Chasing Daisy

some peace and quiet.
    My fingers tremble as I open drawers in a small cupboard and hunt out Will’s shirts. There’s a small black team carry case identical to mine sitting at the bottom of one cupboard.
    ‘Could they be in here?’
    He shrugs, so I pull it out and unzip it. It’s full of team clothing.
    ‘Aha!’ he says. ‘I hadn’t got that far, yet.’
    ‘Such a boy,’ I tut. I unpack the shirt he should be wearing today and hand it over. ‘What about your pants?’
    He tugs on the elastic of his boxer shorts, poking out from beneath his overalls. ‘What about them?’
    My face immediately starts to burn. ‘I meant your trousers! We call them pants in the US . . .’
    He chuckles. ‘I know, I’m only teasing. Don’t worry, I can take it from here.’
    ‘Okay, well, good.’ I back out of the room, trying to regain my composure. ‘Is there anything else I can get for you? A drink? Something to eat?’ Yes, that was good, Daisy. Keep it professional!
    ‘Nah.’ His face becomes serious again. ‘I should probably get out there and show my face to the sponsors.’ He points his thumb in the direction of the hospitality area.
    ‘Okay, then.’ I turn and make a run for it.
    ‘Thanks!’ he calls after me.
    ‘Where have you been?’ Holly asks when I reappear. ‘Have you just been in Will’s room?’ She looks at me with disbelief.
    ‘Er, yes.’
    ‘What were you doing?’
    ‘Don’t get excited, I was just helping him find his team shirt.’ She casts her eyes heavenwards as I hasten to explain. ‘You know, since Jennifer got the sack, the drivers don’t have a dedicated person on hand to look after them.’
    Jennifer was the front-of-house girl assigned to look after Sandro and Marcus last year – Will and Luis’s predecessors. She’s the cretina who sold her stuff on eBay.
    ‘Hmm,’ Holly says, jokily suspicious. ‘Fair enough.’
    ‘Better attend to that lot.’ I hurry to the kitchen and load up another tray of canapés.
    A few people clap as I approach them watching the race on the big screens. I’m confused for a moment because they can’t be that hungry and then I realise Will has come out of his room behind me. That could have been way embarrassing; I almost smiled and curtsied. I stand back and let him shake hands with the sponsors, and the air is full of the sound of their commiserations. A bullish American man turns to me and shouts, ‘Give the man something to eat, for Christ’s sake!’ before cracking up laughing at his own non-wit. Will smirks at me as he relieves my tray of a prawn skewer.
    The laps count down towards the finish and Luis is still running in second place, although Kit has managed to put some distance between them. The pit stops have come and gone, but Luis hasn’t managed to close the gap and it looks like he – and the team – will walk away from Australia with eight championship points. We would have received ten for a win, and as it is, Will gets nothing.
    I pause for a break to watch the cars go round the last few laps. It must be hard for Will to sit here and watch his team-mate walk away with the glory. It’s Luis’s first year in Formula 1 and this result is going to create a real buzz around him.
    Will stands up in front of me. Most of the spectators turn to stare at him.
    ‘I’d better go join the team in the pits,’ he says.
    The most important sponsors are in the garages already, so the majority of people stay put in their seats, looking sorrowful at the sight of the team’s most famous driver departing. He spins around and comes face to face with me.
    ‘Daisy, are you coming to the pits?’ I hear Holly call, and look over my shoulder to see she’s just come from the kitchen, which means Frederick has given us the go-ahead.
    ‘Er, yeah, sure!’ I call back, distractedly side-stepping to let Will past. But he calmly indicates for me to go first, so I nervously lead the way out of the hospitality area. The three of us walk across the grass and asphalt to the pits while I desperately try to think of something to say. The garage looms just metres away and I want to kick myself because nothing comes to mind.
    He. Has. A. Girlfriend.
    Yes, yes, apart from that. Too late, we’re here.
    A few mechanics call Will over to the television screens. Holly and I tag along to watch the last couple of laps. Finally the black and white chequered flag waves to denote the finish and everyone in Luis’s side of the garage cheers and