Chasing Daisy

to, such as Australia, Malaysia and Japan. In those countries, we use the facilities provided for us at each of the tracks, but for the European races and the ones certain team members can travel to by truck, we bring our own facilities with us.
    The flight is only short compared to the ones we’ve been taking recently, but Holly and I have just about enough time to chow down a couple of tubes of Pringles and catch up with each other after our time apart. We don’t drink, because we’re going straight to the track from the airport, and anyway, we’re staying in a five-star hotel in the centre of Barcelona so we’ll be making the most of the nightlife there during the course of the next few days.
    We arrive at the Circuit de Catalunya, where the motorhomes have already been constructed by the truck drivers who got here on Sunday. I say motorhomes, but that’s a ridiculous term. It refers to the old days when the teams had big, comfy buses, but now the motorhomes are portable, hi-tech buildings. I look up at ours in awe. It’s shiny black and gold and is two storeys’ high. A quick tour reveals that upstairs we have a directors’ suite and private rooms each for Luis and Will, while downstairs there’s a fully equipped kitchen and a massive hospitality area. It’s air-conditioned and the directors even have a balcony on the top floor.
    Two days in and that’s where I find myself. Catalina is being bossier than ever and has called me up to the blissfully sun-drenched balcony to take down a list of things she needs – including tampons, and I have no idea where I’m going to find them here. She’s in her element – it’s her home race and she clearly feels she has a right to act like more of a queen than ever. Her whole family is going to be here for the weekend. I’m dreading it. It’s not my job to be at her beck and call, but I can’t really do anything about it.
    ‘Have you got all that?’ she asks me frostily, as I scribble away madly on my pad.
    ‘Yes, I think so.’
    ‘Think so or know so?’ I know her eyes are glaring at me behind her dark sunglasses. She’s sunbathing on a sunlounger while I’m standing in front of her like an obedient puppy.
    ‘Yes, I’ve got it.’
    ‘Good.’ She rests her head back on her pillow so I walk away.
    ‘I hate that bitch!’ I explode to Holly when I get back to the kitchen.
    ‘I don’t know how you deal with her the way you do,’ Holly empathises.
    ‘Neither do I. She treats me like I’m a little ant that she can tread on. It’s like she thinks all I’m ever going to be is a waitress in a car park, but I’ve got plans. I won’t be here forever!’
    Holly looks at me, amused. ‘Where are you going, then?’
    ‘Maybe I’ll set up my own catering company, I don’t know.’
    So okay, I don’t know. I don’t really have any plans. I’m kind of just going with the flow for the moment, but Holly, thankfully, doesn’t take me to task over it.
    Later that afternoon, Catalina is at it again. I only hear the clicking at first, but when I turn around, I see her at the kitchen door, making the sound with her fingers.
    ‘You. Come here.’
    I project my unhappiness at Frederick, who looks a little perturbed by the sight of the boss’s wife in his kitchen.
    ‘You,’ Catalina says again. ‘Dahlia.’
    ‘Daisy,’ I correct her.
    ‘Whatever,’ she replies. ‘I need you.’
    ‘Daisy can’t come right now,’ Frederick interrupts. ‘She’s preparing Will and Luis’s dinner.’
    Yes! Ha ha! I avert my gaze so the bitch can’t see my look of glee. It would only come back to bite me, knowing her.
    ‘Then, you!’ she spits. I look around to see her pointing at Holly, who in turn, is glaring at Frederick. He shrugs, helpless, because Holly has finished her chores for the moment and has been leaning against the counter taking a break.
    ‘Come on!’ Catalina snaps. Holly reluctantly follows her out of the kitchen.
    Later, when she returns, she’s in a foul mood.
    ‘I am not doing that again!’ she says angrily.
    ‘What did she make you do?’ I ask.
    ‘Oh, she only bloody well wanted me to make her and her posse tortillas in Simon’s room. But it’s not that, that’s easy, it’s the fact that we prepare all this lovely food – even paella is on the menu today! – but none of it is good enough for her! I’m telling you, that’s it. Next time I’m saying no.’
    ‘How will you get out of it?’ I ask worriedly. ‘She’s the