“You smile,” I say.
Damon loops his arm around my waist and kisses me. “I smile more when I’m with you.”
My heart does a mini-loop-the-loop.
“Let’s go. Nigel is letting us use the McLaren. You’ll have to drive,” he says, almost apologetically.
I raise my eyebrows. “Where are we going?”
“London Motor Circuit.”
I open and close my mouth a few times.
“So you can drive a supercar.”
“The McLarenisa supercar.”
“On a track without a seventy-mile-per-hour speed limit.”
“Dad— Damon, I—” I shake my head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you?”
I grin and hug him. “Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper hopefully, quiet enough that Abbey can’t overhear.
He strokes my back. “Let’s go.”
It doesn’t take as long as I anticipated to get to the London Motor Circuit. London is still surprisingly quiet, considering the post-Christmas sales are in full swing. I guess most people wanted to stay at home, enjoying family time and the presents they received two days ago.
We’re met at the racetrack by an instructor. After signing a waiver, I bid goodbye to Damon with a kiss, then attend abriefing on safety and driving techniques. It’s a shame Damon can’t come in the car with me, but I understand why.
Next, the instructor takes me for four laps as a passenger, showing me the correct racing lines and familiarising me with the track. Then it’s time to choose a car.
“You can pick three cars,” the instructor says. “And drive four laps in each.”
“Three cars?” My voice comes out as a squeak.
I’m spoiled for choice. I choose an Aston Martin V8 Vantage first. It’s a sleek silver car. I slide into the driver’s seat, taking a moment to enjoy the feel of the luxurious steering wheel. The instructor comes with me. I have four laps. I intend to make the most of it.
Damon is in the stands, watching. I catch his eye, and he gives me a grin and a thumbs-up. He looks happy, even though he’s standing in the cold, watching me about to have the time of my life.
I take a breath, put the car into gear, and drive. It’s so damn smooth. The engine purrs like a content kitten as I accelerate into the first bend. I take the first lap slowly, getting to grips with the track and the car's handling. Then I put my foot down, flying as fast as I dare around the track, following the racing lines the instructor taught me, getting the most out of the experience.
“You’re a good driver,” the instructor says as I bring the car to a smooth stop.
I grin at him.
“I’ll go and get the next car.”
I hop out of the Aston Martin and run over to Damon, pressing onto my toes so I can fling my arms around his neck and kiss him.
“Are you having fun, boy?”
“It’s amazing! Thank you, Daddy. But areyouhaving fun?”
“Yes. You went fast.”
“I might go faster in the next car. I’ve asked to drive the Lotus Evora next.”
