Lady Susie Moss speaks to her late husband often and tenderly, almost as if he were still with her — which, in a sense, he is.
Sir Stirling Moss, widely regarded as the greatest racing driver Britain has ever produced, died in April last year, aged 90, after a long illness — ‘It was just one lap too many,’ Susie said at the time — but his presence in the townhouse in Mayfair, central London, he designed and had built in 1962 remains pervasive.
It is there in the trophies, the mementos, the photographs; in the pristine racing suits still folded neatly in drawers; in the wealth of mechanical Bond-style gadgetry he invented — from a descending table, which lowers itself from the kitchen to dining room (‘The trick is to get down before the table,’ smiles Susie), to the grand piano that plays itself.
There are also the mortal remains of this great racer. Susie, 68, his third wife, keeps the urn containing her husband’s ashes next to her when she sleeps. She can always find him beside her wherever she is in the house. She carries him around, chatting companionably, and when we go out to lunch I hear her call ‘goodbye’ to him and apologise that he is too heavy to take in her handbag.
Lady Susie Moss, 68, reflects on her relationship with Sir Stirling Moss, who, died in April last year, aged 90, after a long illness. Pictured: Susie with her beloved Stirling in 2001
‘I always talk to him,’ she confides in this exclusive interview, the first since her husband’s death.
Their marriage lasted almost 40 years and they are still together.
‘I’m very lonely without him. I ask him what I should do about this or that; who I should get to fix the bloody roller blind in the guest room that’s broken (they’re automated, of course.)
‘I say good morning to him every day; and when I need to go out, I promise him I’ll be back. He is so dear to me. Every single day. Every night. And when I go to bed I say: “I’ve got through another day without you.”
‘He was my raison d’être, my best friend; the reason I went to sleep at night and got up in the morning — and both those things aren’t quite so easy now.’ She blinks away tears.
From 1948, Sir Stirling won a record number of 212 races from 529 cars. This was in just 15 years. So synonymous was his name with racing that the routine response of policemen to speeding motorists was: ‘Who do you think you are, Stirling Moss?’
He lived in an era before safety and health restrictions. Sir Stirling was an able survivor of a sport that saw 180 racers die during his time racing.
He was almost certain to die many times, most recently in the terrible crash that ended his career at Goodwood in 1962. It happened before Susie got married.
Stirling’s final illness began with a a cough and cold in 2016, then developed into an intractable chest infection and pneumonia. Pictured: Stirling at Speed Festival In Goodwood
A team of rescuers using hacksaws took 40 minutes to free him. He was in a coma for a month — his nose broken, his left cheekbone crushed, an eye socket displaced, a broken arm and leg and his brain so badly pummelled he was temporarily paralysed down his left side.
Although he did not compete in the highest-level races, he drove his beloved veteran cars for enjoyment, sometimes with Susie by his side.
However, he was not able to recover from the long and severe illness. The initial symptoms were a common cold, followed by a mild cough, and then a severe chest infection. Susie was on a cruise and stopped at a Singapore hotel when the infection started.
‘I called a doctor. The doctor prescribed antibiotics. Typically, Stirling said: “I’ll be OK,” and we went on to the ship. As we traveled back to the cabin, I can recall Stirling holding my hand as he held onto my arm and eating tomato soup.
He was a great patient. He was loved by his nurses, but he still wanted me to be there. . . I’m sad I wasn’t with him for his last words
‘He said: “We need an ambulance. You must get off. [the ship].” And, fortunately, we hadn’t sailed.
‘They took him to a wonderful hospital in Singapore and I never left his side after that.
‘I sat in a chair by his bed, day and night. He didn’t complain. He was there for 134 consecutive days. There were times when he seemed to rally, but when it was clear he wouldn’t get better, I wanted him home, where he belonged. So we flew back in a private jet and he went into intensive care in King Edward VII’s Hospital, Marylebone.
‘Then, for the final months, he was at home here, with a team of nurses, 24 hours a day. He was an excellent patient and just a lovely person. He loved his nurses, and he wanted me to be there for him. We’d watch TV together, rubbish stuff, and I always feel sad that I wasn’t with him for his last words. He was upstairs and I was trying to get something so I took his last glance. He had such lovely eyes.’
