Pole Position

by Sofia Grey

  It took only a few minutes to get the sleeping child into her bed, and then Kate led me into the lounge where she poured me a glass of wine. I shook my head, but she insisted.

  “You’re not going anywhere tonight, and it might help.”

  I walked over to a big bay window that overlooked the sweeping lawns at the front of the house. I was a mass of nervous energy, now I was here. I desperately wanted to see Jon, to hold him and be with him, but I knew he never wanted to see me again. What a bloody nightmare this was.

  Kate put her arm across my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “You’re so upset, aren’t you? And I guess very much in love with Jon?” I nodded, unable to speak. “It’s none of my business, I’ve no intention of prying, but if you want to talk about it I’m more than happy to listen.” She took a sip of her own drink. “Jordan is best left with him for the moment. He knows what it’s like to be in a drunken rage, he’s been there himself.”

  I stared back at her. “He has? But you seem so good together. Are you okay?”

  She smiled faintly. “We’re fine now, but we’ve had our own problems. We split up for a long period, and Jordan took it badly.” A look of pain flashed across her face. She paused and looked away from me. “I think I can understand how you might be feeling.”

  I nodded, and haltingly, I started to talk.

  I told her everything.

  Kate listened, hugged me, poured more wine, and coaxed me to sit beside her. When I ran out of words, she made me lie down and covered me with a fleece blanket.

  “Stay here and rest for a while, you look wiped out. I’ll go and see how Jordan is doing. I’ll come back and update you, don’t worry.”

  21.5 Jon

  Things were hazy. I pointed the Jeep in the right direction and drove toward the mountain, swigging occasionally from the bottle of scotch resting in my lap. It was dark, and there was no other traffic, but I found the car park and stopped the car, killing the engine. It was utterly silent, apart from the occasional ticking as the engine cooled. Sitting there looking down at the lighthouse, I was mesmerized by the regular sweeps of light as they flashed across the rocks many yards below. I’d wanted to be here, and here I was. I’d wanted to go to the lighthouse, but did I really feel inclined to scramble down hundreds of steps to get there in the dark?

  I’d wanted to kill myself. Now I didn’t even have the courage to do that.

  When Jordan appeared at the side of the car, and ripped the door open, I thought I was dreaming. I stared, bemused.

  “Hello, Jon.” He grinned, as though it was perfectly normal to bump into me here. “Good to see you again.”

  He bundled me into his Jag, strapped me in with the seatbelt and went back to the Jeep. I figured this was just another dream. I held onto the Scotch bottle though, that was the only thing I knew was real. I heard him muttering outside, on the phone to someone, and I sat back and closed my eyes. If the nightmare was on its way back, I wanted it over with.

  Next thing, I was in Jordan’s house, still clutching my Scotch, but now sitting at his kitchen table, a mug of black coffee in front of me.

  I told him proudly I’d driven the Jeep just fine, all I needed was some alcohol to relax me. I told him of Anita’s betrayal. About the crash, about how I was unable to help Pedro. About the nightmares. He made me drink some coffee. It churned in my stomach and made me want to vomit, but it stayed down.

  I blacked out for a while, and woke up to find myself alone. My bloody Scotch had gone. Voices murmured in the distance. I sighed, and then yawned. I was deathly tired. I placed my head on the table. I’d become used to sleeping on tables, and this was as good as any.

  When the nightmare returned, it came back in full gory Technicolor, but with a few new twists thrown in. This time, Danny drove Pedro’s car. Yes. A chance to get him out of my life permanently. This time, I swerved directly into his car, taking delight in pushing him into the inferno, and shouting in triumph when his car became engulfed. Bastard, I shouted at him. Then, as I stood again on the track, watching, it all changed. Instead of Psycho Danny’s face in the wreck, I saw Anita’s. I’d killed her instead. I screamed her name, ran across the track and started tearing through the debris, trying to pull her clear. In my dream, I screamed her name over and over, asking her not to leave me. I saw her face, pale and beautiful, saw her hair catching fire, smelled her flesh burning. Her eyes stared back at me, lifeless.

