Chasing Daisy

glancing at his watch. ‘I haven’t got all day.’
    ‘Let me just put this down,’ I say, nodding at the filtered coffee jug I’m holding.
    ‘I’ll do it.’ He takes it from me and follows Holly into the room. A moment later, the door opens again and the sound of cheering applause rings out as Luis emerges. ‘If the racing doesn’t pick up, I could always get a job as a bun tart,’ he says.
    I roll my eyes at him. ‘No chance.’
    In the car park, he points his key at a grey and white Bugatti Veyron. I know what the car is, because Johnny had one, and I also know that they’re one of the fastest – and most expensive – cars in the world. I try not to look too impressed, but fail.
    ‘It’s not mine,’ Luis comments, seeing my face. ‘The CEO of some company is lending it to me. They’re trying to persuade me to take part in an advertising campaign.’
    ‘What do they want you to endorse?’
    ‘Watches. Posh ones,’ he adds, climbing in the car.
    ‘Have you been asked to do a lot of that sort of thing?’ I ask, once we’re buckled in.
    ‘A fair bit. I’ll get more offers next year if I win the championship.’
    ‘Do you think you’re still in with a chance?’
    He flashes me a cheeky grin. ‘Honey, I’m always in with a chance.’
    ‘You dick.’ I shake my head and chuckle to myself as he drives slowly back out towards the first security gate. ‘Where are we going?’ I ask.
    ‘Just for a drive,’ he says. ‘And then maybe we’ll go to Marlow and feed the swans.’
    I crack up laughing.
    ‘What?’ he asks.
    ‘I didn’t take you to be a “feeding swans” type,’ I reply.
    He glances at me sideways and teasingly says, ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Daisy Rogers.’
    ‘Is that right, Luis Castro?’
    We exit the last set of security gates and Luis cranks up his speed.
    A thought pops into my head. ‘Does it bother you when people pronounce your name “Lewis” instead of “Lew-eesh”?’
    ‘It’s a bit annoying,’ he says. ‘But the main thing is that they’re talking about me at all.’
    ‘Even when they’re saying horrible things?’
    He pulls a face. ‘Hmm. Maybe not.’
    ‘Holly told me the papers are being much nicer now.’
    ‘We’ll see how long that lasts. I was thinking I was going to have to move back to Brazil if that kept up.’
    ‘Where do you live?’ I ask suddenly. I don’t even know if he has a house in the UK.
    ‘Hampstead,’ he replies. ‘North London.’
    ‘I know Hampstead.’ Now I’m properly impressed. ‘It’s beautiful there. What’s your house like?’
    ‘Come over sometime and you can see it for yourself.’
    ‘Well, I don’t know about that. . .’
    ‘Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?’
    ‘ Are we?’
    ‘Sure we are. You know things about me and I know things about you that no one else knows. And I trust you. I hope you trust me.’
    I think about his words for a moment before answering. ‘Yeah, I do. I have done for a long time.’
    Is Nonna right? Does Luis have feelings for me? Or am I just someone he can talk to? When I think about all those Screwdrivers he hooks up with, I can’t believe he’d want me to be anything more than just a friend. Which is good, because I would-n’t touch him with a bargepole.
    I suddenly remember the night in Monaco when butterflies fluttered through me as I looked at him. It makes me feel uneasy. And then I’m thinking of Will. I see him quite clearly, his blue eyes staring into mine, before he goes blurry again.
    ‘What are you thinking about?’ Luis asks.
    ‘Hmm?’
    ‘I asked what you were thinking about?’
    ‘I was just thinking about Will, actually.’
    He falls silent as he pulls off a roundabout and the road starts to climb uphill. We’ve been travelling on main roads, but now we’ve reached the country lanes and Luis picks up his speed. I cling on to the armrest as my stomach tenses.
    ‘Did you ever go to Will’s house?’ Luis asks suddenly.
    I hesitate before answering truthfully. ‘Yes. The night before . . . Silverstone.’ I wanted to say, ‘The night before he died’, but those words still come with difficulty.
    ‘Really?’ He glances across at me.
    I don’t reply and I swear he puts his foot down.
    ‘Luis! Slow down!’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because you’re going too fast!’
    ‘Am I scaring you?’ he asks dryly.
    ‘Yes, actually.’
    Bizarrely, that does the trick. He slows right down. In fact, he’s suddenly going so slow