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Chasing Daisy by Paige Toon (3)

Chapter 12

Another day, another plane to catch. This time I’m off to Istanbul for the Turkish Grand Prix and I’m flying straight there from Italy. I stayed on for a couple of days to spend some time with Nonna and it was beautifully relaxing, even if I did have a lot on my mind.

Will and I needn’t have worried about the weather, because when we woke up, the skies were blue as far as the eye could see and the only reminder of the storm were the puddles on the road.

The last day of filming passed by in such a blur that I barely even spoke to Holly, let alone Will. Holly seemed distracted and not that interested in my evening the night before. I guess it’s because she disapproves, and I was reluctant to talk about him for fear of her tainting my memories. Even now we’re in Istanbul, she’s not saying much.

On the Friday morning before the race, Will comes into the hospitality area where I’m sitting at one of the tables, tidying up the flower arrangement. I start when I see him, because I’d got it into my head that he looked like Leonardo DiCaprio and now I realise that their resemblance is slim.

‘Hey,’ he says, coming over. ‘How was your break?’

‘Lovely.’ I beam. ‘Nonna said to wish you luck, by the way.’

At that moment, Luis walks past. ‘No girlfriend this weekend?’ he asks Will, slyly.

Will stares at him. ‘No. Why?’

‘Just wondering.’ Luis gives me a look and keeps on going. I feel my face heat up so I quickly go back to my flower arranging.

Will looks after him and frowns. ‘Weirdo.’

I giggle and stand up. ‘Do you want me to get you some breakfast?’

‘No, you carry on. Gertrude can do it.’

I look over to see Gertrude behind the serving table. Will heads off before I have a chance to say anything else.

That evening, he appears in the hotel lobby just as I’m waiting for the lads to come down. We’re staying in the old part of town on the Bosphorus Strait – the channel of water that separates the European part of Turkey from the Asian part. The mechanics want to check out some belly dancing in the Beyoğlu district and Holly and I figure it would be a laugh to tag along.

‘Coming out for a drink?’ I ask Will, hopefully.

‘No. I’m going for dinner on the river. Simon and a few of the sponsors are dragging Luis and me to some posh restaurant.’

‘Oh, okay.’

‘Hey, is your dad’s name Stellan?’ he asks curiously.

I look at him with shock. ‘Yes, why?’

He shrugs as the lads pile out of the lift. ‘The car’s outside!’ Holly calls from the revolving doors. She goes straight back around in a circle again. ‘Come on!’ she shouts as she goes past. I would laugh, but I’m distracted by Will’s question.

‘See you later,’ he says.

Before I can open my mouth to shout, ‘Wait!’, Pete and Dan have swamped me.

I can’t relax that night. The bar we’ve ended up in is buzzing and vibrant, but all I want is to talk to Will. Eventually I can stand it no longer.

‘I think I’m going to head off,’ I tell Holly, who’s busy studying her mobile phone.

‘Are you?’ she asks, distracted. She snaps her phone shut. ‘My mum,’ she explains. ‘Wants to know when I’m going back up to Aberdeen to see her.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘You off, then?’ she asks again.

‘If you don’t mind.’ In fact, I’m astounded she’s not giving me any stick.

‘Sure, that’s fine,’ she says. ‘I might go and chat to Pete.’

‘Good luck getting his attention.’ I nod in the direction of Pete and a few of the lads who are ogling a belly dancer undulating across the stage.

Holly just laughs. ‘See you later,’ she calls, heading in their direction.

I go outside and climb into one of the people carriers waiting for us. It’s not recommended for Western girls to venture out alone here, so Simon ensures we always have readily available transport.

I sit and stare out of the car window at the dome-studded skyline as the sun sets luminescent orange over Istanbul’s mosques. I’m fully aware that what I’m seeing is beautiful, but I’m too preoccupied to properly appreciate it.

Back at the hotel, I don’t know what to do with myself. I wander to the bar, on the off chance Will is there, but he’s not. Frederick is having a quiet drink with Klaus, so I nip back out quickly before they spot me and engage me in a conversation. I call the lift and, once inside, press the button to take me to my floor. Then I stare at the number for Will’s floor. On a whim, I press that, too. When we get to my floor, I shift from foot to foot and wait as the doors whoosh closed again and the lift continues to climb. We reach Will’s landing and I waver a moment. As the doors start to close, I leap out. Before I can stop myself, I’m walking towards his suite. I stand outside, listening for any sound. Is that the TV? No, it’s the room next door. Shall I knock? If he’s not there, it won’t matter.

Knock, knock, knock.

I wait. And wait. Then knock again.

What the hell am I doing? I’m about to turn and run when the door opens. Will is standing there in a T-shirt and boxer shorts. His hair is all dishevelled and it’s obvious I’ve just woken him up. Cazzo, I am so embarrassed.

‘Daisy?’ he says sleepily.

‘Er, hi. Sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing. I was just out with Holly and—’

‘Come in,’ he interrupts.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were asleep. What time is it?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Sorry,’ I say again.

‘It’s okay,’ he replies.

‘God, sorry, you’ve got qualifying tomorrow.’

‘Stop apologising!’ He laughs. ‘Take a seat.’ He directs me to one of two opulent-looking sofas in his suite. I perch on it uncomfortably, fully regretting making such a tit out of myself by coming here. I spot the time on the DVD player.

‘Oh my God, it’s almost midnight. Oh shit, Will, I’m sorry. I’ll go.’

‘Daisy! Would you shut up? I’ll just go and put some jeans on.’

‘That’s a good idea.’ I involuntarily glance at his white Calvin Kleins and quickly look away again.

He wanders off to his bedroom and returns a short while later.

‘Do you want a drink?’

‘Um, no, it’s okay.’

He goes to the minibar and pulls out a Coke, then comes over and collapses on the other sofa. He cracks open the can and takes a swig.

‘Are you sure you don’t want a drink?’ He offers it to me.

‘No thanks.’

Silence.

‘What are you doing here?’ It’s he who speaks first.

‘What you said . . . About my father . . . Why did you ask that?’

‘Oh . . .’ Understanding registers.

‘How did you find out?’

He takes another swig from his can, then slumps further down into the sofa and eyes me curiously across the coffee table. ‘I Googled you,’ he says simply.

‘Googled me?’ I stare at him, confused. ‘Why?’

‘To try to find out which famous person you worked for.’

‘But you didn’t find that out?’

He looks perplexed. ‘No, I didn’t actually. What’s with that?’

‘Will, I thought you weren’t going to pry?’

He shakes his head and leans forward, putting the can back on the coffee table. He doesn’t look at me when he answers. ‘Curiosity got the better of me.’

So he was thinking about me . . .

‘I don’t get it,’ he says. ‘If your dad is Stellan Rogers, what are you doing working here?’

‘I like working here,’ I say firmly. ‘And I don’t like my father.’

He steadily meets my eyes, but this time it’s he who looks away first. He rubs his jaw and sighs.

‘Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Don’t worry about it. But can you please keep it to yourself?’

‘Are you telling me Holly doesn’t even know about that one?’ He gives me a sardonic look.

‘No, she doesn’t, actually.’

‘Are you serious?’ He’s incredulous. ‘Daisy, what is it with you? Why are you so . . . mysterious?’

I try to keep a straight face at that description, but I can’t. After a moment, his face breaks into a grin, too.

I stand up. ‘I’m going to bed.’

He sighs and rests his head on the back of the sofa, looking up at me. ‘Do you have to wear your hair up for work?’

I’m wearing it down at the moment. ‘Yes,’ I reply, surprised.

He continues to stare at me.

‘Why?’ I ask, my stomach fluttering.

‘No reason.’

‘Why?’ I ask again. ‘Do you prefer it up?’

He leans forward and grabs his can from the coffee table. ‘No.’ He slumps back on the sofa. ‘I like it better down.’

‘Do you?’ I’m confused. I wouldn’t expect him to have an opinion about my hairdo, but I’m pleased that he does.

‘Mmm.’

‘Oh, right. Well, I’ll be off then.’ I make to leave.

‘I don’t know how I’m going to get back to sleep now,’ he says dolefully.

‘Serves you right for being such a nosey parker. Goodnight, Will.’

‘Goodnight, Daisy Rogers . . .’

I return to my room, my head spinning. I half expected Holly to have arrived back by now, but her bed is empty. I doze in and out of sleep for over three hours before she finally emerges at four o’clock in the morning.

‘What time do you call this?’ I ask groggily.

‘Jesus!’ she exclaims. ‘You scared the life out of me!’

‘I was worried about you.’

‘Why? No need for that. Anyway, I thought you’d be asleep.’ She looks shifty.

‘Nope.’

‘Well, I’m really tired.’ She changes into her nightclothes quickly, then climbs into bed, not bothering to go into the bathroom to remove her make-up or brush her teeth.

‘What did you get up to tonight?’ I ask, then snap, ‘Holly!’ when she doesn’t answer.

‘Hmm? Tired,’ she says sleepily. ‘Speak in morning.’

But talking happens to be the last thing on our minds the following day, because after pressing the snooze button on our alarm clock three times in a row, our main priority is just getting to work on time.

Now it’s ten o’clock: time to set up morning tea. I’m dozily arranging biscuits on a platter when Frederick speaks up.

‘Can you take that lot to the pits?’

‘Yes, Chef,’ I answer absent-mindedly.

‘Come on, chop, chop!’ He claps his hands, making me jump out of my skin. ‘What is it, Daisy? Another hangover?’

‘Hey? Oh, yeah,’ I fib.

‘You should stop going out with that one.’ He indicates Holly.

‘Me?’ Holly replies, huffily. ‘I barely had anything to drink last night!’

‘Didn’t you?’ I ask, surprised. But she stayed out with the lads for hours!

‘No.’ She looks away.

‘Get a bloody move on, would you?’ Frederick snaps again.

‘I’m on it, Chef.’ I quickly place the last few biscuits on the platter and hurry out of the paddock in the direction of the team garages.

I wonder where Will is? He hasn’t been into the hospitality area this morning. I’m so on edge that I almost drop the platter when I spot him, dressed in his overalls already, standing by his car in a discussion with one of the team’s engineers. He glances my way, but returns his attention to his conversation, not faltering, not acknowledging me. I place the platter on one of the catering tables.

‘Got any custard creams?’ I turn to see Luis standing there.

‘Custard creams? They’re not classy enough for this operation, Luis, you should know that. Have a nice piece of shortbread instead.’ I offer him some.

‘Pah to your shortbread. Get me some goddamn custard creams.’

Va se lixar!’

‘Shh!’ he urges, looking around in horror. ‘My mother’s just over there!’ He aims his thumb over his shoulder.

‘Your mother?’ I look past him to see a short, pleasantly plump Brazilian woman standing next to a short, pleasantly plump Brazilian man. There’s also a petite brunette who looks to be in her late teens.

‘My dad and little sister,’ Luis explains before I can ask.

‘Aw!’ I smile at him in delight. ‘Are any of your other brothers and sisters here?’ I remember him telling me he has about seven.

‘No, just Clara. The others are all either afraid of flying, too busy at work, or have just given birth.’

‘Just given birth?’

‘Yeah, one of my older sisters had a baby girl last weekend.’

‘That’s awesome! Have you seen her yet?’

He shakes his head, regretfully. ‘I won’t get a chance to fly home for a while.’

His mother looks over. ‘Mãe, come here,’ he calls. All three of them walk towards us. Luis quickly turns to me and says, ‘My mum really likes custard creams, too, so you might want to sort that out.’ He gives me a mischievous look, but I restrain myself from telling him to piss off in Portuguese again. ‘This is Daisy,’ Luis says as they arrive. ‘My favourite little bun tart,’ he adds, wrapping his arm around my neck and giving me a squeeze. I shrug him off and am about to smack him on the arm for calling me a bun tart when his mother speaks.

‘Ah, this is Daisy.’ She beams at me warmly and I look at Luis in confusion. His mother knows who I am?

‘I told her you were a troublemaker,’ he says as an aside to me. He has a twinkle in his eye. I look back at his mother to see she has the same look in hers.

‘Hello, how are you?’ I gather myself together and shake hands with all three of them. Clara regards me, shyly. ‘Are you enjoying your trip?’ I ask.

