Chasing Daisy

by Paige Toon

  Will has a good start and takes the first corner without too much trouble, but the driver in fourth place – a Canadian called Kit Bryson – nips up the inside and swipes second place from under Luis’s nose, relegating him down to third. Over the next few laps, Will starts to pull away from the pack, but then there’s an accident halfway down the field and the safety car is brought out as a cautionary measure. The safety car slows the drivers down so the track can be cleared of crash debris and consequently the gap between Will and Kit Bryson is closed as the pack tightens up. When the flag goes green and the racing kicks into gear again, Will manages to keep his lead, but there’s a problem a few laps later. Smoke is coming from the back of Will’s car and the sight of it makes several of our mechanics curse. They hurry outside to the pit lane, but Will doesn’t even make it around the last corner before his engine gives up. He pulls into one of the gravel pits – designed to slow down the cars that have run off the track – and we watch on the screens as he gets out of the car and track marshals swarm over it.

  Simon is sitting at the control desk on the pit wall in front of a bank of computers and one of the television cameras zooms in on the side of his stony face. Another screen shows Will starting the trek to the pits.

  Holly tugs on my sleeve. ‘We’d better get back,’ she says, ever the professional.

  I follow her reluctantly, wishing I could be there when Will arrives.

  Twenty minutes go by in the hospitality area and Holly and I are kept busy serving drinks and canapés to the guests watching the race on the big screens. Luis hasn’t managed to overtake Kit, but he’s given it a good shot a couple of times. I’m standing there watching the action when Will walks in. The crowd applauds him and he waves his acknowledgement, then makes his way towards his private room.

  He’s all alone. No girlfriend, not even his parents to comfort him.

  I wonder if he needs anything?

  My feet are walking in the direction of his room before I can properly stop to think about it. Even when I start to doubt my actions they just keep moving and finally I’m outside his door and my hand is lifting up to knock. . .

  What am I doing?

  The door opens and he’s standing there, his overalls stripped down to his waist and his naked chest gleaming with sweat.

  ‘Er, hi.’ He regards me warily.

  ‘Sorry to bother you,’ I quickly tell him, the words stumbling out of my mouth. ‘I was just wondering if you wanted me to get anything for you. A drink, some food, some clean clothes . . .’

  ‘Actually, I can’t find my team shirt. There was a whole stack of them here, somewhere.’ He glances around his room.

  ‘Shall I take a look?’ I ask.

  He stands aside and waves me in. The drivers’ rooms at the various tracks around the world are not big, but they’re big enough for the drivers to relax in and get some peace and quiet.

  My fingers tremble as I open drawers in a small cupboard and hunt out Will’s shirts. There’s a small black team carry case identical to mine sitting at the bottom of one cupboard.

  ‘Could they be in here?’

  He shrugs, so I pull it out and unzip it. It’s full of team clothing.

  ‘Aha!’ he says. ‘I hadn’t got that far, yet.’

  ‘Such a boy,’ I tut. I unpack the shirt he should be wearing today and hand it over. ‘What about your pants?’

  He tugs on the elastic of his boxer shorts, poking out from beneath his overalls. ‘What about them?’

  My face immediately starts to burn. ‘I meant your trousers! We call them pants in the US . . .’

  He chuckles. ‘I know, I’m only teasing. Don’t worry, I can take it from here.’

  ‘Okay, well, good.’ I back out of the room, trying to regain my composure. ‘Is there anything else I can get for you? A drink? Something to eat?’ Yes, that was good, Daisy. Keep it professional!

  ‘Nah.’ His face becomes serious again. ‘I should probably get out there and show my face to the sponsors.’ He points his thumb in the direction of the hospitality area.

  ‘Okay, then.’ I turn and make a run for it.

  ‘Thanks!’ he calls after me.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Holly asks when I reappear. ‘Have you just been in Will’s room?’ She looks at me with disbelief.

  ‘Er, yes.’

  ‘What were you doing?’

  ‘Don’t get excited, I was just helping him find his team shirt.’ She casts her eyes heavenwards as I hasten to explain. ‘You know, since Jennifer got the sack, the drivers don’t have a dedicated person on hand to look after them.’

