by Paige Toon
‘Can’t hurt to ask.’ He looks out the window while I sit there pondering the possibility. I mustn’t get my hopes up. He turns back to me.
‘So what’s the deal with you? Why did you leave the States?’
I’m so caught up in my thoughts about going to Italy that his question catches me off guard and I don’t have enough time to come up with a decent lie. I surprise even myself when I answer honestly.
‘Oh, I had my heart broken.’ My face breaks into a sheepish smile.
‘Did you? Who was he?’
‘No one you’d kno . . .’ My voice trails off. ‘Well, saying that . . .’ I roll my eyes, jokily, before realising that was a truly stupid thing to do.
‘I know him?’ Will looks interested.
‘No! No, no, no,’ I hurriedly try to put a stop to his questioning. ‘No, you don’t know him.’
‘Is he famous?’ He sits up in his seat.
‘Oh, God, stop talking.’ I wave him away and then want to kick myself. As if he’s going to drop it now, you idiot!
‘Who?’ Will demands to know.
‘No one! Leave it! How did we get onto this subject, anyway? Let’s talk about you, again!’
‘Fuck that,’ he scoffs. ‘Just tell me.’
‘No, I can’t,’ I say.
‘Why, did you have to sign a confidentiality clause or something?’
I waver.
‘You did, didn’t you?’ He slaps his hand on the table. ‘Oh bollocks, now I’m really curious.’
I stare at him, mortified. I can’t believe I’ve let it get this far. After all this practice at lying!
He looks at me through narrowed eyes. ‘Did you work for him?’
‘How the hell?’ I start. How did he figure that out?
‘You did! What did you do?’
I pause, before answering truthfully. That much can’t hurt. ‘I was his personal assistant. But that’s ALL I’m saying.’ I determinedly take a gulp of my drink.
‘Never mind.’ He leans back and swigs from his beer bottle. ‘I’ll get it out of Holly later.’
I laugh wryly and shake my head. ‘She doesn’t know.’
‘Bullshit.’ He plonks his bottle down on the table.
‘I’m not joking,’ I say. ‘And actually, she doesn’t even know this much so can you please not say anything?’
He looks at me, trying to suss out whether or not I’m telling him the truth and eventually seems to decide that I am.
‘My lips are sealed,’ he says.
‘Thank you.’ I sigh. ‘God, that was stressful.’
He laughs. I turn and scan the bar for Holly.
‘Still no sign?’ Will asks, looking too.
‘No. I can’t see her.’
‘Bet you’re wishing you came alone, now, aren’t you?’
I look back at him and smile. ‘No, I’m still glad you’re here.’
He regards me warmly for a moment. He has really nice lips . . .
Suddenly he clears his throat and peers into his beer bottle. ‘Want another?’ He points to my drink.
‘I’ll go.’ I start to get up.
‘Bugger off,’ he says, frowning at me as he stands. ‘And no crap about you being a feminist, either. Same again?’
I laugh and sit down. ‘Yes, please.’
My eyes follow him as he heads off to the bar. A few people turn to stare as they realise who he is. There are a lot of race fans out on the town tonight, and a couple of them approach him asking for autographs. Will signs their caps and T-shirts quite happily, oblivious to me watching.
I smile to myself. Famous people . . . But Will is a different kind of famous to . . . you know. I bet he would make a much nicer boyfriend. I suddenly recall quite clearly the pain of seeing the love of my life come onto another woman right in front of me. Hot tears prick my eyes, taking me by surprise. To my absolute horror, Will picks this time to return to the table.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks in alarm.
‘Nothing, nothing!’ I laugh, embarrassed.
‘What is it?’ he persists.
‘Just having a nasty ex memory.’ I quickly swipe my thumbs underneath my eyes to catch the moisture before my rock chick look turns goth.
‘Oh. Sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ I say, surreptitiously smearing the mascara from my thumbs onto my jeans.
Will pauses, before saying, ‘Well he sounds like a twat, whoever he was.’
I snicker in amusement.
‘I’ll never go and see any of his films ever again.’ He looks at me hopefully.
‘Nice try, buster,’ I joke.
‘Buy one of his albums?’ he tries again, raising an eyebrow.
