by Paige Toon
‘Do you do much cooking for Frederick?’ he asks as I plate up our food.
‘Not a lot,’ I tell him. ‘I wish I could do more.’
‘Why don’t you?’
‘Frederick always wants me out front of house.’
‘That’s because you’re so gorgeous.’
I laugh. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere.’
‘Will it?’ he asks flirtatiously.
‘Eat your dinner.’
‘Mmm. It’s really good,’ he comments between mouthfuls.
As I look across the table at him, I’m suddenly hit with realisation. He’s almost mine. And I didn’t even go out of my way to get him. I can barely believe it.
‘What time do we need to set off?’ I ask after a while.
He pushes spaghetti around on his plate with his fork. ‘We could always stay here . . .’
‘Here? What? And drive back in the morning?’
‘Set off early, yeah. Don’t worry, you can sleep in one of the guest rooms,’ he says when he sees me wavering.
‘No, it’s not that,’ I reply.
‘Isn’t it?’ He raises one eyebrow at me.
‘Stop it, you.’ I roll my eyes. ‘I want to start with a clean slate.’
‘Yeah, me too.’ He looks away. ‘I’ll keep my hands to myself.’
After we’ve eaten, I text Holly to let her know my plans and then start to wash the dishes while Will goes off to text Laura.
‘Did she text you back?’ I ask, when he re-enters the kitchen.
‘Not yet, no. I doubt she will at this hour. She’ll be too pissed off with me.’
I don’t say anything, just continue to scrub at the plates.
‘Hey, what are you doing?’ he says suddenly. ‘I’ve got a dish-washer.’
‘Yes, I know, but I didn’t think we should leave any evidence of us being here together. You know, in case anyone comes over after the race . . .’
He joins me at the sink and picks up a tea towel, drying the plates as I hand them to him.
When the surfaces have been wiped down and everything put away, I follow him out of the kitchen. He reaches back to switch off the lights and then leads the way up the stairs.
‘First floor you’ve seen . . .’ Massive living room area. ‘Second floor is all guest bedrooms.’ He gives me a quick tour around the three of them. Two have en-suites and there’s a third large bathroom.
‘Which one should I sleep in?’ I ask.
‘Take your pick.’ He continues up the stairs.
‘And this is where I am.’ He pushes open the door to the master suite. It’s enormous, running from the front to the back of the house with a huge bathroom set off to the right. His giant bed is covered with a bronze bedspread and the furniture is dark mahogany. Very masculine.
‘Nice. I like it.’
‘Laura thinks it’s too boysey.’
I don’t say anything.
‘Sorry,’ he apologises when he sees my face. ‘I shouldn’t keep bringing her up.’
I sit down on his bed. ‘It must be hard. You’ve known her so many years.’
He sits down beside me and looks ahead solemnly. ‘It is a bit sad,’ he concedes. ‘But these things happen. We’ve been together so long and, I don’t know, we’ve both changed.’
I turn to look at him. ‘Would you have broken up with her if you hadn’t met me?’
He glances at me and looks away again. ‘I don’t know.’
‘I feel terrible,’ I say suddenly. ‘She seems like a really nice girl.’
‘She is.’ He turns to face me and puts his hand on my knee. ‘But you are, too.’
‘I don’t think anyone else is going to see it like that. Holly thinks the British press are going to hate me.’
Will frowns. ‘That’s not a very nice thing to say.’
‘It’s true, though.’
He grins. ‘Let’s move to Monaco, then.’
I laugh. ‘Okay!’
He collapses back on the bed and shuffles up so his head is resting on a pillow. He pats the space next to him so I join him. We stare up at the ceiling as he takes my hand in his.
‘Do you ever think you’ll go back to America?’ he asks.
‘I will someday. But not for a while.’
‘Do you miss it?’
‘No.’ My reply is blunt.
A memory flickers back to me of walking through Central Park on a frosty morning in January a few years ago. I was on the phone to my mother and she was telling me that my father wanted me to come home for dinner that night. I told her I was busy, like I usually do, and I now recall the disappointment in her voice.
