Connected (F1 Story)

Chapter Thirty Eight: Recovery

"He's fine, I promise you," I told my mum who was sobbing down the other end of the phone. It was later that evening and I was just getting round to telling my parents what had happened to Daniel.

Too bad they'd been watching it unfold live on the television. In HD. Nasty.

And, to make matters worse, I'd only just got enough signal to be able to contact them. It wasn't a pleasant feeling knowing they had been just as worried as me and had next to nothing to go on. They didn't know if he was alive or not, even.

"Do you and Dan want to come and stay home for a week? You don't have to say yes right now, but please think about it, Saskia. You look knackered. You can just relax, we'll cook lots of your favourite things, do the washing. You don't even have to walk Jasper if you don't want to..."

"Mum, I was petrified because Daniel was not responding to the team radio. Did you see the state of the car?" I asked and Daniel was sniggering away in the background. It was good he was okay. One cracked rib and some very big busies - but, apart from that? He was absolutely fine. And extra talkative due to the pain killers the Brazilian doctors had decided to give him. Now we couldn't get him to be quiet for more than thirty seconds.

"So you're still going to Iceland?" Mum asked, concerned still.

"Yes, we fly tomorrow afternoon. Dan has been given the all clear by three different doctors. He just has to stay in tonight," I finished, turning to see Daniel sticking his thumb down. He already hated the hospital.

Three times in the past half an hour he'd tried to get up, only to be told off by Paul/ Christian/ both. He was not a fan of resting nor taking it easy.

"Oh..." Unfortunately, mum didn't seem convinced.

I inhaled, and had to tell Daniel sternly to get back into bed.

"Honestly, he's fine, please don't worry," I whispered.

"Give me the bloody phone," Daniel demanded and I jumped. He had creeped up behind me. He was up, AGAIN!

"Daniel!" I shouted and my phone dropped to the floor. Mum didn't hang up, of course she didn't. Anything to make sure she had all the details. Every. Single. Last. One.

"What?" He shrugged. He still was wearing only his race underwear but thankfully Simon had leant him some team shorts so the medial personal didn't keep getting flashed by a very bored and now restless Australian. It was incredible what a difference two hours could make.

"Why are you up?"

"I want to speak to your mum. Haven't spoken to her in like a whole week..." he pleaded, cocking his head to one side and gently smiling.

"Paul!" I shouted. He'd gone for a wee before I'd rang mum. He was taking a while and I was starting to suspect that the tension had got to his stomach. It was a strong possibility.

Paul burst through the door and still with his hand on his hips, legs shoulder width apart. His stern expression was being worn.

"Sit the fuck down," he commanded, not having any of it. "Daniel, if you don't sit down then I'm gonna post that nude you accidentally sent to me instead of Saskia all over social media..."

"I never..." Daniel began but suddenly looked sheepish. That did it, that got him back into bed, albeit with a big huff.

Paul walked over to my phone and picked it up before I could say anything.

"Hey Mrs White, Paul here. Dan is coolio, just needs to STOP GETTING OUT OF FUCKING BED!" The last bit may or may not have been aimed at Daniel who was now blushing. "But yeah, I'll call you later for an update. Sending our love, yup bye."