Chasing Daisy

good.’
    ‘But Holly, he looks awful,’ I murmur. ‘Isn’t he eating?’
    ‘He eats,’ she says. ‘Just not a lot. He doesn’t stray from the diet designed for him and you won’t catch him out on the town with the lads for beer nor money.’
    ‘Maybe I should go and check on him.’ I look towards the stairs. The thought terrifies me. I haven’t been near Will’s old room since I’ve been here and have been wondering how I can get through the rest of the season by avoiding it completely.
    ‘I wouldn’t,’ Holly says.
    I look at her in surprise. I didn’t expect her to disagree.
    ‘Maybe just leave him be for a little while,’ she explains. ‘He’ll need to get his head together before practice.’
    I avert my gaze, feeling a little put-out. The last thing I want to do is upset Luis even more, and I’m sad she thinks I’m capable of it.
    By Saturday, it’s become quite clear that Luis is avoiding me. He now seems to prefer eating in the privacy of his upstairs room, and as Holly is the drivers’ new on-hand front-of-house girl – and I certainly don’t want the position back – she’s the person who deals with him.
    I haven’t been into the garages yet, but on the morning of qualifying, Frederick sends Holly and me there to handle the catering. I try to keep my breathing steady as I head across the asphalt to the pits, but my heart jolts when we walk through the door to see Pierre, the test driver who took over Will’s drive, standing in Will’s garage.
    ‘Daisy, can you sort out the coffee cups?’ Holly asks firmly. I know she’s trying to distract me and I’m grateful. I get on with my work.
    Luis comes in just before qualifying is due to start.
    ‘Come on, man,’ Dan urges and even from the other side of the garage I can see frustration etched across his face at Luis’s late arrival.
    Luis glances my way and quickly averts his gaze before walking unhurriedly towards his car. He climbs in and Dan helps him get settled. The atmosphere in here is tense, but it’s a different kind of tension to the one I’m used to. There’s no anticipation or excitement, just stress and strain. For the first time I wonder if it was a mistake coming back.
    Q1 goes badly. Luis just scrapes into the top fifteen, meaning he’ll get another chance to qualify better in the second session. He climbs out of the car.
    ‘It’s not handling well,’ he exclaims hotly, ripping off his helmet.
    ‘What’s wrong with it?’ Dan asks.
    ‘It’s just not right!’ Luis tugs off his gloves.
    ‘Mate, we can’t help you if you don’t tell us what’s wrong.’
    ‘I don’t know what’s wrong!’ Luis shouts, before Dan leads him away towards the private meeting room.
    ‘Is this what it’s been like?’ I ask Holly.
    She nods. I don’t think I can watch any more.
    Luis qualifies twelfth in the end and doesn’t even make it through to the third qualifying session. Pierre does better and will start sixth tomorrow, but that’s hardly anything to get excited about.
    That night, Saturday night, Holly tentatively broaches the subject of the evening’s plans. We’re staying at a hotel in the middle of Milan and it’s only a short walk to the Piazza del Duomo in the centre of town and a whole host of super-cool bars and clubs.
    ‘I’m not going out,’ I tell her flatly.
    ‘I understand,’ she says, perching on the end of my bed. I’m lying down, my head propped up on three pillows as I reach for the television remote.
    ‘You go out, though,’ I insist. ‘I don’t need you to keep me company again.’ We stayed in the room last night, watching a chick flick and eating room service.
    ‘Well . . .’ She looks on edge. ‘I might pop up and see Simon later. Only if you don’t mind,’ she quickly adds. Catalina isn’t at this race, and last night Simon had to attend dinner with the sponsors.
    ‘Oh, sure,’ I say. After all this time wishing she’d open up to me, now I find it very strange hearing her talk about him.
    Holly goes to get changed in the bathroom and I flick through the channels trying not to think about the fact that she’s probably putting on lacy underwear in Simon’s honour. When she eventually heads out looking sheepish, I sigh and turn the television off. Perhaps I’ll read a book? But no, three pages in and half an hour later, I realise I haven’t taken in a single word.
    Something makes me think back to Bahrain and the sight of Luis speeding around the desert track.