C:How’s Brackley?
M:Scones.Tea.Roast Chicken.You?
C:Toad in The Hole x
I glance at my watch.Dinner is in an hour, not enough time to race across town and see her.Tomorrow, maybe?
M:Let’s catch up while we’re both home.
Pint at the Fox and Oak?
C:Maybe...Mum has a lot planned.
It’s enough of an opening.I sit back and listen to the sounds of the birds and their evening song as I contemplate asking her to meet me for dinner tomorrow.Or maybe a pint at the Fox and Oakisbetter?
A nightingale continues its jaunty song on a branch just outside the window.The breeze is cool and damp, a long way from the heat of the Italian summer.
Everything is so still.It could be like this, my life.Quiet.
I try to imagine leaving F1, making this my final year.I like the idea of it, but there is something so grating about going out on a low in my last year.It’s a depressing time to walk.Like that tennis player who won’t give up, even when half his body is strapped with tape and he can’t chase down the ball.
I lift a hand up behind my head, feeling the call of sleep not too far away.I settle back, contemplating retirement, when my phone buzzes.
C:Do you still know where the holes in the fence are?
I grin.She’s fucking perfect.
M:Can you get your hands on two go-karts?
C:See you around 9.
CHAPTER 19
Chloe
This might be a dumb thing to do, but fuck it.
It’s a full moon, and the track is bright enough to race on even though there isn’t a single light on anywhere in the vicinity.Matt and I have done this a million times before.I mean, sneaking into Silverstone as team principal of Arden and as a world-famous F1 driver is reckless.But at the same time, it feels like something Matt and I need to do.
There are two beat-up old go-karts at my feet, which I’ve hauled out of the trailer attached to my dad’s truck.Although it’s only slightly cool, I dress warm, wearing a denim Levi’s racing suit emblazoned with McLaren logos.It was a Christmas gift from Keyla that I clearly can’t wear publicly, but it’s perfect for a secret night race against Matt.
It is a fast fifteen-minute drive to Silverstone, and despite attempts to fully close off this circuit to the public, I have always known where the gaps in the fences are.
And so has Matt.
I spot what looks like a Toyota Corolla pull up at the backgate, and stiffen as the headlights pass over me.I can’t be caught already, can I?
But as the driver emerges and Matt’s familiar silhouette walks toward me, jingling his keys, I realize he’s taken his mum’s little hatchback.
“I thought it was more clandestine,” he says, looking like he’s about to hug me, but then he hesitates and it’s immediately awkward.
“It’s been a while,” I say.“I hope there’s no new security measures.”
“Unlikely after a decade,” he says, smirking.
“We’re so going to get caught.”
“Isn’t that half the fun?”Matt grins.He looks so handsome, his eyes sparkling under the cool blue moonlight.I bite my lip and smile.
