Chasing Daisy

  We both react at the same time, leaping to our feet and staring out of the window in alarm. A man climbs out of the car and holds his jacket above his head to shield himself from the pelting rain as he runs towards the door.

  ‘Who is it?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Nonna replies.

  We hurry through to the kitchen as the man starts pounding on the door.

  ‘Shall I open it?’ Nonna asks me, clearly not used to expecting visitors, especially this late on a Sunday night.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ I insist, going to the door.

  ‘Daisy, it’s me!’ I hear the man shout.

  Luis? I open the door in surprise and he stares out at me from underneath his drenched coat.

  ‘Can I come in?’ he asks quickly.

  I step back in shock. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Good evening.’ He nods at Nonna, who’s watching this interaction with some interest. She takes his coat, going to the old-fashioned stove and hanging it out to dry. ‘Thank you,’ he calls. He sounds oddly formal.

  ‘Who is this?’ Nonna asks me in Italian.

  ‘Luis Castro,’ I reply. ‘He’s the other driver for the team.’

  ‘He doesn’t look much like a driver,’ she mutters.

  ‘He doesn’t usually have a beard. He was just, you know, he hasn’t been himself since. . . the accident.’

  Luis glances with confusion at each of us, but Nonna’s face softens after my last comment. ‘Come in, come in,’ she urges in English. ‘Sit down.’

  ‘Er, thank you,’ Luis replies awkwardly. He pulls out a chair at the kitchen table.

  ‘Have you had dinner?’ Nonna asks in Italian. I translate.

  ‘No, but I’m fine, thank you,’ Luis replies.

  ‘You can’t say no to my nonna’s cooking,’ I tell him.

  He gives me a look, not sure if I’m tricking him into eating or not.

  ‘In that case, yes please.’ He sounds so polite for a change. I would giggle if I weren’t so confused.

  ‘How did you find me?’ I ask while Nonna ladles some soup out of the saucepan still sitting on the stove.

  ‘I asked Holly where you’d gone, then called Ally to find out the address.’

  ‘But I don’t understand? Why did you come at all?’

  Nonna places a bowl in front of him. He looks up and says thank you, then picks up his spoon.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I say, glancing at Nonna. ‘You can fill me in, later.’

  He starts to eat while Nonna and I sit there and watch him for a moment. I realise we’re staring.

  ‘How did the race go?’ I ask, coming to my senses.

  ‘I came third,’ he replies, taking another mouthful.

  ‘Luis, that’s brilliant!’ I exclaim.

  ‘What?’ Nonna interrupts. I quickly fill her in about Luis qualifying twelfth, but finishing on the podium. I turn back to him, feeling absolutely delighted.

  ‘Simon must’ve been thrilled!’

  He shrugs. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I came straight here.’

  ‘What, after the press conference?’

  ‘Nope. Didn’t do it.’

  ‘But that’s immediately after the awards’ ceremony. How did you even know I’d left?’

  ‘You weren’t in the crowd. I shouted down to Holly and she told me you’d gone.’

  I’m too taken aback to comment.

  Luis puts his spoon down. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘My appetite isn’t what it was.’

  Nonna waves away his apology and clears the bowl. ‘Why don’t you go to the sitting room and I’ll bring through coffee,’ she suggests. I lead the way.

  ‘I guess I wasn’t really thinking, turning up like this.’ Luis glances around the room. ‘It’s not very good manners to land on someone’s doorstep, uninvited. I hope your grandmother doesn’t hold it against me.’

  ‘Don’t worry, she won’t.’ We sit next to each other on the sofa. ‘You still haven’t told me why you’re here?’ I prompt.

  He looks uncomfortable. ‘Spur of the moment. I didn’t want you to leave again.’

  ‘I was only taking a break for a few days.’

  ‘I couldn’t be sure of that. I couldn’t take the risk.’

  ‘I’m surprised you’d care that much.’

  He looks up suddenly and stares straight into my eyes. ‘I need you more than you think.’

