Pole Position (19 page)

I wished I knew what Danny was playing at. I swore he had something to do with those pictures of Anita and me in the newspaper. He took the bloody photos, after all. Yet he acted all innocent when he read the article. And how convenient to buy the Daily Comet in the first place.

Then there was all that stuff with Anita. He snogged her for fuck’s sake. In front of me. She didn’t seem overly impressed, but he did it twice.

Was he playing with me? Maybe I was right in the first place. The reason he was so jealous of Jon was that he wanted Anita. And maybe I was just a way of passing time until he reeled her in.

So the question was, did I put up with this half-life, making do with what I could get of him, or did I hold my head high and walk out? I wished to God I knew.

It took ages to get the horsebox loaded, the caravan packed up and ready to travel, and all our shopping and prizes stashed away. We’d spent a small fortune at the numerous market stalls, buying dashing new headcollars with velvet browbands, souvenir T-shirts, and a variety of mugs and trinkets for the juniors back at the yard.

Eventually we were ready to leave, apart from one last ice cream each, and one each for the horses. The inside of the horsebox felt pleasantly cool. They had haynets and fresh water buckets and would be comfortable for the three-hour journey home. It was hot in the cab though, and we settled into our seats with some happy grumbling. Danny drove the horsebox again, with Colette and I sharing the cab, while the others went in Mark’s car, pulling the caravan. Clare took the trophies, and they were safely wrapped in a picnic blanket in the car.

We’d only been on the road for an hour, singing happily along with the radio, when the early evening news came on. Danny went to change channels, but I held out my hand.

“Hang on, I want to hear the sports round up.”

A look of irritation flashed across his face, but he left the radio on, and we all listened. The news was typical for a quiet Sunday evening, and I waited impatiently for the sports news.

The presenter read out some golf and cricket scores, and then finally the motor racing results from Belgium.

“It was an action-packed weekend for British Formula 3 motor racing at the Spa-Francorchamps circuit in Belgium. In the hotly contested Championship Class, first place overall went to Daniel Jerman, second was Andrew Tozier, and third on the podium was Fabian Duprez. The current favorite, Jonathan Craigowan, was scratched from Sunday’s race due to his injuries in Saturday’s multi-car pile-up. His teammate Pedro Orveila is still in critical condition in hospital. It’s not known at this stage whether Craigowan will be completing the rest of the season. And finally, the weather forecast.”

Colette gave my hand a squeeze, but I hardly felt it. Multi-car pile-up? Scratched from Sunday’s race? It felt like a vise around my chest. Each word squeezing tighter until I couldn’t find my breath. I stared blindly out of the windscreen. Tears blurred my vision, and I wiped them away with shaking fingers.

Why didn’t I listen out for the sports news yesterday? Or buy a newspaper today? I’d been so busy with my own life, I hadn’t given his any thought. How badly was he hurt? It must be bad if he couldn’t race today.

“I need to ring him,” I whispered. Danny had already dug out his mobile phone and handed it across.

Jon’s number went straight to voicemail, as it had all weekend. I dug through my purse for the number of his parents’ house, written on a scrap of paper. That line was permanently engaged. I’d no other way to contact him.

My stomach churned with a dread I’d never known before. I’d have gone home early if I knew. If I’d bothered to check the news. I sank my head into my hands. It all came back to
if
.

Danny’s phone rang, but it was Clare. They’d heard the news too. To get me home the quickest, I swapped places with Bev. Even towing the caravan, we’d make better time than the horsebox. Mark would drive me straight to Jon’s parents’ so we could try to get some news. Clare assured me I needn’t worry about Sam. They’d take care of him. Right then we had to find out what happened to Jon.

My fingernails were ragged when, hours later, after what had to be the slowest motorway journey ever, I directed Mark up the drive to Jon’s house. It was fully dark by then, but there was his Corvette, along with two other cars. Light blazed from an upstairs window. Someone was at home. There was also a cluster of people camped near the front door, armed with cameras. Were they journalists? I leapt out of the car and the strangers all turned to look at me.

Clare scrambled out too. “I’ll come with you, while Mark waits here. In case you need to go somewhere else.”

It made sense. “Come this way.” I ran to the back door, and rapped on it with my knuckles. The kitchen blinds were closed, but a soft glow leaked out. I heard movement inside, but nobody answered, so I shouted through the wooden door. “Mrs. Pearce, it’s me, Anita. Can I please come in?”