I just shake my head and purse my lips. He chuckles and taps his fingers on the table, eyeing me steadily. ‘I’m a bit of a shit for doing that to you,’ he says, dryly. ‘I get so pissed off when people pry into my love life.’
‘Who pries into your love life?’
‘The press do all the time. Laura’s always getting papped.’
Urgh. Her again. ‘Is she? Why?’
He gives me a baffled look.
‘Sorry, I don’t read the tabloids,’ I tell him, apologetically. ‘I genuinely don’t know why they’d bother her.’
‘Well, she’s kind of . . .’ his voice trails off so I prompt him.
‘Pretty?’ I feel sick as I ask it, and even sicker when he answers.
‘Yeah.’ He shrugs. ‘She’s into fashion and all that stuff.’
Great. So she’s a stunning socialite. ‘Sounds like a Wayne and Coleen situation,’ I say, trying to sound light-hearted and unbothered.
‘Jesus,’ he exclaims. ‘I hope you’re not trying to say I look like Wayne Rooney.’
I laugh. ‘No, I think you look more like Leonardo DiCaprio. Not now,’ I quickly add. ‘More back in his Titanic days when he was really hot.’ Dammit, Daisy! Now he thinks I fancy him! I instinctively put my hands to my cheeks to try to stop them from heating up.
He regards me with amusement. I hurriedly turn my attention to my watch. It’s ten o’clock. ‘Where the hell is Holly?’ I ask out loud, thankful for the change of subject. I dig out my mobile phone from my bag. ‘Excuse me,’ I say. ‘I’ll just try her again.’ This time the phone rings, but she doesn’t answer. Eventually it diverts to voicemail so I try again. She picks up on the tenth ring.
‘Holly! Where are you?’
‘I’m still at the track.’ Her voice is muffled.
‘What?’ I screech. ‘Why?’
‘More to do here than I thought.’
‘Oh, no! Is everyone really pissed off with me for ducking out?’ I ask worriedly.
‘No! Not at all! The others have all left. I’m just helping out with a few little things.’
‘Oh, okay. Will you be here soon?’
‘Er . . .’ She sounds hesitant. ‘I’m not sure. Don’t wait for me. I’ll call you if I can make it. Sorry,’ she adds.
‘Don’t worry, it’s okay.’
We hang up and I look at Will. ‘I don’t think she’s coming.’
‘She’s not?’ He looks surprised.
‘I’m really sorry.’ I feel awful for dragging him here.
‘It’s alright,’ he says.
‘Shall we go and rejoin the others?’ I ask, making to stand up.
‘Sure, let’s.’ He downs the last of his beer and follows me out.
Back in the other bar I just can’t relax. I’m not in the mood for mingling and I can’t take up any more of Will’s time, so after another hour I tell Pete I’m heading back to the hotel. I refuse his offer to walk me – it’s not far and the streets are so full of tourists that I feel safe enough.
When I get there, I find Frederick having a nightcap in the hotel bar with Klaus.
Italy! Ask him about Italy!
‘I thought Holly was coming?’ Frederick queries, once I’ve put my ‘please-please-please-please-please-let-me-go-to-Italy’ face on.
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‘Holly?’ I ask, confused.
‘Yes. You know, that girl with the blonde hair. Petite. Goes out and gets pissed a lot with another naughty girl who works for me.’
‘Ha ha,’ I say sarcastically. ‘I know who Holly is, I just didn’t know she was going to Italy?’
Frederick looks nonplussed.
‘Anyway,’ I move on. ‘Can I come?’
‘What about the catering jobs you had lined up for Ingrid in London?’
I shift from foot to foot. ‘Do you think she’d let me out of them?’ I ask, pleadingly.
‘I suppose Charlotte might be able to step in.’
Charlotte is another girl I work with occasionally. She’s doing a fine arts degree, so is only employed part-time.
‘So can I?’
‘I guess so. You’ll have to speak to Ally about booking a hotel . . .’
‘That’s the best bit.’ I grin. ‘I’ll be able to stay with my grandmother in the mountains. So you’ll only have to pay for my plane ticket!’