  My heart does something funny and it dawns on me at that moment that maybe I need him, too. I know I need him to be right again, and if he thinks I can help, then I’ll consider that my job for the time being.

  Nonna comes into the room. ‘Here you go,’ she says, handing coffee cups to each of us.

  ‘So when are you going to have that shave?’ I give Luis an amused look.

  He shrugs. ‘Sometime before the next race. I was quite liking my beardy look.’

  ‘I bet Simon hates it.’

  ‘Simon’s not my biggest fan at the moment, anyway.’

  ‘So I’ve heard.’

  He takes a sip of his coffee.

  ‘What’s this?’ Nonna asks. I fill her in about Luis’s promise to shave off his beard and she stands up and hurries out of the room with determination. Luis and I look after her, curiously. She returns a minute later with a small bag and hands it to Luis. He opens it and pulls out an old-fashioned razor and shaving brush.

  ‘Carlo’s,’ Nonna tells me. ‘They were my husband’s,’ she says to Luis.

  ‘Er, thanks,’ he replies, lifting up the blade and inspecting it. ‘I’m, um, not sure I’ll know how to use this. I usually use an electric one,’ he explains to Nonna. I translate.

  ‘Give them to me,’ she urges, and Luis hands them over. ‘I’ll do it for you.’

  ‘What, now?’ he asks, disconcerted.

  ‘Yes, now,’ Nonna replies, standing up and pointing in the direction of the bathroom. ‘Time for a fresh start. You wait here,’ Nonna tells me. ‘Not enough room. Come.’ She holds her hand down to Luis, who reluctantly takes it and follows her, shooting a worried look at me over his shoulder. I stifle a giggle. Ten minutes later, Nonna produces a clean-shaven Luis.

  ‘Wow,’ I say, as he jokingly rubs his face. ‘No cuts?’

  ‘Not a single one.’ He grins and sits back down on the sofa. ‘Thank you,’ he says to Nonna.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she replies in English, with wry amusement.

  Luis sighs. ‘I guess I should be getting off.’

  ‘Off? Where is he going?’ Nonna asks me in Italian.

  ‘I have to get back to Milan,’ Luis explains, and I translate.

  ‘You can’t drive in this weather. No. You stay on sofa,’ Nonna says, as I experience a feeling of déjà vu.

  ‘No, honestly, I’ll be fine,’ Luis assures her, making to stand up.

  ‘Absolutely not!’ she insists. ‘This storm is too fierce!’ A loud crack of thunder helpfully illustrates her point.

  ‘I’m a racing driver.’ Luis grins. ‘I’m used to driving in tough conditions.’

  ‘Tell him to wipe that smile off his face.’ Nonna’s tone is ferocious. She glares at Luis. ‘My husband, he died on these roads!’

  I stare at my grandmother through narrowed eyes as Luis looks shamefaced. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I’ll be back with the bedding.’ She bustles off.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ I say to Luis. ‘But you may as well sleep here and set off in the morning.’

  ‘Will you come back to Milan with me?’ he asks hopefully.

  ‘No,’ I reply. ‘I’d like to spend some time with Nonna. But I will come back. I promise.’

  He relaxes back into the sofa as she re-enters the room with sheets and blankets.

  ‘Just leave them there, Nonna, I’ll do it,’ I say.

  ‘Fine. I’m off to listen to my radio show,’ Nonna replies. ‘Good night!’ she calls as she hurries off.

  ‘I’m
going to head off to bed, too,’ I say, sadly recalling my evening here with Will.

  ‘Okay,’ Luis answers. He helps me make up the sofa and then climbs under the covers.

  ‘Well done on your podium result,’ I say, standing by the door.

  ‘Thanks, bun tart.’

  He leaves early the next morning, but not before Nonna has persuaded him to eat some breakfast. The storm has passed, although it’s still overcast. We wave him off from the door as he pulls his rental car out of the lane onto the main mountain road, tooting the horn as he goes.

