Chasing Daisy by Paige Toon (2)

Chapter 9

My mobile rings and I snatch it up. ‘Yes?’

‘Your taxi’s here.’

Cazzo! Is it that time already?

‘Okay, I’ll be down in a few minutes,’ I tell the woman on the other end of the line.

I’m at home in my tiny rented studio flat on Camden Road in north London. I’ve been back in the UK for two weeks and have been helping out Frederick and Ingrid with various catering functions, so I haven’t seen Holly at all. Her home is in Berkshire, near team HQ, and she adores living in the country. Me, I’m a city girl, through and through. But back to the present. I haven’t even finished ironing my trousers and my car has arrived to take me to the airport. I quickly whip the iron round, turn it off, and then put on the trousers and their matching suit jacket.

I throw the last couple of things into my team carry case and zip it up, then lug it down two flights of stairs to the pavement below, where I scan the road for my taxi before realising it’s in the car park behind the flat. The recent snowfall has given way to rain, rain and more rain, so I hold my handbag over my head to keep my hair dry as I stumble to the car.

Heathrow is bustling as always, but it doesn’t take me long to find the rest of the hospitality crew because they’re all wearing identical outfits to mine: black trouser suits and gold shirts. It’s our travelling attire, and as I’ve already mentioned, Simon likes us to be well turned out at all times.

We’re on our way to Barcelona in Spain for the first of the European races and I’m excited about seeing our new hospitality area. I’ve only ever been to flyaways before – the races that the team has to fly to, such as Australia, Malaysia and Japan. In those countries, we use the facilities provided for us at each of the tracks, but for the European races and the ones certain team members can travel to by truck, we bring our own facilities with us.

The flight is only short compared to the ones we’ve been taking recently, but Holly and I have just about enough time to chow down a couple of tubes of Pringles and catch up with each other after our time apart. We don’t drink, because we’re going straight to the track from the airport, and anyway, we’re staying in a five-star hotel in the centre of Barcelona so we’ll be making the most of the nightlife there during the course of the next few days.

We arrive at the Circuit de Catalunya, where the motorhomes have already been constructed by the truck drivers who got here on Sunday. I say motorhomes, but that’s a ridiculous term. It refers to the old days when the teams had big, comfy buses, but now the motorhomes are portable, hi-tech buildings. I look up at ours in awe. It’s shiny black and gold and is two storeys’ high. A quick tour reveals that upstairs we have a directors’ suite and private rooms each for Luis and Will, while downstairs there’s a fully equipped kitchen and a massive hospitality area. It’s air-conditioned and the directors even have a balcony on the top floor.

Two days in and that’s where I find myself. Catalina is being bossier than ever and has called me up to the blissfully sun-drenched balcony to take down a list of things she needs – including tampons, and I have no idea where I’m going to find them here. She’s in her element – it’s her home race and she clearly feels she has a right to act like more of a queen than ever. Her whole family is going to be here for the weekend. I’m dreading it. It’s not my job to be at her beck and call, but I can’t really do anything about it.

‘Have you got all that?’ she asks me frostily, as I scribble away madly on my pad.

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘Think so or know so?’ I know her eyes are glaring at me behind her dark sunglasses. She’s sunbathing on a sunlounger while I’m standing in front of her like an obedient puppy.

‘Yes, I’ve got it.’

‘Good.’ She rests her head back on her pillow so I walk away.

‘I hate that bitch!’ I explode to Holly when I get back to the kitchen.

‘I don’t know how you deal with her the way you do,’ Holly empathises.

‘Neither do I. She treats me like I’m a little ant that she can tread on. It’s like she thinks all I’m ever going to be is a waitress in a car park, but I’ve got plans. I won’t be here forever!’

Holly looks at me, amused. ‘Where are you going, then?’

‘Maybe I’ll set up my own catering company, I don’t know.’

So okay, I don’t know. I don’t really have any plans. I’m kind of just going with the flow for the moment, but Holly, thankfully, doesn’t take me to task over it.

Later that afternoon, Catalina is at it again. I only hear the clicking at first, but when I turn around, I see her at the kitchen door, making the sound with her fingers.

‘You. Come here.’

I project my unhappiness at Frederick, who looks a little perturbed by the sight of the boss’s wife in his kitchen.

‘You,’ Catalina says again. ‘Dahlia.’