  Something tugged on my shoulders, the bloody harness again. I jerked and twisted, trying to get free, then realized it was Anita holding me. My dream hadn’t finished. I sobbed her name, clutched her to me and held her tight, feeling her trembling, hearing my heart pounding.

  Slowly, through my drunken haze, several things clarified. This bit wasn’t a dream; she was here, with me. This wasn’t the kitchen at Bryn Dinas. Jordan and Kate stood watching me, both looking scared. And if I was here, and she was here…

  Oh fuck.

  I was awake and had to deal with her betrayal all over again.

  I pushed her away. “Leave me alone. I don’t want to see you. I thought I was dreaming.” My words were slurred for some reason. Oh yes, the Scotch. Which was still missing.

  I pushed myself to a shaky standing position and spoke to Jordan with as much dignity as I could muster. “I thank you for your hospitality, but I’d like my Scotch back now please.”

  He shook his head. I noticed he held Kate’s hand. “Sorry, pal, no dice.”

  Anita spoke, her voice low. “Jon, what happens in your nightmare? Is it the same every time?”

  I snorted in amusement. “You offering to do some psychoanalysis for me? That’s rich coming from someone as screwed up as you. You have the psycho part nailed down though.” For some reason this struck me as hilarious, I chuckled to myself.

  Next thing, Jordan took a seat at the table. “Tell me.”

  Why the hell not? He knew I was a drunken bully, he may as well know I was also a coward. I told him not only did I cause the accident, but I was too scared to try to help. How I stood watching while Pedro burned. How I couldn’t live with the guilt hanging over me, reliving it every night in my sleep.

  “But you didn’t.”

  Anita buzzed in my face. I swatted her away. What the fuck was she talking about?

  She grabbed my hands and forced me to look at her. “You didn’t stand by and watch, you saved his life. You’re a hero, Jon, not a coward.” For some reason, she was angry.

  I stared. This was stupid. I knew what I saw.

  She turned to Jordan, but kept tight grip on my hands. “Do you have a laptop? Can you pull up the footage of the accident? Make him see it for himself?”

  “Oh no.” I tried to pull away but she was surprisingly strong.

  “Jon, you need to see this. I won’t let you think this anymore.”

  Against my will, a laptop appeared on the table in front of me, and Jordan retrieved a video clip. I shivered, sweating and hyperventilating. “I won’t watch this,” I roared. “You can’t make me.”

  What were they doing? I saw this night after night, and now I had to watch it again? Jordan pinned me to the chair, Anita held my hands, Kate clicked furiously with the mouse.

  Oh God, it started again. I closed my eyes.

  “Watch it, damn you!” Anita yelled.

  I opened my eyes in surprise. And I saw it again, this time from a different angle. Fuck, it looked even worse on the screen. There was my car at the back, that was me wriggling free. I heard the noises in my head, smelled the burning again. I watched as I stood there, on the side of the track, and then watched in disbelief as I ran across to the wall of flames. It was me that ripped the strips of metal away with my gloved hands. Me that found Pedro and hauled him clear. It had been me all along. My head spun. My world tilted on its axis, and then everything went black again.

  When I surfaced next, I was lying down. I risked opening my eyes, the lids felt as though they were glued together. And as for my stomach—shit,
that felt dire. The first person I saw was Anita. She gave a wobbly smile and held a hand out to me.

  For a moment, I forgot her betrayal. Then I remembered all over again. I still had that to deal with.

  There was only one thing to say to her. “Fuck off, Anita.”

  Chapter 22

  22.1 Anita

  The early morning light crept through the kitchen windows where Kate brewed coffee and Jordan dozed in a chair. Jon had stayed quiet after his last outburst. He now appeared to be deep asleep, but with no further nightmares, thank God.

  I hunted for my phone, and found it on the floor. “I need to call a taxi. Can you suggest a number for me?”