  I follow Nonna back inside, still dumbfounded that he came all this way for me. We sit at the kitchen table and I sip at my coffee.

  ‘I like that one,’ she says after a moment.

  ‘Luis?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘More than Will?’ I can’t help but ask.

  ‘Not more. They’re very different. He likes you.’

  ‘Will liked me?’

  ‘No, this one. Luis. He likes you.’

  I scoff. ‘No, he doesn’t.’

  She eyes me shrewdly over the rim of her coffee cup. ‘Yes, he does.’

  I don’t say anything for a moment, then a thought comes to me.

  ‘Nonna. . .’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I thought Nonno died of a heart attack?’

  She shrugs. ‘He did.’

  ‘But you told both Will and Luis that he died on the mountain roads.’

  ‘They wouldn’t have stayed otherwise.’

  ‘But Nonna, that’s so sneaky!’ I exclaim.

  ‘A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,’ she casually replies. I can’t believe she’s speaking like this. At her age! She’s eighty-two!

  ‘Anyway, why would you want them to stay?’ I ask.

  ‘To give them more time with you, of course.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘You need a man!’ she erupts.

  ‘What? Nonna, what are you going on about? We don’t live in the dark ages!’

  ‘Don’t patronise me, young lady. I know what’s good for you.’

  ‘Well, Will had a girlfriend,’ I pedantically point out.

  ‘Oh, I know that,’ she waves me away.

  ‘How did you know that?’ I ask, confused. I never told her.

  ‘It was obvious,’ she replies. ‘But you can’t let things like that stand in your way.’

  ‘Nonna!’ I’m outraged. ‘I would have never allowed myself to be the other woman.’ But even as I say it, a little shred of doubt niggles away at me. I glance down at my fingernails.

  ‘Did you know Nonno was set to be engaged to another girl when I met him?’

  ‘No?’ I sit up in my seat.

  ‘Yes,’ she replies. ‘But they weren’t in love. I could see it. It was to be a marriage of convenience. To please their parents. When Carlo and I set eyes on each other . . .’ Her voice trails off as she becomes lost in her thoughts. She turns back to me. ‘It was meant to be, your grandfather and me. You can’t always wait for fate, you have to step in.’

  ‘Is that what you did?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes,’ she says firmly.

  I don’t really like the idea of my grandmother stealing another woman’s man, but she doesn’t seem at all repentant. And I guess I wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t.

  ‘Well, it’s all in the past now,’ I say sadly, thinking of Will.

  ‘No,’ she says bluntly. ‘There’s still Luis.’

  ‘Nonna, I couldn’t be interested in Luis!’

  ‘Why not? He’s better suited to you than the other one.’

  ‘No, he’s not! Anyway, I’m still in love with Will, so I can’t think about anyone else.’

  ‘Give it time,’ she says wisely. ‘Give it time.’

  I roll my eyes, but let it be.

  She stands up and leaves the kitchen, bringing back a couple of pots and pans from last night. Water swishes around inside them as she takes them to the sink and pours out the contents.

  ‘Nonna, why won’t you let my mother help you fix the walls?’ I follow her back through to the sitting room and help retrieve the remaining pots.

  ‘No,’ she says bluntly, returning to the kitchen sink and tipping the water down the plughole.

  ‘Why do you have to be so stubborn?’ I complain and she shoots me a ferocious look over her shoulder before sitting down again.

  I join her back at the table. ‘My mother told me something in New York,’ I start. ‘About my father.’ I’ll leave the subject of house maintenance alone for the time being.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘About Andrea. . .’

  ‘Andrea?’ she barks.

  ‘Well, I don’t know if he’s my real father or not. . .’

  Nonna’s eyes widen.

  ‘And neither does my mother.’

  Cue a knowing look. ‘I see.’

  ‘Did she not tell you? Did you ever suspect it?’

  She pauses before answering. ‘She didn’t tell me, but I did suspect it, yes. She spent a lot of time with Andrea when she left your father and returned home. And she fell pregnant very soon after she went back to him. I thought it was too soon.’