I waited in an agony of uncertainty. Clare draped a comforting arm across my shoulder, but I still shivered. I needed to know what had happened to Jon. I turned to look at Clare. Tears threatened again, and she squeezed me against her.

“Shush,” she murmured. “Be strong, we’ll find out.”

Seconds later, the door swung open. I blinked in the bright light from the kitchen. Mrs. Pearce looked round and then hauled us both inside, closing the door immediately behind us.

Now we were there, I lost the power of speech and gazed at her like a simpleton, Clare beside me. The tableau was interrupted by a tall man entering the kitchen.

“Who is it, Mrs. P?”

I stared. He could be an older version of Jon, with the same hair and eyes, just craggier. I stepped forward and held out my hands in a mute appeal. “Please, you must be Mr. Craigowan. I’m Anita. Can you please tell me what’s happened to Jon? I just heard the news tonight.” My voice cracked, and I took a quick breath. “Is he going to be okay?” It came out as a whisper.

Mrs. Pearce put her arm around me. “This is the lass Jon’s been seeing. And this is?” She turned to Clare with a question in her voice.

“Oh, I’m Clare, Anita’s friend. We gave her a lift here tonight. My husband is waiting outside.”

Jon’s father nodded. “Come on through.”

We followed him to the lounge, squinting in the dim light. The curtains were pulled across. Someone lay along the sofa where we’d made love just days ago.

It was Jon.

“
Jon
!” My voice came out high and squeaky as I ran to his side. In turn, he rose up, his eyes wide at the sight of me. A broad grin lit up his face and wordlessly, he held out his arms. I flew into them, sobbing with relief.

I held him so tight, I never wanted to let him go. His arms were strong around me, and he moved over on the settee to make room for me to sit on the edge, next to him. We cuddled together while he mopped up my tears and kissed me warmly.

“Hush,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I’m fine, please don’t cry.”

As my weeping subsided, I remembered Clare, and Jon’s dad, and I lifted my head, my breath shuddering and uneven. Clare gazed down at us, a fond smile on her face.

“Hi, Jon. It’s good to see you. I’ll be off now, but I guess Anita is staying here.”

His arms tightened a fraction. “Thank you, Clare, you’re very kind.”

She smiled at me, then turned and left. Jon’s father still stood in the doorway, staring at me expectantly. Jon sighed, a soft warm breath across my throat.

“Dad, this is Anita. Anita, meet my father, Trevor Craigowan.”

“Hello,” I managed a whisper.

“Hello,” he echoed kindly. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you want anything.”

I thought I was hallucinating, that I’d conjured an image of Anita because I wanted to see her so much. When she tumbled into my arms smelling faintly of horse, I knew she was for real.

It had been a fucking awful weekend, and only one thing could lighten my mood. The thought of holding Anita. Now she was here, I’d no intention of letting her go.

Dad left us alone and I silently blessed him for his tact. Eventually, her shuddering sobs stopped, and she drew a few shaky breaths. She lifted her head to me, huge eyes wet, and when she spoke, it came out as a croaky whisper.

“I only heard the news as we were on the way home. I was so scared; I didn’t know what had happened to you.” She blinked. Her eyes flicked back and forth across me as though she couldn’t believe I was really there. “It said, on the news, that you were seriously hurt.” She stopped, her lips trembling. It looked as though a fresh wave of tears was on the way.

I managed to smile. I was tired and frustrated, had a headache and didn’t want to relive the sheer horror of the weekend, but she needed to be reassured.

“I’m fine, just a few knocks and bangs, and a touch of a concussion. I couldn’t race because I banged my head, and the hospital wouldn’t sign me as fit.” I tilted my head. “See? I’m in one piece, nothing missing.”

She looked me up and down and then spotted the bandages on my wrists. Her eyes widened and flicked back to mine.

“I sprained both wrists. Dumb huh? That also makes it a bit difficult to drive.”

“Anything else?” She sounded shocked.

“My ribs are sore, and I have a Band-Aid on my forehead. And a girl asking me questions when I’d rather be kissing her.”

She sat up and took a deep breath. “They said there was a pile-up. What happened?”