‘Oh, yes, wonderful,’ Mrs Castro replies. ‘We’ve been doing all sorts of sightseeing.’

‘Have you? Where have you been?’ I direct this question at Clara, hoping she’ll open up to me.

‘Luis!’ one of the mechanics calls.

‘Gotta go.’ He gives his mum a quick peck on the cheek and walks off in the direction of his car. I turn back to Clara.

‘We went to the Grand Bazaar yesterday,’ she tells me.

‘Shopping!’ his mother interjects. ‘The place to go since the fifteenth century, apparently!’

‘And on Monday we’re going to the Süleymaniye Mosque, aren’t we?’ his father butts in. They all speak fluent English.

‘Are you staying on in Istanbul for a holiday, then?’ I ask them.

‘Yes, for another week with Luis,’ Mr Castro replies. ‘It’s our first time in Turkey and we don’t see enough of him as it is.’

‘Well, I hope you have a lovely time.’

Holly comes into the pits carrying a pot of tea.

‘Oh, you’ve got the tea already. Cool. Thought I was going to have to go back for it,’ I say to her.

‘No need,’ she replies breezily.

‘We should let you get on,’ Mrs Castro interrupts.

‘Okay. Enjoy the qualifying. And help yourself to tea and biscuits!’

As I turn to walk out, I glance back to see Will on the other side of the garage, quietly watching this exchange. We make eye contact for a split-second before he averts his gaze.

Later, I’m in the kitchen washing dishes when Holly appears.

‘How’s it going?’ I ask. She’s been working out front of house and watching the qualifying on the big screen.

‘Okay. Luis was quickest in Q2.’ That’s the second qualifying session – there are three in total before the grid positions are determined.

‘That’s brilliant!’ I interrupt.

‘But Will was way down in ninth.’

‘Oh,’ I reply, disappointed.

‘Yeah, Simon’s not very happy about it.’

‘Really?’ My stomach tightens.

‘Apparently Will didn’t sleep well last night.’

‘Oh.’ I feel quite sick. I’d probably lose my job if Simon knew I’d kept him up.

I leave the kitchen to watch Q3 on the big screen and, even though it’s still not great, I’m relieved when Will manages to climb his way up to fifth. Luis will start second tomorrow.

The drivers arrive back soon afterwards, but while Luis sits down at a table with his family, Will goes straight up to his room. I stare after him for a moment, before remembering his spare pair of overalls still needs to have two new sponsorship patches stitched onto them. That’s as good an excuse as any . . .

‘Come in,’ he calls when I knock on the door.

I push it open. ‘Hi.’

‘Hello.’

‘Have you got your overalls handy? The other ones,’ I say, when I see him glance down at the pair he’s wearing. ‘I need to stitch those patches on.’

‘Oh, yeah, sure,’ he remembers, going to the cupboard and hunting them out. They’re still wrapped in dry cleaning plastic from after the last race.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask tentatively, as I take the package from him.

‘Fine,’ he brushes me off, indicating a chair. I perch on the edge of it.

‘I heard you were tired. I’m sorry.’

He shakes his head dismissively as he pulls off one of his boots. ‘That wasn’t the problem. There wasn’t enough downforce on the car.’

‘Oh. Okay. Is there anything I can do?’

‘No, no. I’ll be down in a minute.’ He pulls off the other boot.

‘Okay.’ I stand up.

The sound of Rihanna’s ‘Umbrella’ starts to pulse out of his mobile phone on the table. Will snatches it up. I’ve heard his phone ring before, but it just makes a plinkety-plonkety sound, it’s not a realtone. And then it dawns on me: this must be the tone he uses for his girlfriend.

‘Hey,’ he says into the receiver, ‘can you hang on a sec?’ He covers the mouthpiece as I move to the door and open it. An ache throbs deep inside me. What’s that song about? Being there for your beloved, whatever the weather? I haven’t got a hope in hell.

‘Daisy,’ he calls.

I turn back. ‘Yes?’

He whispers, ‘Better stay away from my room tonight, hey? I could do with a bit more sleep if I’m going to beat that dickhead.’

I blush and glance involuntarily at his phone, then force a smile and leave the room, closing the door gently behind me.

I walk back into the kitchen in a daze. I’m so stupid. So very, very stupid. I hate myself. Why can’t I stop thinking about him? I have to stop thinking about him. I have to!

‘What’s up with you?’ Holly asks, seeing my face.

‘Come to the bathroom with me?’ I throw a glance at Klaus, Gertrude and the other catering staff working away at nearby counters.

‘Oh, God, Holly,’ I say as soon as the bathroom door closes behind her. ‘You’re going to have to kick me or something. Anything to stop me from falling for him.’

‘I take it we’re talking about Will?’

I give her a wry look.

‘I think you’re a bit beyond that, don’t you? You’ve fallen, hook, line and sinker.’

I sigh and lean up against a toilet door. ‘Do you know what ringtone he uses for his girlfriend?’

She looks nonplussed.

‘“Umbrella”, by Rihanna.’

‘Oh.’ I’m sure she’s trying not to smirk.

‘It’s not funny!’

‘Sorry, sorry.’ She’s contrite.

‘Seriously, I’ve got to stop this. I’m sworn off men for a reason. I don’t want any more heartache. And I know you warned me about getting hurt,’ I add, when I see the look on her face. ‘But what could I do? What can I do? I can’t stop myself from feeling this way.’

‘Why don’t you shag Luis instead? That’ll take your mind off Will.’

‘Holly!’ I erupt. ‘What sort of a solution is that? No!’

‘Why not? I would.’

‘Well, why don’t you, then?’

She laughs and humorously shakes her head.

‘Of all the things to say.’ I stare at her in disbelief.

‘Don’t worry,’ she says, patting me on the arm. ‘I’m sure things will work out. They always do.’

Great. She’s no help at all.

Holly and I are doing the first shift on race day, so when she suggests that we have an early one on Saturday night, I don’t disagree. I’m fast asleep when something wakes me up. The door. I look across and see that Holly isn’t in her bed. I get up and have a quick check in the bathroom, but she’s nowhere to be seen. The glowing red display on the alarm clock tells me it’s half twelve. Where the hell has she gone? Is she having it off with Pete? Or maybe she is shagging Luis! Something’s up, and first thing tomorrow, I’m finding out what.

I wake up the next morning to find her back in bed, sleeping soundly. ‘Where did you go last night?’ I ask loudly. She moans. ‘Holly! Holly!’ I reach over and give her body a push.

‘What?’ she snaps. ‘What time is it?’

‘Time you told me what’s going on.’

‘Hey? Daisy, what are you on about?’

‘Where did you go last night?’

‘Last night?’

‘Yes! Holly, for God’s sake, just tell me. Are you doing the dirty with Pete?’

‘No!’ she snaps.

‘Luis?’

No!

‘Just tell me!’

‘No, Daisy, no! I’m not shagging either of them!’

‘Well, where did you go, then?’

‘I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a wander around the hotel. And then—’ She sits up straighter, her eyes lighting up. ‘Then I went into the media centre and wrote a few emails. I haven’t chatted to any of my pals back home in ages, so I had some catching up to do.’

I can tell she’s lying. But I can’t accuse her of it, because she’s given me a perfectly good explanation. I just know that something’s going on, and if she’s not going to come clean about it, then maybe I won’t be so forthright about my feelings for Will from now on, either.

The sun is shining on the day of the race, but it’s chilly when we arrive at the track, ready to set up breakfast at five a.m. I don’t say much to Holly in the car on the way over there. I’m still disappointed she’s not opening up to me. I don’t know if she can sense my mood, but she doesn’t say much to me, either.

It’s eight o’clock when Luis and his family bustle in.

‘Would you like some breakfast?’ I ask them.

‘Yes, please,’ Mrs Castro replies keenly.

‘Don’t have the muesli,’ Luis interjects. ‘It’s awful. Daisy does the best bacon and eggs.’

‘Is that your excuse?’ I ask wryly, looking past him to see Will appear. My heart does its usual somersault. I try to focus on serving Luis’s family as I see Will stop to talk to Simon at a nearby table. Simon gets up and Will follows him up the stairs. He nods at me as he passes. ‘Morning.’

‘Hi.’ I smile after him and glance back to find Luis giving me a disapproving look. I avert my gaze before he can catch me blushing again.

‘Mãe, grab that table, there. I’ll be over in a moment,’ Luis says. He looks back at me when they’ve gone.

‘Still hanging out for him?’

‘No,’ I say hotly, plonking a piece of bacon on the plate he’s holding out for me. ‘Want another?’

‘Of course. He’s never going to leave her, you know.’

‘Shut up, Luis.’ I roll my eyes in a huff.

‘I saw them together at team HQ the other week. Did I tell you?’

‘No?’ I look up at him, a familiar sick feeling swirling around inside me.

‘She came in for lunch with Will and Simon.’

‘What was she like?’ I hate myself for being interested, especially in front of Luis.

He shrugs. ‘She was alright, actually. Seemed like a nice girl.’

‘Have you got enough, there?’ I bluntly nod at his plate.

‘Yeah, that’ll do.’

‘Good.’ I wipe my hands and stalk off in the direction of the kitchen, leaving him standing alone at the serving table.

Holly and I go to the pits to watch the start of the race, but I’m distracted. I’m standing in Will’s garage, but Mrs Castro beckons me into Luis’s. Not wanting to seem impolite, I tug on Holly’s arm and we go to join the Castros. The cars are already on the grid and we watch as they set off on their warm-up lap. As they pull around the last corner and take their starting positions, my throat starts to feel constricted and my whole body tenses up. The red lights go out to denote the start and, even though Will gets away without any trouble, I can practically hear my heart thumping in my chest.

‘Are you okay?’ Holly asks me after a few laps. ‘You’re as white as a sheet.’

I can’t look at her. My eyes are glued to the television screen at the front of the garage.

‘Daisy?’

I shake my head. I can’t speak. Will attempts an overtaking manoeuvre and suddenly I get palpitations and clutch my hands to my chest.

‘Bloody hell, Daisy, what’s going on?’ Holly grabs my arm. Pete sees us and comes over.

‘Is she alright?’ he asks Holly. Luis’s family look on with concern.

‘Daisy!’ Holly demands.

I feel dizzy. I feel like I’m going to faint. But I can’t look away. Will has just taken third place. Suddenly everything goes red in front of my eyes and then black.

When I come to, I’m on the other side of the garage and Holly is fanning my face. The Castros are looking on, worriedly.

I try to sit up.

‘Just take it easy,’ Mr Castro insists.

‘What’s happened? Is Will okay?’ Panic threatens to engulf me once more.

Holly glances at Luis’s family, guardedly.

Both Luis and Will are fine. Will’s in third place, Luis is still running second. Come on,’ she says, helping me up, ‘I think we should go back to the hospitality suite.’

‘What’s going on?’ Frederick demands to know when Holly has sat me down with a glass of cold water.

‘She fainted,’ Holly explains.

‘Hmm. Must be the heat,’ he says, even though it’s not that hot today. ‘Sit there for a while.’

‘Are you going to be alright?’ Holly asks.

‘Yes, I’ll be fine,’ I reply weakly. ‘I’ll be back on my feet in a minute.’

‘Don’t you dare. Just relax. Watch the race.’

But when I look up at the cars on the big screen, the same thing happens. Nausea creeps into my throat. I lean forwards and put my head in my hands.

‘Are you okay?’ I hear an American man ask.

I look up to see one of the sponsors peering at me.

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I quickly tell him, getting to my feet and steadying myself on one of the chairs. ‘Thank you.’ I hurry back into the kitchen.

‘What are you doing?’ Holly snaps. ‘I thought I told you to chill out.’

‘I’d rather keep busy,’ I say, steadfastly walking to one of the counters and grabbing a tomato to slice.

She stares at me, hesitantly for a moment, before seeing my determination. After a while, she decides to go back to the pits, but I tell her to take Gertrude. I diligently work away for the next hour, trying not to think about the race. Finally I hear the sound of applause from outside in the hospitality area. I’ve been using the blender on and off so it’s the first commotion I’ve heard. I hurry out of the kitchen and ask one of the guests what’s going on.

