by Paige Toon
‘Frederick is going to kill us,’ Holly shouts over the noise of the engines. We should have been back half an hour ago.
‘I don’t care!’ I shout back and she giggles.
‘Neither do I!’
It all comes down to the last lap. There’s less than half a second between Kit and Luis. Will Kit make a mistake? Will Simon warn Luis to keep his distance rather than risk another crash? If he does, Luis ignores him because, suddenly, he pulls out from behind Kit and everyone in the garage holds their breath as he takes the corner. They’re so close, surely they’re going to touch, but no! Oh my God, Luis has done it! The chequered flag is waving up ahead as Kit pulls out and tries to overtake Luis again, but he fails. Luis is too quick. I’m screaming with elation as he crosses the start/finish line and everyone around me is cheering. Holly turns and hugs me. Will flicks through my mind, but I push him away. I can’t think of him now. I don’t want to.
We run outside to wait for Luis, Kit and Nils to pull up and watch as Luis leaps out of his car and punches the air. He runs straight over to the mechanics and I want him to see me there, cheering and laughing with the rest of them, but he doesn’t look my way and my stomach momentarily falls flat as he jogs inside to be weighed before the podium celebrations. A couple of minutes later he appears up above us, waving and clapping the crowd. All around there is the sound of whistles and horns going off. There’s such a buzz about the place, and it feels like all the spectators are behind Luis and his incredible race win.
The national anthems start up and everyone falls silent, then the trophies are handed out. Luis kisses his and raises it up high as we all cheer again, and then it’s champagne time . . . Luis, Kit and Nils drench each other first before spraying the crowd below. I haven’t seen Luis this happy, I don’t think ever, and as he reaches down to drop the champagne bottle to Pete, he catches my eye. I beam up at him and he winks at me with those twinkly brown eyes. Seconds later, the drivers file off for the press conference.
Did he really run out from the race in Monza to come and find me? I’m floored as the reality of this sinks in. Is my nonna right? Does he have feelings for me? Butterflies flit through my stomach and for the first time I wonder if I could have feelings for him, too.
Chapter 27
Frederick and Ingrid have got me working at a daytime function in Hampstead and I’ve been toying with the idea of texting Luis to see if I can drop over to his place for a drink afterwards.
He’s probably not in. But it is a Wednesday afternoon . . . Perhaps he’s at team HQ? Shall I? What the hell.
HI, DAISY HERE. R U IN? WORKING IN HAMPSTEAD - CLD POP ROUND?
Send.
I feel nervous. Why? It’s only Luis, for Christ’s sake.
But I’ve been thinking about him a lot since last weekend. He’s starting to get under my skin, and I don’t know how I feel about it.
Ooh, a reply:
SURE. I’M AT . . .
He adds the address.
Short and sweet. Too short and sweet? Does he even want to see me? Stop overthinking it, Daisy. But, of course, that’s easier said than done. . .
I finish the rest of my shift, then change out of my uniform into jeans and a jumper. I double check with one of my colleagues that he lives on the road that I’m thinking of, then set off down the High Street, trying not to be lured into French Connection and Reiss along the way.
I turn left on Downshire Hill and walk in the direction of the heath. On my left, the tall, white Regency houses are beautiful, nestled away from the footpath under leafy trees the shade of burnt amber. Does he seriously live along here? I count the numbers on the houses I can see, until finally I come to Luis’s. I swing open the black wrought-iron gate and walk up the stone footpath. It’s early evening and the house lights are already glowing in the encroaching darkness. I feel like I’m inside a fairytale and suddenly feel nervous again.
Will puts his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me to him, touching his lips to mine. ‘See ya later.’
No. Why am I thinking about Will now? Guilt passes through me like a wave on an ocean and I try to still it. I have nothing to feel guilty about. I’m just going for a drink with a friend.
Yes. A friend.
I knock and wait. Moments later I hear shuffling behind the heavy, aubergine-painted wooden door and then Luis opens it, his hands full of post.