‘Daisy,’ I correct her.

‘Whatever,’ she replies. ‘I need you.’

‘Daisy can’t come right now,’ Frederick interrupts. ‘She’s preparing Will and Luis’s dinner.’

Yes! Ha ha! I avert my gaze so the bitch can’t see my look of glee. It would only come back to bite me, knowing her.

‘Then, you!’ she spits. I look around to see her pointing at Holly, who in turn, is glaring at Frederick. He shrugs, helpless, because Holly has finished her chores for the moment and has been leaning against the counter taking a break.

‘Come on!’ Catalina snaps. Holly reluctantly follows her out of the kitchen.

Later, when she returns, she’s in a foul mood.

‘I am not doing that again!’ she says angrily.

‘What did she make you do?’ I ask.

‘Oh, she only bloody well wanted me to make her and her posse tortillas in Simon’s room. But it’s not that, that’s easy, it’s the fact that we prepare all this lovely food – even paella is on the menu today! – but none of it is good enough for her! I’m telling you, that’s it. Next time I’m saying no.’

‘How will you get out of it?’ I ask worriedly. ‘She’s the boss’s wife.’

‘So speak to the boss,’ Frederick interrupts calmly.

‘Speak to Simon?’ I scoff.

‘Yes,’ he replies.

‘Do you know what,’ Holly says, still cross. ‘That’s exactly what I’m going to do.’ And she storms off in a huff.

‘Holly!’ I call after her in alarm, but she pays no notice.

‘Chef!’ I exclaim. ‘What if Simon fires her?’

‘He won’t fire her,’ Frederick rebuffs me. ‘Simon likes people who stand up for themselves. You should have done it long ago.’

The minutes tick by until, finally, Holly reemerges, looking haughty.

‘Did you speak to him?’ I whisper loudly.

‘I can still hear you,’ Frederick says wearily. ‘But go on, tell us all.’ He indicates Klaus and Gertrude and the other catering staff in the room who were hanging on to our every word a short while ago.

‘Yes, I did,’ Holly replies. ‘And it won’t happen again.’

‘No way!’

‘Yes way.’

‘What do you mean? What did you say to him?’ I persist.

‘I told him we weren’t Catalina’s pets, we had our own jobs to do and that if she needs a personal assistant, maybe he should hire one for her. He’s got enough money.’

‘You didn’t say that last part!’ I’m horrified.

‘I absolutely did,’ she replies, firmly.

‘How did he take it?’

‘He took it,’ she says simply.

‘He took it?’

‘Yes. That’s it. We won’t be bothered by her again.’

I’ve never seen Holly in this light before. It’s freaking me out a bit.

‘So, let me get this straight, Simon is going to hire a personal assistant for his wife because you told him to?’

‘I don’t know if he’ll go as far as that, or if he’ll just tell the stupid cow to make her own frigging tortillas.’

Frederick laughs. I look at him in shock. He never laughs. Certainly not when he’s in the kitchen.

‘Good for you!’ he bellows at Holly.

She grins at him. ‘Thanks.’

‘Now, Daisy,’ he barks at me, back to his old self. ‘Have you finished stringing those beans? We haven’t got all day.’

‘Yes, Chef.’ Along with the rest of the staff in the kitchen I look at Holly in awe and then turn back to my chores.

That evening, Holly and I are scrubbing down the worktops when Pete and Dan clamber into the kitchen.

‘Is it true?’ Dan asks eagerly. ‘Did you tell Catalina to go fuck herself?’

Holly laughs. ‘Blimey, doesn’t news travel fast. Why? What have you heard?’

‘She and Simon had a massive barney earlier. Curtis heard it.’ Curtis is one of the engineers: a short, plump, bald man with an even bigger appetite for gossip than he has for food.

‘Really?’ I ask. ‘What happened?’

‘Well, Luis said—’

‘Luis? What’s he got to do with it?’ I interrupt.

‘Curtis told Luis about it and he told us.’

‘God, it’s like Chinese whispers,’ I mutter, starting to feel a little dirty about the whole thing.

‘Shut up, Daisy, let them get a word in.’ Holly flicks me on my arm.

‘He was just going on about you girls not being there at her beck and call and—’

‘REALLY?’ Holly and I interrupt.

‘—and to stop bothering you because you’ve got your own jobs to do.’

