by Paige Toon
‘It doesn’t look good, does it? I know.’ I pull a notepad out of my handbag.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks.
‘Let’s make it look like we’re having a business meeting.’
‘Good plan.’
But we can’t relax after that, and we leave soon after we’ve eaten.
‘I could do with an early night, anyway,’ he tells me as we pull into the hotel car park.
‘It’s going to be very early at this rate.’
‘I think I might drive back to London,’ he says.
‘Really?’ I’m surprised.
‘Yeah, I don’t have to be at the track until ten o’clock tomorrow, and it’d be nice to be home for a change.’
‘Are you going right now?’ He hasn’t turned the ignition off.
‘May as well. I don’t need anything from my room.’
‘Okay, then.’ I open the door and hesitate for a second, wondering if he might kiss me. But he doesn’t, so I climb out. ‘See you
tomorrow.’
‘Night.’
I close the door and I hear the low growl of the Porsche pulling away behind me as I walk back into the hotel. That wasn’t exactly a night to remember after all that waiting . . .
The next morning, Luis arrives before Will.
‘Have you seen my spare helmet anywhere?’ he asks me.
‘No. Isn’t it upstairs?’
‘No. I don’t think I left it behind in China . . .’
‘I doubt you would have done that,’ I reply. ‘Anyway, what’s wrong with your other one?’
‘Some of the stickers are coming unstuck. And it’s a bit grubby.’
‘Want me to have a look at it for you?’
He shrugs. ‘If you wouldn’t mind.’
I turn to Holly. She nods, having overheard. I follow Luis up the stairs to his room. ‘Where is it?’
‘Here.’ He hands it to me.
‘It looks alright,’ I say.
‘No, look.’ He snatches the helmet back and smoothes down the corner of one sponsorship sticker which is very, very slightly raised up.
‘Give it here.’ I hold my hand out for the helmet and he complies, then I perch on a chair and give it a good polish.
‘So how are you after China?’ I ask. ‘I heard you had a bit of a run-in with Simon?’
‘Where did you hear that?’ He looks annoyed.
‘Holly,’ I reply, and he rolls his eyes.
‘Yeah, well, he’s screwing up my championship chances.’
‘That’s not strictly true, is it?’
‘That’s what it felt like at the time.’
‘Anyway, you got back to Brazil? Was it nice? Did you see your niece?’
‘Yeah. Cute little thing. So light!’
‘Light?’
‘As in, not heavy. Tiny! Yeah, it was good to get home for a bit.’
‘How are your parents?’
‘Fine. Mãe told me off for giving you stick about the biscuits.’
‘Did she?’ I laugh. ‘So how do you feel about being on Will’s home turf? Worried?’
‘Ha! He’s the one who should be worried.’
I smirk and turn my attention back to the job at hand. ‘I think you’re going to have to replace it with a new one.’ I’m referring to the sticker, not the helmet.
‘I could have told you that ages ago.’
I stand up. ‘I’ll sort it for you.’ He also gets to his feet. ‘Thank you,’ I prompt, giving him a meaningful look.
‘Thanks,’ he replies indifferently. He follows me out of the room and down the stairs, back into the hospitality area, where I’m greeted with the sight of Laura happily chatting away to a group of sponsors.
‘Watch it!’ Luis exclaims, bumping into me.
‘Sorry,’ I mutter, averting my gaze. The sponsors all seem to know her – and adore her from the looks on their simpering faces.
‘Oh,’ Luis says, spying the reason for our two-person pile-up.
‘I’ll get this sorted for you,’ I tell him, holding up his helmet and hurrying away. I don’t expect him to follow, so I’m surprised when he does. He drags me into the corridor leading to the toilets and spins me around to face him. ‘He’s never going to leave her, you know.’
I look at him defiantly. ‘He already has.’
‘What?’ he barks.
‘He already has left her.’
‘Then what the cazzo is she doing here?’
I grin involuntarily at the sound of his Italian. ‘They’re keeping it quiet until after Silverstone. She’s got some charity event going on.’
Luis scoffs.