  Jennifer was the front-of-house girl assigned to look after Sandro and Marcus last year – Will and Luis’s predecessors. She’s the cretina who sold her stuff on eBay.

  ‘Hmm,’ Holly says, jokily suspicious. ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘Better attend to that lot.’ I hurry to the kitchen and load up another tray of canapés.

  A few people clap as I approach them watching the race on the big screens. I’m confused for a moment because they can’t be that hungry and then I realise Will has come out of his room behind me. That could have been way embarrassing; I almost smiled and curtsied. I stand back and let him shake hands with the sponsors, and the air is full of the sound of their commiserations. A bullish American man turns to me and shouts, ‘Give the man something to eat, for Christ’s sake!’ before cracking up laughing at his own non-wit. Will smirks at me as he relieves my tray of a prawn skewer.

  The laps count down towards the finish and Luis is still running in second place, although Kit has managed to put some distance between them. The pit stops have come and gone, but Luis hasn’t managed to close the gap and it looks like he – and the team – will walk away from Australia with eight championship points. We would have received ten for a win, and as it is, Will gets nothing.

  I pause for a break to watch the cars go round the last few laps. It must be hard for Will to sit here and watch his team-mate walk away with the glory. It’s Luis’s first year in Formula 1 and this result is going to create a real buzz around him.

  Will stands up in front of me. Most of the spectators turn to stare at him.

  ‘I’d better go join the team in the pits,’ he says.

  The most important sponsors are in the garages already, so the majority of people stay put in their seats, looking sorrowful at the sight of the team’s most famous driver departing. He spins around and comes face to face with me.

  ‘Daisy, are you coming to the pits?’ I hear Holly call, and look over my shoulder to see she’s just come from the kitchen, which means Frederick has given us the go-ahead.

  ‘Er, yeah, sure!’ I call back, distractedly side-stepping to let Will past. But he calmly indicates for me to go first, so I nervously lead the way out of the hospitality area. The three of us walk across the grass and asphalt to the pits while I desperately try to think of something to say. The garage looms just metres away and I want to kick myself because nothing comes to mind.

  He. Has. A. Girlfriend.

  Yes, yes, apart from that. Too late, we’re here.

  A few mechanics call Will over to the television screens. Holly and I tag along to watch the last couple of laps. Finally the black and white chequered flag waves to denote the finish and everyone in Luis’s side of the garage cheers and embraces, delighted with their second-place result. Will’s side of the garage is more restrained, but they all clap politely.

  We run outside to watch the victory lap and wait for Luis to pull in. He leaps out of the car and bounds over to the waiting mechanics for a massive group hug. I’m in the middle of the throng, getting pulled this way and that, and it’s easy to get swept away in the mood of the moment. The thought occurs to me that if Luis hadn’t messed up his start, he would have won. Maybe he should cut out the late nights and partying . . . I wonder if Simon is also thinking the same thing.

  We go excitedly en masse to witness the handing out of the trophies and Holly
and I squeal as the drivers on the podium spray champagne over us and the crowd below. Finally they file inside for the press conference. I look around but can’t see Will, then I notice him being interviewed by a camera crew. He looks serious. Professional. At that moment he glances my way, and as our eyes meet, he seems to falter for a split-second. He quickly turns back to the interviewer and continues, but as Holly and I return to the garages to watch the press conference on the TV screens, I’m too caught up in my thoughts to concentrate.

  Hours later, when we’re in the middle of a mass clear-up session, Simon calls me in to the directors’ suite. Holly and Frederick look at me in alarm as I hurry after him, terrified he’s going to fire me for damaging one of the scooters. Inside the suite, he motions for me to sit down on the sofa as he takes the one opposite.

  ‘How are you finding things?’ he asks, blue-grey eyes studying me. He’s quite attractive, Simon. In his mid-forties, with a tanned, weathered face and short, sandy-blond hair.

  ‘Fine, fine,’ I stutter.

  ‘Not planning on jumping ship anytime soon?’

  ‘No, no, of course not.’