‘Seriously?’ I exclaim.

‘Yeah, it was nuts. She was screaming at him, apparently.’

‘Serves her right,’ Holly says tautly.

‘She’s not going to like us very much after this,’ I say.

‘Like she liked us anyway.’ Holly turns her nose up.

‘Hmm . . .’

‘Daisy! Stop being a misery guts. This is brilliant news. We’ll never be bugged by that silly old tart again!’

‘Are you girls coming out tonight?’ Pete changes the subject.

‘Bit late, isn’t it?’ I ask, getting wry looks from all concerned. ‘I’m joking! Where are you going?’

‘Thought we’d go to the tapas bars on Las Ramblas,’ Pete answers.

‘Sounds good.’

By the time race day comes around, my belly is so full of Sangria that I don’t know how I haven’t turned into a giant jug. I’m in the kitchen absent-mindedly fingering a packet of rice when Frederick barks at me.

‘Why aren’t you outside doing breakfast?’

‘Sorry, Chef,’ I say, gingerly placing the rice packet on the countertop.

‘Get with it! Are you hungover again?’

‘No, no, I’m on it,’ I fib, willing my feet to take me out of the kitchen. They come to an automatic stop when I see who’s standing at the serving table.

‘There you are,’ Will says.

‘Sorry,’ I reply, kick-starting myself into action again. I hurry behind the table. ‘Have you been waiting long?’

‘Only a minute.’

‘What can I get you?’ I gaze up at him and try not to jolt at the sight of his blue eyes. They still surprise me every time I look at them.

‘Did you go out last night?’ he asks me.

‘Yeah. To a bar in the old town.’

‘Nice?’

‘Brilliant, you should’ve come.’ I know I’ve said this before, but I just can’t help myself. ‘Luis popped in for a couple. Oh, here he is now.’

Will turns around in time to see Luis join us at the serving table. ‘Alright?’ he says.

‘Yep,’ Luis answers bluntly, looking at me. ‘Good morning, Daisy.’

My mouth falls open.

‘What?’ Luis asks.

‘You just called me Daisy.’

‘Isn’t that your name?’ He sounds wary.

‘Yes, but . . . Oh, never mind.’ I shake my head. ‘What are you having?’

I get on with Luis’s order before noticing Will tapping his foot impatiently.

‘Oh, sorry, Will,’ I apologise, awkwardly realising I should have served him first.

‘He can wait,’ Luis chips in. ‘He’s used to coming second.’ Luis winks at me, but when I glance at Will, he’s not looking amused. Luis qualified on pole yesterday. Will, brilliantly, although clearly not brilliantly enough for him, qualified second.

‘Sorry about that,’ I say to Will as Luis heads off and plonks himself down at a table next to one of the team’s engineers. ‘What can I get you?’

He gives me a hard stare before answering. ‘Same.’

It’s then that I realise Luis opted for a rare healthy breakfast, right down to Will’s favourite choice of protein shake.

Flustered, I hurry up and put Will’s order together.

Luis shouts, ‘Snap!’ as Will walks past his table, but Will ignores him, heading towards the stairs to retreat to his room.

I sigh, deflated, and start to tidy up the serving table.

‘Get me some bacon and eggs, will you, bun tart?’ I look up to see Luis there, his bowl still half-full of muesli. ‘And you can take this crap, too.’ He passes over his glass. ‘I don’t know how Will drinks it.’

‘It doesn’t do his racing any harm,’ I comment.

‘It doesn’t do it any good, either,’ Luis says. ‘Coffee, black.’ He nods at the jug. I pour him one and hand it over. ‘Mmm, that’s better,’ he says, slurping some. At that moment his personal trainer walks through the doors.

‘Oh, merda!’ I think that means ‘shit’. ‘Shake! Shake!’ Luis waves his hands at me for the glass of liquid I’m just about to dispose of. ‘Whoops, sorry,’ I say innocently, pouring it down the drain. I try not to laugh as João spies Luis’s bacon and starts going off on one in Portuguese.

Half an hour later I dismiss myself and head upstairs to Will’s room. I knock on the door.

‘Yep?’ Will calls.

‘Hi,’ I say, poking my head around the door. ‘Can I clear those away?’ I point to the breakfast plates on the table.

‘Sure.’ He gets up and hands them to me.

