by Paige Toon
I sit down on a sofa and put my feet up on the coffee table, then take them down again, crossing my legs instead and folding my arms. I hear the shower switch on in the bathroom. Sigh . . .
I lean forward and pick up the complicated-looking remote. How do I work this thing? I point it at the television and press the red button. It buzzes into life.
Oh my freaking God, he’s on the porn channel! Quick! Quick! Change it before he gets out here! I rapidly push buttons as I hear the shower turn off, but the numbers I’m pressing come up on the screen while the channel remains the same. Cazzo! What do I do? In a panic I study the remote control and spy an ‘Enter’ button. I try again, pressing a couple of digits, followed by ‘Enter’. The channel changes just as the bathroom door opens and Will emerges along with a cloud of steam.
‘Yes, my name is Iggle Piggle . . .’
I hear a song coming from the television. A quick glance in its direction tells me I’m watching kiddie TV. A quick glance back at Will tells me he’s not wearing anything under that little white towel. Argh!
‘Forgot to take clean clothes in with me.’ He apologises for his attire – or lack of it – as he wanders past the sofas into the bedroom. He turns to pull on the huge sliding doors that separate his room from the living room, but doesn’t quite manage to close them. I twist my body around to take a quick peek and nearly have a heart attack when I spot his naked bum. In light-headed shock I return my focus to the strange blue creature dancing about on the television. I could attempt to change the channel again, but it’s a bit risky. Moments later, Will reappears.
‘In the Night Garden?’ He grins and nods at the television.
‘Is that what it’s called?’ I ask.
‘Yeah. My niece is a big fan.’
‘How old is your niece?’
‘Three.’ He slumps down on the other sofa.
‘Brother or sister’s child?’ I ask, then immediately wonder if said child is one of Laura’s siblings’ offspring. Are they that close for him to be considered an uncle?
‘Sister,’ he replies, putting his bare feet up on the coffee table.
‘Your sister?’
‘Yes,’ he says cautiously, as though he thinks I might be a little bit stupid.
‘I meant, was it your sister or Laura’s sister,’ I explain, then want to kick myself for bringing up his girlfriend.
‘Oh, I see,’ he says. ‘My sister. Laura is an only child.’
‘Aah, okay. I empathise. I am, too.’
‘Are you?’
‘Yes. Always wanted a brother. Or a sister. Or even a cat would have done. Hell, I would have made do with a goldfish.’
He laughs and pushes his still-wet hair off his face, before casually resting one toned arm on the back of the sofa. ‘Lonely, were you?’
‘Just a bit. Was Laura?’
‘Nah. She had me.’ He grins.
Hmm. ‘You grew up together, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah, her parents ran the farm next to my house.’
‘Were you always over there, romping in the haystacks?’ Oh my Lordy, Lord. What am I saying?
He looks amused. ‘I was a good boy.’
And that’s why you were watching the porn channel, hey pal?
‘What?’ Will asks, seeing the sneaky look on my face.
‘I bet you’re not as nice as you seem.’ It’s out of my mouth almost before I have a chance to think it.
‘Oh, really?’ His eyes widen in surprise. He folds his arms. ‘What makes you think that?’
Now I’ve gone and done it. ‘No reason.’
‘No way, missy, now you’ve started something, you’re going to have to finish it.’ He raises one eyebrow. I would say flirtatiously, but he’s got a girlfriend.
‘Shall we watch this movie?’ I ask.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘I don’t know how to work the remote control,’ I say, holding it up.
‘Pass it over.’ He takes his feet off the table and leans across to me. I hand it to him, a little surprised and relieved that I managed to get out of that one. And then he points the control at the telly and turns it off. Oh.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask, all innocent.
He puts his feet back on the table.
‘Would Laura say you’re a nice boy?’ I ask, head swimming a little, now.
He raises one eyebrow at me. ‘You’d have to ask her that.’
‘I would do, but she never comes to any of the races.’
