Pole Position (12 page)

Mum was shocked when she saw the state of my face, and predictably, fussed over me as though I was at death’s door. I shooed her off and told her I’d tripped over on the gravel outside, when I came back from my friend’s house. I could tell she didn’t believe me, and I sensed Dad itched to ask me a few questions too, but I stuck to my story and eventually they gave up.

We flew down to London after lunch and endured a long and expensive taxi ride to our hotel in the city, peppered with me checking my phone. Then we had a couple of hours of downtime, again with me constantly checking for calls, before we met Dad’s clients for a late dinner. Anita still hadn’t rung so I took myself off to the gym for my first workout in days.

Sweating like a pig, I dove into my locker and checked my phone again. My heart sank. I’d missed her call.

She’d left a hesitant voicemail message. “Hi Jon, it’s me, Anita. Um, I really hate answering machines. Anyway, I hope you had a good trip down there, and maybe we’ll talk tomorrow? I spoke to Danny, he says it was all a misunderstanding, you know, the scuffle. He’d like us all to be friends. Isn’t that good?” She paused, her voice softened. “I think last night was the most wonderful experience of my life, and I miss you already. Come back soon.” She blew a kiss down the phone, and I couldn’t help smiling.

But what the hell was that about Danny, and a misunderstanding?
Jesus
. She described it as a scuffle. I shivered at the memory. While I’d been drunk, with plenty of adrenaline flooding my body, it hadn’t been so bad. Then I remembered his furious face and ready fists. The man was a brawler. I hadn’t been in any kind of fight since the playground at Primary School and had been completely out of my depth. It was pure instinct, and my excellent reactions, that had kept me ducking my head to avoid the worst of his blows. I swear he’d have killed me if he’d been able. So to now hear it was all a misunderstanding and he wanted to be friends? Un-fucking-believable.

I stalked around my room, still in track pants and vest from the gym. I knew—I just
knew
he’d try to twist it somehow.
Fuck
it! I wanted to fly back straight away, go and pull her out of that madhouse, and take her home. If I had a home. Mum and Dad’s would only ever be a temporary base.

I eyed the mini-bar, tempted for a moment. But no, like flying back and
rescuing
her, that wasn’t the solution. Right now, I had to shower, change, and go schmooze these clients. They were potential sponsors for Dad’s new racing engine, and they were keen to meet me. I came as part of the package.

****

The pattern was set for the next couple of days, and Anita always managed to ring when I couldn’t answer. The first time I was in the Underground, with no signal. Then I was in the shower. The third time was during a meeting with our financiers. I felt my phone vibrating inside my jacket pocket, but couldn’t break off to pick it up. She continued to leave messages for me, each one getting shorter as she became fed-up with not speaking to me.

By Thursday, I was desperate to talk to her. I’d tried ringing the bookshop, but she was never there at the time. I even tried ringing her house a couple of times. I spoke to Colette once and asked her to pass on a message for me, but apart from that, it just rang out.

Thursday was a rubbish day all round. I’d received an email from my divorce lawyer in the U.S., advising me of Susie’s latest demand. She wanted my Corvette. I was stunned. I had to re-read the email three times before I acknowledged I hadn’t misread it.

The only reason she wanted it, was to cause me the maximum amount of pain. We’d already agreed she’d keep our house in Houston and the car I’d owned there, as well as a sizeable chunk of my money. I was so keen to get rid of her that I’d agree to almost anything. But this? She knew it was my most prized possession, and that was exactly why she wanted it. Even if we argued and I retained it, she’d still have caused me distress in the process.

What had I ever seen in her? She’d turned into the biggest bitch in Hollywood.

I was unloading onto Dad, telling him the latest in the sorry saga of my divorce, when my phone rang. Without thinking, I snapped, “yes” down the line, only to hear a surprised intake of breath.

“Jon?”