‘Come in,’ he says, plonking the post down on an antique wooden side-table. There’s already a pile of letters there.
‘Don’t you ever sort your post?’ I ask, my brow furrowing.
‘When I can be bothered. Have you come round to nag me?’
‘No.’
He grins at me. ‘Come on through.’
‘I like your house,’ I say as I follow him along the wide corridor. The oak floors knock underneath my boots.
He leads me through to a bright, open kitchen. Large double doors lead out to a green garden beyond. I go straight over to look out. Growing up, I never had a garden. My garden was Central Park and, as a result, I’m always drawn to other people’s.
It’s actually quite large. A dusky-green painted gazebo is down the far end, and there’s a magnolia tree in the centre which I bet is stunning in the spring.
‘Thanks,’ he replies. ‘Do you want a coffee? Glass of wine?’
‘What’s the time?’ I glance at my watch. Five o’clock. ‘A wine would be nice. I’m exhausted after working.’
‘Red or white?’
‘I don’t mind. What are you having?’
‘Let’s go for white.’ He goes to the fridge and pulls out a bottle, then digs around in a drawer for a bottle opener.
‘How was work?’ he asks.
‘It was okay.’ I pull up a stool at the bar and watch him pour the wine into outsize glasses. ‘Society wife hosting a posh lunch for thirty of her closest friends. Amazing how those sorts of dos require so much more energy than catering for 300 people.’
‘I don’t know how you do it.’
I don’t reply.
‘Do you like it?’ He sits down at the bar opposite me.
‘I’d prefer to be out the back, cooking.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘I didn’t always want to be a bun tart, you know.’ I narrow my eyes at him and he smiles at me.
‘So why don’t you work in the kitchen for the team?’
‘Frederick won’t let me. He wants me out front of house.’ I sigh. ‘I guess I haven’t had any real training, so it’s understandable.’
‘Why don’t you get some training, then?’ He gives me an inquisitive look.
‘Um. . . I don’t know. I haven’t really considered it.’
He takes a sip of his wine while I stare off into the distance, thoughtfully. Why haven’t I applied to catering college? I know I threatened my father I’d do it in New York, but I’ve never actually looked into the possibility. . .
‘Anyway, what have you been up to?’ I change the subject.
‘Not much. Just hanging out here.’
‘When did you buy this place? It’s absolutely stunning.’
‘At the beginning of the year after I got the drive for the team.’
‘It must’ve cost a fortune,’ I muse.
‘I still have a hefty mortgage. I would have had to be in F1 for a couple of years before I could afford to buy a house like this outright.’
‘Sorry, that was a bit of a rude of me.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he brushes me off. ‘Anyway, it’s not like you’re obsessed with money, is it?’
‘Do you get a lot of that? Women going after you because you’re a rich bastard?’
He cracks up laughing. ‘I think they’re into me because I’m devastatingly good-looking.’
‘Modest, too.’
‘Have you had that problem?’ he asks.
‘What, men going after me because I’m devastatingly good-look
ing?’
‘Well, that as well.’ He winks at me. ‘But no, because of your dad’s wealth?’
‘Oh, the boys I hung out with when I was growing up all had bucketloads of money, too. And then there was Johnny Jefferson. Hardly lacking in cash.’
‘Yet you live in that studio flat on Camden Road. . .’
‘Lived,’ I correct him, fleetingly recalling how he picked me up to take me to the funeral. ‘I still miss it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it was mine. Okay, so I didn’t actually own it, but it was still the first and only place I actually had all to myself.’
He nods. ‘Well, I grew up in a tiny house, shared a room with my four brothers, and couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.’
‘I thought you were close to your family?’
‘Oh, we’re close. But that was too close for comfort.’
I laugh. ‘And now you live here in this big house all on your own.’
‘Rub it in, why don’t you?’
‘I’m joking! Don’t you love it? You must, surely.’
‘Well, it is pretty big. But no, I don’t really like being on my own.’
