She shakes her head. ‘I thought it’d come flooding back in Miami, but it didn’t. It felt like a chapter of my life that I enjoyed at the time, but I don’t mind that it’s closed. I don’t want to go back.’
‘You don’t missanything?’
‘Sure, I can’t get a two-hour Balinese massage any time I like, and sometimes I’d kill for a steak at Quai des Artistes, but I’m proud of the life we’ve built. Aren’t you?’
God that feels pointed. ‘Absolutely! But that doesn’t mean… Never mind.’
It’s impossible to articulate it in a way she’d understand or wouldn’t be offended by. I shouldn’t feel bad about missing my life here. Monaco was my home, on and off, for thirteen years. Giving it up wasn’t a choice I made, and it meant leaving friends like Kurt, the places I’d grown up with, and the daily patterns as familiar to me as my own handwriting. Mum and I don’t always have to feel the same about everything.
‘If yourrepugnantcretin of a father has made you doubt yourself the night before your big qualifying show, I swear?—’
Indignation flares bright inside me. ‘He hasn’t done anything! He probably doesn’t even know I’m going. Not everything’s his fault, you know.’
‘I beg to differ,’ she growls.
Of course you do. ‘I might not even see him. He’ll probably stay in Ackland hospitality all day.’
‘Here’s hoping.’
Here’s hoping indeed. I don’t have the slightest idea how I’ll react seeing him in person after all this time. Will he even recognise me? Knowing I’m in the same country as him is exposure enough. Baby steps.
‘In sum, you’re the best, he’s the worst, and you’re going to smash it tomorrow,’ she says.‘Bonne chance!’
I’m going to need all the luck I can get.
Chapter 19
JACK
‘There’s a fire at Mirabeau Haute!’ Georgie yells.
I stumble over my feet.‘What?!’
‘Finally, he’s listening.’
‘I am— Don’t do that, there are people everywhere,’ I hiss, pulling my unbranded white baseball cap down tighter and motioning for Georgie to keep her voice low.
A group of girls pass, eyeing us carefully to figure out which team are doing a track walk – so rarely seen at Monaco because the public are allowed on the track before races. If we get spotted, I’m spending the next three hours signing autographs and we can kiss goodbye to doing anything useful.
‘You’re always great at quali here. What are you worried about?’ Georgie whispers.
‘I’m not worried.’
Cue her trademark eyebrow lift. I guess I deserve that.
‘I’m not worried about quali. I’m… My head’s busy, that’s all.’
A long pause. ‘Do you need a pregnancy test?’
I fight a snigger and lose. ‘You can fuck right off.’
‘Note the fresh tarmac over here,’ my race engineer calls from behind, alongside our photographer and press officer. I give him a thumbs up over my shoulder. Fresh tarmac means a differentlevel of grip to the neighbouring sections. They can be jarring when you’re tearing over them at 300kph.
‘Do you know…’ I’m going to regret this. Hell, I regret it already, ‘…Minnie Roberts?’
‘Sir Cliff Roberts’ daughter who presents for Channel 3? Yes, I don’t work in a silo like you,’ says Georgie.
‘Ouch.’ I note my racing line as we walk around Turn 6. I fucked it up on lap twenty-one last year, allowing a space just big enough for a Martinelli to squeak through.