She blinks away the tears from her eyes as her face swells with more pain.
Stirling left the bulk of his estate to Susie, their son Elliot, 40 and Stirling’s daughter Allison, 54, from his second, marriage to Elaine Barbarino. Pictured: Stirling & Susie at their 1980 wedding
‘He was such a dear, funny man; so kind to everybody,’ she says — and so his £22 million will testifies.
Made long before his final illness, the bulk of his estate goes to Susie, their son Elliot, 40 and Stirling’s daughter Allison, 54, from his second, brief marriage to American PR executive Elaine Barbarino.
But there are other thoughtful bequests too: £1,000 to his former U.S. agent Patsy Martin and her husband to ‘enjoy a seafood dinner at Joe’s Stone Crab in Miami, Florida’; a silver rabbit’s foot to his former psychotherapist for ‘giving me more than luck’.
His niece Susie Rawding, 51, is also bequeathed £10,000 with the suggestion she ‘put it towards buying another horse’; a friend is left £1,000 to help with her phone bill.
I wish it hadn’t happened this way round. But I don’t think he would have survived without me
There are 18 legacy. ‘We took a long time about it and I’m not sure we remembered everyone,’ says Susie, ‘but Stirling loved nothing better than making people happy and helping them.’
The couple was an instant love match. Elliot and Stirling travelled together almost everywhere once they were in their twenties.
It was a Bahamas race, and there wasn’t enough room for both a driver or mechanic. So, in order to get her spot, she learned to change the gearbox and strip down.
‘It was quite fun,’ she recalls. ‘There I was, and all these frightfully glamorous ladies with their diamond rings were on the beach while Stirling was autographing his latest book — and I was covered in oil, surrounded by engine parts.’
The petite woman is 5′ 2″ tall and has slender manicured hands. She is very small and it’s hard to picture her holding a spanner. She could change a tire. ‘Of course I could!’ she laughs.
Susie stated that Stirling was her greatest fear when on his own. But, if Susie was driving with Stirling it wouldn’t happen so they didn’t care. Pictured: Stirling with Susie, their son Elliot and Stirling’s daughter Allison in 2000
Stirling’s speed over the mountains, with their sheer rock faces at one end and plunge ravines at the other side, made me think that Stirling must have felt her quaking. ‘He was the best driver in the world so why would I be frightened?’ she says.
‘My biggest fear was of something happening to him when he was on his own, but if I was in the car with him it would happen to us both so it didn’t matter.’
Some of her tales are still hair-raising. One race she recalls was a close one.
‘Stirling was overtaking the car in front. There was a big drop on one side and I was thinking: “Don’t do it!” Then, all of a sudden, he took his foot off the accelerator. His hands were in the air. I was thinking: “What’s the problem?” The steering had broken.’
‘You must have been terrified,’ I say.
She shrugs. ‘Fortunately, we ran into a snowdrift. And the mechanics weren’t far behind.’
I used to say: “I don’t own you, but don’t lie to me.” Women threw themselves at him
Many consider Stirling’s greatest drive was the 1955 Mille Miglia, a 1,000-mile race along closed public roads through Italy. The race was completed in just over 10 hours and seven minutes, with an impressive average speed of under 99 mph. He took the victory. The record is still unbeaten.
Susie paid tribute to his victory at Goodwood Festival of Speed by doing laps of Goodwood’s circuit with Earl of March (who also owns Goodwood House), at the wheel of her Mercedes 300SLR. This is the same car in which her husband won Mille Miglia.
A polka-dot gown and gracious smile were her uniform. She was crushed inside by her grief.
‘I remember at Goodwood particularly, Stirling would be looking for my hand if ever he walked ahead of me. It was heartbreaking going there this year and not holding his hand.’
Susie commemorated Stirling’s historic victory at Goodwood Festival of Speed this year. Pictured: Stirling in 2005
She rallies: ‘The earl must have wanted to throw me out of the car because I sat in the passenger seat saying: “This is a strong right-hander. Slow down.” But, very courteously, he said nothing.’