‘Luis came second!’

Is it over already? ‘That’s great!’ I say. ‘What about Will?’

He looks at me like I’m nuts. ‘Didn’t you see his crash?’

‘His crash?’ I feel light-headed.

‘He’s okay,’ the man hurriedly assures me. ‘It wasn’t a bad one.’

‘When? What happened?’

‘Takahashi span off the track and clipped Will’s wing. It happened about half an hour ago,’ he explains.

Naoki Takahashi is a Japanese driver for one of the least competitive teams.

‘Do you know where Will is now?’ I ask, but the man just shrugs. I quickly hurry up the stairs to Will’s room. There’s no answer when I knock, so I tentatively push the door open. The room is empty. There’s no sign of his bags.

I run back down the stairs and crash into Holly. ‘Where’s Will?’ I demand to know. ‘Have you seen him?’

‘No.’ She gives me a look. ‘I thought you were staying away from him from now on?’

I take a deep breath and she obviously feels sorry for me because she says, ‘I’ll find out, don’t worry.’

Ten minutes later she comes to find me. ‘He’s gone.’

‘Gone? Where?’

‘Back to the UK. Simon said he could catch an early flight instead of waiting around for the debriefing meeting.’

I’m crushed.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll see him again in a couple of weeks.’

A couple of weeks? I can’t bear it! I stare across at my bag, where my mobile phone is buried deep within. I could text him, while I know he’s still at the airport or on a plane . . . While I know there’s no chance of him being with his girlfriend, yet . . .

I snatch up my bag and hurry to the ladies’ room.

‘Where are you going? Daisy!’ Holly calls after me. I ignore her.

I go inside a cubicle and dig my phone out from inside my bag. What should I say? I think for a moment before typing out:

I HOPE UR OK.

But what if he doesn’t know it’s from me? I add:

DAISY X

Is the kiss too much? Should I send it? Fuck it. I press send and instantly regret it.

I sit on the loo with the seat down scrutinising my phone for a full three minutes before I decide he’s not going to reply. Just as I go to put my phone back in my bag, it beeps. I quickly pull it out again.

I’ M OK. THANKS. SORRY I MISSED YOU.

It may only be a short text, but I feel giddy with happiness. Head spinning, I type out another message:

YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID GOODBYE

I press send and he immediately replies:

I COULD’T SEE YOU ANYWHERE

So he did think of me!

I WAS IN THE KITCHEN!

He writes back:

SORRY. WASN’ T REALLY WITH IT. SEE YOU IN MONACO X

He signed off with a kiss! I gleefully type out:

I LOOK FORWARD TO IT X

Another kiss. Naughty Daisy! Oh, God, I just can’t help myself. I sit there in a daze until I hear an American woman outside the cubicle say, ‘I don’t know who’s in there; she’s been ages.’

Mortified, I stuff my phone back into my bag and flush the toilet, before rushing out with my head down, murmuring, ‘Sorry’ to the queue of people waiting. It only occurs to me later that I didn’t wash my hands. Not a good look for catering staff, but I’m hoping no one saw my uniform.

Chapter 13

Holly and I run towards each other, squealing, before doing a little jig on the spot. We’re at Heathrow – again – and are beside ourselves with excitement. This time we’re off to Monte Carlo for the most glamorous and historic race of the season. This is the place to see and be seen and Holly and I have spent the last couple of days liaising on the telephone about what going-out outfits we should take with us. As a result, my bag is packed full to breaking point.

‘So I reckon we should go to a bar on the harbour tonight,’ Holly says, taking my arm as we walk towards the checkin desk.

‘Sounds good.’ It’s Wednesday, and Will isn’t due to arrive until four p.m. tomorrow. It’ll be about seven o’clock by the time he gets to the hotel. I know this, because I asked Ally for his itinerary. For professional reasons, of course. Anyway, it means there’s a whole night and day to kill before I can see him again.

The last week and a half has been torture. I woke up on Monday morning in a cold sweat, severely regretting texting him. I keep telling myself it was completely innocent, but I just hope he sees it like that. I’d be mortified if he suspected I fancied him.

The motorhomes in Monaco are all situated on the port, about five minutes’ walk from the pits across the temporary Rascasse bridge. We can see the boats on the glittering ocean from here, and there’s a spectacular view looking back up at the hills, which are jagged with apartment blocks and hotels overlooking the harbour.

By Friday morning, I’m so on edge that I can’t believe I haven’t spontaneously combusted. We went out straight from the track on Thursday night and, as a result, I wasn’t at the hotel when Will checked in, which I’m assuming he did.

Frederick pipes up. ‘Can you get on with the bacon, Daisy?’

‘Yes, Chef!’

Urgh, that’s the last thing I feel like doing. I have to grill it out in the hospitality area so it’s fresh for our guests, but I always end up smelling like bacon afterwards and with a hangover I feel decidedly queasy. Queasy and greasy. A lovely combination.

‘Happy there with your nice muesli?’ I gripe at Holly.

‘Perfectly, thank you.’ She smirks. I’m tempted to throw a piece of bacon at her, but Frederick would go mad.

It’s only six a.m. but the team members are starting to appear, each looking more worse for wear than the last. Then Simon comes into the hospitality area looking bright-eyed and bushy tailed.

‘Can I get you a tea? Coffee?’ I offer.

‘Coffee, please. White, no sugar.’ But, of course, I know this already. He fidgets on the spot impatiently for all of two seconds before snapping, ‘Actually, Holly, can you bring that up?’

‘Sure,’ she replies.

He stalks off.

‘That’s strange,’ she comments.

You’re telling me. Why the hell didn’t he ask for me to take it to him, considering I’m supposed to be his on-hand girl? But I keep these thoughts to myself.

‘Don’t you think?’ Holly gives me a weird look.

‘Yeah, it is a bit,’ I agree, uncomfortably. Is he angry with me? Does he know about me keeping Will up before qualifying in Istanbul?

Holly takes the cup from me and heads out and up the stairs, while I get back to flipping bacon.

Then Will walks through the doors, and all my worries about Simon vanish in an instant.

I watch him with anticipation, willing him to look up and see me. Suddenly he does, but there’s something not right about his smile.

And then I see her. Tall, slim, blonde, wearing white skinny jeans and a fitted white shirt, looking radiant, glowing with a light tan – the sort of tan only the very rich seem to get right.

Laura. I know it in an instant.

I’m in shock. I realise I’m staring. My eyes flit back to Will as I see him stop to shake hands with some sponsors. He introduces Laura and she shakes their hands, too.

I want to escape. I want to get out of here. But with Holly upstairs, I’m the only person staffing the station. And now they’re coming this way.

‘Would I be able to have a cup of tea, please?’ Laura asks in a posh British accent.

I look around for the teapot and realise Gertrude has just gone into the kitchen to make a fresh pot. I can’t wait for her to come back so I pour water into a cup direct from the hot water jug, trying to keep my hands steady. I suddenly realise I haven’t put the teabag in, so I quickly rectify my mistake, but it means the tea doesn’t brew as well. I stir it with a teaspoon, assuming Laura is currently thinking I’m a total loser.

‘Laura, this is Daisy,’ Will says.

‘Hello!’ She leans across and shakes my hand. It’s greasy from bacon fat, but she doesn’t wipe her hand on her trousers or do anything so common as that afterwards. She probably has a handkerchief in her handbag, for all I know.

‘Good morning,’ I reply, feeling ever so formal. ‘Let me know if you need anything during your stay, won’t you? I’m here to help!’ I have NO idea where these words are coming from, but I force a bright, albeit shaky, smile.

‘Well, thank you very much,’ she says warmly, holding her hands out for the tea.

‘Milk?’ I ask weakly.

‘No, thank you. What are you having, darling?’ She turns to Will. ‘One of those dreadful milkshakes?’

I stare at him as he decides.

‘No, maybe later.’ He puts his hand on Laura’s lower back and steers her away, not meeting my eyes. They take a seat at one of the tables and I do my utmost to focus on the bacon, but my gaze keeps flitting back to them.

She doesn’t wear much make-up – only a light slick of the sheerest lipgloss and a touch of blush and mascara. She’s too beautiful to need anything else. I can see her fingers, long and slim, wrapped around the handle of her teacup. Her nails are perfectly manicured.

‘Alright?’ Holly reemerges, looking comparatively cheerful.

‘Laura is here,’ I mutter under my breath.

Holly surveys the tables and spots her instantly. She waves. I look at Laura to see her wave back and smile. I remember they’ve met before.

‘Sorry,’ Holly whispers to me. ‘She saw me; I couldn’t ignore her.’

Will suddenly stands up. Laura looks surprised at his sudden movement. He says something to her, then turns and walks towards the stairs leading to his private room. She quickly places her teacup on the saucer and hurries, gazelle-like, after him in her ever-so-high heels.

I turn and look at Holly.

‘Oh, dear,’ she says.

I don’t speak, just stare down at the sizzling bacon. I look back up at her. ‘Does my hair look greasy?’

‘No, it looks fine,’ she lies. ‘Gorgeous. You look stunning.’

I smile at her gratefully, even though I know I look like a state. Why oh why did I go out drinking last night? And the bacon! The curse of the bacon! I look like a mess.

‘Why did she have to come to this race? Of all the races to come to, this is the one I’ve been most looking forward to!’ I lament.

‘Don’t let this spoil it for you,’ Holly says, but she doesn’t understand. My weekend has been ruined already.

Later that afternoon, Holly takes me to one side. ‘I know why she’s here.’

‘Who? Laura?’

Holly nods.

‘Why?’

‘She’s involved in a charity event they’re all going to this evening.’

By ‘they’ I assume she means the drivers and directors.

‘I see.’ So there’s no chance of Will coming out with us tonight.

‘We’ll have a good time,’ she tells me, but she knows I don’t believe it.

By ten thirty that night, I’ve had enough. Everyone else is in high spirits, but I just don’t have it in me to enjoy myself. I quietly tell Holly I’m heading back to the hotel. She immediately grabs my arm and pleads with me to stay, before drunkenly insisting she’ll come with me. I firmly tell her no. She’s been having a laugh with Pete and Dan and I know they’ll see she gets back to the hotel safely.

The streets and bars are bustling with people and there’s a real party feel about the place. As I set off down the road I’m overcome with sadness that I’m letting Will and Laura ruin my time in Monaco. Holly has raved about this race ever since I got the job with the team last year. I almost stop and go back to the bar, but I feel foolish enough as it is – I don’t want to draw more attention to myself.

After a while I spot a couple of front-of-house girls I know from one of the other teams. It’s a warm night in May and they’re sitting outside at a table on the crowded pavement. One of them, Sarah, beckons me over, so I go to say hello.

‘Where are you off to?’ Sarah asks me.

‘Oh, back to the hotel,’ I tell her reluctantly, aware of the response I’m going to get.

‘BACK TO THE HOTEL?’ she shouts. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’

I shrug.

‘Sit down here, girl. Get that down ya.’ She pours me a glass of champagne from the bottle they’ve almost polished off.

I dither for a moment. Maybe I could have one drink here and then decide if I should go back and join the others? What would it hurt? I make the decision to do as she says and as soon as the bubbly fizz hits the back of my throat, I feel better. To hell with it, I am going to stay out!

We sit there and gossip about the fling Sarah is having with a mechanic from another team, until we eventually drink all the champagne.

‘Another one?’ I ask, lifting the empty bottle up.

‘Yeah!’ they chorus.

‘I’ll go to the bar,’ I say, looking around for a waiter and not seeing one. They’ve been rushed off their feet.

I make my way to the busy bar area and lean in, trying to get the bartender’s attention.

‘Hello, Daisy Paola Giuseppe Rogers.’

I turn to see Luis standing beside me. I feel bizarrely happy to see him. ‘Hello, Luis I Don’t Know Your Middle Name Castro.’

‘It’s just as well. I have about six of them.’

‘Six middle names?’

‘Yes.’

‘Whatever.’ I grin. ‘How did you remember my full name anyway?’ I vaguely remember telling him what it was way back in Bahrain when we had a few drinks that night.

‘I have a good memory.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yep.’ He leans up against the bar top, facing me. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I should ask you the same question. Aren’t you supposed to be at whatshername’s do?’

