Connections (F1 story)

Chapter Twenty Two: Monaco

My alarm sounding at six a.m. on a Saturday only meant one thing nowadays, and that was time for action. Okay, in London my friends used to do it for a joke after a heavy night out...but that was a different story, and one which now was completely irrelevant. I had my hair to sort out.

Going through the process of showering, finding where I could have possibly put my clean underwear (emptying my suitcase out twice to see if I had in fact somehow missed it). I applied a little makeup and attempted to French plait my hair, at the time I thought it was très européen but I was probably wrong, it made my nose look wonky from where I had broken it as an excitable seven year old.

I straightened my top, looking in the mirror. At least today, I half resembled a normal(ish) human being. My hair though looked lifeless; I had to do something with it when I got back to England. I quite fancied going back to my blonde phase...maybe not.

Remarkably, I was ready by ten to seven, and that was when the phone calls began roll in. Patiently I answered them, all of today's interview slots had filled up in a flash which left Daniel and I's schedule extremely chaotic.

A challenge was after all what I loved best. Oh, and I had coffee with Jones to look forward to. I promise that I wasn't dreading it, nor incredibly nervous and wished that my stupid eyes had never seen what they had in the first place. Why hadn't I been a fraction tipsier?

I jumped onto the minibus with the rest of the guys, nearly losing my jeans on the step. That was why I didn't drink too much, I was clumsy enough when I was sober.

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Trackside was unbelievably busy, as was the paddock and hospitality areas already. It was barely half past nine.

The team garage was packed and final adjustments were being made to Daniel and Sebastian's cars. Manic, but I loved watching the guys work. Free practice three was underway very shortly.

I lingered at the back of the garage ending my latest call, at this rate my mobile was going to run out of battery very, very quickly.

Ricciardo made his way over from the huddle of senior staff that stood on the opposite side, he had finished his brief. He looked focused, determined to set the best possible time. Monaco was such a demanding circuit- a split second lapse of concentration and it could be game over- and it wouldn't just be the car that got hurt. I suddenly felt an intense wave of apprehension wash over me, more so than usual.

"I'll be here after you've finished, so when you're ready." I smiled warmly, swiftly shaking all other thoughts aside.

"Awesome, and thanks for looking after me last night." he replied.

I urged my brain not to flicker back to yesterday evening- the Amber Lounge Fashion Show. Daniel had modelled along with many other drivers whilst I sat rather contently, along with Lizzie pretending to be working. The Australian had looked remarkable, even more so than at previous suit-attired events. My knees weakened and I was sure that my cheeks were beginning to burn.

"It's my job." I replied. Cheeks. Stop.

"Is that a little blush I see, Saskia?" Daniel said playfully. Bollocks. "And I wish you'd stop saying that."

I shrugged. Paul, his trainer, was looking over armed with a drink and a banana. "Hmm. Anyway, you're wanted over there."

He nodded and looked as if he was about to leave, but before he did so he said something else. "So, who have you got the hots for then?"

I glared at him.

"I know who it is. It is Jules...it is Jules, isn't it? I bloody knew it!" he looked mischievous. It was too early to play this game, plus my emotions were still all over the shot. I had never even spoken to Jules or paid him any attention...although thinking about it...