by Sofia Grey
Danny’s phone rang, but it was Clare. They’d heard the news too. To get me home the quickest, I swapped places with Bev. Even towing the caravan, we’d make better time than the horsebox. Mark would drive me straight to Jon’s parents’ so we could try to get some news. Clare assured me I needn’t worry about Sam. They’d take care of him. Right then we had to find out what happened to Jon.
Chapter 16
16.1 Anita
My fingernails were ragged when, hours later, after what had to be the slowest motorway journey ever, I directed Mark up the drive to Jon’s house. It was fully dark by then, but there was his Corvette, along with two other cars. Light blazed from an upstairs window. Someone was at home. There was also a cluster of people camped near the front door, armed with cameras. Were they journalists? I leapt out of the car and the strangers all turned to look at me.
Clare scrambled out too. “I’ll come with you, while Mark waits here. In case you need to go somewhere else.”
It made sense. “Come this way.” I ran to the back door, and rapped on it with my knuckles. The kitchen blinds were closed, but a soft glow leaked out. I heard movement inside, but nobody answered, so I shouted through the wooden door. “Mrs. Pearce, it’s me, Anita. Can I please come in?”
I waited in an agony of uncertainty. Clare draped a comforting arm across my shoulder, but I still shivered. I needed to know what had happened to Jon. I turned to look at Clare. Tears threatened again, and she squeezed me against her.
“Shush,” she murmured. “Be strong, we’ll find out.”
Seconds later, the door swung open. I blinked in the bright light from the kitchen. Mrs. Pearce looked round and then hauled us both inside, closing the door immediately behind us.
Now we were there, I lost the power of speech and gazed at her like a simpleton, Clare beside me. The tableau was interrupted by a tall man entering the kitchen.
“Who is it, Mrs. P?”
I stared. He could be an older version of Jon, with the same hair and eyes, just craggier. I stepped forward and held out my hands in a mute appeal. “Please, you must be Mr. Craigowan. I’m Anita. Can you please tell me what’s happened to Jon? I just heard the news tonight.” My voice cracked, and I took a quick breath. “Is he going to be okay?” It came out as a whisper.
Mrs. Pearce put her arm around me. “This is the lass Jon’s been seeing. And this is?” She turned to Clare with a question in her voice.
“Oh, I’m Clare, Anita’s friend. We gave her a lift here tonight. My husband is waiting outside.”
Jon’s father nodded. “Come on through.”
We followed him to the lounge, squinting in the dim light. The curtains were pulled across. Someone lay along the sofa where we’d made love just days ago.
It was Jon.
“Jon!” My voice came out high and squeaky as I ran to his side. In turn, he rose up, his eyes wide at the sight of me. A broad grin lit up his face and wordlessly, he held out his arms. I flew into them, sobbing with relief.
I held him so tight, I never wanted to let him go. His arms were strong around me, and he moved over on the settee to make room for me to sit on the edge, next to him. We cuddled together while he mopped up my tears and kissed me warmly.
“Hush,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I’m fine, please don’t cry.”
As my weeping subsided, I remembered Clare, and Jon’s dad, and I lifted my head, my breath shuddering and uneven. Clare gazed down at us, a fond smile on her face.
“Hi, Jon. It’s good to see you. I’ll be off now, but I guess Anita is staying here.”
His arms tightened a fraction. “Thank you, Clare, you’re very kind.”
She smiled at me, then turned and left. Jon’s father still stood in the doorway, staring at me expectantly. Jon sighed, a soft warm breath across my throat.
“Dad, this is Anita. Anita, meet my father, Trevor Craigowan.”
“Hello,” I managed a whisper.
“Hello,” he echoed kindly. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you want anything.”
16.2 Jon
I thought I was hallucinating, that I’d conjured an image of Anita because I wanted to see her so much. When she tumbled into my arms smelling faintly of horse, I knew she was for real.
It had been a fucking awful weekend, and only one thing could lighten my mood. The thought of holding Anita. Now she was here, I’d no intention of letting her go.
