by Paige Toon
He visibly perks up. ‘Loved it. At times like this I wish I didn’t live in London.’
‘You could buy yourself a pad up here.’
He looks thoughtful.
‘Have you got a second home?’
‘Funny you should ask that,’ he says. ‘I’m thinking about getting one in Monaco. I know it’s a racing driver cliché,’ he adds, grinning, ‘but it’s so bloody beautiful there. Have you ever been?’
‘No. I can’t wait for that race, actually. Holly’s always going on about it.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ He nods. ‘The lads are the same. Non-stop parties, that weekend. You’ll have to see if you can go on a yacht.’
‘I don’t know how I’ll manage that unless I’m catering on one.’
‘I might be able to get you an invite to something.’
‘Really?’ My eyes widen in delight. ‘That would be amazing!’
He smiles at my excitement.
‘Have you ever won at Monaco?’
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘Came close a couple of years ago, but some pillock took me out.’
‘You crashed?’
‘Yep. It wasn’t too bad,’ he says when he sees my face.
‘Have you ever had a bad one?’ I ask worriedly.
‘Mmm. A few years ago I had a really big accident.’
‘What happened?’
He leans back in his seat and pushes his hair off his face. ‘I was driving towards a concrete barrier at 190 mph when the steering locked and I hurled straight into it.’
I gasp. ‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing. There was nothing I could do.’
‘What went through your mind?’
‘My life didn’t flash before my eyes, if that’s what you’re asking. But I did know, with absolute certainty, that I was going to die.’
I stare at him, troubled.
He continues, ‘I landed upside down with zero chance of getting out of the car and then the damn thing caught fire. All I could hear were the track marshals yelling to people to stand back because the car could explode at any second.’
‘Jesus . . .’
‘I’d only just refuelled so I knew that was a distinct possibility, but luckily the fire truck arrived in time and they managed to get me out of there.’
I shake my head in confusion. ‘I don’t know how you do it.’
‘What? Race?’
‘Yes. How did you get behind the wheel again after that?’
‘I didn’t for a while. Only because I broke my leg,’ he explains, grinning.
‘How can you smile about it?’ Nausea has crept up into my throat. ‘Aren’t you worried it might happen again?’
‘You can’t think about that, otherwise it will affect your driving. But I tell you what, if I ever end up paralysed after a crash, somebody had better shoot me, because I don’t want to do anything else. My girlfriend is under strict instructions.’
‘To do what?’ I don’t even baulk at the mention of Laura because I’m too distracted by our morbid discussion. ‘Shoot you?’
‘Well . . . A lethal injection would be neater.’
‘I hope she told you to go fuck yourself,’ I say crossly.
He laughs. ‘Yeah, she did, actually.’
I take a deep breath. ‘I think we’d better talk about something else.’
‘Aw, sorry.’ He straightens his leg out and kicks my foot. ‘I didn’t think that sort of thing would bother you.’
‘What, the thought of you dying?’ I ask, outraged.
He laughs, unfazed by my reaction. ‘You’re just like my girlfriend.’
I’m in two minds about whether or not that’s a good thing. I give him a wry look and ask something I’ve been wondering for some time. ‘Do you two live together?’
‘No. Well, half and half. She has her own apartment in town.’
‘How long have you been a couple?’
‘I’ve known her most of my life, but we got together when we were about fifteen.’
My stomach churns as reality sinks in. I’ve been living in a fantasy crush world, but he’s in love with Laura. He’s not going to leave her. He’ll never be in love with me. I have to get over him.
‘Do you think you’ll get married?’ I don’t want to ask these questions, but I can’t stop myself. I hold my breath as he shrugs, oblivious to my pain.
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
Only maybe? Is there still some hope? No, no, no!
‘Are you getting me back for all my prying in Barcelona?’ He raises one eyebrow.
‘I told you I would.’
His smile turns into a very loud yawn.
‘Tired, are you?’ I ask with amusement.
‘Shattered.’
