friends. I was to get married in August, and although I hadn’t planned to have a bridesmaid I decided to ask Alice and she accepted. She and her husband, Andy, came over from Scotland for the wedding and I was glad to have them by my side. On the day of the wedding, Andy drove me to the church. I was very quiet in the car and he knew something was wrong. ‘You don’t really want to do this, do you, Rosie?’ he said to me. ‘Stay in the car and we’ll just drive off somewhere. You can telephone and say you’ve changed your mind.’

How I wish I had taken him up on his offer. He was right: I didn’t want to get married, I didn’t want to be any man’s property, and in 1970s Ireland when you were married you belonged to your husband. I knew in my heart that it wouldn’t work and I should never have gone through with it, silly me!

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