This Ain't A Fairytale- Lando Norris

14. Put my name at the top of your list

It wasn't long though before Lando was headed back to MTC to prepare for Imola and Hannah and Isla were once again left on their own in Monaco.

As he'd left Hannah had half promised that they would try and make it to Imola for race day, it wasn't exactly that far from Monaco and she could actually drive there if she really wanted to.

Lando's expression, pensive at the thought of going back to work and leaving them again, had been significantly brighter at the suggestion. Hannah had decided she'd make it work, one way or another.

Isla though, had clearly had other ideas.

Hannah's plan had been to drive over to meet Lando on the day of qualifying. She'd packed the suitcase, left it by the door the night before, and got Isla all excited about the fact they were going to go and watch her daddy race.

Then, in the middle of the night she'd been woken by the sound of her daughter crying. When she'd gone to see what had upset her, she'd discovered her daughter had a fever, which had promptly turned into her vomiting all over Hannah and her bed.

It had all been incredibly downhill from that point. A little over twelve hours into trying to comfort her daughter, Hannah had lost the battle in trying to pretend she wasn't feeling equally rough.

She'd ended up leaving Isla in her and Lando's bed, thankfully asleep, so she could sit on the floor of their en-suite and clutch the toilet like a lifeline.

If she'd thought the oysters in Melbourne had got her good, it was nothing compared to whatever Isla had infected her with.

She sent an apologetic text to Lando, which of course went unanswered, saying that Isla wasn't well and they weren't going to make it. It was all the energy she had been able to muster, tossing her phone back on the floor and resting her head against the cool tiles of the wall.

If she'd thought that had been bad enough, then twenty four hours after it had started and Isla had made a miraculous recovery just added insult to injury.

Her daughter had bounced back as though nothing had ever happened. She was bounding around the apartment wanting snacks and to go to the park. Hannah was trailing behind her, trying her best, but also having to run back to the bathroom to throw up every time she tried to eat anything.

As a result of that, the fever and having barely slept in two days she was bordering on delirious when Lando phoned that night after qualifying.

She was still sat on the bathroom floor. Isla was thankfully tucked safely back in her own bed after Hannah had finally managed to wash the sheets and make the bed again.

"Hello?" She mumbled, wondering why he was calling. He'd never even responded to her text to say they weren't coming. She assumed he'd been busy. She hadn't got a clue how qualifying had gone. She couldn't keep herself off the bathroom floor for long to look at the tv.

"You alright?" Lando asked, taken aback by her tone.

It was the final straw. "No, I'm not fucking alright." She cried. "I've been throwing up for hours, I haven't slept and I've got a hyperactive fucking child that feels better and wants to play."

"Oh..." Lando didn't know what to say to that. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Come home and take care of your daughter." Hannah groaned.

She wasn't sure if the moisture running down her cheeks was tears or sweat from how hot she felt at that point. She supposed it didn't really matter.

"Hannah." He sighed. "You know I can't."