Chasing Daisy

he’s able to race at all . . . That’s the hardest thing about this – or any – sport: carrying on when one of your own has died.
    ‘Did you tell him what I said?’ I ask Holly.
    ‘Who? Luis?’ Holly checks.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘What did you say again?’ Holly sounds guilty.
    ‘So you didn’t, then.’
    ‘I’m sorry, I forgot.’
    ‘Don’t worry about it. But please will you send him my best?’
    ‘Of course I will,’ she replies warmly.
    A few days later I call her again. ‘Did you speak to Luis?’ I ask.
    ‘About you sending him your best?’ she checks.
    ‘Yes.’ I smile.
    ‘No, I haven’t had a chance, yet.’
    Oh.
    ‘I haven’t seen him at team HQ,’ she explains. ‘Why don’t you give him a call?’
    ‘Oh no, I couldn’t do that.’ I brush her off.
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘No. I just couldn’t.’
    ‘Well, I’ll tell him you’re thinking of him.’
    ‘He’s still got a drive, then?’ I ask.
    ‘Yes. For now,’ she replies ominously.
    ‘It’s Belgium next, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yes. Next week.’ Pause. ‘Have you thought any more about coming back?’
    ‘No,’ I reply.
    ‘I really miss you,’ she tells me once more.
    ‘I miss you, too.’
    ‘Frederick was only asking after you the other day. He said you could have your job back anytime you wanted it. Simon said the same thing.’
    ‘Really? They haven’t replaced me?’
    ‘Other staff from Frederick and Ingrid’s business in London have been filling in, but no one permanent. I’ve been helping out Simon and the drivers since you’ve been gone, but I’ll happily step down.’
    ‘There wouldn’t be any need.’
    ‘No?’
    ‘No. I wouldn’t want to work closely with the drivers if . . .’ My voice trails off. I don’t want to say, ‘If Will’s not there’.
    ‘I understand,’ she says, before desperately adding, ‘Oh, please come back, Daisy.’
    I close my eyes for a moment and cradle the phone to my ear, listening to her voice. I miss her so much. It’s just not the same being here. I was never happy in New York before, and now I know what it’s like to be happy, I feel like I’ll never be happy again. I don’t know if that makes any sense whatsoever, but it’s the closest way I can think of to describe how I feel.
    ‘I think it’s too soon,’ I tell her, my head ruling my heart this time.
    ‘Really?’ she checks.
    ‘Yes.’
    That evening my father joins us for dinner – a rare occasion since I’ve been here. In fact, most of the time I eat out or don’t eat at all because I can’t bear to sit at the dining table in silence with my mother. He broaches the subject of the position with Martin’s firm.
    ‘He suggested the ninth of September as a starting date,’ my father tells me. That’s just over a week from now.
    ‘I told you before, I’m not interested,’ I say sulkily.
    He raises one eyebrow and stares at me. I look away. I can never hold his gaze for long. ‘Just for the sake of argument, what is it you intend to do? Because you can’t sit around in your bedroom forever.’
    ‘If you don’t want me here, I’ll go.’
    He doesn’t answer for a moment, but then he speaks, his voice laced with sarcasm. ‘And where will you go, exactly?’
    ‘I don’t know! England! Italy!’
    ‘Italy?’ my father barks. ‘Italy?’
    ‘Yes! To stay with Nonna!’ I latch onto this idea, fervently.
    ‘Ha!’ He lets out a sharp laugh. ‘In that hovel? You couldn’t stand it.’
    ‘How would you know what I can or cannot stand?’ I demand to know. ‘I haven’t been living it up for the last few years, I can tell you.’
    ‘Sure you haven’t,’ he says wryly.
    ‘I haven’t! And I would love to stay with Nonna! Have you ever even been to her house? It’s magical!’
    ‘Magical? Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a crumbling mess. God knows why she’s still there. God knows why she’s still on this earth, for that matter.’
    ‘Stellan!’
    I turn sharply to see my mother’s shocked face. She hardly ever speaks up. The sound of a chair scraping across the wooden floor brings my attention back to my father.
    ‘I’ve had enough.’ He throws his napkin down on his food and I watch as the gravy seeps up into the white linen fabric. ‘YOU!’ He points at me. ‘You will take the job with Martin on the ninth of September. Otherwise you will not get another cent from me! EVER!’ And with that he stalks out of the room.
    I sit there, white-knuckled, my heart beating fast. Only my