He purses his lips at me, thoughtfully. Then he points the remote at the telly and switches it back on. I hear the sound of the porn channel before I see it.
‘Jesus, this bloody TV,’ he mutters, hastily pointing it again and changing the channel.
I burst out laughing.
‘What?’ he asks. Then it clicks. ‘Did that just happen to you?’ He lifts up the remote control. ‘Is that why you think I’m not a nice boy?’ He’s grinning.
I nod, unable to speak.
He starts to laugh, too. ‘So if I watch porn, it means I’m a bastard?’
‘Well . . .’ I consider his question.
‘What if I’m lonely?’ he interrupts. ‘Seeing as, like you say, my girlfriend doesn’t come to any races . . .’
‘Whatever takes your fancy, Will,’ I say, flippantly, and he stares at me with those beautiful blue eyes.
‘What?’ I ask, when he doesn’t look away. It makes me feel jittery.
‘Nothing.’ He presses a few buttons on the remote control to bring up a menu. ‘Now, what shall we watch?’
‘Debbie Does Dallas? Deep Throat?’ I crack up laughing again.
‘Now, how would a nice girl like you know the names of porn movies?’
I immediately hit him back with, ‘How would a nice boy like you know that I’m talking about porn movies?’
He gives me a sly look. ‘I bet you’re not a nice girl.’
Want to find out? No! Girlfriend! Girlfriend! Girlfriend!
‘Is Laura a nice girl?’
He glances away at the TV. ‘Of course she is.’ My stomach falls flat. ‘Right, then,’ he continues. ‘What shall we watch? The Bridge On the River Kwai?’
‘Are you joking?’ That’s a war movie!
‘The Great Escape?’
Another one! I give him a comedy glare and he leans over and drops the remote control on the sofa next to me. ‘You choose.’
Forty-five minutes later, my viewing of When Harry Met Sally is disturbed by the gentle sound of Will’s breathing. I look over and see that he’s asleep. I watch him for a moment, the rise and fall of his chest almost hypnotic, his face so peaceful. Finally I tear my eyes away, turn off the television and quietly leave his suite. I’ve seen this movie a thousand times anyway, and if I don’t leave now, I might do something stupid like climb into his arms.
Chapter 8
‘I waited for you in the bar last night, bun tart. Where the hell were you?’
‘Good morning, Luis. How are you on this fine, sunny day?’
‘Is it sunny again? I hadn’t noticed.’
‘Maybe you should take your dark glasses off, then,’ I tell him. ‘Too much to drink?’
‘Had to drown my sorrows all on my own.’
‘Yeah, right. Sorrows? What sorrows? Anyway, I bet you picked up a girl, eventually.’
We’re waiting in the hotel lobby with a few other team members and we’re about to head off to the track for the first time since we got here. I’m excited about seeing Holly again.
‘Hey . . .’ I hear footsteps behind me and turn around to see Will, looking fresh as a daisy in comparison to his team-mate.
‘Hello!’ I chirp.
He comes over to us and taps me on my elbow. ‘First you make me watch that crap, and then you go and leave before the end! Bad girl.’
I start to laugh. ‘You fell asleep!’
‘What crap?’ Luis butts in.
‘When Harry Met Sally. We watched it in Will’
s room,’ I tell him distractedly. Simon has just emerged from the lift and Will goes over to him. Catalina isn’t with him, so I presume she’s having a lie-in. Nothing new there, then.
‘You blew me out for When Harry Met Sally?’
I ignore Luis and wave my acknowledgement at Simon and Frederick, who has also just appeared.
‘Let’s get this show on the road.’ Simon claps his hands and the group of us start to follow him out of the lobby to the two black people carriers waiting at the bottom of the steps.
‘I would never fall asleep in your company, bun tart,’ I hear someone say in my ear as I climb into one of the cars. I whip around to see Luis wink at me as he climbs into the other one.
Holly is already at the track when we arrive and I run over to greet her.
‘Hello! How are you?’ She’s breathless from the force of my hug.