‘It’s true,’ I continue. ‘Ask him yourself if you don’t believe me. But don’t tell anyone else. She doesn’t know about me yet,’ I add, to which Luis gives me a wry look. ‘What?’ I ask defensively. ‘It’s too soon for him to tell her.’
He nods. ‘So you just have to be bun tart this weekend while she sits back and acts like a princess? That’ll be fun,’ he adds, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
‘Well, I didn’t say it would be fun, Luis, but what choice do I have?’
A woman comes out of the ladies’ room and Luis pulls me to one side so she can get past.
‘Is she staying at the hotel with him?’ he asks suddenly.
‘No!’ I’m outraged. ‘Of course, she isn’t!’ At least, I don’t think she is . . .
Luis raises his eyebrows.
‘What are you looking like that for?’ I demand to know. ‘Do you know if she’s staying at the hotel?’ Bile seeps into my throat.
He shakes his head and his lips turn down. ‘No . . .’
‘Then what’s with the questions?’ Now I’m angry. When he doesn’t reply I spin around to leave, and at that exact moment, Laura walks around the corner and almost crashes into me.
‘Sorry!’ she exclaims, putting her hands on my arms to steady us both.
‘Excuse me,’ I murmur, squeezing past her and scampering back into the safety of the kitchen.
I keep poking my head out of the door to see if I can spy Will, and when I finally do, I make to leave the kitchen.
‘Where are you going, now?’ Frederick demands to know.
‘I, er, just have to go and see Will for a minute,’ I stutter.
‘Those dishes aren’t going to wash themselves,’ he snaps.
‘No, I’m sorry, I won’t be long.’ I look at him anxiously, but he turns away. He’s obviously been noticing my recent disappearing acts.
I walk out just in time to see Will going up the stairs. I hurry after him, glancing around me to see Laura sitting at a table with Catalina. I hope she doesn’t follow him up. I knock on his door and don’t wait for him to tell me to enter before pushing it open.
‘Is she staying with you? At the hotel?’ I barely have time to close the door before I start my interrogation.
‘Hi!’ He looks startled.
‘Just tell me, Will. Is she staying with you?’
He looks uncomfortable. ‘She is staying at the hotel, yes.’
‘In your room?’
He hesitates before answering. ‘Yes. But we’re not sleeping together.’
‘Oh, God.’ I feel overwrought. I want to cry. I turn to walk out.
‘Daisy, wait!’ He gets up and puts his hand on the door, blocking my exit. ‘It’s not like that.’
‘Yes, I know, Will, you’re just keeping up appearances. Well, to hell with that! Sorry, but this is too hard!’ I try to turn the handle,
but he blocks me again.
‘Please. It’s only for this race. She won’t come to any more.’
‘I have to go,’ I say dully. ‘I have to get back to work.’
‘Stay for a minute,’ he begs, putting his hand on my arm. I can’t look at him.
‘No. Frederick’s getting annoyed with me.’
‘Is he?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay.’ He lets go of my arm and I walk out, feeling eve
n worse than I did when I walked in.
I refuse to go out that night, preferring to stay in my hotel room and torture myself with my thoughts instead. It’s the night of Laura’s charity do, and everyone who’s anyone is going. Holly is furious because Simon is attending it with Catalina. Not that she’s telling me that, mind. She’s out drowning her sorrows with Pete and the lads. The next morning, both of us are in horrible moods when we arrive at the track. It’s Saturday, the day for qualifying, and a huge turnout is expected in Will’s honour.
I’m outside at the serving table when Will and Laura appear together. I’m guessing he gave her a lift into the track from the hotel. He flashes me an awkward glance, then stops to talk to Simon at a nearby table. A moment later he turns around to speak to a man and a woman who walked in the door behind him. He says something to them and points in my direction, then pulls up a chair at Simon’s table. Laura leads them my way and they’re almost upon me before I realise they could be Will’s parents.
They appear to be in their late fifties and are both wearing smart tweed suits with pristine white shirts. The woman has a matching tweed hat.
‘Good morning,’ I say brightly, hoping to make a good impression.
Neither of them answer, but the woman looks me up and down, disdainfully.