‘Yeah. Boring as hell. I left.’

‘That’s not very charitable of you.’

‘I do my bit,’ he says, looking around. ‘Where are the others?’

‘At some other bar.’

‘You here alone?’ He looks surprised.

‘I bumped into a couple of bun tarts’ – I say this wryly – ‘from another team. They’re over there.’ I point outside and we both look to see a waiter standing over their table, taking an order.

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing here.’ I indicate the bar.

‘Stay and have a drink with me,’ he suggests. ‘I’ve been hanging out with Rizzo and Aranda, but now they’ve buggered off to bed, boring bastards.’

I laugh and pull up a stool that has just been vacated. Sarah glances my way and I point at Luis and pretend to knock back a shot. She gives me the thumbs up, understanding my sign language.

Luis calls over the bartender and orders a beer. I decide to go hardcore and opt for a whisky and Coke.

‘Are you Luis Castro?’ the bartender asks in a heavy French accent as he whacks our drinks down on the bar top.

‘Yes,’ Luis answers, pulling out his wallet.

‘These are on us,’ the bartender replies. ‘Good luck for the race.’

‘Thanks very much. Cheers.’ He holds his bottle up to the bartender and then to me, before gulping some down. ‘So you’re drowning your sorrows, hey?’ He gets straight to the point.

‘Mmm.’

‘Have you spoken to her?’

‘Barely at all. I made her tea. And didn’t do a very good job.’

‘Did she give you any stick?’

I scoff. ‘No, and she’d better not because I won’t be standing for it.’ I’ve had too much to drink. This isn’t me speaking, at all.

‘Will you tell her to go fuck herself like you did me that time?’

I laugh sharply, before saying, ‘I don’t think I’ll be going quite that far.’

‘Teach me some other swear words,’ he says, grinning.

I swivel on my stool to face him, glad of the distraction he’s providing.

‘Well, you know, “cazzo”, right?’

‘Dick?’

‘Yeah. That’s what it literally means, but it pretty much covers everything: fuck, shit, etc. If you want to really express annoyance, you can say, “Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo!”’

‘Got it.’

‘Your turn.’

‘Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo!’ he exclaims, slapping his hand theatrically on the bar top.

‘Shh!’ I start to giggle. ‘I hope none of Emilio Rizzo’s fans are in earshot. I want you to teach me some Portuguese slang! You can never know too many swear words in foreign languages . . .’

He smirks. ‘Okay . . .’

‘How do you say, “fuck it!”?’

Fode-se. And “fuck off” is va se foder.’

‘What about, “I couldn’t give a shit”?’

Estou me cagando.’

I repeat it: ‘Estou me cagando about William Trust and his goddamn girlfriend!’

Luis chuckles.

‘This is great,’ I say. ‘It’s really cheering me up.’

‘I bet it is.’

‘I wish Will were here.’

Luis looks a little put out, then seems to realise what I mean. ‘So you can swear at him?’

‘Exactly. Dickhead.’

Testa di cazzo!’

‘You got it!’

He raises his beer bottle and loudly chinks the almost empty whisky glass in my hand. ‘You want another?’

I glance over at Sarah and her friend. They won’t mind if I don’t go back and join them.

‘Sure.’

The bartender comes over and takes our order, noisily banging down my glass and Luis’s beer bottle.

‘On the house,’ he says.

‘Thanks!’ Luis and I both enthuse.

‘Hey . . .’ I lean in and motion to the bartender to do the same.

‘Yes?’

‘How do you say “fucker” in French?’

He doesn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Enculé.’

‘Cool. Thanks.’

‘What about “fuck off”?’ Luis chips in.

Va te faire foutre,’ the bartender replies, leaning in further. ‘Are you thinking of ways to talk to your teammate?’ His tone is conspiratorial.

I collapse into giggles.

‘No!’ Luis denies, but the bartender grins knowingly.

‘I’ve read the newspapers,’ he says. ‘Do you two dislike each other as much as they make out?’

‘No,’ Luis shakes his head dismissively.

The bartender winks and leaves us to it.

I look at Luis and raise an eyebrow. ‘Is that what they’re saying in the gossip columns?’

‘Surely you’ve heard about our so-called feud?’ He regards me with disbelief.

‘I never read the tabloids.’ I don’t read proper papers much either, but I don’t tell him this.

‘Don’t you?’

‘No. Never, ever, EVER.’ I tipsily slap my hand down on the bar top to emphasise my point.

‘Why not?’

‘I have my reasons.’

‘When did you stop reading them?’

I pull a face at him. It’s not that fascinating a subject, is it? ‘A few months after I moved to the UK.’

‘Too much about Johnny Jefferson in them, was there?’

I almost fall off my barstool.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,’ he says.

‘How did you find out?’ I raise my hand to my throat. I feel like I’m choking.

‘I looked you up on the internet,’ he replies. ‘Daisy, it’s okay.’ He touches my arm. ‘You can trust me.’

I’ve heard that before. I can’t trust anyone.

‘Why did you do that?’ I manage to ask. What is it with him and Will? Except Will came back with nothing about Johnny, only my father.

‘I’m sorry,’ Luis apologises. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have. But Will was telling me how you worked for someone famous . . .’

The disappointment that Will gossiped about me when I asked him to keep his mouth shut barely has time to register.

‘I remembered about your middle names and searched under “Paola Giuseppe” instead. Johnny Jefferson’s name came up right away.’

I stare at him, still feeling shell-shocked.

‘Look, I swear I won’t say anything to anyone. Not even Will to annoy him. I swear.’ He looks at me intently as I consider him warily. ‘Is that why you left America?’ Luis prompts.

I nod, taking a deep breath. His eyes are full of sympathy. And something happens to me. The weight that I’ve been feeling on my shoulders for the past two years slowly but surely begins to lift. Once I start talking, I can’t stop . . .

I’m a New York City girl, but almost three years ago I went to live in Los Angeles to work as a personal assistant to one of the biggest rock stars in the world. I fell for him instantly. Johnny Jefferson is the ultimate bad boy. The type of guy you should never fall in love with, but the type of guy you inevitably do. The thing that completely caught me off guard was that he fell for me, too. At least, I think he did. It’s hard to tell with Johnny. He’s complicated, to put it mildly. And that’s when it all went wrong. The groupies had always been there, waiting on the sidelines, but Johnny stepped up the drink, drugs and, of course, the sex with countless girls, and he made sure I was a witness to all of it. Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. It was devastating to watch the person I loved most in the world self-destruct. And when it was over, when I’d finally walked out his door for the last time, I still couldn’t put him behind me. I would see him at parties, at bars and clubs, and even though I soon got a job as a PA to a businessman, the group of friends my new boss mixed with meant that Johnny was never far from my sight. Then Johnny got a new PA, a girl from England, and the rumours circulated that the same thing had happened to her. It was the final straw, to know I wasn’t ‘The One’, to know that I was just another notch on his belt. I was still in love with him, so I quit my job, fled the country and moved to England. I could have gone to Italy. I should have gone to Italy. But Johnny is British and the thought of leaving him behind fully was too much. In London there was always the risk of bumping into him again – I’ve even catered at a party for his own record company – but so far we’ve managed unwittingly to avoid each other.

‘What about your name?’ Luis asks finally. ‘Why “Paola Giuseppe” and not “Daisy Rogers”?’

‘It wasn’t intentional,’ I say, although quite honestly, at the time I was happy to leave my identity back in New York. ‘Johnny discovered my middle names and decided they suited me better. He wouldn’t stop calling me Paola Giuseppe and it soon stuck.’

‘And when you quit? What did you do, then?’

‘I reverted to my real name. I didn’t want anything to remind me of him.’ I didn’t want anything to remind me of my former life in New York either, but even that was preferable to Johnny.

Luis nods and I pause for a moment, thinking.

‘I told you I didn’t read the tabloids.’

‘You did.’

‘When I moved to England I read them all the time. I bought every single one and scoured the pages for news of Johnny. It began to eat me up. I realised I was addicted, so one day I went cold turkey. I haven’t read them since. Of course, I still hear things about him, about all those trips he’s had back and forth into rehab, but I do my best to avoid all news of him.’

‘You’re still not over him?’

I think about this for a moment. ‘Do you know what, I actually think that I am. But there’s no point testing it. He still hurt me. I don’t want those feelings to rise up inside me again. I think that sort of pain takes years to get over.’

‘Don’t they say it takes twice as much time as the time you went out with someone to get over them?’

I glance at Luis and grin. ‘Did you read that in a women’s magazine?’

He looks sheepish. ‘Might’ve done.’

‘Well, it’s taking me a bit longer, to be honest. I only worked with Johnny for eight months, but he made a major impact on me.’

‘That’s probably why he’s famous.’

I cock my head to one side. ‘Yeah, you’re probably right. He has the X factor . . .’ I say this sardonically. ‘What about you? Why are you reading women’s mags? Were they your girlfriend’s?’

Luis almost chokes on his beer. ‘Girlfriend, no!’

‘Why the strong reaction?’

‘I don’t have a girlfriend.’

‘Why not? You’re acting like they’re a disease or something.’

He shrugs. ‘Not my style.’

‘Oh God, another one like Johnny. That’s all the world needs.’

He looks thoughtful and stares down at his beer bottle.

‘I’m not that bad,’ he tells me.

‘No?’

‘Maybe I was hurt myself once.’

‘Oh, Jesus, you really have been reading women’s magazines, haven’t you!’ I start to crack up, but then see his face and realise it’s not a laughing matter. ‘Sorry. Tell me what happened?’

‘Not much to say,’ he replies. ‘Fell in love with a girl, she ran off with my best mate.’

‘Oh, no, that’s awful.’

‘Yeah, it did suck a bit.’

‘When did this happen?’

‘When I was about nineteen.’

‘Nineteen?’ I exclaim. ‘Luis! That’s ages ago!’

He doesn’t say anything.

‘But how long did you go out together?’

‘Since we were at school.’

‘Not another pair of childhood sweethearts . . .’ I moan, then apologise for bringing the conversation back to me. ‘So does that theory work for you? Has it taken twice as much time as you were together for you to get over her?’

‘Hell no, much more. But I’m over her now. I may not have gone to her wedding, but I am over her.’

‘Wedding? Who did she marry?’

He gives me a wry look.

‘Not your best friend?’ I pull a face.

He laughs. ‘Well, I wouldn’t call him that anymore.’

‘No, I guess not.’ I swallow a mouthful of whisky as the bartender plonks a couple of refills back on the bar top.

‘Cheers!’ Luis says again. ‘I shouldn’t really be drinking all this the night before qualifying. Simon and João would go mad.’

I glance at my watch. It’s getting close to two a.m. ‘Do you think we should call it quits?’ I look around. My friends have already left.

‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ Luis replies, putting his bottle of beer on the bar top.

I slide off my stool and almost topple down a step that I forgot was there.

‘Whoa,’ Luis says, putting his hands on my arms to steady me. I look up into his dark-brown eyes and a hundred butterflies swarm through my stomach, taking me completely by surprise. I feel my face heat up and quickly look away.

And considering how openly we both spoke earlier on in the night, on the walk back to the hotel we find we have very little to say to each other at all.

Chapter 14

‘Have you told him to fuck off in French yet?’ Luis asks me the next day during morning tea service.

I laugh. All appears to be normal between us. I don’t know what was going on with those butterflies, but my blame falls squarely on the alcohol.

I got back before Holly last night. I tried to ring her because I was worried, then realised she’d already texted me to say everything was fine and they were going to Jimmyz nightclub. Infamous Eurotrash heaven, apparently.

I nod at Luis. ‘You look alright considering how much you had to drink.’ Klaus and Gertrude did the early shift so this is the first time we’ve seen each other today.

‘Are you saying I normally look like a man who can’t hold his drink?’

I consider him. ‘Well, you are a bit scrawny.’

He laughs and throws a napkin at me.

‘Oi!’ I’m about to throw it back at him, but spy Frederick by the kitchen door. ‘I’ll get you back, right when you least expect it,’ I warn, evilly.

‘Just you try, bun tart.’

We’re still chuckling when Will and Laura appear.