‘I guess I’d better let you get some sleep, then.’ I start to get up. He doesn’t try to stop me, sadly.
‘Hey, you’d better cancel your taxi for the morning,’ he says.
‘That’s a good point. I’ll call them now. Thanks.’
‘Night.’
‘Sleep well.’
I throw my quilt over my shoulder and head out the door, looking back to see him snuggle down under the covers and lay his head on the armrest. How on earth I’m going to get any sleep knowing he’s in the next room, is beyond me.
Chapter 12
Another day, another plane to catch. This time I’m off to Istanbul for the Turkish Grand Prix and I’m flying straight there from Italy. I stayed on for a couple of days to spend some time with Nonna and it was beautifully relaxing, even if I did have a lot on my mind.
Will and I needn’t have worried about the weather, because when we woke up, the skies were blue as far as the eye could see and the only reminder of the storm were the puddles on the road.
The last day of filming passed by in such a blur that I barely even spoke to Holly, let alone Will. Holly seemed distracted and not that interested in my evening the night before. I guess it’s because she disapproves, and I was reluctant to talk about him for fear of her tainting my memories. Even now we’re in Istanbul, she’s not saying much.
On the Friday morning before the race, Will comes into the hospitality area where I’m sitting at one of the tables, tidying up the flower arrangement. I start when I see him, because I’d got it into my head that he looked like Leonardo DiCaprio and now I realise that their resemblance is slim.
‘Hey,’ he says, coming over. ‘How was your break?’
‘Lovely.’ I beam. ‘Nonna said to wish you luck, by the way.’
At that moment, Luis walks past. ‘No girlfriend this weekend?’ he asks Will, slyly.
Will stares at him. ‘No. Why?’
‘Just wondering.’ Luis gives me a look and keeps on going. I feel my face heat up so I quickly go back to my flower arranging.
Will looks after him and frowns. ‘Weirdo.’
I giggle and stand up. ‘Do you want me to get you some breakfast?’
‘No, you carry on. Gertrude can do it.’
I look over to see Gertrude behind the serving table. Will heads off before I have a chance to say anything else.
That evening, he appears in the hotel lobby just as I’m waiting for the lads to come down. We’re staying in the old part of town on the Bosphorus Strait – the channel of water that separates the European part of Turkey from the Asian part. The mechanics want to check out some belly dancing in the Beyoğlu district and Holly and I figure it would be a laugh to tag along.
‘Coming out for a drink?’ I ask Will, hopefully.
‘No. I’m going for dinner on the river. Simon and a few of the sponsors are dragging Luis and me to some posh restaurant.’
‘Oh, okay.’
‘Hey, is your dad’s name Stellan?’ he asks curiously.
I look at him with shock. ‘Yes, why?’
He shrugs as the lads pile out of the lift. ‘The car’s outside!’ Holly calls from the revolving doors. She goes straight back around in a circle again. ‘Come on!’ she shout
s as she goes past. I would laugh, but I’m distracted by Will’s question.
‘See you later,’ he says.
Before I can open my mouth to shout, ‘Wait!’, Pete and Dan have swamped me.
I can’t relax that night. The bar we’ve ended up in is buzzing and vibrant, but all I want is to talk to Will. Eventually I can stand it no longer.
‘I think I’m going to head off,’ I tell Holly, who’s busy studying her mobile phone.
‘Are you?’ she asks, distracted. She snaps her phone shut. ‘My mum,’ she explains. ‘Wants to know when I’m going back up to Aberdeen to see her.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘You off, then?’ she asks again.
‘If you don’t mind.’ In fact, I’m astounded she’s not giving me any stick.
‘Sure, that’s fine,’ she says. ‘I might go and chat to Pete.’
‘Good luck getting his attention.’ I nod in the direction of Pete and a few of the lads who are ogling a belly dancer undulating across the stage.
Holly just laughs. ‘See you later,’ she calls, heading in their direction.
I go outside and climb into one of the people carriers waiting for us. It’s not recommended for Western girls to venture out alone here, so Simon ensures we always have readily available transport.