I really didn’t want to think about it again so soon. I shrugged, wincing as my cracked ribs grated with the movement, and I tried to downplay it. “I don’t remember the details, just crashing into Pedro’s car and then getting caught up with another one. By the time I’d got out of my car, it was all over. Right now, I have a headache the size of the Empire State Building, but nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” I kissed her softly. “I missed you, sweetheart. Is there any chance you can stay tonight?”

She bit her lip. “Try keeping me away.” I kissed her again, but she hadn’t finished. “There are people outside, with cameras, reporters I think. What are they doing here?”

I sighed. “The media loves to make a fuss over nothing, exciting stories sell more news. Right now, they want to hear my story, by tomorrow they’ll be hounding someone else. They’ll go away when they get bored waiting.” She didn’t look convinced. “What happened was really commonplace, but because it was on the TV everyone is making a big thing out of it. I just want to forget it.”

“What about your teammate, is he going to be okay?”

I couldn’t speak for a moment. Staring away, I gazed at the closed curtains, remembering the sight of his pale and lifeless face in the burning wreck of his car. I swallowed. “I don’t know. Tom will tell me when they have some news.”

“He might be trying to phone you. I couldn’t get through, on this number or your mobile.”

“Somehow, the gutter press has got hold of my mobile number. I had to switch off my phone, sorry if you were trying to ring it. It’s the same with the house phone; we’ve taken it off the hook. Tom has Dad’s mobile, he can still contact us.”

I kissed her again. “Let’s go to bed. The doctor said I need plenty of rest.” I was pleased to see her smile emerging.

“What about your parents? Won’t they mind?”

“I’ll tell them you’re my night nurse.” She gave me a frown. “Okay, I’ll go and explain that my lovely girlfriend is staying the night.” She climbed off my lap, and I stood, feeling every muscle complain with the effort. Dizziness assailed me and I swayed on my feet. Anita slipped an arm around my waist to steady me, and we made our way to the kitchen.

Dad sat at the table, flicking through a newspaper while Mum talked in a low voice to Mrs. P. They all looked up when we walked in.

“I know you won’t mind if Anita stays with me tonight?”

There was an uncomfortable silence and then Mum replied. “Of course not. Do you need anything, darling? Have you got your painkillers?”

“Yes, thanks.” I turned to Anita, standing frozen at my side, and gave her a quick kiss. “We’re off to bed.”

****

I sat on the bed with relief and gazed mutely at her. With my wrists stiff in their elastic bandages, I had little flexibility in my hands. With infinite tenderness, she undressed me, making shocked noises at the bruises raked across my chest.

“You need some painkillers?” she asked.

“Please.” With some difficulty, I tugged a strip of pills out of my pocket. “Two of these with some water.”

She didn’t fuss, which I was grateful about, just fetched me a glass of water from the bathroom and pushed the pills out of their packaging, dropping them into my hand.

She sat back and sniffed her T-shirt. “I still smell of the horsebox, I’d better go and shower.”

“Don’t go. I want to hold you.”

She shed her own clothes and snuggled under the covers with me. I tried to move into a comfortable position. “I really want to make love to you, but I don’t know if I’m up to it.”

She gazed at me, her beautiful eyes soft. “I’m just so happy to be back here with you.”

We settled for spooning together, and I sighed, relaxing for the first time in days.

“Jon? Are you still awake?”

“Yep.” I was sleepy though. The painkillers were strong and fast-acting.

“When are you due to race again?”

“Six weeks time, at Donington Park. Are you going to come and watch me?”

She was silent for a moment. “I wasn’t thinking of that. I wondered, well, if you fancied going away for a few days? Get away from the press and everything. And we could have some quiet time together.”

“Sounds like a great idea. Where? And can you get the time off work?”

She snuggled closer to me, stroked one of my bandaged wrists. “My parents are going away to Spain this week. Their B&B is going to be empty. It’s in Anglesey, in the middle of nowhere. Would you like that?”

“Are you kidding? How soon can we go?”

She lifted my hand to her mouth and kissed my palm, folding my fingers carefully over it. “Leave it to me, maybe tomorrow or Tuesday. I need to sort out a hire car though, mine isn’t really up to the journey. And I’ve no intention of driving your monster.”

“I’ll talk to my dad. He’ll have something we could use for a few days.” I buried my aching head in the crook of her shoulder. “Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure.” Her voice was quiet. “Right now I just want to be with you.”