Chasing Daisy

his eye-line. I stare at him as he pushes the bowl of nuts in my direction.
    ‘How are you feeling about the next race?’ I ask.
    ‘Good. The car handled like a dream in Singapore, so. . .’
    ‘Fingers crossed for Japan. And after that, it’s Brazil.’
    ‘Mmm.’
    ‘Your home race. Are your family going to come?’
    He chuckles. ‘If there’s enough room for them.’
    ‘Hey,’ I remember suddenly. ‘Do you listen to music before the races to psyche yourself up?’
    ‘Yeah,’ he replies hesitantly.
    ‘I saw you with your earphones in,’ I explain. ‘What were you listening to?’
    ‘I think it was The Chemical Brothers.’
    ‘The music worked, then. You won.’
    ‘It wasn’t just the music, Daisy.’ He stares straight at me for five, very long seconds before breaking away to have a drink. ‘How’s Holly?’ he asks. ‘You never told me why she was upset in Singapore.’
    ‘No,’ I reply hesitantly. ‘I probably shouldn’t now, either.’
    ‘Top secret, is it?’
    I consider him, undecided. I know he’d keep it to himself, but would Holly mind? I don’t think so. . . ‘It’s okay. I trust you.’
    He folds his arms in front of him on the bar top.
    ‘Catalina is pregnant.’
    ‘Really?’ His eyes widen and I fill him in on the whole shebang.
    ‘I have something top secret to tell you, too,’ he says eventually, after we’ve exhausted that topic.
    I look at him with interest. ‘What’s that?’
    ‘I’ve been offered a drive with another team.’
    ‘No way?’ My heart sinks. ‘Which one?’
    Luis tells me it’s for the team Kit Bryson drives for. His teammate Emilio Rizzo’s contract has expired and as Rizzo has under-performed all season, he’s been given the boot. The press will be told he made his own decision to retire from F1. He is thirty-five, after all.
    ‘But that’s like, the best team, isn’t it?’
    He nods seriously. They’ve won the championship for the past three years. Our team usually ranks fourth or fifth.
    ‘Are you going to accept it?’
    ‘It’s for a lot more money,’ he says casually, and he doesn’t sound boastful. ‘But I don’t know. Part of me feels loyal to Simon, but he was going to fire me if I didn’t perform in Italy so I don’t know . . .’
    ‘I don’t think I’d enjoy working there as much if you left,’ I say in a small voice, screwing my nose up.
    He chuckles and reaches across to pat my hand. ‘Well you , bun tart, should get yourself into catering college and then you wouldn’t have to miss me at all.’
    I laugh. ‘But then I would miss you, because I’d never see you!’
    I’m feeling a little tipsy after all this wine. It’s making me feel quite affectionate.
    ‘Aw,’ he says, grinning at me. ‘And to think you almost scratched my Ferrari. . .’
    ‘You almost ran me over, you moron!’ I jokily exclaim. ‘And you called me a crazy bitch.’
    ‘I didn’t!’ He looks horrified.
    ‘Yes, you did.’
    ‘I didn’t, did I?’
    ‘Yep.’
    ‘That’s horrendous. I’m sorry,’ he adds.
    ‘Hmm. I might forgive you one of these days.’
    We sit there and chat for another half an hour before he asks if I’m hungry.
    ‘I am a bit,’ I reply.
    ‘We could nip down the road for a Chinese if you like?’
    ‘That’d be nice.’
    ‘Okay, I’ll just grab my coat.’
    I go and stand in his hall while he rummages around in the cupboard under the stairs and pulls out a black biker-style jacket. I poke my head around the door and take a quick peek at his living room. There’s a large bay window overlooking the front garden. It’s dark outside now, but for a split-second I picture myself sitting in the white designer armchair, drinking a cup of espresso coffee while the sunlight spills in. I shake my head. I must be drunk.
    ‘Ready?’ he asks. ‘I’m just going to set the alarm.’
    I walk to the front door and moments later he opens it and ushers me out to the sound of beeping. We walk down the footpath to the road.
    ‘I can’t believe Hampstead is only a short tube ride away from the city,’ I muse. ‘It’s like you’re in the middle of nowhere, here.’
    ‘That’s what I like about it,’ he says. ‘Best of both worlds. Hampstead Heath is just there.’ He points over his shoulder. ‘Lots of swans and ducks to feed.’
    I crack up laughing as he wraps his arm around my neck and gives me a squeeze. I feel my face heat up in the darkness as he pulls away again, but I don’t think he