‘Good morning,’ I say, not sounding quite as forced chirpy as I did the day before. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’

‘Tucking into the pastries, are you, Luis?’ Will says.

‘I need something to help me get over my hangover,’ Luis casually explains.

‘Out drinking the night before qualifying?’ Will raises his eyebrows.

‘Blame Daisy,’ Luis answers, as I hand him tiny pots of butter and jam to go with his croissant.

Will frowns and indicates me with his thumb. ‘Daisy? This Daisy?’

Luis nods, picking up a knife and leaning against the serving table. ‘Yeah, we had a few, didn’t we?’

‘That we did,’ I agree.

‘Were you guys all out together or something?’ Will nods towards the kitchen where Holly is working away.

‘No, just Daisy and me,’ Luis explains, slathering his croissant with butter.

The corners of Will’s mouth turn down.

‘Aw, did you head off early from the charity event?’ Laura pipes up.

‘Afraid so.’ Luis pulls a face. ‘Not really my scene, all that stuff. But don’t worry, I left a little something. Anyway, better get this down me before we hit the track. See ya later.’ He winks at me and wanders away.

‘What can I get for you?’ I force a smile at Laura.

‘Just a juice, please.’

‘Orange? Apple? Grapefruit?’ I wave my hand at the glass jugs to my right.

‘Ooh, I don’t know,’ she replies, sweetly. ‘Maybe . . . Apple? Are you a little short?’ She examines the contents of the jug.

‘There’s more out the back,’ I tell her, trying to keep my tone even. Just hurry up and bugger off.

‘Okay, apple then,’ she decides.

‘Will?’ I turn to him.

‘Nothing, thanks.’

I serve Laura and then watch as they walk off to an empty table.

‘What’s up with you?’ Holly asks, coming out of the kitchen with a platter of mini lemon tarts. ‘You look like you want to murder someone . . . Oh,’ she says, spying Will and Laura.

I instantly feel mean. It’s not like she’s done anything wrong. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong, either, for that matter. Am I acting like a crazy person?

‘I think we’d better go back to that plan where you kick me,’ I say mournfully to Holly.

Later, Frederick asks us both to stock up the snacks in the garages. We traipse across the Rascasse bridge, laden down with cool boxes.

My heart plummets as we walk in to see Will standing next to his car, fully kitted out in racing gear, with Laura at his side. Catalina is talking to Laura, and then Simon joins them, affectionately placing his hand on Laura’s back.

I try not to look, but the jealousy is killing me.

Laura’s blonde hair is lightly streaked with expensive-looking highlights. She wears it down, around her shoulders. Mine is tied up into a bun as usual. I feel inadequate.

‘Stop staring,’ Holly whispers.

I quickly turn my attention to the sandwiches we’re setting up, but out of the corner of my eye I notice Will climbing into his car. Laura and Catalina move out of the way as mechanics swarm in to push it out of the garage.

I turn to Holly. ‘I think I might go back.’

‘No, stay,’ she pleads. I watch as the mechanics start up Will’s car and he zooms away from the pits. There’s a white box painted on the floor of Will’s garage to show where his car goes and Laura stands right in the centre of it. I study her for a moment as she watches the single television screen above her head following Will’s journey as he skilfully manoeuvres the car around the circuit. She looks tense.

No one else stands inside the box with Laura. It’s like she owns it. Like she owns Will.

‘I’m going,’ I say, picking up the empty cool boxes.

‘No . . .’ Holly blocks me.

‘Well, at least let’s go through to Luis’s garage,’ I say.

She perks up. ‘Okay!’

Luis is already inside his car, watching Will’s lap on the television screen above his head. We stand behind him, watching too, and after a while the mechanics come in to start up his car. He pulls out of the garage.

Towards the end of the qualifying, Catalina comes over to us.

‘Don’t you have any egg sandwiches?’

I’m about to apologise, but Holly speaks first.

‘No,’ she snaps.

‘The other two. The Germans. They had them yesterday,’ Catalina says. That was when Klaus and Gertrude were in charge of the catering in the pits.

‘Well, we don’t have them today,’ Holly answers coolly. I watch in alarm. Isn’t she taking this too far?

‘Can you make some?’ she asks impatiently.

‘Too busy for that, I’m afraid.’ Holly looks back up at the television screen while I stand there, tensely.

‘You don’t look very busy to me,’ Catalina says, turning her nose up.

‘We’re on a break,’ Holly replies, emphasising the word ‘break’. She stares at her directly and after a moment, Catalina crumbles and stalks off to Will’s garage. We see her walk outside to the pit wall where Simon is sitting with headphones on. She says something to him and he lifts one of the headphones off his ear to hear her. Holly and I watch this exchange intently, me feeling like we’re about to lose our jobs. But Simon shrugs and puts his headphones back on. I glance at Holly to see a satisfied little smirk on her lips. She looks at me smugly, then refocusses her attention on the television screen.

There’s a funny feeling in my stomach. An uneasiness. I watch as Catalina makes her way back to the catering table and starts to load up her plate with assorted sandwiches. She glances through to Luis’s garage so I quickly avert my gaze. She’s a witch, but I feel an odd sense of pity for her, and it’s not sitting well with me.

‘I feel a bit bad,’ I say to Holly.

‘Don’t,’ she bites back, glaring through at Catalina as she perches on a chair in front of the six television screens at the back of the garages.

All of a sudden the mechanics around us cheer. We look back up to see Luis has taken pole position.

‘No way!’ I exclaim, delighted. ‘Where’s Will?’

Will is still doing his last lap around the track. As he reaches the start/finish line, we watch in tense silence.

Second!

Everyone claps and I look across at Laura. She’s standing in the box, smiling.

Will is going to be disappointed with that time. I know how desperately he wants to win here. Laura knows, too. That’s why her smile keeps faltering.

The drivers return and everyone moves out of the way as the mechanics help manoeuvre the cars back onto the white boxes. Luis leaps out to many slaps on the back. In Will’s garage, it’s more reserved.

‘Hey!’

I turn back to see Luis standing in front of me, holding his helmet in his hand. His black hair is damp.

‘Well done!’ I pat him on the arm and beam, feeling genuinely happy for him.

‘Thanks!’ He’s still grinning. ‘You watched it?’

‘We did.’ I fold my arms across my chest. Luis glances through to Will’s garage where Laura is speaking intimately into Will’s ear. At that moment, Will looks up and his eyes flit between Luis and I, his brow furrowing. He returns his attention to Laura and shakes his head, seemingly with irritation, as though he couldn’t hear what she was saying. She steps backwards in frustration, then leans in again to repeat herself.

Luis and I turn back to each other. ‘I’m going to go take a shower,’ he says, giving me a knowing look. ‘Catch you later, bun tarts!’ He smacks Holly on her bum and she squeals as he walks off.

I glance again into Will’s garage, but he has his back to me. ‘Come on, we should go,’ I say to Holly.

‘Sure. Let’s just grab the cool boxes.’

That evening, we get ready at the track. We’re all going to a bar on the harbour, and Holly is expecting big things from me after my drinking session with Luis last night.

Speaking of whom, I spy him jogging down the stairs into the hospitality area. He comes over.

‘Are you coming out tonight?’ I ask.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Some bar on the harbour. Bars, Stars . . . something like that.’

‘Stars ’N’ Bars?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘Yeah, cool. I’ve got to go to some drinks do on a yacht, but I may catch you there later.’

I feel a tinge of regret as I remember Will saying he’d try to get me an invite to a yacht party. There’s no chance of that, now.

Later that night, we’re all at Stars ’N’ Bars, an American sports bar with a view overlooking the harbour. It’s absolutely jam-packed, but we’ve monopolised a section of the bar. I find myself looking at my watch, wondering if and when Luis will turn up. When he finally does at ten o’clock, flanked by a member of team security, I can’t stop smiling.

‘You’ve cheered up,’ he comments. ‘Had a few?’ He indicates the wine glass in my hand.

‘Might’ve done,’ I answer. ‘You’ve brought a friend with you tonight?’ I nod behind him to the security guard, who’s trying to look inconspicuous standing against the wall.

Luis rolls his eyes. ‘Simon insisted. You know, pole position, Monaco . . .’

‘I didn’t think it was likely to be your idea. How was the yacht?’

‘Good.’ He nods.

‘Spot any famous people?’

‘No, tomorrow’s the best day for that. Make sure you do the grid walk.’

Pete comes over. ‘Shouldn’t you be in bed, mate?’ he shouts.

‘Fuck that!’ Luis shouts back.

‘In that case, cheers!’ Pete hands a bottle of beer over and they chink bottles.

‘Where are the others?’ I ask.

‘Will went back to the hotel.’ Luis takes a swig of his beer and looks around the bar.

‘With Laura?’ I find myself asking, but, of course, I know the answer.

‘Yep,’ he replies.

Enculé!’ I shout at the top of my voice.

He’s laughing when Holly returns from the ladies’ room.

‘Luis!’ she squeals, enveloping him in a drunken embrace. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine, thanks!’ Although he looks decidedly uncomfortable with Holly hanging around his neck.

‘How was the yacht?’ she shouts, letting go of her grip on him.

‘Big!’ he replies.

‘Was Catalina there with Simon?

’ He narrows his eyes as he answers, ‘Yes.’

I notice a hardness come over her features as she looks away. Out of the blue, she turns back and plasters a big, false smile on her face.

‘I’m going to the bar!’ she shouts and pushes past us.

I feel dizzy as realisation comes crashing down on me. I knew something was up. I knew it. And now I know with whom.

Luis is watching me with a strange expression on his face.

‘You know, don’t you?’ I ask him bluntly.

‘About what?’

‘Simon.’

‘What do you mean, Simon?’

‘Don’t play dumb with me. I saw the look you gave Holly when she asked if Catalina was on the yacht with him.’

‘Wait, before we go any further, what do you know?’ He pulls me to one side, away from the mechanics, and clocks me straight in the eye. I size him up in return, but even if I wasn’t so sure my instincts were correct, something tells me I can trust him.

‘Holly is having an affair with Simon.’ There. I’ve said it.

Luis doesn’t reply at first, but then he nods and takes a swig of his beer.

‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ I speak again as my heart pounds faster. He looks back at me. ‘Oh, my God.’ I’m dumbfounded.

‘I thought she must’ve told you,’ he says, confused.

I stare down at my fingers in a daze. ‘I suspected, but I didn’t know for sure.’ I glance back at him. ‘How did you know?’

‘I saw them together.’

‘You saw them together?’ I’m still incredulous. ‘When?’

‘When we were filming that advert in Italy. She came out of his hotel room at five o’clock in the morning. She didn’t see me, but later that day I overheard them talking. It was intimate.’

‘Catalina wasn’t in Italy, was she?’

‘No. Nor at the following race in Istanbul.’

‘Of course.’ I remember Holly disappearing in the middle of the night. ‘No wonder she was so rude to Catalina earlier,’ I muse.

‘Was she?’ Luis raises an eyebrow.

‘Yeah. A bit too rude, to be honest.’

‘Hmm.’

‘You don’t approve, do you?’

‘Do you?’ he challenges me.

I think about it for a moment, realising horridly I may not be all that different to Holly if I ever get the chance to be with Will, but I keep my answer true to my heart. ‘No. I don’t. Catalina may be a bitch, but she doesn’t deserve that.’

We both gaze over at Holly, who has collapsed against Pete’s shoulder and is laughing hysterically. Pete, also laughing, tries to take her drink away and put it on the bar top, but Holly immediately reaches for it. They have a play fight, which ends with Pete downing Holly’s drink and her beating him on the arm. I start to smile, but then remember what Luis and I have been talking about and instantly feel sombre again.

‘You haven’t told anyone, have you?’ I ask, suddenly worried.

‘Of course not,’ Luis replies irritably.

I can’t take my eyes off Holly. And I can’t help feeling disappointed. When Luis says after half an hour or so that he should probably head back to the hotel, I decide to walk with him.

I tell Holly I’m off and while she isn’t happy, she’s too far gone to protest much.

The night is cool and I’m cold. I wrap my arms around myself and walk fast to keep warm.

