Pole Position (20 page)

Jon fell asleep against me. I listened as his breathing slowed and deepened, and felt his muscles relax. I was still wide-awake. Too much had happened today to let me sleep just yet. I was also starving. All I’d eaten at the show had been a couple of ice creams and an apple. I’d been too nervous to eat anything else, and now my stomach growled and rumbled. I longed for a mug of tea.

Carefully, as gently as I could, I lifted Jon’s arm to peer at his watch in the dim light. It was barely ten o’clock. Although the prospect of going back downstairs to ask Mrs. Pearce for some food was hugely embarrassing, it was a lesser demon than lying here with a rumbling stomach.

I slipped out of bed, pulled on my grubby T-shirt and breeches, and tiptoed down the back stairs to the kitchen. The lights were on, but I couldn’t hear any voices. Looking round the doorway, I saw Jon’s parents and Mrs. Pearce clustered round a laptop on the table. I thought about fleeing back upstairs, but took my courage in hand and stepped into the kitchen. Three pairs of eyes looked up and stared at me.

God, this was awful. I could tell they were used to seeing Jon’s girlfriends drifting in and out with him.

His Mum spoke first. “Is it Jon? Is he okay?”

“He’s asleep.” I tried to be reassuring. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but would you mind awfully if I had a drink of milk, or some tea? I can’t sleep.”

Mrs. Pearce came to my side and put her arm around me. “Come and sit down, love, you look about done in. I was just making a pot of tea anyway. Now would you like a sandwich or something?”

“If it’s no trouble, I’d love a sandwich thanks. I haven’t really eaten today.”

She made a
tsk
noise and settled me at the table. “No wonder you’re such a skinny thing.” She turned away and prepared some food while I fiddled with the salt and pepper on the table. I wanted to die of embarrassment at being there, especially since I was stinky and in need of a shower. His Mum was elegant, tall and graceful, with long dark hair that swept down to her shoulders. She looked like a less curvy version of Nigella Lawson.

She gave me an awkward smile. “This is all rather odd, isn’t it?” Her voice was low and husky. “I’m Sara Craigowan. I believe you’ve already met Trevor?”

I managed a polite smile in return. “Yes, when I arrived. I’m Anita Cartwright.”

Sara flicked a glance at Trevor. My interrogation wasn’t over yet. “Have you known Jon long?”

My cheeks heated and I thought longingly about fleeing back upstairs. “Not really, only a few weeks.”

There were so many things I wanted to ask them. How long did Jon’s relationships usually last? How many girls had he brought home to meet them? Did they see his accident? Did they know what an incredibly generous and loving son they had? I settled for an uneasy silence.

Trevor sighed. “I’m sorry, lass, our manners are awful. It’s been such a shock you see, with the crash and that.”

I looked up at him, and grasped the opportunity to talk. “I don’t know much about it. There were just a few details on the news. Were you there?”

His face twisted. “Yes, and I tell you, I wish I hadn’t been. Watching your son nearly die in front of you is about the worst thing I can think of.”

Sara spoke next. “It was a nightmare, not knowing if he was going to get out.” She paused, and took a breath. She had gone very pale. “We were in the stands and saw it on the screens in front of us.”

Trevor reached out to take her hand, but she glared at him with such hostility he retreated.

I broke the tense silence. “Could you bear to tell me what happened?”

Trevor gazed at me, as though assessing me for something. “I can show you if you like, but it’s not pretty.”

I frowned, I didn’t understand.

“The video footage. It’s on my laptop. We were watching it again when you came in.”

Did I want to see it? Would I rather remain blissfully ignorant? I had to know. I stood up, shaky with nerves and walked round to stand behind Trevor, where I could see the screen.

He clicked a few buttons, and a video clip fired up. He paused it straight away. “This is Pouhon, a particularly tricky corner. They were on the fifth lap, it was very wet, and Jon was having difficulties keeping his car on the track. He’s the blue car, number six. Watch.”

He ran the video further. I saw Jon’s car going wide, another overtaking him on the inside.

Trevor stopped the clip again. “That’s Pedro, his team-mate, overtaking him. He had a good line and would have gone through, but for this.” He fell silent and re-started the video.

A wave of debris appeared from nowhere in front of Jon. I squinted, trying to make it out. It looked like a car. No, two tangled cars, three maybe, locked together and with sparks and flames shooting off them as they bounced along the track. The breath caught in my lungs.

Trevor stopped the clip again and looked up at me. “Are you sure you want to see this?” His voice was kind.

“Yes, please go on.” My voice was just a whisper. Having got this far, I needed to understand it all.

He pressed another button, the clip dropped into half-speed.

Jon had nowhere to go. I imagined what he must have felt in the cockpit, seeing that hurtling toward him. He swerved, colliding in slow motion with his teammate, catching the rear end of his car. This had the devastating effect of spinning the other car round, forcing it onto the outside of the track to take the full impact of the cars coming toward them. Meanwhile, Jon’s car had now tangled with Pedro’s and was being dragged into the growing pile of moving debris.

Trevor stopped it again, asked me with his eyes if I wanted to continue. I nodded, unable to speak, my stomach churning.

The pile of debris ignited into a massive pulsing fireball. I clapped my hand over my mouth. Bits of burning cars flew everywhere; I could no longer tell which was which. More cars charged round the bend to crash into it. Tears poured down my face as I watched, completely helpless.

Sara jumped up from the table and walked to the window. “I can’t see it again.” She fumbled with a packet of cigarettes, tapping an unlit one against the pack.

I dragged my attention back from her trembling hands. I was shaking too.

Finally, I saw Jon crawl from the wreckage and stare at the devastation in front of him, and the cars racing past him and swerving to avoid the crash. Jon ran across the track, narrowly missing yet another car, and ploughed through the burning mass, tearing away pieces of debris with his gloved hands. As the fire engines arrived and officials halted the race, he pulled his teammate from the inferno. He dragged him clear and then collapsed to the ground.

