Chasing Daisy

by Paige Toon

  His mother looks over. ‘Mãe, come here,’ he calls. All three of them walk towards us. Luis quickly turns to me and says, ‘My mum really likes custard creams, too, so you might want to sort that out.’ He gives me a mischievous look, but I restrain myself from telling him to piss off in Portuguese again. ‘This is Daisy,’ Luis says as they arrive. ‘My favourite little bun tart,’ he adds, wrapping his arm around my neck and giving me a squeeze. I shrug him off and am about to smack him on the arm for calling me a bun tart when his mother speaks.

  ‘Ah, this is Daisy.’ She beams at me warmly and I look at Luis in confusion. His mother knows who I am?

  ‘I told her you were a troublemaker,’ he says as an aside to me. He has a twinkle in his eye. I look back at his mother to see she has the same look in hers.

  ‘Hello, how are you?’ I gather myself together and shake hands with all three of them. Clara regards me, shyly. ‘Are you enjoying your trip?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, yes, wonderful,’ Mrs Castro replies. ‘We’ve been doing all sorts of sightseeing.’

  ‘Have you? Where have you been?’ I direct this question at Clara, hoping she’ll open up to me.

  ‘Luis!’ one of the mechanics calls.

  ‘Gotta go.’ He gives his mum a quick peck on the cheek and walks off in the direction of his car. I turn back to Clara.

  ‘We went to the Grand Bazaar yesterday,’ she tells me.

  ‘Shopping!’ his mother interjects. ‘The place to go since the fifteenth century, apparently!’

  ‘And on Monday we’re going to the Süleymaniye Mosque, aren’t we?’ his father butts in. They all speak fluent English.

  ‘Are you staying on in Istanbul for a holiday, then?’ I ask them.

  ‘Yes, for another week with Luis,’ Mr Castro replies. ‘It’s our first time in Turkey and we don’t see enough of him as it is.’

  ‘Well, I hope you have a lovely time.’

  Holly comes into the pits carrying a pot of tea.

  ‘Oh, you’ve got the tea already. Cool. Thought I was going to have to go back for it,’ I say to her.

  ‘No need,’ she replies breezily.

  ‘We should let you get on,’ Mrs Castro interrupts.

  ‘Okay. Enjoy the qualifying. And help yourself to tea and biscuits!’

  As I turn to walk out, I glance back to see Will on the other side of the garage, quietly watching this exchange. We make eye contact for a split-second before he averts his gaze.

  Later, I’m in the kitchen washing dishes when Holly appears.

  ‘How’s it going?’ I ask. She’s been working out front of house and watching the qualifying on the big screen.

  ‘Okay. Luis was quickest in Q2.’ That’s the second qualifying session – there are three in total before the grid positions are determined.

  ‘That’s brilliant!’ I interrupt.

  ‘But Will was way down in ninth.’

  ‘Oh,’ I reply, disappointed.

  ‘Yeah, Simon’s not very happy about it.’

  ‘Really?’ My stomach tightens.

  ‘Apparently Will didn’t sleep well last night.’

  ‘Oh.’ I feel quite sick. I’d probably lose my job if Simon knew I’d kept him up.

  I leave the kitchen to watch Q3 on the big screen and, even though it’s still not great, I’m relieved when Will manages to climb his way up to fifth. Luis will start second tomorrow.

  The drivers arrive back soon afterwards, but while Luis sits down at a table with his family, Will goes straight up to his room. I stare after him for a moment, before remembering his spare pair of overalls still needs to have two new sponsorship patches stitched onto them. That’s as good an excuse as any . . .

  ‘Come in,’ he calls when I knock on the door.

  I push it open. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Have you got your overalls handy? The other ones,’ I say, when I see him glance down at the pair he’s wearing. ‘I need to stitch those patches on.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, sure,’ he remembers, going to the cupboard and hunting them out. They’re still wrapped in dry cleaning plastic from after the last race.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I ask tentatively, as I take the package from him.

  ‘Fine,’ he brushes me off, indicating a chair. I perch on the edge of it.

  ‘I heard you were tired. I’m sorry.’

  He shakes his head dismissively as he pulls off one of his boots. ‘That wasn’t the problem. There wasn’t enough downforce on the car.’