Dad left us alone and I silently blessed him for his tact. Eventually, her shuddering sobs stopped, and she drew a few shaky breaths. She lifted her head to me, huge eyes wet, and when she spoke, it came out as a croaky whisper.
“I only heard the news as we were on the way home. I was so scared; I didn’t know what had happened to you.” She blinked. Her eyes flicked back and forth across me as though she couldn’t believe I was really there. “It said, on the news, that you were seriously hurt.” She stopped, her lips trembling. It looked as though a fresh wave of tears was on the way.
I managed to smile. I was tired and frustrated, had a headache and didn’t want to relive the sheer horror of the weekend, but she needed to be reassured.
“I’m fine, just a few knocks and bangs, and a touch of a concussion. I couldn’t race because I banged my head, and the hospital wouldn’t sign me as fit.” I tilted my head. “See? I’m in one piece, nothing missing.”
She looked me up and down and then spotted the bandages on my wrists. Her eyes widened and flicked back to mine.
“I sprained both wrists. Dumb huh? That also makes it a bit difficult to drive.”
“Anything else?” She sounded shocked.
“My ribs are sore, and I have a Band-Aid on my forehead. And a girl asking me questions when I’d rather be kissing her.”
She sat up and took a deep breath. “They said there was a pile-up. What happened?”
I really didn’t want to think about it again so soon. I shrugged, wincing as my cracked ribs grated with the movement, and I tried to downplay it. “I don’t remember the details, just crashing into Pedro’s car and then getting caught up with another one. By the time I’d got out of my car, it was all over. Right now, I have a headache the size of the Empire State Building, but nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” I kissed her softly. “I missed you, sweetheart. Is there any chance you can stay tonight?”
She bit her lip. “Try keeping me away.” I kissed her again, but she hadn’t finished. “There are people outside, with cameras, reporters I think. What are they doing here?”
I sighed. “The media loves to make a fuss over nothing, exciting stories sell more news. Right now, they want to hear my story, by tomorrow they’ll be hounding someone else. They’ll go away when they get bored waiting.” She didn’t look convinced. “What happened was really commonplace, but because it was on the TV everyone is making a big thing out of it. I just want to forget it.”
“What about your teammate, is he going to be okay?”
I couldn’t speak for a moment. Staring away, I gazed at the closed curtains, remembering the sight of his pale and lifeless face in the burning wreck of his car. I swallowed. “I don’t know. Tom will tell me when they have some news.”
“He might be trying to phone you. I couldn’t get through, on this number or your mobile.”
“Somehow, the gutter press has got hold of my mobile number. I had to switch off my phone, sorry if you were trying to ring it. It’s the same with the house phone; we’ve taken it off the hook. Tom has Dad’s mobile, he can still contact us.”
I kissed her again. “Let’s go to bed. The doctor said I need plenty of rest.” I was pleased to see her smile emerging.
“What about your parents? Won’t they mind?”
“I’ll tell them you’re my night nurse.” She gave me a frown. “Okay, I’ll go and explain that my lovely girlfriend is staying the night.” She climbed off my lap, and I stood, feeling every muscle complain with the effort. Dizziness assailed me and I swayed on my feet. Anita slipped an a
rm around my waist to steady me, and we made our way to the kitchen.
Dad sat at the table, flicking through a newspaper while Mum talked in a low voice to Mrs. P. They all looked up when we walked in.
“I know you won’t mind if Anita stays with me tonight?”
There was an uncomfortable silence and then Mum replied. “Of course not. Do you need anything, darling? Have you got your painkillers?”
“Yes, thanks.” I turned to Anita, standing frozen at my side, and gave her a quick kiss. “We’re off to bed.”
****
I sat on the bed with relief and gazed mutely at her. With my wrists stiff in their elastic bandages, I had little flexibility in my hands. With infinite tenderness, she undressed me, making shocked noises at the bruises raked across my chest.
“You need some painkillers?” she asked.
