Pictures of Lily

year, so we started this season with two newbies. Will, unlike Luis, has been in Formula 1 for a couple of years. The British have gone bananas over him, because he’s young, good-looking and talented, so it was a quite a coup for Simon to scoop him up. I’ve seen him around the track a bit in the past, but have never been in close proximity to him. Until yesterday.
    ‘Do you ever see him at team headquarters?’ I turn back to Holly.
    ‘Who?’ she asks.
    ‘Will.’
    ‘Oh. Yeah, occasionally, yes. He’s been in to use the simulator a few times.’
    ‘Simulator?’
    ‘It’s like a car-sized PlayStation racing game. They use it to learn the different track layouts. It’s wicked, actually. Pete let me have a go on it a few weeks ago.’
    ‘Aah, right.’
    ‘Why are you asking about Will?’ She remembers my initial question.
    ‘Um, no reason . . .’
    ‘You fancy him, don’t you?’ She slams her hand down on the table.
    ‘No!’ I deny.
    ‘You bloody do! You’ve gone all red!’
    ‘I have not!’
    ‘You have! I thought you were sworn off men?’
    ‘I am,’ I respond.
    ‘Are you ever going to tell me why?’
    I shake my head and take a sip of my drink.
    ‘Why not?’ she asks for about the zillionth time. At least, that’s what it feels like to me.
    ‘I can’t,’ I reply.
    ‘Why? Are you worried your ex will hunt you down and kick your arse?’
    I don’t answer.
    She looks stricken. ‘That’s not it, is it? Oh God, Daisy, I’m so sorry if it is. I would never make fun of—’
    ‘I’m not a victim of domestic violence,’ I wearily interject. ‘I just don’t want to discuss it.’
    ‘Huh. Fine.’ She looks put out, then she adds, ‘Well, Will’s got a girlfriend anyway, so he’s off-limits.’
    ‘Does he?’ I try to keep my voice light, but the disappointment is immense.
    ‘Of course he does. How can you not know that? They’re always in the tabloids together.’
    ‘I don’t read the papers.’
    ‘Still, how can you have missed them?’
    ‘Why? What’s their story?’
    ‘Childhood sweethearts.’
    My heart sinks.
    Holly carries on, oblivious to my pain. ‘They grew up in the same village together. The press back home love it how Will has stayed with her through thick and thin and has never been tempted by all the bimbos on the racing scene.’
    This is getting worse.
    ‘She works for a children’s charity.’
    ‘Are you making this up?’ I look at Holly, incredulous.
    She laughs. ‘No, it’s true. Sorry.’
    ‘Well, like you say, I’m sworn off men.’
    And yes, I am. I had my heart broken in America and felt like I had to leave the goddamn country because I couldn’t go anywhere without bumping into the bastard.
    Repeat: I am okay on my own. I am okay on my own. I am okay on my own.
    And I am sure as hell not going to chase after someone who has a girlfriend. That’s not my style.
    I notice Holly wiping some of the lipgloss off her beer glass and smudging it back onto her lips.
    ‘That is such a good look,’ I say.
    ‘You are really quite sarcastic for an American, aren’t you?’ she answers wryly, as Pete plonks himself back down at the table.
    ‘I was born in England,’ I remind her.
    My mother is Italian and my father is British, but when I was six, he moved the whole family to America. I’d been there for almost twenty years when I relocated to the UK and secured a job working as a waitress for Frederick and his wife Ingrid’s catering company in London. Then last October, Frederick asked me if I’d like to come along to the final three races as a front-of-house girl. That title means working in hospitality and making sure the team and its guests are looked after, but I also help out in the kitchen whenever it’s required. Opportunities like this – to see the world and get paid for it – don’t come along very often, so naturally I jumped at the chance.
    Holly and I hit it off immediately. When we’re not racing, she works in the canteen at the team’s headquarters in Berkshire, England. I say canteen, but it’s actually more like a Michelin-starred restaurant. We met for the first time in Japan last year where we got through several jugs of sake in the hotel bar one night. The jugs are only tiny, but boy is rice wine strong. We were shit-faced by ten p.m, and you don’t even want to know what we consumed a week later in China.
    After Brazil, Frederick asked me to stay on for another year to do a full season. I don’t know what