‘Only?’ He humphs. ‘Well, you’d better speak to Ally about that, then.’
‘Yay! Thanks, boss!’
‘Be off with you. Let me finish my drink in peace.’ He raises it up and knocks it back in one, while I hurry away before he changes his mind.
Holly is in bed when I get up to our room. I shake her roughly.
‘What the bleeding hell are you doing?’ she snaps, groggily.
‘I’m going to Italy! Are you?’
One eye opens. ‘What do you mean you’re going to Italy?’
‘With you! Are you going?’ I ask again.
The other eye opens and she props herself up in bed. ‘Yes.’ She yawns, loudly.
‘How did that happen?’
‘Simon asked me to come,’ she replies.
‘When?’ I’m a little taken aback. I’m supposed to be his on-hand girl.
‘This afternoon. He would have asked you,’ she says quickly. ‘I’m sure it’s just because he knows you have catering jobs in London, that’s all.’
‘Oh, right.’ My voice must be filled with trepidation because she continues to reassure me.
‘Don’t be offended,’ she urges.
‘I’m not,’ I reply. Holly obviously impressed him much more than I thought when she stood up to him about Catalina. ‘Anyway, how cool is that?’ I try to inject the enthusiasm back into my voice. ‘Only,’ I realise suddenly, ‘I’m not staying with you lot. I’m staying with my nonna in the mountains. So we probably won’t see each other much at all.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame.’ She yawns again.
‘Still, it’ll be fun, won’t it?’
‘Yeah. So how are you coming if Simon didn’t ask you to?’ Holly asks, suddenly curious.
‘Will encouraged me to ask Frederick.’
‘Will? Hey! How was tonight?’
‘It was nice,’ I reply offhandedly.
‘What did you talk about?’ she asks.
‘Oh, you know, this and that.’
‘Do you still fancy him?’ she pries.
I flop down on the mattress and bury my face in the pillow. ‘Might do,’ I tell her in a muffled voice.
‘What did you say? Daisy?’ she persists, when I don’t immediately answer.
I turn my head on the pillow to face her. ‘Might do,’ I say, trying to stifle a smile and failing.
‘What are you going to do about his girlfriend?’ she asks.
Now my smile drops. ‘What do you mean, what am I going to do about his girlfriend?’ I huff, propping myself up on one elbow. ‘I’m not going to do anything. He’s got a girlfriend! End of story!’
‘Oh, good,’ she says.
‘I’ve already told you that,’ I continue my rant.
‘Yeah, I know,’ she says dismissively. ‘I just wasn’t sure if things had changed.’
‘Of course they haven’t changed,’ I answer, still a touch annoyed. ‘I’m not that sort of girl. I just like him as a friend.’
‘Sure.’ She rolls her tired eyes at me.
‘Well, you know, maybe things aren’t as rosy with Laura as they seem . . .’
‘I knew it!’ She slaps the bedcovers.
‘What? Oh, va fanculo.’
She laughs, then her face becomes serious. ‘So you’re not sworn off men anymore, then?’
I sigh and, for a brief moment, all the pain and hurt I felt back in America threatens to overcome me. I shake my head and try to black out the memories for the second time that night.
‘Daisy? Are you alright?’ Holly is suddenly concerned.
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I tell her.
‘Just be careful,’ she says.
‘I will be. Careful’s my middle name,’ I lie. In fact, I’ve always been a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda girl.
‘I just don’t want you to get hurt,’ she adds, sliding back down under the bedsheets.
And that, for now, is the end of our conversation. I take off my make-up in a daze, trying to remember everything Will and I talked about tonight. I climb into bed and picture him staring at me with his beautiful blue eyes. I remember the stubble on his face, and in my mind I reach over and trace my finger along his jaw. His lips, I remember them, too. I wonder if he’s a good kisser? I bet he is. I imagine him walking me back to the hotel through busy streets full of bars and late-night revelry, and I imagine him pulling me into a dark doorway. My stomach fills with butterflies as I forget all about Laura and Luis and Holly and everyone else I know, and imagine Will kissing me passionately, as though we’re both caught up in a moment of time that we can’t get out of. But in my mind, when he pulls away, his face is blurry. His eyes are no longer clear. I try to remember his mouth again, and can suddenly see it perfectly, but when I attempt to put it with the rest of his face, it doesn’t fit. I’ve lost him. What the hell is wrong with me? Try as I might, I can’t bring the memory of him into focus in my mind. I know it’s no good, I’ve been through this before, so I go back to replaying our conversation instead, and hope that if I don’t try too hard, I might be able to see his face again before I reach Italy in a couple of days.