It was Anita, sounding shocked at my reply.
Christ
, she had impeccable timing. I ran a hand through my hair and signaled to Dad I needed a moment.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m just having a bad day.”

“Apparently. Am I interrupting something?”

“No. I’m glad you rang. I’ve really wanted to hear your voice. How are you?”

“Well, I kept leaving messages for you. Did you get them? You said to ring you every day, and I have, but you’re never there.”

“I know. It’s been really busy down here. And yes, I did pick up your voicemails, but it’s never the same as talking to you. I’ve missed you. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

She hesitated, and then spoke softly. “I miss you too. When will you be back?”

“I’m planning to come home on Friday. My parents are going to be in London for the long weekend, so we’ll have the house to ourselves again. We could chill out together, just you and me and a great big double bed.”

Anita giggled. “That’s tempting. I’ve got a show on Monday, and I’ll be teaching over the weekend, but apart from that I’m free.”

“So we can at least spend the evenings together?” I tried to keep the irritation from my voice. “Do you ever have an entire weekend off work?”

“Not really, only every now and then. But I’ve never needed any time off before now.”

“Okay. If I were to suggest you coming away with me for a weekend, you might be able to arrange it?”

“I’m sure I could. When are you thinking of?”

“Next weekend. I’m racing in Belgium, the Spa-Francorchamps circuit. I’d really love it if you joined me.” There was a long silence.

“Oh Jon, I can’t. I’m really sorry.” She sounded anguished. “That’s the weekend of the Charrington Show. It’s the biggest in our calendar, and I’ve been training for months for it. If it were any other weekend, I’d say yes like a shot.”

Damn
. I’d been hoping she’d come and watch me again. I held my disappointment at bay and tried to be encouraging. “I should have asked earlier, I know it’s short notice. But maybe next time? So where’s this Charrington? And who else is going?”

“It’s in Oxfordshire, and it’s over the whole weekend. I’ll be with Clare and Danny—they’re competing as well. And either Bev or Shelley will travel with us as the groom.”

The light had gone out of her voice. And a red haze descended in front of me. She’d be spending the weekend with Danny-The-Psycho. Great. My number one fan. Shit and buggering damnation.

We talked some more until Anita had to hang up, and I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. What other crap was going to happen today? I told Dad I’d be going home on Friday after we finished in the afternoon.

He pulled a face. “That might be tricky. The baggage handlers are going on strike tomorrow at the airports, so you won’t have much joy flying back up to Manchester. That’s why your Mum is flying down today.”

“What?” Of all the times for them to go on strike. “Okay, I’ll go back tonight. You can manage without me tomorrow can’t you?”

“You won’t be flying back tonight, everything is completely booked out. Your Mum was lucky to get a cancellation. Why the sudden urgency to go back? Can’t you wait until Monday, when it’s all sorted out?”

I glared at him. “There’s a girl I want to see, okay?”

“Thought so.” He grinned. “Just wanted you to admit it, that’s all. You’ve been moping all week, so either there was a girl involved or you were coming down with the flu.”

I smiled woodenly. Then I had an idea. “I can get the train back.”

He shook his head. “Fully booked, your Mum tried. That’s why she’s flying.”

“In that case I’ll hire a car and bloody drive back. There must still be a hire car available somewhere.”

I booked a car for collection on Friday at lunchtime. If I left London by one, I could be back in Cumberley for five, go and meet Anita at the bookshop, and whisk her back to the house. At last, things were looking up.

It had been a manic week, and in some respects, it was just as well Jon was away. It gave me the chance to put in a whole load of extra practice for Charrington. Clare was taking two horses, Danny and I one each. We had to make sure our breeches and black jackets were cleaned, and plan every item of tack we’d take with us. It was as complex and detailed as a military operation. And this weekend, we were going to a small local show as a final tryout. This would be the time to gauge if our horses were fit and ready for the immense challenge the week after.

Most nights I came home from the stables long after dark, showered, ate a sandwich and fell into bed, after leaving yet another message for Jon.