  ‘Good,’ he says brusquely. ‘Daisy, as you know, last year we had Jen to look after the boys.’ He means Jennifer, the girl I mentioned earlier. I nod, both intrigued and relieved this is not about my scooter crash. ‘This year I was after a more hands-on approach with everyone helping out.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘But one of the boys has asked if we can revert to last year’s setup.’

  One of the boys?

  ‘Right . . .’

  ‘I’m wondering if you’d be up for doing the job.’

  I’m speechless with surprise. Will asked for me? It can’t have been Luis.

  ‘It’s the same sort of thing you’re doing now,’ he continues. ‘Helping out Frederick and looking after the rest of the team as usual, but you’d also have more direct contact with Will and Luis – and me, if I need help with anything. Does that sound okay?’

  He doesn’t expect me to say no.

  ‘Yes! That sounds great!’

  ‘Good.’ He stands up and it’s clear our meeting is over.

  I walk back into the kitchen and Holly and Frederick know right away that I haven’t been fired.

  ‘What is it?’ Holly asks, smiling.

  ‘I’ve got Jennifer’s job,’ I reply, still feeling a little dazed.

  ‘Jen’s job?’ she checks suspiciously.

  ‘Yes. Looking after Will, Luis and Simon . . .’

  ‘Oh!’ She seems surprised. ‘Well, good for you,’ she says, and carries on cleaning down the surfaces.

  I was expecting her to be happier for me than that, but perhaps it’s because Frederick is around.

  Speaking of whom. ‘You’re not above washing the dishes,’ Frederick says gruffly, pointing to the sink.

  But as my promotion sinks in, not even the Eiffel Tower of plates in front of me can wipe the smile off my face.

  Chapter 4

  I can’t remember what Will looks like. I’ve had intense crushes before, when the same thing has happened. It’s been this way ever since I was a teenager.

  I concentrate hard and try to focus on Will’s face in my mind. Those blue eyes . . . Yes! There he is! And almost as suddenly he’s gone again.

  I switch on my bedside lamp and climb out of bed. On the dressing table there’s a pile of magazines and I riffle through them until I come to an old issue from a few weeks ago. Will’s face graces the front cover, but no, it doesn’t look right. Something’s missing.

  ‘Daisy, switch off the bloody light!’

  I quickly put down the magazine and climb back into bed, doing as Holly says.

  ‘Sorry!’ I whisper.

  She just groans and pushes the sheet off her body in the bed next to me.

  It’s so hot and humid here. We’re in Kuala Lumpur and it’s been four days since I last saw Will. Holly and I flew straight here on Monday afternoon and we’re sticking around after the race for a week’s holiday on the island of Langkawi. Pristine beaches, crystal-clear water and palm trees galore . . . When you’re coming to a location as beautiful as Malaysia, it would be stupid not to make the most of it.

  A couple of days ago we met up with Frederick to help source local produce and set up the hospitality facilities at the track. The mechanics arrived yesterday, and today the drivers do. I can’t sleep from the anticipation of seeing Will again. It’s only three thirty in the morning and we have to be at the track for five. I’m going to look a right state, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

  Will has been in Kuala Lumpur himself for the last few days with his personal trainer, acclimatising himself to the environment. I’ve been on tenterhooks in case I bump into him, but it’s unlikely in a city as big as this. He’s staying in a different hotel along with Simon and the directors. And Luis, of course.

  Eventually, Holly switches the light back on.

  ‘Can’t sleep?’ I ask.

  ‘No thanks to you,’ she grumbles.

  ‘It’s too hot here,’ I say, for want of an explanation that doesn’t involve a certain racing driver.

  ‘Well, why did you switch off the damn air-conditioning in the middle of the night?’

  ‘It was too cold, then,’ I reply innocently.

  She just humphs and gets out of bed, heading in the direction of the shower.

  An hour later we arrive at the track and I’m jumpy with adrenalin.

  ‘Have you been drinking too much coffee?’ Holly asks, when I jolt at the sight of a team member entering the white-tented hospitality suite.

  I walk back into the kitchen and she follows. I’m about to ask Frederick what needs doing when someone calls my name from the door. Holly and I both turn to see Simon standing there. He beckons for me to go over to him.

  ‘Hi, Simon, what can I get for you?’