The security guard follows at a distance. To be honest, there wasn’t much need for him. Despite the place being crammed with race fans, I don’t think many would expect to see a top driver out on the town. The rest of the grid are probably tucked up in bed or downing protein shakes.

‘Do you want my coat?’ Luis offers when he overhears my teeth chattering away to themselves. I shake my head. ‘Go on, take it.’ He shrugs it off and hands it to me, so I put it on.

‘I still can’t believe it,’ I say after a while. We’ve been walking in silence.

‘About Holly and Simon?’ Luis checks, glancing at me.

I nod. ‘And I know that probably makes me a hypocrite.’

Luis doesn’t answer, and his lack of response makes me feel worse.

He follows me through the automatic doors into the bright hotel lobby. I inadvertently glance towards the reception desk and stop in my tracks when I see Will leaning up against it, talking to one of the receptionists.

‘Watch it!’ Luis puts his hands on my arms to steady himself as he bumps into me. Will turns around to see us and reels backwards ever so slightly.

‘Hi!’ he says, coming over.

‘Hello,’ I answer guardedly. ‘What are you still doing up?’

‘I was checking to see if I had any messages.’ He points to the reception desk. ‘Have you two been out together again?’

‘With the others, yeah,’ I tell him, feeling on edge.

Luis walks over to the lift and presses the button. Will follows me in that direction. The lift doors open and Luis steps inside, turning around as I begin to follow him.

‘Hey . . .’ Will grabs my elbow, pulling me back. Luis puts his finger on the button to hold the doors open. I look at Will, confused. He glances at Luis then at me. ‘Can I talk to you for a sec?’

‘Er, sure,’ I reply, moving away from the lift.

‘She’ll catch the next one up,’ Will tells Luis.

Luis gives him a hard stare and then takes his finger off the button. The lift door closes.

I turn to Will. ‘What’s up?’ I ask, trying to sound indifferent.

‘Have a quick drink with me?’ He aims his thumb in the direction of the hotel bar.

‘Shouldn’t you be catching an early one for the race tomorrow?’ I ask, warily.

‘Can’t sleep,’ he explains.

‘Okay . . .’ I give him a baffled look and follow him to the bar. ‘I’m not sure I really feel like more alcohol,’ I tell him when he asks what I’m having. ‘I’ll have a cranberry juice.’

‘Same,’ Will tells the bartender. ‘Put it on Room 516. Let’s go over here.’ He points to a table for two by a window.

I follow him and realise I’m still wearing Luis’s jacket. I take it off and hang it over the back of the chair before sitting down.

‘Nice time tonight?’ Will asks.

‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘How was the yacht?’ There’s a frostiness to my tone, which I just can’t help.

‘Okay, yeah.’ He looks across at me and frowns. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, why?’ I shift in my seat.

‘You seem a bit different with me this weekend.’

‘I’ve barely seen you,’ I bite back. ‘I don’t know how you can say that.’

He leans back in his chair and stretches his legs out underneath the table.

‘Where’s Laura tonight?’ I try to keep my voice sounding casual.

‘In bed.’

‘Won’t she be wondering where you are?’

He shrugs. ‘She’s probably asleep by now.’

I tuck my hair behind my ears. I wonder if he still prefers it down? I glance up to see him watching me. My insides twinge with jealousy as I remember something he said to me in Italy.

‘Have you two been house-hunting together?’

‘Here? In Monaco?’ he asks.

‘Yes. You said you were thinking of buying a place here.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ He screws his nose up and shakes his head. ‘But not this weekend.’

‘Why not?’

‘There’s not enough time.’

‘I see.’ I reach forward and take my drink from the table, swirling the ice around in the glass before taking a sip. I’m wearing a skirt tonight. A short, black one. I may be imagining it, but did Will’s eyes just skim my legs?

‘So . . .’ He raises one eyebrow. ‘What’s going on with you and Luis, then?’

I pull a face, about to deny everything, but something makes me hesitate. ‘What makes you think something’s going on?’ I ask, deflecting the question.

‘Going out together two nights in a row, you wearing his jacket.’ He nods at it hanging over the back of my chair. ‘And I saw you chatting to his family in Istanbul.’

‘They were nice, actually. Did you speak to them much?’

‘No. Not really. But you’re not answering my question.’

‘Why should you care?’

‘I don’t,’ he replies, before quickly qualifying it. ‘Well, I mean, I just don’t want you to get hurt, you know?’

I let out a sharp laugh and cross my legs. ‘You don’t have to worry about me, Will. I have no intention of getting my heart broken again.’ Of course, I’m lying. I feel like Will is chipping a little piece of it away, day by day. It’s killing me. But I’m not about to tell him that. And if he doesn’t like the idea of me having a relationship with Luis, good. Let him suffer for a change.

‘What about you?’ I change the subject as he pushes his hair back and looks a little frustrated. ‘Are you enjoying having your girlfriend at this race?’

‘Um, yeah,’ he says awkwardly. ‘It’s alright.’

‘Just alright?’ I look across at him with interest. ‘I would have thought you’d be thrilled?’

He takes a gulp of his cranberry juice and plonks the glass down on the table. ‘It’s fine,’ he says, scratching the back of his head. ‘I guess I should be getting to bed.’

‘Yes.’ I stand up and I lead the way to the lift. We go inside, turning around to face the doors.

Will spies the jacket in my hands. ‘Do you want me to drop that off to Luis’s room?’

‘No, it’s fine. I’ll do it.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asks. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘Will . . .’ I can’t help but laugh. ‘I’m not going to go and shag him, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

He laughs, too, but surprisingly uneasily. ‘Okay, then!’

‘See you in the morning.’ I step out on the landing for my floor. I had no intention of dropping Luis’s jacket back tonight, anyway, but Will needn’t know that.

‘Holy bollocks Old Blighty, what time is it?’ Holly moans when I open the curtains in our room the next morning.

‘Time we got up,’ I reply. I’ve been lying awake in bed for about an hour, going over in my mind the events of the night before. Now that I know about Holly and Simon, I see the signs everywhere. All those times he asked for her, not me. I wonder if it started before Italy? I wonder if it started before or after she told him to hire someone else to look after Catalina? What was it that Frederick said at the time? ‘Simon likes people who stand up for themselves.’

Well, he obviously liked Holly. A lot. And I can see what she sees in him. He’s attractive, if not way too old for her, and he’s clearly very powerful. Not to mention rolling in it, although that has never been an appeal for me.

But where is this relationship going to lead? Is he going to divorce Catalina and shack up with Holly instead? Somehow, I doubt it. I toyed with the idea of waking up my friend and questioning her about all of this, but I never actually worked up the nerve. Now that she’s awake, I feel even less ready to ask her about it.

And then there was that weird drink with Will last night . . . What was all that about?

At the track a few hours later, Holly urges me to hurry.

‘Okay, okay. Just let me go to the bathroom.’

‘We’ll miss the grid walk at this rate!’

I wipe down my hands and rush into the bathroom to check my reflection. There are so many famous people and VIPs at this race that I want to look my best.

‘What are you doing?’ Holly screeches as she pokes her head around the door.

‘Give me a sec.’

‘Lipstick, lipstick . . .’ She grabs my make-up bag impatiently, rummaging around for a second before pulling out my burgundy-coloured lipstick and applying some to her lips. It suits my olive skin tone, but on Holly’s pale complexion it looks too harsh. I tell her.

‘Bollocks!’ she exclaims, wiping it off on the back of her hand and then immediately attempting to scrub the consequent mark off with soap.

‘Here, use this.’ I hand her some sheer lipgloss and she tries that instead, pursing her lips at me afterwards. ‘Much better,’ I decide. She shoves everything back into my bag and drags me out of the bathroom.

The bridge is crowded with pedestrians and we hurry past them towards the pits. Balconies overlooking the track are packed with well-dressed ‘suits’ and socialites wearing large sunglasses as they bask in the sunshine. Monte Carlo is a beautiful city and today is a glorious day, barely a cloud in the sky. I can well understand why Will would like a place here. For a split-second I see myself sitting up on one of those balconies with him and have to inwardly berate myself.

The garages are practically empty when we arrive. The cars are already on the grid and most of the mechanics are out there with them. Holly and I go to the pit wall.

‘Let’s walk down to the start/finish line,’ she suggests. ‘See who we can see.’

I follow her as we climb over the wall into the throng.

‘Look, it’s Prince Albert!’ she says, pointing out a handsome man surrounded by important-looking people. ‘And I heard Brad Pitt was here!’ Holly nudges me.

‘Really?’ I look at her with interest. I met him once at a film premiere I went to with—

‘Johnny Jefferson!’ Holly squeals.

I feel like the world is closing in on me. I see him instantly, regardless of the fact that Holly is pointing right at him. He’s being mobbed by camera crews and is wearing dark shades so I can’t see his piercing green eyes, but I’d recognise his dirty blond hair a mile away.

Holly is practically jumping on the spot. ‘Let’s follow him!’ She tugs on my shirt.

‘No, no.’ I pull back and she looks at me in surprise.

‘What’s up with you? You’re not having another funny turn, are you?’

‘Yes, I think I am.’

‘Daisy!’ Her disappointment is fierce.

‘I’ll see you back in the garages,’ I say weakly. I don’t wait for her to answer, just walk away. Seconds later I feel a hand on my arm and spin around to see Luis standing there. His eyes convey his concern and I know he’s seen Johnny, too.

‘Luis, can we have a few words?’ a man with a film crew interrupts.

‘In a minute.’ Luis puts his hand up to ward off the journalist.

‘No, you go on,’ I urge, embarrassed.

He watches me as I rush away to the relative safety of the garages. I busy myself tidying up the small catering table at the back, while trying to keep my tears at bay.

I saw Johnny’s last PA once. She was in Soho, London, walking down Old Compton Street with a dark-haired man and a baby in a pushchair. I recognised the man as being Johnny’s best friend Christian – he was always nice to me – but I couldn’t place the girl at first. I was in two minds about whether or not to say hello to Christian, but then it dawned on me who he was with and I was too shocked to do anything except hide back in a dark doorway and let them pass. They seemed happy together, like a couple, and as my eyes flicked down to their little boy, he glanced up and saw me. His hair was blond, like his mother’s, but his eyes, they were green, like Johnny’s.

I wonder if he knows he’s a father.

I scoured the papers compulsively after that, every single one of them. But there was nothing in them about Johnny fathering a son. That was when I told myself I had to end my tabloid obsession. I haven’t read them since.

Now I have an unbearable urge to surf the internet for everything and anything there is to read about Johnny Jefferson. But I compress this desire right down into a tiny ball and hide it away, deep inside. I’m not going down that path again.

The grid begins to clear because the race is about to start. I take a few deep breaths to steady myself and then go to watch the action on the television screens. The camera zooms in on the two black, white and gold cars at the front and I push thoughts of my ex to the back of my mind as I focus my attention on Will and Luis.

‘You’re still here!’ Holly exclaims in surprise.

I nod and manage a tight smile. The drivers set off on their warm-up lap, around Casino Square and through the tunnel, then the shimmering harbour, crowded with white yachts, is laid out before them. The cars come around the last turn and take their places on the grid, then the five lights go red, and they’re off!

Will has a good start and almost beats Luis to the first corner, but Luis keeps his nerve. The television screens cut to Will’s on-car camera and suddenly I get a sense of what it would be like to be in the car with him. He’s flying around the corners, missing the steel and concrete barriers at the edge of the track by a matter of millimetres. This circuit is so much more dangerous than the modern equivalents.

At that thought, my heart starts racing and I begin to feel dizzy, but this time, Holly cottons on quickly that something isn’t right.

‘Are you pregnant?’ she hisses, once she’s sat me down in a chair at the back of the garages.

‘Jesus! No! How the hell could I be pregnant? I haven’t had sex for almost two years!’

‘Blimey. No wonder you fancy Will so much – you’re desperate for a good seeing to.’

‘Pass me that water. Please,’ I add weakly. I glance over to see Laura standing alone within the lines of the white box in Will’s garage. She’s staring up at the single television screen above her head.

‘WHOA!’