‘Hello,’ Laura says to me. ‘Daisy, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I reply, taken aback. I don’t want her to be nice enough to remember my name.
She turns to the woman. ‘What would you like?’
‘I’ll take a tea,’ she replies, in an upper-crust British accent.
‘Mr Trust?’ Laura asks. Doesn’t she even call them by their first names?
‘Yes, that’ll do.’ His tone is curt.
‘Three teas, please,’ Laura says to me, forcing a smile. She looks as uncomfortable as I feel. Considering she’s known Will’s parents most of her life, I don’t fancy my chances much.
I pick up the teapot and begin pouring the tea, before remembering to ask if they take milk.
‘Start again,’ Will’s mother insists, glaring at the half-full teacups in front of her.
‘Sorry,’ I mutter, feeling my face heat up as Laura fidgets with her gold bracelet in front of me. I wonder if Will bought it for her? Trying not to be distracted by that thought, I put the spoiled cups to one side and pour in a little milk before adding the tea this time. I pass them over, aware that my hands are shaking.
Will’s mother glances at Laura and a small smile forms on her lips. I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief when she says, ‘One couldn’t expect an American to make a decent cup of tea, could one?’
Laura smiles awkwardly and leads them away, giving me a sympathetic look over her shoulder.
‘They look like they’ve got – what do you say? – pokers shoved up their arses.’ Luis appears out of nowhere.
I meet his eyes and my nose starts to prickle. Oh God, please don’t cry. He looks shocked as he realises I’m about to do just that, but I quickly rush off to the bathroom.
No, no, no, I tell myself after I’ve locked the door and sat down on the seat. I will not cry. This is ridiculous. I haven’t cried over him yet, and I can handle this situation. The end is nigh, Daisy, the end is nigh! I wave my hands in front of my face and try not to be melodramatic. Happy things. Think happy things. Puppies, kittens . . . I’ve always wanted a pet, but my father wouldn’t let me. No! That’s not a happy thought! Nonna . . . Nice Nonna. I miss her. I hardly ever see her. No! Another horrid thought! Holly . . . Laughing, smiling Holly . . . Who’s lying to me about her relationship with a married man. Argh! Luis and I in Monaco pestering the French bartender for new swear words. I start to smirk and moments later feel better about returning outside. Luis has gone, but Holly looks at me with concern.
‘Don’t give me any sympathy,’ I warn. She understands it will only set me off again, so we work away in silence.
Mr and Mrs Trust are sitting with Laura at a table. Will isn’t with them, but after a while he comes downstairs kitted out in his racing gear. He goes straight over to them.
‘I have to get to the pits for qualifying,’ I overhear him say. ‘Would you like to come?’
‘Fine, yes,’ his mother replies, sipping the last of her tea. She turns to Laura. ‘Will you join us?’
‘Yes. Thank you.’ Laura smiles and all three stand up. Will doesn’t look my way as they follow him out of the hospitality area.
‘Are you coming to watch qualifying?’ Holly asks as soon as they’re out of eyesight.
‘No.’ My reply is blunt. I damn well won’t.
It was an exciting session, I discover later, when team members start to spill back into the hospitality area. Will sneaked pole position with Luis less than one tenth of a second behind him, so he’ll start in second place on the grid tomorrow. I don’t feel as happy as I know I should. My run-in with Will’s parents has left a seriously nasty taste in my mouth, and the other thing that’s bothering me is how I feel about Laura. She seems like a nice person and if I feel bad about breaking her heart, how is everyone else going to feel about me?
Will is completely oblivious to my dilemma when he returns from the pits with a spring in his step. He comes over to me, grinning.
‘Did you see it?’
‘No, I was here. Well done,’ I add unsmiling.
He gives me a querying look, but doesn’t say anything because people are in earshot. ‘Can you sort me out with a team shirt?’ he prompts eventually.
‘Now?’
‘Yes, please.’
I come out from behind the serving table and stalk off towards the stairs.
‘What’s up with you?’ he asks as soon as we’re inside his private room.
‘I met your parents,’ I reply sombrely.
‘Were they okay with you?’