Stirling seemed to be indestructible, despite many close calls during his racing career. Stirling, now 80 years old, even managed to survive a slip down his lift shaft.
After summoning it, he entered a void and realized that the door was open to emptiness.
In the fall, he broke his ankles and four bones on one foot. He also chipped four vertebrae.
‘I thought I’d lost him,’ says Susie. ‘But he came bouncing back. He made no fuss at all.’
When I ask her to describe what she loved about him, she says: ‘I have to think about what I didn’t love.’
Susie said Stirling wasn’t a player when they got married, as he believed very strongly that one belongs to one. Pictured: Susie at Goodwood this year
He remained friendly with many of his ex-girlfriends, and a book featuring photos of ‘crumpet’ (as Stirling used to put it) still sits on a shelf in his study.
‘He had so many beautiful girlfriends. Oh, they were gorgeous!’ says Susie. ‘I think there might be a photo of me among them in the book somewhere. Both of us kept in touch with many of them. I didn’t have a problem with that. And the first Mrs Moss (Katie, nee Molson, heir to the Canadian brewing dynasty) used to come and stay with us in London and at our house in Florida.’
Susie was never worried that her husband might stray: ‘Once we’d got married, he wasn’t a player. He believed very strongly that one belongs to one.’
He was his constant love for nearly forty years. She was five years old when they first came to know each other. They were living in Hong Kong as children. Stirling’s parents were her friends.
Her father, a wine and spirits merchant was wealthy. Katie was married to Rootes Motor Group.
Susie recalls feeling overwhelmed by the legendary racing driver. It was many years later that their paths crossed.
Susie claimed that they never considered their age difference because Stirling was such a fun person. Stirling receives his knighthood
Stirling briefly went out with Susie’s older sister Tina, 72 — now married to controversial former Topshop tycoon Sir Philip Green. It was not until their parents decamped to London after her father retired, that Stirling popped into Susie’s life again. ‘I was a teenager then and he was incredibly kind to me. He was right there when I arrived in Southampton by ship. I’d only ever known life in the Far East and I cried my heart out when I came to London. He said: “Don’t cry. London is the centre of the world.” ’
Susie and Stirling formed a close friendship. She was 17, he 23 years older: ‘But the age gap didn’t matter,’ she says. ‘I never thought about it because, to me, he was never old. He was always such fun.’
Their friendship lasted more than a decade. They occasionally fell in love. But it wasn’t, at that stage, an exclusive relationship on either side.
‘I used to say: “I don’t own you, but don’t lie to me.” He was a very sophisticated man; always beautifully turned out. His ex-girlfriends threw everything at him. But there was only one ex-girlfriend I didn’t like.’
Susie remembers the early days of their friendship: ‘I used to sit side-saddle on the back of his scooter wearing my cheongsam [body-hugging Chinese dress].
‘We’d go round to Stirling’s properties [he had a large rental portfolio] and he’d empty the meters while I cleaned. I remember sitting backwards on the scooter once, holding a huge box of stuff after I’d cleared out a store cupboard.’
So you were a char lady, too? ‘Of course!’ she laughs.
Susie, who has fragile health now admits she still wishes she could go to Stirling. Photo: The couple on their wedding day
He also took her to Amsterdam on her first Christmas here in London. ‘I bought a lovely fluttery negligee, but there wasn’t much opportunity for rumpy-pumpy. We came back on a train: he had the top bunk, I had the bottom,’ she laughs.
Susie was four months’ pregnant with Elliot when they married in 1980 at Hammersmith & Fulham Register Office. Stirling left immediately after the ceremony to open a tire depot and returned for the blessing at the church. Was she irritated by the interruptions? ‘No, it was perfectly fine,’ she says.
Although the wedding was unconventional, it was a lasting marriage. His death was the only thing that separated them.
After lunch she returns to her house and calls him. ‘Hello darling, we’re back!’
Her health is fragile now and she often wishes that she could be with him.
‘I know he is in a better place with lots of his old friends,’ she says. ‘I say to him: “You know people upstairs. You can organise it for me.”
‘I wish it hadn’t happened this way round . . . but then again, I don’t think he would have survived without me.’