  Jordan opened his eyes, and glanced across at Kate. They were very skilled at non-verbal communication, because he seemed to ask her a question and she nodded her answer. Jordan yawned and stretched, scratched his stubbled chin, and stood up. “I’ll take you back to the Jeep. Will you be okay from there?”

  “You’ve done enough for us already. I can’t ask you to do any more.”

  He just shrugged. Kate came across and gave me a tired hug. “I suggest you leave Jon here today. He’s going to be in a mess when he wakes up, and I doubt he’d want you to see him like that.”

  She stayed firm when I protested. “Either we’ll bring him home to you when he’s ready, or I’ll ring you to fetch him. Are you okay with that?”

  I had to be. I spoke hesitantly. “I can’t begin to thank you for what you’ve done.”

  “Go home, have a bath, and get some sleep. We’ll look after him.” She looked exhausted. I expected she was glad to see the back of me.

  ****

  Even though I’d been up all night and hadn’t slept properly for days, I was too wound up to sleep. I fed the animals, walked Maddie on the beach, and then waited in an agony of uncertainty. There were no phone calls all day. It looked as though Jon was not coming back to me today.

  Close to dinnertime, Kate rang me. “I’m sorry to leave it so late, he’s been asleep most of the day but no more nightmares this time. We think he should stay here tonight. Maybe you could come and pick him up tomorrow sometime?”

  I found my voice. “Yes of course. Just call me. Any time.” I hesitated while I sought the right words. “Is he okay? Does he still hate me?”

  Her voice was soft in my ear. “You know I believe you, Anita, but Jon needs to believe you too. He still thinks you were cheating on him, and after his wife doing the same, he basically pushed the self-destruct button.”

  Despair washed over me. “I understand. I’ll wait to hear from you.” I hung up and turned to Maddie, burying my face in her thick ruff. In some ways, this might be easier. I knew I had to finish with Jon after this week anyway, so what difference would it make if we ended it here and now. I’d no way to prove my innocence.

  After wandering aimlessly back and forth, I sat down and fiddled with my phone. I needed to talk to someone, but who?

  Colette. She was keen to talk to me.

  “Anita, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think Danny has set you up, honey.”

  “What do you mean?” My voice came out as a whisper.

  “I saw some websites he was looking at. They were all gossip sites about Jon. This was a few days before Charrington and that story in the paper. I’ve been thinking about the pictures in that article. There were shots of you and me with Jon, and they could only have been taken at that show the week before.”

  “Blackheath.”

  “That’s the one. And who had their camera there? Danny. I’m positive he took those pictures and then sold them to the Daily Comet. How else could they have got there?”

  It made sense. “But why, Colette? Why would he do this to me?”

  “Because he’s mad jealous about Jon. He’s determined to split you up. Well that’s what I think anyway.”

  I thought about it. “But he knows I wouldn’t be interested in him, I’ve told him.”

  “And another thing.” Colette was off again. “Didn’t you find it just a teeny bit suspicious that when our phones both went missing, his was the only one available for you to phone Jon with? Then your phone magically appears in the horsebox, all smashed up, while mine turns up days later, in the same place you already looked at least once.”

  “Jon said the gutter press had got his mobile number.”

  Colette snorted. “I wonder how. Danny had it in his phone after you rang Jon, and Danny was in contact with the press. Doesn’t take a genius to see the connection there.”

  I felt sick. “I trusted Danny.” I cast around for the right words. “I didn’t tell you about the photographs on the CD. There were pictures of Danny kissing me at Charrington. I remember Clare using his camera, and Danny taking a selfie, but the pictures he chose were horrible. Jon saw them and he thought, well you can probably imagine.”

  There was a pause. “Did he only start doing that when Jon was on the scene?”

  I thought back. “Yes. And there was a day at the stables, when Jon came to pick me up. Danny kissed my cheek in front of him. I was so surprised. He’d never done anything like that before. And Jon had to see it.”

  “I think Jon has every reason not to like him.” Colette was firm. “But you can see why he might think there’s something going on.”

  We both fell silent.

  “God, Colette, what am I going to do?”