Trevor stopped the video and closed the lid of the laptop. It was clear he’d seen it enough.

I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to draw in a deep breath, to swallow down the nausea that lodged in my throat. My voice came out croaky. “What about the other drivers, the cars that started it all?”

“They were lucky, all escaped with minor injuries. Pedro took the brunt of the impact when Jon’s car pushed him into it.”

“But he had nowhere to go!”

“I know. I’m not criticizing him. It was horrific luck it happened like that. A few seconds later and Pedro would have been clear, and Jon might have escaped it altogether. But this is what happened.”

I groped for my seat again. “So how badly hurt are they? Jon, I mean, and Pedro?”

Sara spoke up. “Jon has three cracked ribs, sprained wrists, and a concussion. Pedro was badly burned, even through his fireproof suit, broke his back in four places and has head injuries. They don’t know yet if there will be any brain damage.” She glared at Trevor. “I can’t believe you’re still encouraging him to aim for Formula 1. The cars are twice as fast; more people are killed and injured.” Her voice cracked. “How would you feel if it had been Pedro that pulled Jon out of the crash, and it was our Jon now lying in hospital in a coma?” She burst into tears and fled from the kitchen. I stared down at the plate of food Mrs. Pearce had given me. I agreed with her.

“
Sara
.” Trevor got up from the table and went after his wife.

I heard loud sobbing further into the house, and I gazed up at Mrs. Pearce. “This is all strange, I feel very out of place being here like this.” I decided to go for honesty. “I expect you’re used to Jon’s girlfriends coming and going, but I don’t normally behave like this.”

She took a seat and looked at me, oddly I thought. “Yes it is strange, but not how you’re thinking, lass. As long as I’ve known Jon, and it’s a few years now, he’s never asked a girl to stay before. We figure you must be something special to him.”

What?

“So, why don’t you take that sandwich and drink back upstairs with you, and go see if he’s still asleep.”

I rose from the table, but she hadn’t finished. “That friend you came with, Clare? She came back to the house with your bag, if you want your stuff with you.” Mrs. Pearce went to pick up my rucksack.

Oh well done Clare, at least I had a clean T-shirt and knickers for the morning.

“Thank you.” I looped the bag over my shoulder and headed back to Jon’s room.

He was still asleep, but restless. I wolfed down the sandwich and tea, and snuggled down beside him again. His left hand sought out my breast; he nuzzled sleepily against my neck and sighed as he drifted away again.

It was still a long time before I fell asleep. I kept replaying the crash in my head and marveling at his bravery, desperate to rescue the poor trapped Pedro, heedless of his own safety. He was a hero.

And despite the fact I had known him just a few weeks, one thing was clear. I’d fallen in love with him.

The moment I heard about the crash, that single, frozen second in time when I thought I’d lost him forever, it became crystal clear just how much he meant to me. I was heartened by Mrs. P’s assertion that he didn’t usually bring his girlfriends home to his parents. But I still knew I was just a temporary measure. If he stayed in motor racing, especially if he moved to Formula 1, as he so desired, I couldn’t stand by and watch him risk his life every few weeks. It would destroy me. In a way, Danny would be right.

Jon’s next race was in six weeks. That was all the time we had left together.

I surfaced slowly, through a haze of half-remembered dreams and anxiety. Opening heavy eyelids, I gazed around, trying to remember where I was and how I’d got there. I appeared to be back at Mum’s, in my bed again. I thought I remembered Anita being there too, but I couldn’t see her. Was that just another narcotic-induced dream?

“Neeta,” I murmured, my voice croaky and my throat dry.

“I’m here, babe.” She materialized next to the bed, damp and fragrant.

So that wasn’t a dream. I gazed at her, absorbing her natural beauty, still trying to put my thoughts in order. My brain felt as though it was working at half speed.

“Do you need some more painkillers?”

I managed a smile. “A kiss would be good.”

She was careful not to lean on me, mindful my ribs hurt. We ended up in a sitting position, leaning against the headboard, so I could convince myself she was really there.

“Last night is a bit fuzzy. Did you say something about going away?”

“Yes.” She looked at me anxiously. “Do you still want to?”

I yawned, slid my arm slowly around her waist and took a sharp breath as my ribs complained.

“I do still want to. I also really want to make love to you. Having you sitting on my bed, smelling so delicious, is driving me mad.”

Her lips curled in amusement. “Well I was in bed all night with you, but you weren’t interested then.”

“These bloody painkillers knock me out.”

She stared back, as though thinking about something. “How about if you lie down, and I climb on top. If I’m really careful, I won’t put any weight on you. And then you can have another dose of your pills straight after.”

It sounded good to me.

She flashed a nervous smile as she knelt over me. “It seems a bit strange to be asking if I’m hurting you.”

“I don’t care. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

She was careful, slow and tender, and did all the work. Her thigh muscles were superb and I lay back, thoroughly enjoying the sight of her riding me. She gasped as she pushed down and took me to the hilt, closed her eyes briefly, then moved in a graceful rhythm. It was incredible.

She fetched me some pills and water and we cuddled together afterward.

“I need to get home and go to the stables.” She kissed me, long and slow. Already the pills were taking effect, like a heavy blanket wrapping over me. “I’ll be back this evening.”

I nodded. My eyelids drooped, and I yawned. “Uh huh, I’ll see you later.”

She stayed until I crossed to that place where the crazy dreams swirled again, holding my hand as I drifted into unconsciousness. The last thing I remembered—and I wasn’t sure if it was a dream or not—was the feeling of cool lips pressed against my hot forehead, and her whisper of, “I’ll be back soon, my love.”