‘I’m sure you could find some willing women to bring back here.’ I give him a wry look and he rolls his eyes at me.
‘I’ve never brought anyone back here if you must know.’
‘Seriously?’ I regard him with surprise.
‘Seriously.’ He shrugs and looks away.
There’s something overwhelmingly nice about that. The thought that no other woman has tainted this house . . . Unlike Laura with Will’s house.
Oh, there I go again. I really must stop comparing them.
Would he have left Laura?
Would he have had a fling with me before going back to her?
Stop it! Stop torturing yourself!
Luis reaches over and tops up my wine glass, then gets to his feet and goes to the cupboard. I watch as he pulls out a packet of honey-roasted cashew nuts and decants them into a bowl. He looks – dare I say it? – sexy tonight. He’s wearing a grey sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to just below his elbows so I can see his olive-toned forearms. His black hair is longer than it was when I first met him and now falls just below his eye-line. I stare at him as he pushes the bowl of nuts in my direction.
‘How are you feeling about the next race?’ I ask.
‘Good. The car handled like a dream in Singapore, so. . .’
‘Fingers crossed for Japan. And after that, it’s Brazil.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Your home race. Are your family going to come?’
He chuckles. ‘If there’s enough room for them.’
‘Hey,’ I remember suddenly. ‘Do you listen to music before the races to psyche yourself up?’
‘Yeah,’ he replies hesitantly.
‘I saw you with your earphones in,’ I explain. ‘What were you listening to?’
‘I think it was The Chemical Brothers.’
‘The music worked, then. You won.’
‘It wasn’t just the music, Daisy.’ He stares straight at me for five, very long seconds before breaking away to have a drink. ‘How’s Holly?’ he asks. ‘You never told me why she was upset in Singapore.’
‘No,’ I reply hesitantly. ‘I probably shouldn’t now, either.’
‘Top secret, is it?’
I consider him, undecided. I know he’d keep it to himself, but would Holly mind? I don’t think so. . . ‘It’s okay. I trust you.’
He folds his arms in front of him on the bar top.
‘Catalina is pregnant.’
‘Really?’ His eyes widen and I fill him in on the whole shebang.
‘I have something top secret to tell you, too,’ he says eventually, after we’ve exhausted that topic.
I look at him with interest. ‘What’s that?’
‘I’ve been offered a drive with another team.’
‘No way?’ My heart sinks. ‘Which one?’
Luis tells me it’s for the team Kit Bryson drives for. His teammate Emilio Rizzo’s contract has expired and as Rizzo has under-performed all season, he’s been given the boot. The press will be told he made his own decision to retire from F1. He is thirty-five, after all.
‘But that’s like, the best team, isn’t it?’
He nods seriously. They’ve won the championship for the past three years. Our team usually ranks fourth or fifth.
‘Are you going to accept it?’
‘It’s for a lot more money,’ he says casually, and he doesn’t sound boastful. ‘But I don’t know. Part of me feels loyal to Simon, but he was going to fire me if I didn’t perform in Italy so I don’t know . . .’
‘I don’t think I’d enjoy working there as much if you left,’ I say in a small voice, screwing my nose up.
He chuckles and reaches across to pat my hand. ‘Well you, bun tart, should get yourself into catering college and then you wouldn’t have to miss me at all.’
I laugh. ‘But then I would miss you, because I’d never see you!’
I’m feeling a little tipsy after all this wine. It’s making me feel quite affectionate.
‘Aw,’ he says, grinning at me. ‘And to think you almost scratched my Ferrari. . .’
‘You almost ran me over, you moron!’ I jokily exclaim. ‘And you called me a crazy bitch.’
‘I didn’t!’ He looks horrified.
‘Yes, you did.’
‘I didn’t, did I?’
‘Yep.’
‘That’s horrendous. I’m sorry,’ he adds.
‘Hmm. I might forgive you one of these days.’
We sit there and chat for another half an hour before he asks if I’m hungry.