  “Listen to me. I know men, and I know Jon adores you. He may even be in love with you. But he won’t stay if you keep hanging around with Danny. You need to make a clean break, tell Jon everything we’ve just talked about, and tell him you’ll stay away from Danny.”

  “But I work with him. And that’s my home. I can’t just cut him out of my life that easily.”

  “It all depends how much you want Jon, and only you can decide that.”

  22.2 Jon

  When I finally came awake properly, Kate told me it was Wednesday evening. God, I was wretched. I never wanted to see alcohol again. I sat in their kitchen shivering and twitching, trying to keep down a glass of Alka-Seltzer and a couple of pieces of dry toast. Jordan sat opposite me and dragged a hand through his hair.

  “Trust me, I think you’ll be okay. I’ve been worse, and survived.” He winked at Kate, and leaned forward. “Next time you go on a bender though, let me recommend you drink a pure malt instead of this dipshit blended crap. It’s far gentler on the system.”

  I scowled at him. If I even saw a bottle of Scotch again, it would be too soon.

  The events of the past couple of days were slowly piecing themselves together in my head. I knew my version of the crash, and the aftermath, was wrong. Pedro stayed in a coma, but at least he was still alive.

  I knew I could drive again, since I’d managed to get to the South Stack car park by myself, and that was blind drunk, in the dark.

  I knew I still loved Anita, but also I couldn’t forgive her infidelity.

  And I knew I’d lost my beloved ‘Vette to the other bitch in my life.

  I suppose I’d been lucky Anita hadn’t called the police when I drove off. If I lost my license, that would have fucked my career. If it wasn’t already screwed, that is. Being able to drive a slow Jeep Cherokee for two miles was nothing compared to driving on a racetrack. For all I knew, I might suddenly seize up into muscle spasms the minute I got back on the track. Only time would tell if I’d lost my nerve.

  Jordan insisted I stay the night, and that Anita could pick me up in the morning, or he’d take me back if I preferred. He even offered to drive me back to Cumberley if I couldn’t face Anita again. That was tempting, but I owed it to her to thank her for something. It was Anita who figured out I needed to see the crash footage.

  As I tossed and turned in their spare bed, one thought haunted me. Those pictures of Colette. Danny had the same pictures on his CD, mixed in with pictures from his camera. Had he downloaded them from the newspaper website? I didn’t remember seeing a reporter at that show. I’d swear there
wasn’t one. And that led to the question of who took the pictures in the first place? There was only one obvious answer. Danny.

  Who put the photo compilation together, expecting it to be viewed by me? Danny again.

  Psycho Danny. He blocked my every turn. He fondled and touched Anita shamelessly in front of me, whenever he could, even though she always appeared to brush him off. When she called me on his phone and I’d rung back, he pretended it was a wrong number, like he did when I tried to ring her at home. Fuck, he’d gotten my mobile number. I’d bet any money it was Danny who’d given my number to the press. Bastard.

  Maybe, just maybe, she was telling the truth. Or maybe she was just playing games with me.

  ****

  I drifted awake on Thursday morning feeling strangely at peace. Perhaps as the alcohol finally worked through my system it had taken the pain and fury with it. I sat up gingerly. So far, my stomach felt fine, empty, but not nauseous any more.

  I heard an engine noise outside and Poppy’s shrill voice squealing in excitement. Curious, I went to the window and looked down onto the lawn. Jordan, wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt, slowly mowed the grass while Poppy staggered about, a huge black cat sprawled in her arms. As I watched, she stumbled and fell over, the cat leaping to safety. Jordan hurried to her side and picked her up, cuddling her before any tears could erupt. Moments later, she ran behind him as he mowed, and threw handfuls of grass into the air. She was dressed in pink Barbie pajamas and yellow Wellington boots, and I smiled at the combination.

  To see Jordan in this domestic setting was bizarre to say the least. When I knew him in Houston, he’d been the corporate executive, the perfect embodiment of the giant TM-Tech. Even when his executives had come to the race meetings, he’d still been rigidly controlled and reserved with them.