“Please.” With some difficulty, I tugged a strip of pills out of my pocket. “Two of these with some water.”
She didn’t fuss, which I was grateful about, just fetched me a glass of water from the bathroom and pushed the pills out of their packaging, dropping them into my hand.
She sat back and sniffed her T-shirt. “I still smell of the horsebox, I’d better go and shower.”
“Don’t go. I want to hold you.”
She shed her own clothes and snuggled under the covers with me. I tried to move into a comfortable position. “I really want to make love to you, but I don’t know if I’m up to it.”
She gazed at me, her beautiful eyes soft. “I’m just so happy to be back here with you.”
We settled for spooning together, and I sighed, relaxing for the first time in days.
“Jon? Are you still awake?”
“Yep.” I was sleepy though. The painkillers were strong and fast-acting.
“When are you due to race again?”
“Six weeks time, at Donington Park. Are you going to come and watch me?”
She was silent for a moment. “I wasn’t thinking of that. I wondered, well, if you fancied going away for a few days? Get away from the press and everything. And we could have some quiet time together.”
“Sounds like a great idea. Where? And can you get the time off work?”
She snuggled closer to me, stroked one of my bandaged wrists. “My parents are going away to Spain this week. Their B&B is going to be empty. It’s in Anglesey, in the middle of nowhere. Would you like that?”
“Are you kidding? How soon can we go?”
She lifted my hand to her mouth and kissed my palm, folding my fingers carefully over it. “Leave it to me, maybe tomorrow or Tuesday. I need to sort out a hire car though, mine isn’t really up to the journey. And I’ve no intention of driving your monster.”
“I’ll talk to my dad. He’ll have something we could use for a few days.” I buried my aching head in the crook of her shoulder. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure.” Her voice was quiet. “Right now I just want to be with you.”
16.3 Anita
Jon fell asleep against me. I listened as his breathing slowed and deepened, and felt his muscles relax. I was still wide-awake. Too much had happened today to let me sleep just yet. I was also starving. All I’d eaten at the show had been a couple of ice creams and an apple. I’d been too nervous to eat anything else, and now my stomach growled and rumbled. I longed for a mug of tea.
Carefully, as gently as I could, I lifted Jon’s arm to peer at his watch in the dim light. It was barely ten o’clock. Although the prospect of going back downstairs to ask Mrs. Pearce for some food was hugely embarrassing, it was a lesser demon than lying here with a rumbling stomach.
I slipped out of bed, pulled on my grubby T-shirt and breeches, and tiptoed down the back stairs to the kitchen. The lights were on, but I couldn’t hear any voices. Looking round the doorway, I saw Jon’s parents and Mrs. Pearce clustered round a laptop on the table. I thought about fleeing back upstairs, but took my courage in hand and stepped into the kitchen. Three pairs of eyes looked up and stared at me.
God, this was awful. I could tell they were used to seeing Jon’s girlfriends drifting in and out with him.
His Mum spoke first. “Is it Jon? Is he okay?”
“He’s asleep.” I tried to be reassuring. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but would you mind awfully if I had a drink of milk, or some tea? I can’t sleep.”
Mrs. Pearce came to my side and put her arm around me. “Come and sit down, love, you look about done in. I was just making a pot of tea anyway. Now would you like a sandwich or something?”
“If it’s no trouble, I’d love a sandwich thanks. I haven’t really eaten today.”
She made a tsk noise and settled me at the table. “No wonder you’re such a skinny thing.” She turned away and prepared some food while I fiddled with the salt and pepper on the table. I wanted to die of embarrassment at being there, especially since I was stinky and in need of a shower. His Mum was elegant, tall and graceful, with long dark hair that swept down to her shoulders. She looked like a less curvy version of Nigella Lawson.
She gave me an awkward smile. “This is all rather odd, isn’t it?” Her voice was low and husky. “I’m Sara Craigowan. I believe you’ve already met Trevor?”
I managed a polite smile in return. “Yes, when I arrived. I’m Anita Cartwright.”