‘I am a bit,’ I reply.
‘We could nip down the road for a Chinese if you like?’
‘That’d be nice.’
‘Okay, I’ll just grab my coat.’
I go and stand in his hall while he rummages around in the cupboard under the stairs and pulls out a black biker-style jacket. I poke my head around the door and take a quick peek at his living room. There’s a large bay window overlooking the front garden. It’s dark outside now, but for a split-second I picture myself sitting in the white designer armchair, drinking a cup of espresso coffee while the sunlight spills in. I shake my head. I must be drunk.
‘Ready?’ he asks. ‘I’m just going to set the alarm.’
I walk to the front door and moments later he opens it and ushers me out to the sound of beeping. We walk down the footpath to the road.
‘I can’t believe Hampstead is only a short tube ride away from the city,’ I muse. ‘It’s like you’re in the middle of nowhere, here.’
‘That’s what I like about it,’ he says. ‘Best of both worlds. Hampstead Heath is just there.’ He points over his shoulder. ‘Lots of swans and ducks to feed.’
I crack up laughing as he wraps his arm around my neck and gives me a squeeze. I feel my face heat up in the darkness as he pulls away again, but I don’t think he notices.
Dinner is a delight. We talk about anything and everything and I realise I haven’t felt so relaxed in a long time. By the time dessert comes around and Luis insists on ordering toffee apples and bananas with ice-cream, I really don’t want the evening to end.
We walk out into the crisp night air and I look at my watch. It’s ten o’clock.
‘I should be getting home.’
‘Don’t want to come back for a coffee?’
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘I’ve got a bit of a trek back to Holly’s. I don’t think I could stand it if it were much later.’
‘You could always stay over, if you like.’
‘No, no, I couldn’t.’ Could I?
‘Why not? I’ve got plenty of room.’
‘No, I’d better get back.’
‘Yet you persuaded me to crash at your nonna’s . . .’ He tuts and I continue to waver before he brushes me off. ‘Suit yourself. Shall I call you a cab?�
�
‘It’s alright, I’ll go by tube.’ I pause before adding, ‘Thanks for a lovely night.’
‘You’re welcome. Thanks for dropping round.’
We stand and smile at each other for a moment. I want to give him a kiss on the cheek – at the very least – but we haven’t had that sort of touchy feely relationship in the past. I take a step backwards.
‘Well, bye, then.’
‘Bye.’ He turns to walk away. ‘See you next week,’ he calls over his shoulder.
‘For sure,’ I call back, feeling bizarrely deflated as I start to climb the steep hill back towards the tube.
I think about him the whole way home. Holly’s bedroom light is on when I arrive and I knock on her door, desperately wanting to tell her about my evening.
‘Come in,’ she calls.
‘Hi!’ I excitedly push the door open. And then I see her face. She’s been crying again. ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask with concern.
Her face crumbles. ‘He’s not going to leave her.’ And then she starts to sob.
‘What are you going to do?’ I ask, after rubbing her back for a few minutes.
‘I don’t know. I don’t think I could stand to see her get bigger and bigger and know that he’s going to be the father to that . . . that. . . little demon!’
I make a face at the description, but obviously don’t pull her up on it. ‘So will you quit?’
‘No. Oh, I don’t know! It’s a bloody nightmare! Maybe she’ll lose it?’ Her eyes brighten up.
‘Holly,’ I warn, and she starts to cry again.
Needless to say, I think any discussions about Luis are going to have to be put on hold for the time being.
Chapter 28
‘Will you come with me?’
‘Are any of the sponsors going to be there?’
‘Probably all of them. And Simon and Catalina. But seriously, who gives a shit?’
‘I do!’
‘We don’t have to talk to them. It’ll be fun. Go on.’
It’s Saturday and Luis has asked me to go to a charity ball with him tonight. We’re in Japan for the penultimate race of the season. Holly has been miserable. She toyed with the idea of not coming to this race at all, but then managed to pull some strength from somewhere.