  ‘Nothing at the moment, but Daisy, it’s no good if you’re not staying in the same hotel as us. We’ll have to get that sorted for the next race.’

  ‘Okay . . .’

  ‘Speak to Ally,’ he calls over his shoulder as he walks off.

  Ally is Simon’s PA back in the UK. She liaises with the team’s travel agent among many, many other things.

  ‘What was that about?’ Holly is immediately on my case.

  I fill her in.

  ‘Oh. That means we won’t be able to share a room.’

  ‘It’s only for Bahrain. We’re all staying in the same hotels once we hit Europe, right?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘It’ll be okay.’

  ‘At least you’ll be happy.’ She gives me a small smile.

  ‘I’d rather be with you, actually.’

  ‘Yeah, right!’ she exclaims. ‘You’ll be well within stalking distance of Prince Charming.’

  ‘Shh!’ I warn. ‘Anyway, stalking distance?’ I ask huffily.

  ‘I saw the magazine you were looking at in the middle of the night . . .’

  ‘It wasn’t the middle of the night; it was this morning. Will you quit teasing me?’

  ‘Sorry.’ Then she whispers, ‘Consider yourself lucky. I’ll probably have to share with Klaus and Gertrude.’ She glances at the German couple diligently working away at one of the counters. Klaus is de-heading fresh prawns and passing them to Gertrude to finish shelling before he hands her the next.

  I give Holly an ‘aren’t they weird?’ look before adding, ‘Threesome?’

  She groans distastefully and swipes me on the arm with a wet tea towel.

  ‘Ow!’ I shout.

  ‘DAISY!’ Frederick snaps, so I wipe the smile off my face.

  I head out to the serving table just in time to see a black-haired, olive-skinned figure walk in.

  ‘Hi, Luis, what can I get you?’ I ask in a deliberately bored-sounding voice.

  ‘Black coffee.’

  I glance over at Frederick, who’s just about to sit down for a meeting with Tarquin, Will�
��s nutritionist/personal trainer. Luis looks over his shoulder and spots the scene before glancing back at me with amusement.

  ‘And I’ll have some bacon and eggs, too,’ he says.

  ‘Shouldn’t you have a nutritionist?’ I ask, serving up the greasy food onto a plate.

  ‘Don’t need one,’ he says, taking the coffee and blowing on it, his dark eyes watching me over the rim of his cup.

  I raise my eyebrows disapprovingly and hand him his plate.

  ‘So,’ he says, not taking his plate from me. ‘I hear you’re our designated bun tart?’

  ‘Your what?’ I splutter.

  ‘Bun tart. Haven’t you heard that term before? That’s what we call you girls.’

  ‘You call us bun tarts?’ I ask in horror.

  ‘Sure.’ He shrugs. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger,’ he adds calmly.

  ‘Hey, Luis.’ Holly comes out of the kitchen. ‘Whoa, you must be hungry.’ She looks at the plate I’m still holding. ‘I can’t believe you’re not going for some of my nice muesli.’

  He glances at it. ‘Hmm,’ he decides. ‘Maybe I will have some.’

  ‘So you don’t want this?’ I interrupt, nodding at the plate in my hand.

  ‘No, thanks.’ He actually has the audacity to wink at me.

  I irritably spin around and sweep the bacon and eggs from his plate into the bin behind the serving table. When I turn back, Holly is spooning muesli into a bowl.

  ‘Extra nuts?’ she asks.

  Luis nods pleasantly.

  ‘Did you hear what he just called me? Us?’ My voice sounds squeaky with annoyance.

  ‘No, what?’ Holly flashes Luis an apologetic smile.

  ‘Bun tarts!’ I explode.

  She laughs. ‘That’s our nickname, Daisy.’

  ‘What, yours and mine?’ I’m now very unpleasantly surprised.

  ‘No,’ she waves her hand dismissively. ‘All of us. All of the front-of-house girls. It’s the same in every team. It’s a term of affection.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ Luis mutters.

  Holly hands him a bowl filled to the brim. ‘Do you want a protein shake to go with that?’ she asks.

  Luis glances down at his coffee and then cocks his head to one side. ‘Go on, then.’