‘I missed you!’ I complain.
She beams at me, warmly. ‘I missed you, too. I had to make friends with some backpackers after you left.’
‘Any hotties?’
She turns her nose up. ‘Sadly, no. And I almost got bitten by a monkey.’
‘Seriously?’
Langkawi’s mangrove swamps are home to plenty of monkeys. We saw a few in the two days I was there, but they kept their distance.
‘Yep. Little fucker,’ she mutters.
‘What did you do? Provoke it?’
‘I just wanted a wee photo . . .’ Her voice trails off wistfully before she snaps back into action. ‘Come on.’ She grabs my hand and pulls me towards the kitchen. ‘What’s been going on with you? Tell me everything!’
‘Honestly, it’s been sooooo dull without you. Until the last couple of nights I haven’t known what to do with myself.’
‘Last couple of nights? Explain.’
‘Last night I watched a film with Will in his room . . .’
‘No way!’
I fill her in on the details.
‘And the night before that I just got pissed with Luis.’
‘With Luis?’ she exclaims. ‘I thought you couldn’t stand him!’
‘Will was there, too. Briefly.’
‘Will doesn’t drink, does he?’
‘No.’
‘But you got pissed?’
‘Yes.’
‘With Luis?’
‘Yes.’
‘The guy you hate?’
‘He’s not that bad.’
‘AHA!’ She points at me. ‘I told you!’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
It’s thirty-two degrees today and there’s a dust haze covering the track. Bahrain’s Sakhir circuit is situated in the desert, unlike our hotel, which is right by the sea. The facilities here are nice and new: the raised-up purpose-built hospitality buildings are glass-fronted and modern, with balconies out the front and outside stairs leading down to ground level. Several guests are currently sitting at tables in the sunshine. It’s quite a contrast to the weather they’re experiencing in England at the moment. In fact, if it keeps up this weekend, we’ll be flying back to a snow-covered country on Monday. I hope our flight isn’t delayed.
‘Daisy!’ Frederick calls. ‘Can you come here, please?’
‘Sure.’ I give Holly a look and head out of the kitchen to see my boss.
‘I want you to sit in on my meeting with Tarquin and João.’
‘Okay,’ I say, pleasantly surprised that I’m being involved in the discussion about the drivers’ nutrition.
For the rest of the weekend, I liaise with the two nutritionists about Will’s and Luis’s diets and it’s up to me to ensure they’re served the right things at the right times. Luis messes with me a little bit, opting for falafel instead of lean chicken and vegetables, but on the whole behaves himself and sticks to the menu designed for him. Will is as good as gold, as expected.
On Sunday, just before the race, I go to check on Will and Luis in their private rooms.
Yesterday’s qualifying session was interesting. Luis only managed to swipe fifth position, whereas Will came a more respectable third. This time it was the Brazilian who made himself scarce afterwards while Will chilled out on the balcony in the sun, chatting to sponsors.
‘Luis, are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you?’ I ask, after knocking tentatively on his door.
‘Wow, bun tart, that’s so nice of you. I drive much better after sex.’
I narrow my eyes at him and close the door on his laughter before knocking on Will’s door.
‘Are you alright?’ I ask when he calls for me to enter.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ He’s sitting on a chair in his room, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘Somebody’s cheered up.’ He gives me a wry look and nods towards Luis’s room. ‘What’s he laughing about?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Just making another lewd joke about me.’
‘Want me to break his legs for you?’
I laugh. ‘That would probably suit both of us quite nicely . . .’
He grins and stands up. ‘Nah, I’ll be able to knock him off the top of the championship without resorting to that.’ He’s already kitted out in his racing overalls, minus his helmet, which is resting on the low table. I pick it up and hand it to him.
‘Cheers.’ He goes to the door and opens it for me to go through. ‘You coming to watch the race?’
‘If Frederick will let me, definitely,’ I tell him over my shoulder as he follows me back into the hospitality area.
‘See you later, then,’ he says, tailing off in the direction of the pits.