Sara flicked a glance at Trevor. My interrogation wasn’t over yet. “Have you known Jon long?”
My cheeks heated and I thought longingly about fleeing back upstairs. “Not really, only a few weeks.”
There were so many things I wanted to ask them. How long did Jon’s relationships usually last? How many girls had he brought home to meet them? Did they see his accident? Did they know what an incredibly generous and loving son they had? I settled for an uneasy silence.
Trevor sighed. “I’m sorry, lass, our manners are awful. It’s been such a shock you see, with the crash and that.”
I looked up at him, and grasped the opportunity to talk. “I don’t know much about it. There were just a few details on the news. Were you there?”
His face twisted. “Yes, and I tell you, I wish I hadn’t been. Watching your son nearly die in front of you is about the worst thing I can think of.”
Sara spoke next. “It was a nightmare, not knowing if he was going to get out.” She paused, and took a breath. She had gone very pale. “We were in the stands and saw it on the screens in front of us.”
Trevor reached out to take her hand, but she glared at him with such hostility he retreated.
I broke the tense silence. “Could you bear to tell me what happened?”
Trevor gazed at me, as though assessing me for something. “I can show you if you like, but it’s not pretty.”
I frowned, I didn’t understand.
“The video footage. It’s on my laptop. We were watching it again when you came in.”
Did I want to see it? Would I rather remain blissfully ignorant? I had to know. I stood up, shaky with nerves and walked round to stand behind Trevor, where I could see the screen.
He clicked a few buttons, and a video clip fired up. He paused it straight away. “This is Pouhon, a particularly tricky corner. They were on the fifth lap, it was very wet, and Jon was having difficulties keeping his car on the track. He’s the blue car, number six. Watch.”
He ran the video further. I saw Jon’s car going wide, another overtaking him on the inside.
Trevor stopped the clip again. “That’s Pedro, his team-mate, overtaking him. He had a good line and would have gone through, but for this.” He fell silent and re-started the video.
A wave of debris appeared from nowhere in front of Jon. I squinted, trying to make it out. It looked like a car. No, two tangled cars, three maybe, locked together and with sparks and flames shooting off them as they bounced along the track. The breath caught in my lungs.
Trevor stopped the clip again and looked up at me. “Are you sure you want to see this?” His voice was kind.
“Yes, please go on.” My voice was just a whisper. Having got this far, I needed to understand it all.
He pressed another button, the clip dropped into half-speed.
Jon had nowhere to go. I imagined what he must have felt in the cockpit, seeing that hurtling toward him. He swerved, colliding in slow motion with his teammate, catching the rear end of his car. This had the devastating effect of spinning the other car round, forcing it onto the outside of the track to take the full impact of the cars coming toward them. Meanwhile, Jon’s car had now tangled with Pedro’s and was being dragged into the growing pile of moving debris.
Trevor stopped it again, asked me with his eyes if I wanted to continue. I nodded, unable to speak, my stomach churning.
The pile of debris ignited into a massive pulsing fireball. I clapped my hand over my mouth. Bits of burning cars flew everywhere; I could no longer tell which was which. More cars charged round the bend to crash into it. Tears poured down my face as I watched, completely helpless.
Sara jumped up from the table and walked to the window. “I can’t see it again.” She fumbled with a packet of cigarettes, tapping an unlit one against the pack.
I dragged my attention back from her trembling hands. I was shaking too.
Finally, I saw Jon crawl from the wreckage and stare at the devastation in front of him, and the cars racing past him and swerving to avoid the crash. Jon ran across the track, narrowly missing yet another car, and ploughed through the burning mass, tearing away pieces of debris with his gloved hands. As the fire engines arrived and officials halted the race, he pulled his teammate from the inferno. He dragged him clear and then collapsed to the ground.
Trevor stopped the video and closed the lid of the laptop. It was clear he’d seen it enough.
I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to draw in a deep breath, to swallow down the nausea that lodged in my throat. My voice came out croaky. “What about the other drivers, the cars that started it all?”