‘Sorry about that earlier,’ I say uneasily, as he sits back down on his chair.

‘What? Oh, Luis,’ he says. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘He’s just trying to psyche you out before the race.’

‘I know. He’s a bit of a prick like that.’

I laugh and his face breaks into a smile. ‘Do you want to sit down a minute?’ He indicates the chair next to him. I pause, then put his breakfast plates down again on the table.

He’s wearing a white short-sleeve team shirt and not for the first time I notice how tanned his arms are, presumably from all that working out in the sun in the last three countries we’ve been to.

‘Are you staying on tonight?’ he asks.

‘Yes. We fly out tomorrow afternoon. You?’

‘Supposed to be going back straight after the race.’

‘Supposed to be?’

‘Mmm.’

‘You don’t sound too sure?’ He doesn’t look too sure, either. He sighs. ‘You sound fed up, Will.’

He slides down and rests his head on the back of the chair, looking at me through half-closed eyes. ‘I am a bit,’ he answers, truthfully.

‘Why?’

‘I could do with a night off.’

I sit up in my seat. ‘So why don’t you change your flight? Stay another night? Come out with us after the race?’

He doesn’t answer, just continues to regard me, calmly. I look away.

‘Might do.’ He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees.

I try to focus. ‘How are you feeling about today? Is the car performing well?’

He raises one eyebrow in amusement, but I attempt to look professional, so his answer is straightforward. ‘It still had a bit of understeer in practice this morning, but hopefully we’ve sorted that out.’

‘Mmmhmm.’ I nod, keeping my face serious.

He grins. ‘You have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about, do you?’

I shake my head resolutely. ‘No.’

‘Didn’t think so.’

‘But the intent was there.’ I smile back at him. ‘I know nothing about cars, I’m afraid.’

‘Can you drive?’

‘Just about.’

‘You don’t sound too confident.’

‘I’m not.’ I laugh. ‘I can drive a scooter, though.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘I’ve seen you drive a scooter.’

‘Oi! Now, you’re sounding as bad as Luis!’

‘We can’t have that.’

‘No, we can’t have that.’

We smile at each other for a moment, before he looks away and stands up. ‘Right, I’d better get ready.’

‘Of course, yes.’ I get quickly to my feet and pick up his breakfast plates again. ‘So will you change your flight?’

‘Don’t know.’ He looks distracted.

‘Okay, well, have a good race.’ I pause by the door.

‘Cheers.’ He bends down and starts searching through his carry case.

‘Do you need help finding anything?’ I ask hesitantly.

‘No, I’m fine. Thanks, Daisy,’ he says brusquely. He doesn’t look at me as I walk through the door.

Red, red, red, red, red, GO! The cars scream away from the starting grid. Will almost takes Luis at the first corner, but his teammate manages to keep pole position and now Will is hot on his tail. Argh! I’m so tense! A quick glance around the garage tells me everyone else is feeling the same. I glue my eyes back to the television screens above. Will is still right behind Luis. Can he take him? Go on, Will!

You should have seen his face before the race. Holly and I went for a wander down the pit lane and I have never seen anyone look so focussed or determined in my life. He was standing by the wall under an umbrella and he gave us a brief nod, but wouldn’t speak to the press. Luis was doing the complete opposite. When he wasn’t chatting to camera crews, he was chatting up skimpily dressed brolly dollies.

‘Oh, Jesus, I hope he doesn’t take him out,’ Holly says beside me.

Will has just attempted another overtaking manoeuvre. He’s all over Luis like a rash.

‘Surely Simon’s going to tell him to back off,’ Holly says.

The team boss can speak to the drivers over the radio.

‘Why?’ I snap. ‘If Will can take him, Simon should tell Luis to let him past. He’s obviously quicker.’

I don’t know if that’s what happens, but a second later, Will overtakes Luis on a corner and I have to stop myself from cheering out loud. Will is now in the lead, but the tension inside me doesn’t dissipate, even when Will starts to put some distance between himself and his teammate. In fact, as the race goes on, my throat starts to feel more and more constricted and my stomach feels gripped in the clutch of something. I don’t want to leave Will’s garage, but it’s actually quite a relief when Holly drags me away and I have something other than the race to concentrate on.