‘Bye! Good luck!’
I’m in charge of the catering in the garages, but Holly joins me in time to watch the race. Yesterday’s dust haze has cleared, so the driving conditions are much safer, although we’re still not expecting big things for the team today.
All that changes when both Will and Luis manage to climb a place each during the start. Luis takes another position during a pit stop when a mechanic for Emilio Rizzo in third place has a problem with the refuelling rig. By the time Holly and I reluctantly return to the hospitality area, Will and Luis are running second and third. There’s a real buzz amongst the team and its guests, and Holly and I keep stopping to watch the action on the big screen. At one point, Luis is hot on Will’s tail – they’re only a second apart according to the commentators.
‘Whoa!’ one of the commentators says suddenly as Luis attempts an overtaking manoeuvre. Luis pulls back into line behind Will, but a moment later, he’s at it again. This time he outbreaks Will into a corner and swipes second place from under his wheels. There’s a collective gasp around me.
‘And he’s done it!’ I hear one of the commentators cry. ‘That was spectacular, wasn’t it?’
‘Indeed it was. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone attempt an overtaking manoeuvre on that corner before, much less succeeded.’
‘Trust won’t be happy about that,’ he says of Will.
‘Oh, no, he most definitely won’t. Luis Castro is shaping up to be quite some driver, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Absolutely. If he— OH MY GOD, HE’S AT IT AGAIN!’
Luis is right behind Kit Bryson in the lead and I watch as he zips out from behind him and once again, outbreaks him into a corner.
‘Incredible!’ one of the commentators cries as the guests in the hospitality area break into applause and some leap out of their seats in astonishment. Amongst the mayhem, I try to zone in on what the commentators are saying.
‘Absolutely! As I was about to say, if Castro manages to keep his second position, he’ll be leading the championship by quite some distance.’
‘This is looking like his first victory, at this rate. There was something quite “Ayrton Senna” about that move, wasn’t there?’
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves . . .’
Ayrton Senna was one of the greatest drivers of his time before he was killed during a race. He crashed when he was leading the 1994 San Marino Grand Prix in Italy and I still remem
ber it well, because I was staying with my grandparents at the time. I wasn’t big into racing, but my grandfather was, and the news of Senna’s death was everywhere. He was Brazilian, like Luis, and it’s not the first time I’ve heard them being compared.
Standing there, seeing the looks of admiration on people’s faces, I can’t help but feel a strange sense of respect for Luis. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel oddly uneasy. Perhaps it’s because I’m disappointed for Will, but I can’t dwell on that now because it’s time to return to work. I glance back at the television screen one more time to see the camera following Luis as he speeds off into the Sakhir desert.
Chapter 9
My mobile rings and I snatch it up. ‘Yes?’
‘Your taxi’s here.’
Cazzo! Is it that time already?
‘Okay, I’ll be down in a few minutes,’ I tell the woman on the other end of the line.
I’m at home in my tiny rented studio flat on Camden Road in north London. I’ve been back in the UK for two weeks and have been helping out Frederick and Ingrid with various catering functions, so I haven’t seen Holly at all. Her home is in Berkshire, near team HQ, and she adores living in the country. Me, I’m a city girl, through and through. But back to the present. I haven’t even finished ironing my trousers and my car has arrived to take me to the airport. I quickly whip the iron round, turn it off, and then put on the trousers and their matching suit jacket.
I throw the last couple of things into my team carry case and zip it up, then lug it down two flights of stairs to the pavement below, where I scan the road for my taxi before realising it’s in the car park behind the flat. The recent snowfall has given way to rain, rain and more rain, so I hold my handbag over my head to keep my hair dry as I stumble to the car.
Heathrow is bustling as always, but it doesn’t take me long to find the rest of the hospitality crew because they’re all wearing identical outfits to mine: black trouser suits and gold shirts. It’s our travelling attire, and as I’ve already mentioned, Simon likes us to be well turned out at all times.