I know I should call her.
And I also know that I won’t.
I shake my head to rid myself of my thoughts.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Will asks.
‘My parents.’
‘How long has it been since you’ve seen them?’
‘About three years.’
‘Wow.’
‘Have you thought any more about coming to stay in a hotel near here?’
‘Yes, and I couldn’t do that,’ I reply.
‘Why not?’ He shifts to face me.
‘I just couldn’t, Will.’
‘You know what I’m going to do?’ He raises one eyebrow, teasingly.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to book you into The Knightsbridge for a month and pay up front. Then you’ll have no choice but to stay there.’
‘You’d better not,’ I say.
‘I’m going to.’
‘I won’t use the room.’
‘Yes, you will.’ He wraps his arm around me and pulls me to him. I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat, smiling. It feels so right in his arms. ‘Or you could just stay here, with me.’
‘I wish I could,’ I tell him. ‘But that wouldn’t be fair on Laura.’
He doesn’t say anything for a while, then he speaks.
‘I’ll have to tell her about you sooner rather than later.’
I prop myself up and look at him. ‘Why?’
‘She won’t accept that our relationship is over unless I do.’ He pulls me back down.
‘Oh God, everyone’s going to think I’m the wicked witch of the west.’
‘North-east,’ he corrects me.
‘Oi!’ I slap his stomach and it automatically tenses beneath me. ‘It’s not funny.’
‘Monaco,’ he jokes, as he pulls me in tighter.
I smile and relax.
We lie there in silence for a long time until his breathing slows and I glance up to see that his eyes have closed. I start to detach myself.
‘Where are you going?’ he asks groggily.
‘To bed,’ I reply. ‘You need to sleep.’
‘No, stay here.’ He pulls me back down and, a moment later, tugs on the bedcovers underneath us, wriggling around until I get up and help him pull them back. We climb under the sheets and snuggle up together again, still fully dressed. Soon the sound of his breathing slows again, but I lie there for a long time afterwards before I finally fall asleep.
In the early hours of the morning, just as the birds are beginning to sing in the trees outside the window, I wake up. Will is sleeping on his side, facing me. I resist the urge to reach over and stroke his face, but then he stirs and his eyes open. We lie there, staring at each other in the darkness for a minute. And then he pulls me to him and we kiss, unspeaking. My whole body tingles as our kiss deepens to become more passionate. And then he’s unbuttoning my jeans and I’m doing the same to his, before we both tear off our T-shirts and he lowers himself onto me.
It’s intense, so intense, and it’s over too quickly. He stays inside me for a while afterwards as our breathing steadies, and then he rolls off and pulls me back into his warm arms.
He soon falls into a deep sleep again, but I doze in and out of slumber until the dawn begins to brighten and light spills underneath the bl
inds. Will’s watch starts to beep and he comes to, stretching his arms over his head so they press up against the headboard. He looks across at me and smiles sleepily.
‘We’d better get going.’
I nod and reach for my clothes down the side of the bed. If it weren’t for the fact that I’m naked, I would think that what happened between us was just a dream.
‘Shall I drop you back to the hotel?’ Will asks an hour and a half later. It’s six thirty.
‘Yeah, that’d be great. We’re doing the late shift today.’ By late, it means eight o’clock, so it’s still disastrous if you’ve got a hangover.
He drives into the car park.
‘You’d better go first,’ he says.
I put my hand on the door handle, but he pulls me back.
‘If I don’t get a chance to speak to you much today, I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘Okay.’ I turn back to leave.
‘Daisy . . .’
‘Yes?’
He puts his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me to him, touching his lips to mine. ‘See ya later.’
‘Bye.’
Chapter 18
‘Go on, you can spare another muffin. I’m wasting away here!’ The fat American man in front of me cracks up laughing as I stifle a yawn and add a chocolate muffin to the collection of pastries on his plate. Will’s parents walk into the hospitality area behind him, making me automatically stiffen as I hand his plate over.
