All That the Heart Desires (41 page)

“Not quite.” Lorcan said, but Daniel just raised his hands.

“I’m not getting caught in between you two anymore,” he said as he walked away.

“Daniel,” Lorcan turned after him.

Crest looked sharply into Lorcan’s eyes.

“Not a word. Not a damn word! All in its own time!” and he was gone.

Those words, the sound of them, stopped me in my tracks. Something was going on and it wasn’t just Lorcan’s return to racing.

I stood with my suitcase in my hand looking at him. Waiting. He turned around slowly and looked at me. He was evaluating the situation.

“Are you sure you won’t join me?” he asked quietly.

I felt hot tears in my eyes and shook my head.

“I can’t. I can’t watch you get hurt again.”

He came closer.

“You know it was an accident, don’t you?”

I felt tears were threatening to consume me. I shook my head furiously.

“Nevertheless Lorcan, I thought I’d lost…”

“Hush,” he put his finger on my lips. He didn’t let me say it. And that fear ran straight into my bones. What if …?

All I could do was turn around and run out of the door to my car. I didn’t think. I threw the suitcase onto the back seat and drove to the beach. I needed time for myself.

The phone rang almost as soon as the door closed on me. Finally, when I reached the coast I answered, telling Lorcan I was coming back—eventually. And I did. After several hours of sitting close to the sea, I was able to get myself together and face him again.

It was pitch dark when I returned. Lorcan was the only one waiting for me. Looking at him I saw he was distressed. Finally he nodded.

“You didn’t change your mind, did you?”

“No I didn’t. I’m sorry. I can’t,” I said slowly, swallowing the tears. “But I promise I’ll wait for you until the season is over. Then I…” I couldn’t continue. For a few moments he was watching me.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said.

Hand in hand we left the parlour and went upstairs.

Love making that night was slow and, although it felt unbelievably good, it also felt like we were saying goodbye to each other.

Only when I heard him fall asleep next to me, with his arms wrapped around my body, did I make a decision. I needed to go right there and then. The morning would be too distressing and there was a danger that I would change my mind and follow him to Abu Dhabi.

Slowly and gently so as not to waken him, I got up and dressed quickly. When I looked back for the last time at the man I loved so much that it hurt, I swallowed my tears and closed the door.

Outside the mansion the night was bright. A full moon was sailing across the sky. I raised my eyes to her and offered up a silent prayer.

“Keep him safe,” I begged. Then I got in the car and drove off.

Just two months after his accident, Lorcan was back on the circuits. No one believed it would happen until they saw him arrive at the Yas Marina Circuit in Abu Dhabi that Friday afternoon after lunch. That was probably one of the fastest recoveries of a fractured tibia anyone had seen.

He’d missed four Eastern races and the advantage he had in score points for the Championship was reduced to only thirty points. All the magazines, newspapers and television news predicted the same thing. Lorcan Shore had lost the possibility of a sixth title.

The week after the accident in Monza, everyone was talking about it. What had gone wrong in Crest’s otherwise impeccable team? Of course, just before the accident, the team radio had been on and the whole world had heard his words.

“Brakes! I don’t have brakes!” I was still shaking whenever I heard him saying those words on the television or YouTube. It was all so surreal now.

A short statement had been given to the press. The reason for his crash was a communication failure between the computers and the car. Although all the data showed no failure, the racing car was actually without brakes; only Lorcan’s superb driving skills and an element of good fortune prevented the accident from proving fatal. All other findings were concealed from the general public. Everything stayed between Lorcan’s closest team members.

During his absence, the Crest test driver, Mathias van Nik, took Lorcan’s place. Although it was his first chance at racing in a Grand Prix, he made great progress, enraging Carlos. This was further complicated by the fact that the newspapers had written Carlos off for the next season.

Abu Dhabi came and went. Lorcan didn’t get his pole position, nor did he win the race, although third position gave him enough points to keep his first place in the Championship, but couldn’t secure him winning.

All week after I came back to Nice, and right up until the end of the race, Lorcan begged on a daily basis for me to come and join him in Abu Dhabi. I was tempted, but couldn’t go. Harry called, but I was in no mood for company.

Nevertheless, Anne-Marie was not one to be chased away. She was persistent and kept me company when her sons were in school or at their father’s.

On the Tuesday after the Abu Dhabi race, something must have snapped in me. I started to have strange dreams and those dreams soon developed into frightening nightmares. It was strange but when I woke from them I didn’t know what they were really about. All I was sure of was they were accompanied by the same constant feeling of loss. Everything was mixed together: the crash, losing my son, even being told by Harry that we had lost our parents.

Every time I woke, I was soaked through with sweat. Sometimes I woke myself screaming. At first I didn’t want to confess this to Anne-Marie, Harry, or to Lorcan. Lorcan was already on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean preparing for the USA race in Atlanta.