  ‘Oh. Okay. Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘No, no. I’ll be down in a minute.’ He pulls off the other boot.

  ‘Okay.’ I stand up.

  The sound of Rihanna’s ‘Umbrella’ starts to pulse out of his mobile phone on the table. Will snatches it up. I’ve heard his phone ring before, but it just makes a plinkety-plonkety sound, it’s not a realtone. And then it dawns on me: this must be the tone he uses for his girlfriend.

  ‘Hey,’ he says into the receiver, ‘can you hang on a sec?’ He covers the mouthpiece as I move to the door and open it. An ache throbs deep inside me. What’s that song about? Being there for your beloved, whatever the weather? I haven’t got a hope in hell.

  ‘Daisy,’ he calls.

  I turn back. ‘Yes?’

  He whispers, ‘Better stay away from my room tonight, hey? I could do with a bit more sleep if I’m going to beat that dickhead.’

  I blush and glance involuntarily at his phone, then force a smile and leave the room, closing the door gently behind me.

  I walk back into the kitchen in a daze. I’m so stupid. So very, very stupid. I hate myself. Why can’t I stop thinking about him? I have to stop thinking about him. I have to!

  ‘What’s up with you?’ Holly asks, seeing my face.

  ‘Come to the bathroom with me?’ I throw a glance at Klaus, Gertrude and the other catering staff working away at nearby counters.

  ‘Oh, God, Holly,’ I say as soon as the bathroom door closes behind her. ‘You’re going to have to kick me or something. Anything to stop me from falling for him.’

  ‘I take it we’re talking about Will?’

  I give her a wry look.

  ‘I think you’re a bit beyond that, don’t you? You’ve fallen, hook, line and sinker.’

  I sigh and lean up against a toilet door. ‘Do you know what ringtone he uses for his girlfriend?’

  She looks nonplussed.

  ‘“Umbrella”, by Rihanna.’

  ‘Oh.’ I’m sure she’s trying not to smirk.

  ‘It’s not funny!’

  ‘Sorry, sorry.’ She’s contrite.

  ‘Seriously, I’ve got to stop this. I’m sworn off men for a reason. I don’t want any more heartache. And I know you warned me about getting hurt,’ I add, when I see the look on her face. ‘But what could I do? What can I do? I can’t stop myself from feeling this way.’

  ‘Why don’t you shag Luis instead? That’ll take your mind off Will.’

  ‘Holly!’ I erupt. ‘What sort of a solution is that? No!’

  ‘Why not? I would.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you, then?’

  She laughs and humorously shakes her head.

  ‘Of all the things to say.’ I stare at her in disbelief.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she says, patting me on the arm. ‘I’m sure things will work out. They always do.’

  Great. She’s no help at all.

  Holly and I are doing the first shift on race day, so when she suggests that we have an early one on Saturday night, I don’t disagree. I’m fast asleep when something wakes me up. The door. I look across and see that Holly isn’t in her bed. I get up and have a quick check in the bathroom, but she’s nowhere to be seen. The glowing red display on the alarm clock tells me it’s half twelve. Where the hell has she gone? Is she having it off with Pete? Or maybe she is shagging Luis! Something’s up, and first thing tomorrow, I’m finding out what.

  I wake up the next morning to find
her back in bed, sleeping soundly. ‘Where did you go last night?’ I ask loudly. She moans. ‘Holly! Holly!’ I reach over and give her body a push.

  ‘What?’ she snaps. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Time you told me what’s going on.’

  ‘Hey? Daisy, what are you on about?’

  ‘Where did you go last night?’

  ‘Last night?’

  ‘Yes! Holly, for God’s sake, just tell me. Are you doing the dirty with Pete?’

  ‘No!’ she snaps.

  ‘Luis?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Just tell me!’

  ‘No, Daisy, no! I’m not shagging either of them!’

  ‘Well, where did you go, then?’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a wander around the hotel. And then—’ She sits up straighter, her eyes lighting up. ‘Then I went into the media centre and wrote a few emails. I haven’t chatted to any of my pals back home in ages, so I had some catching up to do.’