I sit and stare out of the car window at the dome-studded skyline as the sun sets luminescent orange over Istanbul’s mosques. I’m fully aware that what I’m seeing is beautiful, but I’m too preoccupied to properly appreciate it.
Back at the hotel, I don’t know what to do with myself. I wander to the bar, on the off chance Will is there, but he’s not. Frederick is having a quiet drink with Klaus, so I nip back out quickly before they spot me and engage me in a conversation. I call the lift and, once inside, press the button to take me to my floor. Then I stare at the number for Will’s floor. On a whim, I press that, too. When we get to my floor, I shift from foot to foot and wait as the doors whoosh closed again and the lift continues to climb. We reach Will’s landing and I waver a moment. As the doors start to close, I leap out. Before I can stop myself, I’m walking towards his suite. I stand outside, listening for any sound. Is that the TV? No, it’s the room next door. Shall I knock? If he’s not there, it won’t matter.
Knock, knock, knock.
I wait. And wait. Then knock again.
What the hell am I doing? I’m about to turn and run when the door opens. Will is standing there in a T-shirt and boxer shorts. His hair is all dishevelled and it’s obvious I’ve just woken him up. Cazzo, I am so embarrassed.
‘Daisy?’ he says sleepily.
‘Er, hi. Sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing. I was just out with Holly and—’
‘Come in,’ he interrupts.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were asleep. What time is it?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Sorry,’ I say again.
‘It’s okay,’ he replies.
‘God, sorry, you’ve got qualifying tomorrow.’
‘Stop apologising!’ He laughs. ‘Take a seat.’ He directs me to one of two opulent-looking sofas in his suite. I perch on it uncomfortably, fully regretting making such a tit out of myself by coming here. I spot the time on the DVD player.
‘Oh my God, it’s almost midnight. Oh shit, Will, I’m sorry. I’ll go.’
‘Daisy! Would you shut up? I’ll just go and put some jeans on.’
‘That’s a good idea.’ I involuntarily glance at his white Calvin Kleins and quickly look away again.
He wanders off to his bedroom and returns a short while later.
‘Do you want a drink?’
‘Um, no, it’s okay.’
He goes to the minibar and pulls out a Coke, then comes over and collapses on the other sofa. He cracks open the can and takes a swig.
‘Are you sure you don’t want a drink?’ He offers it to me.
‘No thanks.’
Silence.
‘What are you doing here?’ It’s he who speaks first.
‘What you said . . . About my father . . . Why did you ask that?’
‘Oh . . .’ Understanding registers.
‘How did you find out?’
He takes another swig from his can, then slumps further down into the sofa and eyes me curiously across the coffee table. ‘I Googled you,’ he says simply.
‘Googled me?’ I stare at him, confused. ‘Why?’
‘To try to find out which famous person you worked for.’
‘But you didn’t find that out?’
He looks perplexed. ‘No, I didn’t actually. What’s with that?’
‘Will, I thought you weren’t going to pry?’
He shakes his head and leans forward, putting the can back on the coffee table. He doesn’t look at me when he answers. ‘Curiosity got the better of me.’
So he was thinking about me . . .
‘I don’t get it,’ he says. ‘If your dad is Stellan Rogers, what are you doing working here?’
‘I like working here,’ I say firmly. ‘And I don’t like my father.’
He steadily meets my eyes, but this time it’s he who looks away first. He rubs his jaw and sighs.
‘Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘Don’t worry about it. But can you please keep it to yourself?’
‘Are you telling me Holly doesn’t even know about that one?’ He gives me a sardonic look.
‘No, she doesn’t, actually.’
‘Are you serious?’ He’s incredulous. ‘Daisy, what is it with you? Why are you so . . . mysterious?’
I try to keep a straight face at that description, but I can’t. After a moment, his face breaks into a grin, too.
I stand up. ‘I’m going to bed.’
He sighs and rests his head on the back of the sofa, looking up at me. ‘Do you have to wear your hair up for work?’
