Chasing Daisy

him is gracing the front of the sports pages. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. I pull it off the shelf and study the picture of Will. He looks different again. It’s so strange, but pictures just don’t capture what he looks like in person.
    ‘Are you going to buy that?’ the man behind the counter calls.
    I huffily go to the cash desk, getting the correct change out of my purse, then I leave the shop with my head engrossed in the story.
    It’s perfectly harmless, all about Will and how the nation is backing him to win. The Brits don’t like Luis too much, from what I can gather, and want Will to knock him off the top of the championship at the next couple of races. This is the last year that the British Grand Prix will be held at Silverstone before it moves to another venue and the organisers are desperate for a Brit to win. Blah, blah, blah, and then I see the italic smallprint at the end of the story:
    Go to page 23 for Will’s stunning girlfriend Laura’s hot summer style tips . . .
     
    Crap. I flick to page 23 and there she is: beautiful, blonde and slim, wearing six different outfits of varying colours and styles. I pass a bin and impulsively stuff the paper in it, feeling disgusted with myself. My phone rings. I pause on the street and rummage around in my handbag to get it out. It’s Holly.
    ‘Have you found a place yet?’ she asks. ‘No,’ I answer woefully. A bus whizzes past and I don’t hold my breath fast enough to avoid breathing in the fumes.
    ‘And how long is it before your landlord kicks you out?’
    ‘Ten days.’
    ‘Shit. You haven’t got long.’
    ‘Tell me about it.’
    ‘At least there’s a few weeks’ break before we head to Hockenheim.’
    ‘True,’ I concede. ‘Is it still okay for me to crash at yours if I’m stuck?’
    ‘Er, yeah, that should be okay,’ she answers.
    Oh, no. She doesn’t sound too keen.
    ‘Are you sure?’ I check again.
    ‘Yes, it’s fine.’ Again, not very convincing. I’ll be seriously screwed if I can’t stay with her. I wonder if it’s because she and Simon have been shagging round at hers? Cazzo ! I wish she’d just be honest with me!
    ‘Are you still there?’ Holly interrupts my train of thought.
    ‘Yes, I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m going to see another estate agent this afternoon.’
    ‘Cool,’ she replies.
    ‘I’ve gotta go. I’m outside the supermarket and I need to pick up some ravioli for dinner.’
    ‘Okay. Chat soon.’
    ‘Bye.’
    I hang up unhappily and stuff my phone back into my bag as I walk through the supermarket doors. My phone rings again. I distractedly snap it open without even looking at the caller ID.
    ‘Hello?’
    ‘Daisy?’
    I halt in my tracks. ‘Will?’
    ‘Hi,’ he says. ‘Is this an okay time to talk?’
    ‘Um . . .’ I look around at my surroundings and then quickly walk back outside. ‘Yes, sure.’
    ‘Where are you?’
    ‘Just at the supermarket, getting some pasta for my tea.’
    ‘Sounds nice. Wish I could join you.’
    ‘Do you?’ My heart flutters. I lean up against the wall. It’s dirty with pollution, but like I care about that right now.
    ‘I’m sorry I haven’t called before. I’ve had a lot going on.’
    ‘I understand.’ Well, I’m trying to. ‘Have you spoken to . . .?’ I ask hopefully.
    ‘Yeah.’ My heart lifts. ‘Well, kind of.’ And falls flat again.
    ‘Kind of?’
    ‘It’s been . . . Difficult.’
    What does that mean? I don’t speak.
    ‘Daisy? Are you there?’
    ‘Yes. I’m here.’
    ‘Where are you exactly? There’s a lot of background noise.’
    ‘I’m on a street in Camden. There are a bunch of cars going past.’
    ‘Will you be home soon?’
    A Number 29 bus pulls up a few feet away. To hell with the ravioli. ‘I’ll be home in ten.’
    ‘I’ll call you back.’
    ‘Okay.’ I hang up and make a run for the bus.
    He doesn’t call me in ten. He doesn’t call me in fifteen, either. By twenty I’m practically climbing the walls. Finally, he calls.
    ‘Hello?’
    ‘Hi. Are you home?’
    I’ve been home forever, you idiot! ‘Just,’ I fib.
    ‘Cool.’
    ‘So what’s going on?’ I sit down on the sofa and wrap my left arm around my knees.
    I hear him sigh. ‘It feels like ages since I’ve seen you.’
    My heart swells with happiness. I’ve been so worried he’d gone off me.
    ‘Won’t be long, now,’ I say. ‘What day are you coming to Silverstone?’
    ‘I’ll be there Thursday