We return to the pits for the last few laps and the countdown to the chequered flag feels like it goes on forever, but when Will crosses the line and we see him punch the air with joy, all the anxiety inside me evaporates. This is his first Formula 1 victory and I know this will be a moment that will stay with him forever. A few minutes later, he’s climbing out of his car and is running to his cheering mechanics waiting behind the fence. Holly and I are right there amongst them, and even though I only get the briefest hug from Will, and even though he’s all wet with sweat and probably doesn’t even register that it’s me, I feel – quite bizarrely – like I’m in the middle of one of the happiest moments of my life.

Luis arrives soon afterwards, his expression far from ecstatic, but his reception from his teammates is just as joyous. The driver in third place, a Spaniard called Antonio Aranda, also receives rapturous applause from his home-town crowd.

Later, when we’re all back in the hospitality area, Holly and I are run off our feet making sure everyone has a full glass of champagne. I’m on edge because I can’t see Will anywhere. I know he has interviews to do, but Luis arrived back ten minutes ago and I’ll be devastated if Will goes home to England without saying goodbye. The next race is in Istanbul in two weeks’ time and that feels like a lifetime away.

When Will finally makes an appearance to the sound of rapturous applause, I can’t keep the smile from my face or the spring from my step. My heart is soaring, and then I’m distracted because everywhere I go I’m acutely aware of Will’s presence in the room as he mingles with the sponsors and the rest of the team. I keep trying to manoeuvre myself in his direction, but there’s always another glass to fill and, in the interim, he moves off.

At one point, I find myself amongst Catalina and her Spanish posse. She holds out her glass for me to top up, but doesn’t acknowledge me or say thank you. She’s barely come out of the directors’ suite all weekend. I notice Alberta beside her and attend to her glass, too. I didn’t realise she was here. My champagne bottle is almost empty so I hurry back into the kitchen and return to the hospitality area with a fresh one.

‘Fill her up, bun tart.’

I almost bump into Luis standing just outside the kitchen. He’s changed out of his racing overalls into jeans and a T-shirt.

‘I see your girlfriend’s here,’ I say wryly, pouring fizzing liquid into his glass.

He raises one eyebrow at me. ‘She’s ignored me all weekend.’

‘Oh dear,’ I reply. ‘It’s not really your day today, is it? What with losing to Will and all that . . . How did that happen, anyway?’

‘Were you asleep?’ he asks.

‘No, I watched most of it.’

‘Well, he had a much better car today. Simple as that.’

‘What was wrong with yours?’

‘Too much oversteer.’

‘Oversteer? Is that the same as understeer?’

‘Er, no, otherwise it would be called understeer, wouldn’t it.’

‘She’s not talking cars again, is she?’

I spin around at the sound of Will’s voice. I feel light-headed as he grins, his blue eyes sparkling.

‘Want me to help you with that?’ He points at the almost-full bottle of champagne I’m wielding.

‘Do you want some?’ I check.

‘Please.’ He holds out his glass and I tilt the bottle, willing my hands to keep steady as the fluid hits the flute. The bubbles threaten to spill over the top and I hold my breath, but they subside again so I top up the glass with a little more.

‘I’m gonna switch to beer.’ Luis excuses himself, nudging me as he goes past. I look back at Will. He’ll leave, too, now. I just know it.

And he does. He walks away without saying a word. Dammit!

Hang on, he’s coming back again. With a champagne glass!

‘What’s that?’ I ask.

‘It’s called a glass. They come in quite useful if you work in catering.’

I smack him on his arm and smile. ‘I know that, you jerk. What are you doing with it?’

He hands me his almost-full glass. ‘Hold that.’ I do as he says. Then he takes the bottle of champagne from me and tops up the empty flute. He puts the champagne bottle down on a nearby tabletop and hands me the fresh glass, removing the other one I’m holding.

‘Cheers.’ He takes a sip and leans back on the tabletop.

‘Cheers,’ I say warily, before adding, ‘I can’t really stand here, drinking.’

‘Why not?’

‘I should be working.’

‘There are enough of you. God,’ he says, looking around the room, ‘it’s like a beehive in here.’

I cast my eyes around the room and see all of the front-of-house staff, and even a couple of caterers, hard at work. The guests can barely walk two feet without coming face to face with a bottle of champagne or a tray of canapés.

‘Well done, by the way. Congratulations,’ I say.

‘Thanks.’

‘You managed to sort out that understeer problem, then.’