The sound of several team members shouting makes me spin around and stare back up at the television. Will is hot on Luis’s tail and now he’s attempting to overtake. I see Laura cover her mouth with her hands and it distracts me for a second, and in that moment another collective gasp erupts from the two garages as Will and Luis zoom out of the tunnel and Will outbreaks Luis into the chicane. But no, it’s too tight, there’s not enough room. Suddenly both cars are spinning and then one after the other slams into a wall, shattering car parts across the track.

I watch, white knuckled with fear, as the camera zooms in on the wreckage. And then both Luis and Will are climbing out of their cockpits and over the wall to safety. They’re still wearing their helmets – you can’t see their faces – but it doesn’t take a genius to work out that they’ll both be fuming.

Simon gets down from the control desk on the pit wall and stalks into the garage, his jaw clenched as he opens the door to the meeting room. Luis arrives back at the pits first, with Will only metres behind him. Neither of them has spoken to the press – or each other – along the way. They both tug off their helmets angrily and head towards Simon. The team’s technical director follows the boys into the meeting room and Simon firmly shuts the door behind him. Laura put her hand out to Will as he passed, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

Holly and I throw each other a glance. We look up to see the television screens broadcasting a crane hauling the wrecked cars off the track.

‘Two new cars . . . Jesus,’ Holly murmurs. ‘That’s going to cost the team, big time. Simon will be really pissed off.’

I’m sure you’ll cheer him up, I think to myself. ‘At least no one was hurt,’ is what I actually say.

‘They’ll probably still have to go to the Medical Centre for a check-up,’ Holly replies.

There are no celebrations that evening and the atmosphere is decidedly subdued. I see Will come back into the hospitality area after the doctors give him and Luis the okay, but Laura is by his side so I can’t – and don’t want to – get near him. Finally Frederick sends me back to the pits on clean-up duty and by the time I return to the already partially disassembled motorhomes, both Luis and Will have gone.

Chapter 15

I’m getting a bit bored with this flying business, now. I’m back at Heathrow again, and this time we’re off to Shanghai for the Chinese Grand Prix. This race used to come towards the end of the season, but races can be moved around on the calendar – or even removed completely. The French and Canadian Grands Prix recently succumbed to this fate.

I’ve had a lot to think about since Monaco, but right now I feel like I have very little to say to Holly. I’m still upset she hasn’t confided in me about Simon, and I certainly don’t feel like talking about Will. It was all very well daydreaming about him when ‘Laura’ was just a name, but now that I’ve met her, it’s a whole different ballgame. I know I have to try even harder to put my feelings for him to the back of my mind. Luckily we’re flying at night, so I can pretend to sleep, even if I can’t.

When Will turns up at the track in Shanghai on the Friday morning before the race, he looks unfamiliar again, but my heart still jolts at the sight of him. No, Daisy, I tell myself. Enough of this.

‘Hey,’ he says warmly, coming over to the serving table. ‘How are you?’

‘Okay, thanks,’ I reply coolly. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Er . . .’ He looks taken aback by my reaction.

‘Actually,’ I interrupt, then call over my shoulder. ‘Gertrude, can you see to Will?’

‘Of course,’ she says pleasantly, joining us at the table.

Will gives me a strange look before I walk away in the direction of the kitchen.

‘So have you heard the latest about their feud?’ Holly asks, appearing by my side.

‘Whose feud? Will and Luis’s?’

Holly rolls her eyes impatiently. She’s been in a foul mood the last couple of days, I’m guessing because Catalina is at this race. ‘Yes, Daisy. Who else’s? Are you still not reading the papers?’

I shake my head. I wanted to after Monaco to see if I could spot any pictures of Johnny in them, but for that reason alone I stopped myself.

‘I thought drivers were supposed to get over incidents quickly?’

‘Not our two,’ she says ominously. ‘Teammates. Too close for comfort, I guess.’

‘Fill me in,’ I say to Holly.

‘Apparently,’ she whispers, checking to make sure no one is in earshot. ‘Luis blames Will for the accident in Monaco, saying that Will was showing off in front of his girlfriend because it’s the only race she’s gone to this year.’

I shake my head dismissively. ‘I don’t believe Luis said that.’

‘That’s what they wrote in the papers.’

‘And you wonder why I don’t read them?’

‘Well, they also reckoned that Will’s jealousy must’ve got the better of him because he feels like he’s over-the-hill compared to Luis, who hasn’t even reached his peak, yet.’

I scoff. ‘Yeah, right.’

‘I’m just telling you what I read.’

‘Okay, thanks,’ I say wryly, grabbing a bowl of hard-boiled eggs and tapping one against the counter to break the shell.

Holly joins me. ‘What’s up with you? Why don’t you believe it?’

‘Because Luis isn’t a gossip, for one thing,’ I say, peeling the shell off that egg before reaching for another one. ‘He’s not going to go running to the papers and spouting his mouth off.’

‘You’ve changed your tune,’ she says.

‘And as for Will being over-the-hill,’ I continue. ‘That’s just ridiculous.’

‘You would say that.’ She gives me a look.

‘They’re both only twenty-six, for crying out loud. If Will were forty, I’d agree.’

Holly falls silent and I realise what I’ve said. Simon is in his forties.

‘Do you think we should offer Catalina an egg sandwich?’ I don’t know why I just said that, but I have a mean desire to wind her up.

‘Fuck that,’ she snaps.

I put down the third hard-boiled egg that I’ve peeled and turn to face her, suddenly desperate to know the truth about her relationship with Simon.

‘What?’ she asks, glancing at me. She’s clearly still riled about Catalina.

‘Nothing.’ I lose my nerve and get back to work.

The modern track facilities in Shanghai are stunning – we’ve left our portable ‘motorhomes’ back in Europe. The circuit here is designed in the shape of the Chinese character ‘shang’, which stands for ‘high’ or ‘above’, and the hospitality buildings are arranged like pavilions on a lake to resemble the ancient Yuyuan Garden in the Old City.

The weather today is mild, with the humidity only moderate, and some of our guests are sitting outside at tables overlooking the water. I put together a tray of drinks and take it out to them. Luis is sharing a table with a couple of mechanics. They get up and go inside while he turns his attention to a newspaper.

‘Not catching up on all that ridiculous gossip about you and Will, are you?’ I ask him, placing the tray on his table to rest my arms for a moment.

He puts the paper down and looks up at me. ‘Have you been reading about it?’

‘No, Holly told me.’

‘Oh, I see. So how are you? I didn’t see you after the race in Monaco.’

‘Nor I you,’ I say. ‘And I should be asking how you are.’

‘Fine.’ His response is blunt. He pulls out a chair. ‘Take a break for a minute?’

I pause, then sit down. ‘So you weren’t hurt, then?’

‘What? In the crash?’

I nod.

‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘No thanks to you know who.’

‘Will?’

‘Yes, Daisy,’ he replies pedantically, before changing the subject. ‘Did Johnny see you?’

I flinch a little at the sound of his name, then pull myself together. ‘I doubt it. He would have been far too caught up in himself to notice me.’

‘Does he know you’re working for a Formula 1 team?’ he asks.

‘No, I’m sure he doesn’t.’

‘He’s quite into racing, isn’t he? Doesn’t he have loads of sports cars?’

‘Yeah. How do you know all this?’

‘It’s just common knowledge. I’m not a massive fan or anything.’

‘Good.’ I flash him a wry smile. ‘Because I can’t get you an autograph anymore.’

He rolls his eyes.

‘Anyway,’ I add, ‘from the sounds of it, you and Will are more famous than he is at the moment, with this alleged spat going on.’

Luis’s face hardens as he looks past me towards the lake.

‘I don’t believe you gossiped about it, but do you blame him for the accident?’ I ask, tentatively.

‘Yeah. It was his fault.’ He glares at me and defiantly folds his arms.

‘Was it?’ I don’t honestly know.

‘Yes! He’s far too aggressive at overtaking, he didn’t leave enough room and clipped my wing. What does he expect at a track like Monaco? It’s not like he hasn’t driven there before – he should know better! Now I’ve lost ten points in the championship and I’m going to have to race twice as hard to get them back again!’

‘Alright, alright!’ I interrupt his rant, looking left and right. ‘I hope there aren’t any journalists listening in.’

He picks up the newspaper again. Now I’m not so sure he didn’t gossip.

‘Did you say that about his girlfriend?’ I can’t help asking. ‘About him showing off in front of her?’

‘Of course I bloody didn’t.’ He slaps the newspaper back down on the table, crossly.

‘No, I didn’t think so,’ I hurriedly tell him. ‘Did you get your jacket back, by the way?’

‘Yep.’

I left it for him at reception.

‘Right, well, I’d better get on.’

He nods and starts to read.

Moody bastard.

Later that afternoon I’m in the kitchen washing dishes when Will pokes his head around the door, making me jump with surprise. He’s never done that before.

‘Can I borrow you a sec?’ he asks me, before glancing at Frederick. ‘Is that alright?’

‘Sure.’ Frederick waves me out of the kitchen.

I join Will in the hospitality area. ‘Everything okay?’ I ask.

‘Yeah.’ He glances behind him and spies one of the front-of-house girls wiping down a nearby table. He looks back at me. ‘Can we go upstairs?’

‘Er, okay . . .’ I follow him, hesitantly, as he leads the way to the drivers’ suite situated directly above the hospitality area. He has to share a room here with Luis, so he checks it’s empty before ushering me inside.

‘What’s up?’ I prompt, standing just inside the door as he closes it behind him.

‘Um . . . Are you going out tonight?’

‘Yes, to a club in the Pudong district. You’re welcome to come, if you like.’

‘Er, no, thanks.’

I look at him, perplexed.

‘I was just wondering if . . . I’m sure you won’t, but . . .’

‘What?’ Now I’m dying of curiosity.

‘I think I’m just going to watch a movie in my room.’ He crosses his arms and then uncrosses them again. ‘If you fancy it . . .’ he adds.

‘Oh.’ I’m gobsmacked. To be honest, I wasn’t really up for another night on the town. I’m getting a bit bored with the late nights and drinking. I must be getting old.

‘But no chick flicks,’ he adds, forcing a grin. He looks uncomfortable, which is odd because he’s usually so composed.

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘What time?’

He looks relieved. ‘What time do you finish here?’

I glance at my watch. ‘Probably not for another couple of hours. Are you going to the hotel, now?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Shall I come up to your suite later, then?’

‘Sure.’ He uncrosses his arms.

I reach for the door handle, but he gets there before me, holding the door open.

‘See you later, then?’ I say, awkwardly stepping under his arm.

‘Cool. Okay.’

He shuts the door behind me, staying inside the room. I walk back down the stairs into the hospitality area, my mind racing.

Holly is not very impressed when I tell her I’m blowing her out, but when I come clean and explain what happened, she’s all ears.

‘Do you think he fancies you?’ she asks, her eyes wide.

I shake my head. ‘I doubt it.’ Although a tiny little voice inside my head isn’t so sure.

‘Then what’s going on?’

‘I don’t know. But I’ll fill you in later.’ I refrain from adding, I won’t keep secrets from you . . .

Does he like me? His behaviour in Monaco when he asked me for a drink was strange, and he clearly didn’t like me spending time with Luis. Maybe he’s just bored and wants some company?

But what if it’s not just that? What if it’s something more? If he made a move on me, would I have the willpower to say no? Nerves bombard me at the thought.

I don’t want to look like I’ve made too much of an effort, so when I get back to the hotel, I just change into some jeans and throw on my green jumper. I do take my hair down, though. What the hell, right?

‘Hey,’ Will says, stepping aside to let me pass when I turn up at his door. ‘I was just looking at the room service menu.’ I spy the card in his hand. ‘Are you hungry?’ he asks.

‘Depends what they’ve got,’ I reply.

‘Go through, go through,’ he says, using the menu card to wave me in the direction of the living area as he shuts the door behind me.

‘Wow!’ Floor to ceiling windows look out over the city of Shanghai, its vibrant lights shining like multicoloured stars in the darkness. My room is only on the third floor, so I don’t have much of a view, whereas Will is up on the forty-third.

The living room is softly lit by myriad table lamps. There’s a two-seater, soft cream leather sofa and a yellow fibreglass Eames chair in front of a large television. I opt for the sofa, thinking he can have the hard chair if he wants it. But he slumps down on the sofa to my right, making me move involuntarily a little to my left.

