Racing For Love

Chapter Fifty Six

Another few of days go past before I build up enough courage to travel to Giovanni's house, now I know where it is. During that time, I immerse myself in my investigation - pouring over Joe's diaries, looking for clues. I am trying to find out whether there was anything going on with Giovanni at the time of his crash because I need another option other than Joe's mental stability being the reason.

As I look through Joe's diaries, I can pinpoint when things started to change. It's possible to do that because of the way in which he writes changes, and his diaries are an accurate log of this - each race over the years is devoted pages with complex calculations and explanations - some examples I almost feel like I'm there with him.

The 2015 season is where this changes. The season starts the same, but gradually complexity makes way for chaos, and I struggle to follow what is going on. It takes three times longer to read the pages - there are scribbles and sections crossed out, his writing style almost changes along with the way he writes and seeing this breaks my heart. Then there are the pages, which are ripped out completely. My body still freezes when I reach that point in the diary. The most important section, and it's missing. Maybe Joe destroyed it so that there was no evidence of him being at fault?

I have to realise that during this investigation, there's a chance that I do not find the information I am looking for, contrary to that, I will find out that Joe really was at fault. I need to try and reconcile this against the man I knew. I am terrified that I will have to admit that he wasn't really the man I had always thought, and he let pride get in the way of other's safety.

Today, I will travel to see Giovanni. All residents at the hotel are supplied with a bike to travel around, and I take directions from Sofia about reaching the local village (of which Giovanni's house is adjacent.) I don't want to alert anyone to my plan, so I still refuse to mention Giovanni's name. Since his house is on the other side of the lake, it takes me a few hours to cycle there - I stop several times to admire the stunning views of the Italian landscape. There are olive groves and vineyards lining each side of the valley - the earth sun-baked underneath.

Since my parents died, I have always enjoyed my own solitude. I have needed it over the years as I found it easier to process my complex emotions. As much as I thought that surrounding myself with friends would help me, I have needed this time away from everything. I have felt myself return, I have felt the inner strength come back that I have been faking since I started working at Bianchi.

It's been a revelation to have this time - everything had become too chaotic to deal with and though running away might not be the most mature solution, the distance has helped. I still can't even bring myself to think about Jono though - the truth about our situation is too much. We admitted our feelings to each other and then he immediately questioned my loyalty to him over something that was far more complex and nuanced than a quick conversation could cover. I'm starting to wonder if it wasn't just about me, but after he didn't come to see me after the memorial, I don't know if I am ready to be rejected. I feel like everything has been broken between us, but maybe that's happened because it was sabotaged by my own insecurities, as much as his?

I reach the small village Sofia gave me the directions to - it is a picture perfect Italian village with a small but busy line of shops - a convenience store, butchers and greengrocers. I smell the bakery before I see it and my mouth waters at the crusty bread in the window. Next door is a tiny cafe and I stopped for an afternoon espresso before I continued on to Giovanni Mancini's house, which lies on the outskirts. My stomach churns as I reach the large gates. There is an intercom system, which I have to admit, I hadn't thought to expect. I was hoping that I would be able to see Giovanni, and this final hurdle has flummoxed me.

I clear my throat and press the button, hearing the intercom sound behind the gate. "I'm coming," a deep male voice states and I hear footsteps approach. I have been rehearsing what to say as I've cycled here but my mind clouds as the gate creaks in front of me.