  I can tell she’s lying. But I can’t accuse her of it, because she’s given me a perfectly good explanation. I just know that something’s going on, and if she’s not going to come clean about it, then maybe I won’t be so forthright about my feelings for Will from now on, either.

  The sun is shining on the day of the race, but it’s chilly when we arrive at the track, ready to set up breakfast at five a.m. I don’t say much to Holly in the car on the way over there. I’m still disappointed she’s not opening up to me. I don’t know if she can sense my mood, but she doesn’t say much to me, either.

  It’s eight o’clock when Luis and his family bustle in.

  ‘Would you like some breakfast?’ I ask them.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Mrs Castro replies keenly.

  ‘Don’t have the muesli,’ Luis interjects. ‘It’s awful. Daisy does the best bacon and eggs.’

  ‘Is that your excuse?’ I ask wryly, looking past him to see Will appear. My heart does its usual somersault. I try to focus on serving Luis’s family as I see Will stop to talk to Simon at a nearby table. Simon gets up and Will follows him up the stairs. He nods at me as he passes. ‘Morning.’

  ‘Hi.’ I smile after him and glance back to find Luis giving me a disapproving look. I avert my gaze before he can catch me blushing again.

  ‘Mãe, grab that table, there. I’ll be over in a moment,’ Luis says. He looks back at me when they’ve gone.

  ‘Still hanging out for him?’

  ‘No,’ I say hotly, plonking a piece of bacon on the plate he’s holding out for me. ‘Want another?’

  ‘Of course. He’s never going to leave her, you know.’

  ‘Shut up, Luis.’ I roll my eyes in a huff.

  ‘I saw them together at team HQ the other week. Did I tell you?’

  ‘No?’ I look up at him, a familiar sick feeling swirling around inside me.

  ‘She came in for lunch with Will and Simon.’

  ‘What was she like?’ I hate myself for being interested, especially in front of Luis.

  He shrugs. ‘She was alright, actually. Seemed like a nice girl.’

  ‘Have you got enough, there?’ I bluntly nod at his plate.

  ‘Yeah, that’ll do.’

  ‘Good.’ I wipe my hands and stalk off in the direction of the kitchen, leaving him standing alone at the serving table.

  Holly and I go to the pits to watch the start of the race, but I’m distracted. I’m standing in Will’s garage, but Mrs Castro beckons me into Luis’s. Not wanting to seem impolite, I tug on Holly’s arm and we go to join the Castros. The cars are already on the grid and we watch as they set off on their warm-up lap. As they pull around the last corner and take their starting positions, my throat starts to feel constricted and my whole body tenses up. The red lights go out to denote the start and, even though Will gets away without any trouble, I can practically hear my heart thumping in my chest.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Holly asks me after a few laps. ‘You’re as white as a sheet.’

  I can’t look at her. My eyes are glued to the television screen at the front of the garage.

  ‘Daisy?’

  I shake my head. I can’t speak. Will attempts an overtaking manoeuvre and suddenly I get palpitations and clutch my hands to my chest.

  ‘Bloody hell, Daisy, what’s going on?’ Holly grabs my arm. Pete sees us and comes over.

  ‘Is she alright?’ he asks Holly. Luis’s family look on with concern.

  ‘Daisy!’ Holly demands.

  I feel dizzy. I feel like I’m going to faint. But I can’t look away. Will has just taken third place. Suddenly everything goes red in front of my eyes and then black.

  When I come to, I’m on the other side of the garage and Holly is fanning my face. The Castros are looking on, worriedly.

  I try to sit up.

  ‘Just take it easy,’ Mr Castro insists.

  ‘What’s happened? Is Will okay?’ Panic threatens to engulf me once more.

  Holly glances at Luis’s family, guardedly.

  ‘Both Luis and Will are fine. Will’s in third place, Luis is still running second. Come on,’ she says, helping me up, ‘I think we should go back to the hospitality suite.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Frederick demands to know when Holly has sat me down with a glass of cold water.

  ‘She fainted,’ Holly explains.

  ‘Hmm. Must be the heat,’ he says, even though it’s not that hot today. ‘Sit there for a while.’

  ‘Are you going to be alright?’ Holly asks.

  ‘Yes, I’ll be fine,’ I reply weakly. ‘I’ll be back on my feet in a minute.’