‘Not really, Will. I get the feeling they don’t like Americans very much.’
‘Well . . .’ He looks away from me. ‘I told you what they were like.’
‘I didn’t think they’d be that bad. And they’re going to hate me even more when they discover . . .’ I can feel myself getting slightly hysterical now.
‘It will be alright,’ he lies. ‘Anyway, I don’t care what my parents think. If my dad writes me out of his will, fuck it!’
‘Writes you out of his will?’ I ask, horrified. ‘Would it really come to that? Over your relationship with me?’
‘Calm down,’ he insists, putting his hands on my arms. I shrug him off. ‘I can’t handle this.’ I turn to leave. ‘It’s all too much, Will.’
‘Daisy, please . . .’ He tries to grab my hand, but I won’t let him. I start to open the door, but he slams it shut again.
‘You almost got my fingers!’ I squawk.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘Just wait a minute, would you?’ He’s frustrated now. I glare at him. ‘Why don’t we go for a drive tonight? Just the two of us?’
‘Oh, that sounds like such a fun night out,’ I reply sarcastically.
He frowns at me.
‘Did you sleep well last night?’ I snap.
‘No. I slept on the sofa,’ he replies pedantically.
‘Did you?’ My heart lifts a little.
‘Yes, of course.’ He takes my hand and pulls me to him, staring into my eyes. I instinctively want to look away, but I steady myself. ‘Daisy . . .’ He cups my jaw with his hand and strokes the side of my face with his thumb, sending butterflies spiralling through my stomach. ‘I’m sorry this is hurting you.’
‘It’s okay,’ I murmur, looking at his lips.
‘I just want to be with you,’ he says in a low voice, and I stare back at him, feeling like I’m drowning. ‘I’ll come and get you later.’
He doesn’t come and get me, instead I get a text, asking me to meet him in the car park.
‘This is very cloak and dagger,’ I comment, when we’ve pulled onto the road and are speeding back down the country lanes. He doesn’t reply. ‘Where are we going?
’ I ask.
‘Just for a drive,’ he says.
‘Where does Laura think you’ve gone?’
‘That’s what I’ve told her, too.’
We fall silent for a while. Will reaches across and turns the radio on. The sound of The Verve fills the car.
‘Um . . .’ he says after a while. I look across at him. ‘I’ve just had a thought.’ I wait for him to continue. He glances at me. ‘We could go back to mine?’
‘What, in Chelsea?’
‘Yeah.’
‘That’s a bit of a trek, isn’t it?’
‘It’ll only take an hour or so.’
‘Okay, then.’ I sit up straighter in my seat, feeling much happier with this plan. I’m dying to see his house.
But by the time we get there, it’s nine thirty and I’m starting to wonder if this was the best idea. Will needs to get his sleep for the race tomorrow and, at this rate, we should probably be turning around and going straight back again.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks as we step over the threshold into his hall. I tell him my concerns and he shrugs as he kicks off his shoes. ‘I’ll be okay. Luis manages on barely any sleep, doesn’t he?’
I take off my shoes, too, and leave them by the door. ‘Yeah, but Luis is Luis.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ He looks irritated.
‘Nothing. You two are just a bit different, that’s all. Wow, I like your place.’ He lives in a white stucco four-storey Victorian townhouse and we’ve entered on the first – or upper-ground – floor. He takes me straight through to the living room and it’s very much a lad’s pad, lots of black, white and silver with a humungous flatscreen TV up against the far wall. I go and peer out of one of three, very tall windows, but it’s dark outside.
‘Do you have a garden?’ I ask.
‘A small one, yes. It’s nice in this weather.’
‘I bet.’
‘Do you want a drink? Actually, are you hungry? We haven’t really eaten anything,’ he comments.
‘I could cook us something . . .’
‘There’s not a lot in the fridge.’
‘Where’s your kitchen?’ I ask. ‘Let’s go and see what you’ve got.’ Spaghetti, onions, garlic, tinned tomatoes, dried herbs and extra virgin olive oil. That’ll do. I get on with our meal while he sits at the stainless steel table and watches me. The underfloor heating is keeping my bare feet warm.