‘Can I have a look, then?’ I nod at the menu.

‘Sure.’ He puts it in front of me, but doesn’t let go, shifting in closer so he can continue to study his options. I feel distinctly on edge and struggle to stop myself from moving away again.

‘What are you having?’ I glance at him, sideways. He looks back at me with those beautiful blue eyes and my stomach flips.

‘Um . . .’ He studies the menu again. ‘I’ll have a burger,’ he decides, letting go of the card so that I’m left holding it. He shifts back to his side of the sofa and I stifle a sigh of relief.

‘I’ll have the same.’ I put the menu down on the dark-wooden coffee table.

‘Cool.’ He grabs the phone from the side-table next to him and calls room service, placing the order.

I squash myself further into my corner and tuck my feet up underneath myself. Feeling much safer, I turn to face him. He puts his foot up on his opposite knee and looks across at me.

‘I missed you after Monaco,’ he says.

‘I know. You’d already gone when I came back from cleaning up the pits.’

‘I was half-expecting you to text me again.’

I shake my head, resolutely. ‘Not with your girlfriend around. She might’ve found that a bit weird.’

‘Mmm,’ he says dryly, raising his eyebrows.

‘What?’ I ask, confused by his expression.

‘Oh, you don’t want to know,’ he brushes me off.

‘Tell me,’ I insist.

‘Ah, things are a bit strange between Laura and me at the moment.’

‘What do you mean?’ I ask cautiously.

‘Do you want a drink?’ He stands up and goes to the minibar, opening up the fridge and peering inside. He pulls out a bottle of water.

‘What is there?’ I ask.

‘Vodka, whisky, wine . . .’

‘I’ll just have a Diet Coke.’

He pulls out a can and cracks it open, pouring it into a glass. He brings the glass over and hands it to me, then slumps down again and swigs water straight from the bottle.

‘You were saying about your girlfriend?’ I prompt, grabbing one of the pale-yellow cushions adorning the sofa and hugging it to my chest.

He puts the bottle on the table.

‘Things are a bit weird?’

‘Yeah. You know, she doesn’t come to many races.’ He reaches down and scratches his knee. ‘So I’m not used to having her there.’

Oh. Is that all?

But then he sighs and leans back against the sofa, running his hands through his hair and peering up at the ceiling. ‘God, Daisy, this is really doing my head in.’ He stares at me and we hold eye contact until I break away.

‘What’s doing your head in?’ I ask warily, looking back to find he’s still watching me.

He doesn’t answer immediately and I hold my nerve. ‘You.’ That’s all he says: ‘You.’

I’m doing your head in?’ Oh, God. Is this really happening?

He rests his head back on the sofa and continues to stare at me sideways as my heart begins to beat faster.

‘I don’t understand,’ I say to him, desperately needing him to spell it out and avoid any confusion.

But he’s silent. And then he reaches over and touches the tips of my fingers with his, sending an electric shock shooting all the way up my arm and into my head. Then he pulls his hand away and stands up, pacing the room.

‘Shit, this is a really bad idea. I don’t know what I’m doing.’ His expression is anguished.

‘Do you want me to go?’ I ask hesitantly, my heart pounding so loud I can’t believe he can’t hear it.

‘Yes, I think you should go.’ He sounds determined.

Shakily I get to my feet and step away from the sofa.

‘No, don’t.’ He comes over to me, but almost immediately walks away again. He looks so confused.

My autopilot kicks in. ‘I’ll go.’

‘Yes, yes, that’s a good idea.’

I walk to the door, my head spinning as I reach for the handle. Is he going to stop me? I pause, wavering, then pull on the door so that it opens a crack, letting the harsh fluorescent lighting from the corridor spill into the room. No. He doesn’t stop me.

I walk out into the corridor to see one of the hotel’s catering staff wheeling a room service trolley in our direction. Never mind. I wouldn’t have been able to eat anyway.

Needless to say I barely sleep that night. I cannot for the life of me believe what just happened. How the hell is he going to act now? My head hurts just thinking about it. I can’t let my heart hope. I just can’t. I keep unwittingly picturing him kissing me and I have to shake my head so it doesn’t run away with my thoughts.

I hear Holly come in later, but pretend to be out cold, and that’s exactly what she is when I wake up the next morning. I get up quietly and go into the bathroom, feeling overwhelmingly surreal about the night before. She comes in while I’m brushing my teeth.

‘You alright?’ she murmurs sleepily.

‘Um, not really.’ If I felt sick with nerves yesterday, that’s nothing compared to how I feel now.

‘Why?’ She yawns. ‘What happened last night?’

‘Will told me he likes me.’ I spit toothpaste out into the basin and rinse my mouth out.

What?!’ That wakes her up.

‘Well, more or less.’

‘Shit! What did you do?’

‘Nothing.’ I lean back on the basin and cross my arms. ‘After that, he asked me to leave.’

Really?

‘Yes. I think he’s confused.’

‘God.’ She stares at me, open-mouthed. ‘I wonder how this is going to pan out.’

‘You’re not the only one.’

She perches on the side of the bath and looks up at me. ‘Do you think he’ll leave Laura?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Bloody hell. Childhood sweethearts . . . Over. Kaput!’

I glance down at her, unhappily.

‘Will you be able to cope with all the press?’ she asks.

‘What do you mean?’ I sit down on the toilet seat. I don’t like being on a different level to her while we’re having this conversation.

‘Well, you know, Will and Laura are in the papers all the time. They’re one of Britain’s hottest young celebrity couples. The tabloids are going to go bonkers if they break up.’

I look away from Holly and stare at the door. I’m starting to feel quite nauseous.

‘Still . . .’ She nudges me, trying to perk me up. ‘You’ll be William Trust’s hot new American girlfriend. Ooh, it’ll be like a Jennifer Aniston, Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie scenario!’

‘What? And I’m supposed to be Angelina Jolie? Are you kidding me? Everyone hated her when all that came out! Jennifer Aniston was like a freakin’ saint!’

‘Everyone likes Angelina Jolie now, though,’ Holly says, defensively.

‘Yeah, but that took ages! I can’t believe we’re actually talking about this, anyway. Fancy comparing me to Angelina Jolie.’

‘Well, you do have long, dark hair. And Will looks a little bit like Brad Pitt.’

‘He does not! I think he looks more like Leonardo DiCaprio.’

Holly considers this thoughtfully. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’

‘Anyway!’ I snap. ‘I don’t know how we got onto that, but you’re basically telling me that if I break up Will and Laura’s happy relationship, then the whole of Britain will hate me forever.’

‘Not forever, maybe just a couple of years.’

‘Great.’

I go to the track that morning feeling tense and anxious. I don’t know what he’ll be like when I see him again, but thankfully I don’t have to wait too long. Will walks through the doors and momentarily falters when we make eye contact. Then he continues to walk towards me, raising his hand in a half wave at some of the sponsors to his right.

‘Hi,’ he says, meeting my eyes for a moment before looking away. He hasn’t shaved this morning and stubble graces his jaw.

‘You look tired,’ I say, wanting to reach over and stroke his face.

‘Mmm. Didn’t get much sleep.’ He stares down at the table.

‘At least it’s not my fault this time.’ I’m trying to make light of the situation.

‘Yeah, it is.’ He looks up at me and his expression is so troubled that my heart goes out to him.

‘What can I get you?’ I change the subject in the hope that it’ll put him out of his misery.

‘Daisy—’ he starts, but at that moment Gertrude comes out of the kitchen with more breakfast supplies. ‘Just the usual, please,’ he says, folding his arms and glancing around behind him while I put his breakfast together.

‘Here you go.’

‘Thanks.’

He takes his plate and goes to a table, but five minutes later gets up again and heads upstairs to his room. I look over to see he’s barely touched his muesli. I toy with the idea of going to see him, but I honestly don’t know what to say. After weeks of dreaming about him, this has come to a head in a way that I never expected. I don’t want to be the person who breaks Laura’s heart. I don’t want the whole of Britain to hate me. I don’t want to be the other woman. There is no clean way out of this. All I know is that I like him. Really like him. And somehow, somewhere, there’s got to be a resolution.

I want to stay away from the pits during qualifying to allow Will to concentrate, but Holly has other ideas.

‘Come on,’ she says, after the first two qualifying sessions have taken place. ‘Will is quickest, but Luis is ridiculously close. Q3 is going to be really exciting.’

‘I don’t want to distract him,’ I say.

She grins at me. ‘Daisy, are we talking about the same guy? He’s far too focussed to let you put him off! He’s the quickest out there, for goodness’ sake.’

Now I feel a bit silly.

‘Okay, let’s go,’ I tell her.

Will is sitting in his car, watching the television screen above his head, when we arrive. I look through to the other garage to see Luis is doing the same. I stare at the back of Will’s navy blue and silver helmet, willing him to do well. Luis goes out first and, shortly afterwards, the mechanics send Will out. I’m tense as the television cameras follow Will’s lap. It doesn’t matter that he was quickest in the last qualifying session. Any one of the nine remaining drivers could easily swipe pole position in the last lap. And then my head starts to spin and I feel dizzy again. Think of something else, think of something else, think of something else . . .

‘YAY!’ Applause breaks out in the garages.

‘Who? What?’ I ask, glancing up at the television screens.

‘Luis!’ Holly shrieks with delight. ‘He’s on pole!’

My face breaks into a grin. ‘Where’s Will?’

‘Hang on,’ she says, eyes glued to the screen. I look up just in time to see Will beat Luis’s lap time.

‘Pole!’ Holly and I shout at the same time. So that relegates Luis down to second. Another stellar one/two start tomorrow.

The cars roar down the pit lane and turn into the garages. Happiness bubbles over inside me as I watch Will leap out of his car to back slaps from his teammates. He rips off his helmet and is grinning as he pushes his damp hair back, then he glances my way, before turning his attention to Simon.

‘Simon is going to be so pleased,’ Holly says, watching as the team boss pats Will on his arm. ‘As long as Will and Luis don’t take each other out again tomorrow,’ she adds darkly.

I glance through to Luis’s garage to see him having an intense discussion with his engineer, then I hear Simon’s voice behind me. ‘Maybe you should go the whole hog and grow a beard, if that’s the result you’re going to get.’

Simon and Will are at the nearby catering table. Will shakes his head good-naturedly as he helps himself to a glass of orange squash.

‘Ah, Holly, there you are,’ Simon says. ‘Did you manage to sort out that thing for me?’

‘Er, yeah.’ She looks uncomfortable as she follows him out of the garages.

I turn to Will. He scratches his stubble and raises his eyebrows. ‘Guess I’d better shave before the race tomorrow.’

‘Don’t,’ I whisper, checking no one is in earshot. ‘I think you look really sexy like that.’

He chuckles and looks down at a platter of biscuits.

‘Still no goddamn custard creams, bun tart!’

I spin around to see Luis.

‘My mother would be so disappointed in you.’ He squeezes himself between Will and I. ‘What were you two gossiping about?’

‘Nothing,’ we both say in unison.

‘Doesn’t look like nothing to me,’ he says.

‘Well, if you must know,’ I reply, ‘we were talking about Will not having a shave this morning.’

‘Yeah, what’s with that?’ Luis studies him.

Will shrugs. ‘Just didn’t get around to it.’

‘No girlfriend here to keep you in check, hey?’

Will glares at him and stalks out of the garage.

I give Luis a look.

‘What’s up with him?’ he asks innocently.

‘You don’t want to know.’ I make to leave, but Luis pulls me back.

‘Hey, where are you going?’

‘Back to work.’

‘Stay and chat to me a minute.’

I pause. ‘Okay, what do you want to chat about?’

‘What’s going on with you two?’ He nods towards the door that Will has just walked out of.

‘Nothing,’ I snap, then change the subject. ‘I just saw Simon grab Holly.’

‘What, literally?’

‘No, no, he just wanted to talk to her in private.’

‘Bet she’s pissed off Catalina’s here.’

‘She is.’ I glance at the door. I wonder if I can catch up with Will before he retires to his room again? ‘I’d better get on,’ I tell Luis. But when I walk out into the bright sunlight, Will is nowhere to be seen.

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