‘Thanks, bun tart!’ Fatty dissolves into giggles again, before walking away. I’m distracted watching Will’s parents stop to talk to Laura.
Will and Laura arrived at the track together again this morning and he didn’t meet my eyes. Laura was immaculate, wearing a blue sundress with white trim and white heels, and I’m certain everyone here was thinking that she and Will looked like the perfect couple. I felt a rush of jealousy when I saw her, followed by several sharp pangs of guilt at the thought of what happened last night.
But the jealousy soon prevailed. Laura doesn’t seem like someone who’s worried they’re about to lose the love of their life, and her confidence concerns me. If she’s not worried, should I be?
I’m debating whether I can bear to watch the race from the garages with Laura and Will’s parents there when Frederick takes the decision away from me.
‘I need you girls doing the catering in the pits. Come and get the supplies from the kitchen, would you?’
By the time we get there, Laura and the Trusts have already settled themselves in Will’s half of the garage. I’m bristling with annoyance and jealousy as I set up the catering while the three of them chatter away, ignoring me.
‘Come on, let’s go and do some celeb spotting,’ Holly suggests, aware of my pain. I follow her gladly.
As we climb over the wall that separates the pits from the starting grid, the thought occurs to me that Johnny Jefferson might be milling around the track, seeing as this is his home Grand Prix, but I can’t see him, thankfully. That would have been the last straw, I think, although if I had a choice between Johnny or Laura being here, I’d choose the former every time. I’m taking this as proof that I am definitely over him.
Holly and I wander to the front of the grid where we spot Will being interviewed by a television crew. He glances my way but carries on, unfaltering. I dither for a moment before deciding that yes, I do want to wait until he’s finished so I can wish him good luck for the race. Holly complies and we lean up against a nearby wall. Luis is being chatted up by some of the brolly dollies. Stunning girls in hotpants and advertisements splayed across their straining T-shirts . . . He’s in his element.
‘Where’s the lovely Laura today?’ I hear the interviewer ask Will and my attention is immediately diverted.
‘She’s in the garage, I think.’ Will looks uncomfortable to me, but I’m not sure the interviewer would pick up on it.
‘And will we be hearing wedding bells anytime soon?’
What?
‘Er, I’d better just concentrate on the racing for now.’ Will flashes the interviewer a grin.
Holly and I wait for the interviewer to finish up his piece to camera. Will glances at us and raises his eyebrows. Finally the television crew moves away and we start towards him. But then out of the corner of my eye I see her – the blonde in the blue sundress. I hold Holly back as a smiling Laura reaches Will’s side and affectionately rubs his arm. Holly pulls on my hand. ‘You’re staring,’ she says quietly.
I quickly avert my gaze and it falls instead on Luis. He meets my eyes, ignoring the pretty grid girl fawning all over him.
‘Let’s go,’ I mutter to Holly, giving Will one last glance before turning to climb the wall. As we get to the other side, I look back to see Laura departing and Will staring regretfully after me. Then Luis stalks over to Will, his expression furious. I only catch the look of surprise on Will’s face before I have to concentrate on getting across the pit lane without bumping into the hordes vacating the grid. What on earth is Luis saying to him?
Will’s parents are standing within the lines of the white box painted on the floor of Will’s garage. Moments later, Laura joins them. I suddenly feel angry. This isn’t right. This isn’t right at all.
‘Let’s go through here,’ Holly urges, but I’m rooted to the spot. ‘Daisy,’ she prompts. I reluctantly follow her. By the time we reach Luis’s garage, the cars have set off on their warm-up lap. The camera shows hundreds of race fans in the grandstands blowing whistles and holding up banners in support of Will. My heart starts to beat faster as the camera zooms in on his car.
I don’t want to be here.
But I’m not leaving if she’s not leaving.
The cars come around the last corner and take their places on the grid, then the lights go out and they’re off.
I feel sick. Dizzy. Will makes it around the first corner and keeps his position, but Luis is hot on his tail.