Danny had been fine all week, friendly and helpful, making me laugh when I felt down about not seeing Jon. Colette had been distracted, and I figured she was between boyfriends at the moment. Knowing Colette, it wouldn’t be long before she locked herself in her room with a gorgeous hunk again.

By Friday night, I was exhausted. Danny suggested we get fish and chips for supper and try to have a quiet evening at home after finishing early at the stables. He insisted we not overwork our horses. I was tempted to agree, and since Mark was on call, Clare said she might join us. I’d not heard anything more from Jon. For all I knew, he wouldn’t be home until tomorrow.

Danny and Clare set off for the chip shop, and I was in the shower when I heard the doorbell ring. Colette answered it, then came shooting upstairs to the bathroom. “It’s Jon, are you coming down?”

I raced down the stairs a couple of minutes later and burst into the kitchen, to find him sitting at the table, while Colette sorted out crockery and cutlery for the food. He leapt up at the sight of me and crossed to the doorway in a couple of strides. We met in the middle, and he swung me off the floor into his embrace.

I hugged him, then wriggled free and pulled him to the table.

“When did you get back? You didn’t phone, so I had no idea where you were.”

“I’m here.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

I gazed at him in delight. Only four days since I’d last seen him, but he looked even more gorgeous. That wicked sexy smile and those bright blue eyes—and he was mine. I hugged myself at the prospect of us spending the night together.

“And I come bearing gifts,” he said, holding out a brown paper bag which I took eagerly, peeping inside.

“Carrots. Thank you. Sam will be pleased.”

“This one is for you.” He handed me a shiny box, emblazoned with logos, and I opened it to find a mobile phone. I looked at him, surprised. “You said you need a new one, and I thought it’d be easier for us to keep in touch.”

Colette peeped over my shoulder and cooed at the model. “Wow. That’s the newer model of the one I have.”

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me felt awkward that he’d spent a lot of money on a present, but the rest of me was thrilled. I slid it from the packaging and gazed at it. “It’s a smartphone.”

Jon’s brow furrowed. “It’s easy to use. And you don’t need to worry about the bill. I’ve loaded it with credit.” He hesitated. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it. Thank you.” I leaned across the table and draped my arms over his shoulders, before claiming a kiss. “I’ve no idea how to use it. It makes my old phone look like an antique.”

His smile returned. “That’s easy to fix.” He showed me how to add new contacts and access email, and how to send him a text message.

“Whoa,” I sat back, and laughed. “Too much technology, I can’t take it all in.” I leaned forward and kissed him again. “Thank you so much, I think it’s really sweet. Very thoughtful.”

I saw the lines of tiredness cutting across his face. The graze on his cheek had faded, and the bruise on his chin was partly obscured by stubble. He looked as exhausted as I felt.

Colette interrupted us. “Danny and Clare will be back in a few minutes with fish and chips. Jon, would you like to join us for supper? Or do you already have plans?”

I replied for him. “I think Jon and I were planning something else.” Standing, I stretched my aching muscles and held out a hand to him. “I already packed my overnight bag, in case you came home tonight. We can go whenever you like.”

He took my hand, threading his fingers through mine. Pausing only to pick up the phone, we left the house. My bag was already stashed in my car, and as I went to collect it, I looked around, surprised.

“Jon, where’s your car?”

He smiled, rather wearily I thought. “Long story, this is a hire car. I’ll tell you on the way.”

****

Poor Jon. He’d had a nightmare journey back. He left London at lunchtime, along with everyone else who wanted to leave the city for the long weekend. The weather had been poor, and the roads had been crowded. It was a bad combination that meant huge delays on all the motorways and accidents every few miles. He finally arrived back in the North West and had come straight over—he hadn’t even been home yet. Seven hours in the car, no wonder he looked tired.

He cheered up when we got on the road and plugged his iPod back in. A bouncy rock track filled the car and he grinned across at me. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”