Hot off the Press | Charles Leclerc | F1

F o r t y - s e v e n

The nearest airport to Fia's childhood home was over seventy miles away. She'd had to grit her teeth in grim determination for hours on public transport to get there and felt like she might collapse when she finally stood before the chipped paint of the front door. She hadn't told her mum she was coming or why, but all it took was one glance for her to understand.

"Oh, honey." She opened her arms, and Fia fell into them. All the tears she'd held in over the past twenty-four hours flooded out. "Let's get you inside, love. I'll bring your suitcase."

Fia shuffled into the house and collapsed on the sofa. There was an excited bark as a streak of black fur bounded into the room.

"Otto!" called her mum from the hallway.

The dog, an enormous jet-black lurcher, gave Fia a curious sniff before proceeding to lick her tears with its hot, rough tongue. Despite the heaviness in her chest, she couldn't help but laugh, running her fingers over Otto's silky coat.

"Get down, you soppy animal," said her mum, rolling her eyes affectionately. "Sorry about him. He's still a puppy, really. I got him from a shelter. Someone abandoned him when he was a few months old."

"He's lovely," Fia said, smiling through her tears.

"He's a handful, is what he is."

They shared an uncertain smile. The fabric of their relationship had been fundamentally changed the last time Fia came home, and although they had spoken many times since then, the memory lingered between them.

Fia's mum rubbed her hands on her jeans awkwardly. "Would you like tea?"

A fresh bout of tears spilled over Fia's cheeks. She hadn't realised how much she needed someone to care for her until that moment. "Please."

Otto jumped on the sofa and laid his head on her lap while her mum was in the kitchen. His musky animal scent was comforting. Looking around the living room, she noticed how different it was from the last time she had seen it. Then, it had been sad and empty, a house full of ghosts. Now it looked lived in. There were fresh apples in the fruit bowl and dog toys littering the carpet. Otto's bed had pride of place next to the fireplace.

It wasn't a lot, but it wasn't nothing, either.

Fia eyed her graduation photo on the mantelpiece. She'd never seen it on display before. She was struck, as she stared at it, by how young she looked—and how naïve she knew herself to be back then. Not that she was much wiser now. After all, she had fallen for Charles, and look how that had worked out for her.

"Strong with lots of milk and no sugar," Fia's mum announced, handing her a mug of tea. She shooed Otto off the sofa and sat in his place.

"Thanks, Mum."

She cleared her throat. "I saw some articles online about you and that driver, Charles," she said cautiously. "I take it things didn't work out between you two?"

"No, they didn't."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Fia shook her head. "Not tonight."

____ 🏎️ ____

It rained heavily that night. Fia lay awake, listening to it hammering against the windowpane. It felt strange sleeping in her childhood bedroom, surrounded by fragments of the person she used to be. Posters of bands she no longer listened to were still blu-tacked to the walls, and books she'd studied for her A Level exams were stacked on the shelves, their spines bent and pages dog-eared, full of hand-written notes. She stared at them, feeling sick and empty, ashamed of the way she had betrayed her younger self.