Focus, Daisy! If you leave, they’ll win! They’ll all win! His parents detest you, Laura barely knows you exist, but you have a right to be here. You should be standing in that box, not them!
I look away from the cars on the television screen and stare at the back of Pete’s helmet-encased head, trying to distract myself from the dizziness I’m feeling.
A collective gasp of shock brings me back to my senses. I glance up at the television screen again to see a car turning in the air like a spinning top, car parts shattering and splintering across the track as it smashes into a tyre wall and lands the wrong side up on a gravel pit. The blood drains from my face as I realise it’s Will. Flames flicker underneath his car as track marshals clamber across the race wall to get to him.
I’m vaguely aware of Holly’s hand on my arm and the sound of Will’s mother shrieking in the garage next door.
Everyone else is eerily silent, just staring at the footage on the television screens. The track marshals have put out the fire and an ambulance crew has arrived. Moments later they’re pulling out a white sheet to shield Will from the spectators.
‘What’s going on? Why have they covered him up?’ Laura sounds slightly hysterical.
Whereas I feel frighteningly calm.
‘He’ll be okay,’ Holly says. ‘Don’t worry.’ It sounds like she’s very, very small and is speaking in a tiny, tinny voice. I barely register her words. A chill goes through me as I remember what Will said about topping himself if he ever got paralysed.
Suddenly Will’s parents and Laura are being bustled out of the garages and I watch after them, panicked.
‘Where are they going?’ I hear myself ask Holly.
‘With the ambulance.’
‘I should go.’ I start to move, but she puts her hand on my arm to hold me back.
‘Daisy, you can’t,’ she says firmly. ‘Family only.’
My heart races. Will I even be able to visit him at the hospital?
‘Let’s go back to the kitchen,’ Holly says. I hesitate, suddenly tearful. ‘Come on. We ca
n’t let anyone see you like this.’ She helps me to my feet and ushers me across the asphalt outside the garages to the hospitality area.
‘I want to go to Will’s room,’ I murmur as we walk through the doors to the hospitality suite. ‘Tell Frederick I’m not feeling well.’
She nods and lets go of my arm as I rush towards the stairs. Once inside Will’s private room, I close the door and lean up against it, breathing deeply with my eyes closed. When I open them again, I notice the contents of Will’s bag are spilling out on the floor. I need something to do so I kneel on the floor and start to fold up his clothes, placing them in a little pile on the coffee table. I come across the black T-shirt that he was wearing on Thursday night and press it to my nose, breathing it in. It still smells of him.
In a daze, I fold up the T-shirt and put it, along with everything else, into his bag before zipping the bag up and taking a seat on the sofa. I don’t know how much time passes, but Holly comes in eventually. I stare up at her, my eyes hopeful, but she won’t look at me. Why won’t she look at me?
‘Have you heard anything?’ I come to life and ask this question as she kneels in front of the sofa and puts her hands on my knees.
‘Holly?’ My voice sounds squeaky, different.
And then she meets my eyes. Hers are filled with tears.
‘No . . .’ I start to say. She tries to pull me in for a hug, but I push her away. ‘No, no, no . . .’
‘Daisy, I’m sorry.’
‘No, no, no . . .’
‘Daisy, please . . .’
‘No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! NO! NO!’ I start to scream.
‘Daisy! Daisy!’ She pulls on me frantically as I stand up.
‘NO! NO!’ My hands claw my face, but I can’t feel the pain. All the pain I have is caught up inside me. It’s in my heart. My heart is dying.
‘NO!’
He can’t be . . . He can’t be . . .
‘I’m sorry!’ Holly cries, once again trying to comfort me. She grabs my hands, pulling them away from my scratched-raw face, but I fight back, unable to calm down, unable to accept what I know she’s trying to tell me.
He’s not . . . He’s not . . . He’s not . . .
My whole world is crashing down around my ears and all I can think about is his face in the darkness this morning. His body pressed up against mine. I want him back. He can’t be!