It was the following Friday evening when Anne-Marie found me sleeping on the sofa with the television on the sports channel, wet from sweat and screaming. She didn’t waste any time. She dialled Harry’s number and told me to go and have a shower.

When I emerged from the bathroom, she stood above two suitcases, already packed. The room had been cleaned and fresh clothes waited for me on my bed.

“Where are you going?” I asked her, trying to get my hair dry. She shook her head.

“Not me. It’s you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

“You’re wrong,” was all she said. She picked up the suitcases and left the room.

“Anne-Marie?” I called after her but all I heard was some mumble-jumble in French I didn’t quite get. I knew I’d better get dressed quickly, before she dispatched me somewhere. Running downstairs, I saw she was waiting for me by the front door.

“What is going on, Anne-Marie?” I asked her.

“When did you last take a good look at yourself in the mirror?”

I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t know. I did look at myself in the morning and in the evening but I didn’t see anything different.

“You’re like a ghost. How long have you been having nightmares?”

“I don’t have nightmares.” I started.

“From Tuesday as far as I recall,” I finally confessed. She took a mirror from her handbag and put it in front of my face.

“In barely ten days you’ve changed into.” she circled her free hand around me. “This! You’re pale, there’s no colour in your hair, and your eyes are tired with dark circles as big as my handbag under your eyes. You’ve lost weight! You’re not eating when I’m not around.”

I stood on the last stair and was silent. She spoke the truth. Only then did I realise how dreadful my appearance was.

“Right,” she continued. “This is the decision I have made and you will obey without any complaints.” Opening the front door, she pushed me out and led me to her house whilst telling me bits of what she’d decided was best for me.

I was to stay at her house until the following morning when Harry would come, pick me up and we would both be leaving for a holiday somewhere hot. She didn’t know where, as she’d left that decision to be made by Harry. I presumed it would be Irene’s decision more than Harry’s, but I kept my mouth shut.

After getting me into her house she didn’t let me out of her sight for one minute. She cooked and then forced me to eat everything that she put on my plate. Although it was not much, it was far too much for my stomach.

The house was quiet as it was the boys’ weekend at their father’s.

After dinner Anne-Marie watched television and I went to her bookcase and borrowed a book. I sat quietly reading until she announced it was time for bed. I must have looked quite puzzled but she just smiled.

“Harry will be here early in the morning.”

“I just can’t believe you,” I answered and followed her up the stairs. She pushed me into a guestroom and demanded that the door remain open.

“I’m used to night screams and sleepwalking. I need to be able to hear you and that is why the door will stay open.”

It felt funny but, anyhow, I obeyed.

I fell asleep the instant my head touched the pillow.

I woke up three times. Often the sound of my screaming woke me or Anne-Marie woke me up, trying to get me out of my nightmares. Every time she tried to find out what I was dreaming about, but I was not able to tell her. Everything was so mixed up and confusing, and yet in my dreams so realistic. When I woke up I was disorientated and it took me a few moments to realise I was no longer dreaming.

It was not only me; Anne-Marie could hardly wait for the morning to arrive. Only when I was leaving with Harry, who really came very early, did she say that it was the roughest night she’d ever gone through and she had three young boys.

I apologised, but she brushed the apology aside.

“You had no choice. Now I’m leaving you to your brother.” She looked at him and couldn’t resist giving him some advice.

“Take good care of her. She deserves it.” Harry nodded and hugged her. It was the first time I ever saw him hugging someone else. It felt strange but I loved them both. I realised I didn’t see Anne-Marie as my landlady, but more like my family.

I waved goodbye to her.

“I’ll be coming back soon,” I called back but she smiled. I meant it.

One week on the Isla de Martinique made me feel refreshed. The sun gave me some colour and I no longer looked like a ghost. My nightmares were reduced to one per night, but it was better than before. At least I’d managed to find the monster that was still chasing me.

Even Harry looked different. Relaxed. It was our first true holiday in years. And he deserved it as much as I did. We talked a lot about everything: about the past and how he’d needed to raise me during his early twenties. He effectively gave up his life for me.

He assured me that if he had to decide again, he would do the same thing and take care of me anyway. It was good to hear.

Even talking about my pregnancy and at the end losing my baby helped lessen the severity and frequency of my strange dreams. In the end, all that still troubled me was Lorcan’s accident. He kept calling me every day, trying to convince me to join him in Atlanta as soon as he learned where we were. I refused. I didn’t want to ruin his season. But I didn’t tell him what was troubling me.

It was Saturday again and it was time for us to leave that pleasant island of Martinique. It was hot, humid weather, but being almost the end of November, there was not so much heavy rain as was expected at that time of year. Being on the outer border of the Caribbean islands, it was prone to hurricanes, so we were lucky not to have to face any. My life had been stormy enough lately!