He smirks at me. ‘So where are we going tonight?’

‘Tonight?’ My eyes widen. ‘Did you change your flight?’

He nods.

‘Brilliant!’ Oh my God, I’m so happy I could hug him! Calm down, Daisy, otherwise he might get a restraining order. ‘Well, I think we’re heading to Las Ramblas again.’ I try to keep a straight face.

‘Cool. What time?’

‘We have to finish cleaning up here, so maybe eight o’clock? Are you going back to the hotel, soon?’

‘Yeah, in half an hour or so.’

‘I’ll come and get you if you like?’

‘Okay.’ He takes a sip of his drink and looks around the room.

‘I should get back to work.’ I pick up the champagne bottle and put my half-full glass down on the table.

‘See you later, then.’

‘Bye . . .’

Two hours later, the hospitality area has finally cleared out and we’re hard at work, scrubbing down the kitchen. I glance at my watch. It’s already seven thirty.

‘What time did you tell him?’ Holly asks me.

I look at her, worriedly. ‘Eight o’clock.’

‘We won’t be finished before nine,’ she says.

‘I know.’ I wasn’t thinking when I told Will otherwise and now I’m feeling quite sick about it.

I hear the sound of male voices outside the kitchen.

‘That’s Pete and Dan!’ Holly says. ‘Go with them!’

‘What? Back to the hotel?’

‘Yes!’ she urges. ‘Hitch a ride! I’ll see you at that tapas bar later!’

‘I can’t leave . . .’ I look around the kitchen. Everyone is hard at work.

‘Go!’ she insists. ‘Chef!’

‘What?’ Frederick turns around.

‘Holly!’ I whisper.

She continues, unperturbed. ‘Can Daisy be excused? She has an errand to run for Will.’

‘Is Daisy not capable of asking for herself to be excused?’ Frederick asks, irritably.

I shift on my feet.

‘Go on, then,’ Frederick says, turning away.

Holly beams at me so I quickly take off my apron and grab my bag before he changes his mind. The lads are just walking outside to one of our people carriers.

‘Pete! Dan!’ I call breathlessly. ‘Can I get a lift back to the hotel?’

They look surprised, but step back to let me into the car first. ‘Sure.’

‘Where are we off to tonight?’ Pete asks me, when we’re all belted up.

‘Holly wants to meet at that tapas bar we went to on Friday.’ ‘What, the one with the bright lighting?’ Dan asks me, screwing his nose up.

‘Yeah. And all the sexy barmen.’ I grin.

‘Bollocks to that,’ Pete exclaims, nudging Dan. ‘We’ll go to that other one, won’t we, mate? The one on the other side of the road?’

‘What, the touristy one?’ I frown.

‘They’re all touristy,’ Pete rebuffs me.

I sigh. ‘Okay, I’ll call Holly when I get back to the hotel.’

But when I do, her mobile goes straight through to voicemail. Her battery could be flat, but I’ll keep trying.

At ten past eight, I’m still in my hotel room desperately trying to decide what to wear. I did have a change of clothes with me at the track because Holly and I usually get ready there, but now that Will’s coming, nothing I have will do. I’m torn between a mini skirt or my black Rock & Republic jeans that I wore on Friday and eventually I decide on the latter, teamed with a gun-metal-grey Diesel T-shirt. The outfit is a bit rock chick, but I decide to run with that look. I have to wear my hair up in a bun for work, but now I take the pins out and it falls dark and wavy, halfway down my back. I go into the bathroom and hurriedly apply some more make-up – black kohl around my green eyes and a smudge of shimmery silver eye-shadow on the lids, followed by black mascara and just a touch of lipgloss. I look at my watch. It’s twenty-five past eight. A quick spritz of perfume and I’m ready.

Nerves flutter through me once more. I take a deep breath and try to still them. This is ridiculous. It’s not like I’m going on a freaking date, is it? I pull a face and shake my head at my own ridiculousness as I grab my bag and go to the lift. Will’s room is on the top floor.

I knock on his door and distractedly survey my fingernails. The beige-pink polish doesn’t really go with my rock chick look. I wish I had some rouge noire . . . Oh! I jump as the door swishes open.