  ‘Don’t you dare. Just relax. Watch the race.’

  But when I look up at the cars on the big screen, the same thing happens. Nausea creeps into my throat. I lean forwards and put my head in my hands.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I hear an American man ask.

  I look up to see one of the sponsors peering at me.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I quickly tell him, getting to my feet and steadying myself on one of the chairs. ‘Thank you.’ I hurry back into the kitchen.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Holly snaps. ‘I thought I told you to chill out.’

  ‘I’d rather keep busy,’ I say, steadfastly walking to one of the counters and grabbing a tomato to slice.

  She stares at me, hesitantly for a moment, before seeing my determination. After a while, she decides to go back to the pits, but I tell her to take Gertrude. I diligently work away for the next hour, trying not to think about the race. Finally I hear the sound of applause from outside in the hospitality area. I’ve been using the blender on and off so it’s the first commotion I’ve heard. I hurry out of the kitchen and ask one of the guests what’s going on.

  ‘Luis came second!’

  Is it over already? ‘That’s great!’ I say. ‘What about Will?’

  He looks at me like I’m nuts. ‘Didn’t you see his crash?’

  ‘His crash?’ I feel light-headed.

  ‘He’s okay,’ the man hurriedly assures me. ‘It wasn’t a bad one.’

  ‘When? What happened?’

  ‘Takahashi span off the track and clipped Will’s wing. It happened about half an hour ago,’ he explains.

  Naoki Takahashi is a Japanese driver for one of the least competitive teams.

  ‘Do you know where Will is now?’ I ask, but the man just shrugs. I quickly hurry up the stairs to Will’s room. There’s no answer when I knock, so I tentatively push the door open. The room is empty. There’s no sign of his bags.

  I run back down the stairs and crash into Holly. ‘Where’s Will?’ I demand to know. ‘Have you seen him?’

  ‘No.’ She gives me a look. ‘I thought you were staying away from him from now on?’

  I take a deep breath and she obviously feels sorry for me because she says, ‘I’ll find out, don’t worry.’

  Ten minutes later she comes to find me. ‘He’s gone.’

  ‘Gone? Where?’

 
‘Back to the UK. Simon said he could catch an early flight instead of waiting around for the debriefing meeting.’

  I’m crushed.

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll see him again in a couple of weeks.’

  A couple of weeks? I can’t bear it! I stare across at my bag, where my mobile phone is buried deep within. I could text him, while I know he’s still at the airport or on a plane . . . While I know there’s no chance of him being with his girlfriend, yet . . .

  I snatch up my bag and hurry to the ladies’ room.

  ‘Where are you going? Daisy!’ Holly calls after me. I ignore her.

  I go inside a cubicle and dig my phone out from inside my bag. What should I say? I think for a moment before typing out:

  I HOPE UR OK.

  But what if he doesn’t know it’s from me? I add:

  DAISY X

  Is the kiss too much? Should I send it? Fuck it. I press send and instantly regret it.

  I sit on the loo with the seat down scrutinising my phone for a full three minutes before I decide he’s not going to reply. Just as I go to put my phone back in my bag, it beeps. I quickly pull it out again.

  I’ M OK. THANKS. SORRY I MISSED YOU.

  It may only be a short text, but I feel giddy with happiness. Head spinning, I type out another message:

  YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID GOODBYE

  I press send and he immediately replies:

  I COULD’T SEE YOU ANYWHERE

  So he did think of me!

  I WAS IN THE KITCHEN!

  He writes back:

  SORRY. WASN’ T REALLY WITH IT. SEE YOU IN MONACO X

  He signed off with a kiss! I gleefully type out:

  I LOOK FORWARD TO IT X

  Another kiss. Naughty Daisy! Oh, God, I just can’t help myself. I sit there in a daze until I hear an American woman outside the cubicle say, ‘I don’t know who’s in there; she’s been ages.’

  Mortified, I stuff my phone back into my bag and flush the toilet, before rushing out with my head down, murmuring, ‘Sorry’ to the queue of people waiting. It only occurs to me later that I didn’t wash my hands. Not a good look for catering staff, but I’m hoping no one saw my uniform.