I’m wearing it down at the moment. ‘Yes,’ I reply, surprised.
He continues to stare at me.
‘Why?’ I ask, my stomach fluttering.
‘No reason.’
‘Why?’ I ask again. ‘Do you prefer it up?’
He leans forward and grabs his can from the coffee table. ‘No.’ He slumps back on the sofa. ‘I like it better down.’
‘Do you?’ I’m confused. I wouldn’t expect him to have an opinion about my hairdo, but I’m pleased that he does.
‘Mmm.’
‘Oh, right. Well, I’ll be off then.’ I make to leave.
‘I don’t know how I’m going to get back to sleep now,’ he says dolefully.
‘Serves you right for being such a nosey parker. Goodnight, Will.’
‘Goodnight, Daisy Rogers . . .’
I return to my room, my head spinning. I half expected Holly to have arrived back by now, but her bed is empty. I doze in and out of sleep for over three hours before she finally emerges at four o’clock in the morning.
‘What time do you call this?’ I ask groggily.
‘Jesus!’ she exclaims. ‘You scared the life out of me!’
‘I was worried about you.’
‘Why? No need for that. Anyway, I thought you’d be asleep.’ She looks shifty.
‘Nope.’
‘Well, I’m really tired.’ She changes into her nightclothes quickly, then climbs into bed, not bothering to go into the bathroom to remove her make-up or brush her teeth.
‘What did you get up to tonight?’ I ask, then snap, ‘Holly!’ when she doesn’t answer.
‘Hmm? Tired,’ she says sleepily. ‘Speak in morning.’
But talking happens to be the last thing on our minds the following day, because after pressing the snooze button on our alarm clock three times in a row, our main priority is just getting to work on time.
Now it’s ten o’clock: time to set up morning tea. I’m dozily arranging biscuits on a platter when Frederick speaks up.
‘Can you take that lot to the pits?’
‘Yes,
Chef,’ I answer absent-mindedly.
‘Come on, chop, chop!’ He claps his hands, making me jump out of my skin. ‘What is it, Daisy? Another hangover?’
‘Hey? Oh, yeah,’ I fib.
‘You should stop going out with that one.’ He indicates Holly.
‘Me?’ Holly replies, huffily. ‘I barely had anything to drink last night!’
‘Didn’t you?’ I ask, surprised. But she stayed out with the lads for hours!
‘No.’ She looks away.
‘Get a bloody move on, would you?’ Frederick snaps again.
‘I’m on it, Chef.’ I quickly place the last few biscuits on the platter and hurry out of the paddock in the direction of the team garages.
I wonder where Will is? He hasn’t been into the hospitality area this morning. I’m so on edge that I almost drop the platter when I spot him, dressed in his overalls already, standing by his car in a discussion with one of the team’s engineers. He glances my way, but returns his attention to his conversation, not faltering, not acknowledging me. I place the platter on one of the catering tables.
‘Got any custard creams?’ I turn to see Luis standing there.
‘Custard creams? They’re not classy enough for this operation, Luis, you should know that. Have a nice piece of shortbread instead.’ I offer him some.
‘Pah to your shortbread. Get me some goddamn custard creams.’
‘Va se lixar!’
‘Shh!’ he urges, looking around in horror. ‘My mother’s just over there!’ He aims his thumb over his shoulder.
‘Your mother?’ I look past him to see a short, pleasantly plump Brazilian woman standing next to a short, pleasantly plump Brazilian man. There’s also a petite brunette who looks to be in her late teens.
‘My dad and little sister,’ Luis explains before I can ask.
‘Aw!’ I smile at him in delight. ‘Are any of your other brothers and sisters here?’ I remember him telling me he has about seven.
‘No, just Clara. The others are all either afraid of flying, too busy at work, or have just given birth.’
‘Just given birth?’
‘Yeah, one of my older sisters had a baby girl last weekend.’
‘That’s awesome! Have you seen her yet?’
He shakes his head, regretfully. ‘I won’t get a chance to fly home for a while.’