Chapter 11
‘Nonna!’
‘La mia stellina! Vieni qui amore, che ti vuole abbracciare la Nonna!’ That means, ‘My little star! Come here my love, Grandma wants to give you a hug!’ She doesn’t speak much English, Nonna, and my Italian is fluent, so we rarely converse in anything else. Don’t worry, I’ll translate from here on in.
‘Look at you! So beautiful, but oh, so thin!’ She grabs my cheeks in dismay and attempts to tug some skin between her fingers.
‘Ouch, Nonna!’ I bat her away and she engulfs me in a big, cuddly hug. I have to stoop down because she’s only five foot tall and, of course, I’m five foot nine.
‘We’ll have to feed you up. The pasta sauce is almost ready!’ She ushers me into her small kitchen, where a pot is bubbling on top of her old-fashioned stove.
‘Is that what I can smell? What is it?’
‘Rabbit.’
Hmm. Thought so. Not really a big fan of rabbit.
‘Great!’ I fib. Nonna doesn’t need to know . . .
‘What have you been doing, my darling girl? How is work?’
I fill her in on my time on the racing scene while we sit at the table and drink cups of coffee. It’s cool inside these thick stone walls, but the weather outside is mild, even in the mountains.
Nonna lives in an old stone cottage nestled under the rocks, just off the main road. She has a vegetable patch in the garden, and keeps goats and chickens in a small adjoining paddock, but by far the best thing about her place is the view: on a clear day you can see for miles. My favourite thing to do here is sit on the terrace on Nonna’s stone bench and look out at the tree-covered mountains while sipping a glass of acqua alla menta – mint water.
But it’s been a long day, and tomorrow will feel even longer, so after we’ve eaten, Nonna sees me to my room, a tiny box with a singl
e bed under the window and a small wooden cupboard on the opposite wall. I get ready for bed quickly because the cold has set in, and nestle under the sheets, blankets and Nonna’s colourful hand-stitched quilt that I remember from my first ever trip here. I feel more at home in Nonna’s place than anywhere else in the world, and while that thought makes me feel momentarily sad, I fall to sleep feeling at peace with the world and everyone in it.
The next day I’m inside the marquee laying out morning tea for the film crew when I feel a gentle nudge on my back. I swivel around to see Will standing there.
‘Hi! How are you?’ I say. He looks unfamiliar again. Not better, not worse, just unfamiliar.
‘Good.’ He smiles. He’s wearing dark denim jeans and a yellow T-shirt with surfer-style graphics on the front.
‘Have you filmed anything, yet?’ I ask.
The advert he and Luis are filming today is for a petrol company. They have to pretend-race each other around the bendy mountain roads in fast sports cars.
‘Not yet,’ he replies. ‘We’ve just been getting our hair and make-up done.’ He casts his eyes to the heavens. I peer more closely at him.
‘What?’ he asks.
‘Did they put foundation on you?’
‘Yes, unfortunately. Why?’
‘I can just see a little spot of it, right there by your eye.’ I lean in and smooth it away.
‘Thanks.’ He awkwardly rubs his finger at the place where mine just was. I glance to my left to see Luis raising his eyebrows at me as he walks in the direction of one of the trailers. I look back at Will to find him staring darkly after Luis.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask Will, cautiously.
‘Yeah, fine,’ he assures me.
‘Is everything okay with you and Luis?’
‘He’s being a bit of a dick at the moment.’
‘Nothing new there, then.’
He smirks and shakes his head. ‘No.’
‘Is he still pissed off you won the last race?’ I ask. ‘I thought you guys got over things like that?’
He shrugs and brushes some fluff off his bare arm and then looks up at me and grins. ‘Have you forgiven me for all my prying the other night?’