‘Hello!’ I chirp, resisting the urge to take a step backwards. Will is standing in the doorway wearing khaki-coloured G-Star trousers and a black T-shirt. The smell of his aftershave wafts out, but I can see from here that he hasn’t shaved. In fact, his jaw has the beginnings of stubble and he looks even hotter than usual. I don’t know how I’m going to cope with this.

‘All set?’ he asks, coming out of the room and pulling the door closed behind him.

‘Yes, sorry I’m late.’

‘That’s alright.’ He follows me down the corridor to the lifts and I push the button. ‘Is everyone else downstairs?’ he asks as the lift doors open and we step inside.

‘They should be by now. Holly’s meeting us there. She had to stay back at the track a bit longer.’

He nods. A moment later we arrive at the foyer. Pete, Dan and the rest of the lads – about ten in total – whistle at me as we walk towards them.

‘Gawd, check you out,’ Dan says, wrapping his arm around my neck. ‘Are you on the pull tonight, love?’

‘Get off.’ I push him away, good-naturedly. I’m blushing, but I’m secretly delighted the guys just made a fuss of me in front of Will. I glance at him, but he’s chatting to one of his mechanics.

‘Shall we go?’ I say to Pete.

He turns to Dan. ‘Is Luis definitely not coming?’

‘No, he said he had a headache.’

Pete scoffs. ‘Like that’s ever stopped him in the past. Still pissed off at you for that overtaking manoeuvre, I imagine.’ He gives Will a mischievous look, but Will just shrugs.

It’s only a short walk to Las Ramblas, which are a set of busy shopping streets, crowded with tourists and full of cafés and bars. Because it’s race weekend, Barcelona is even more packed with people than usual. I find myself walking between Pete and Dan as we try to avoid street musicians on the bustling pavements. I’m looking at the back of Will’s head for most of the way and desperately hoping it’s not going to be like this for the rest of the night. If I don’t get a chance to speak to him, I think I’ll die.

It’s standing room only at the bar and when a stool becomes available, the guys insist I take it. I’m the only girl here, and it’s quite sweet that they’re looking out for me. They get the drinks in, opting for beer while I avoid Sangria and go for a vodka and lemon instead. Then I perch on my stool and make chitchat with one of Luis’s mechanics. But twenty minutes in, I’m struggling to focus on what he’s saying. Will has just cracked up laughing at something Pete has said. This is driving me nuts. The mechanic I’m talking to excuses himself to go to the gents’, and another one of the lads appears in his place. I feel like I’m stranded, but I don’t want to seem rude so I smile and try to think of something to say. And then I remember Holly.

‘Sorry,’ I apologise to the mechanic, Karl, as I pull my phone out of my bag. ‘I just have to call Holly,’ I explain. ‘She’s supposed to be meeting us somewhere else.’

I dial her number for the umpteenth time and, once again, it goes straight through to voicemail. I snap the phone shut, impatiently.

‘No answer?’ Karl asks.

‘No.’

‘Want another one?’ He indicates my almost-empty glass.

‘Um, no, I shouldn’t.’ I stand up. ‘I’m going to have to go to the bar to meet her. I’ll bring her back,’ I promise.

‘Cool.’ But he’s already turned around and is trying to get the bartender’s attention.

I squeeze past the other lads in the direction of Pete and Will. Pete steps aside and ushers me into their gang.

‘I have to go,’ I tell him regretfully.

His face falls. ‘Where?’

‘Holly’s meeting me at that other place. I can’t get hold of her.’

‘PETE!’ Karl shouts.

Pete looks over at the bar.

‘ANOTHER ROUND?’

‘YEAH, GOOD ONE!’ Pete lifts up his beer bottle.

‘Where’s Holly meeting you?’ Will asks me while this is going on.

‘Only across the road. But her phone battery must be flat so I’m just going to have to go and wait for her. Hopefully she won’t be late.’

‘Want me to come and keep you company?’

I stare at him and my spirits lift, but I mindlessly shake my head. ‘No, it’s okay, you don’t have to.’ He’s only being polite.

‘Are you sure?’

No! Please, come with me!

I waver and he notices.

‘Come on.’ He puts his hand on my back and starts to guide me towards the door. ‘Pete.’ He reaches back and taps Pete on his shoulder. ‘I’m just going to go with Daisy to get Holly.’

‘Sure, mate.’ Pete turns back to the lads.

I lead the way out, my heart pounding in my chest as we step onto the crowded pavement.