  ‘Did you ever say anything?’

  ‘What could I say? I told her not to go back to your father, to stay with me and your grandfather, but she chose not to.’

  ‘And what about Andrea? Did he know that my mother was pregnant?’

  Nonna looks down at the table. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And he didn’t think to chase after her? To find out if the baby – if I – was his?’

  My grandmother doesn’t answer.

  ‘I guess not.’ I’m disappointed in my father, whoever he is, then.

  ‘He would have been too proud to run after her,’ Nonna says finally. ‘And Stellan was a very daunting man.’

  ‘What happened to Andrea?’

  ‘He got married to a local girl and lived a simple life here in the mountains.’

  ‘How did he die?’

  ‘Cancer. He was ill for a long time before he finally passed away.’

  ‘And they had no children?’ I know my mother said they didn’t, but I want to be sure.

  ‘No. No children.’ Pause. ‘Your mother couldn’t have handled it, you know.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Caring for him. She wasn’t the type. She was always looking for something better, a better life for herself. It drove her mad that your grandfather and I were so settled here for all those years. When Carlo died, she wanted me to move to New York.’

  ‘Did she really?’ I can’t imagine my grandmother in New York.

  ‘Yes. Of course, I refused. Although I was tempted just to annoy your father.’

  I look away.

  ‘Sorry,’ she apologises. ‘I shouldn’t speak badly of him. He’s still your father.’

  ‘Is he, though?’

  She studies me for a moment. ‘I think so. You look nothing like Andrea. I think you have your father’s nose.’

  I can’t help but snort at the triviality of that resemblance.

  I return to England four days later.

  ‘Have you seen the papers?’ Holly asks me the moment we settle ourselves down on the sofa with a nice glass of wine.

  ‘No? Why?’

  ‘God, it’s all about Luis, Luis, Luis.’

  I sigh with frustration. ‘Why won’t they just leave him alone?’

  ‘No, it’s not that,’ she says excitedly. ‘They’re all interested in him now. After that last race result, and then running off after the awards ceremony like that and turning up at the airport the next day with his beard shaven off. It’s like he’s a new man! They can’t stop talking about him!’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yep, ooh, the other drivers are all going to be jealous again.’

  ‘Jealous? Why would they be jealous?’

  ‘Daisy, you are so out of touch! He was like the hot new thing when he started out in F1. The other drivers a
ll felt massively threatened!’

  ‘Oh, right. So . . . Does anyone know where he went when he ran off like that?’ I ask hesitantly.

  She grins at me. ‘He went to see you, didn’t he?’

  I nod awkwardly.

  ‘Ally told Simon about Luis ringing up to find out your address, so he wasn’t worried.’

  ‘Does anyone else know?’ I ask.

  ‘No. Just Simon, Ally and me. Bloody hell, though, Daisy. What did you say to him to get him to clean up his act like that? Simon’s over the moon! He’d decided Monza was Luis’s last chance!’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yes! So whatever it was, you saved Luis’s butt. I hope he knows it.’

  ‘I think he does,’ I say quietly. ‘But hey, tell me what else has been going on?’ I don’t really want to discuss Luis anymore.

  The following week, one of Holly’s colleagues at the canteen calls in sick. Holly asks me if I can cover for her. I’ve never been to team HQ before and I’m keen to see it, so I agree.

  It’s like something out of a James Bond film, all shiny black, white and gold with a series of high-security gates to get through before I’m finally allowed inside the hallowed doors. The team’s headquarters are enormous, and racing cars from past seasons line up along the polished concrete floor. I walk quickly past them, not wanting to know if one of Will’s old cars is there.

  The so-called canteen is like a Michelin-starred restaurant, so there are no cheese and pickle sandwiches packaged up in cardboard. I’m lucky I’m trained in silver service from my time working functions for Frederick and Ingrid, because some of the most important sponsors are coming in for a lunch meeting today and Holly has wangled it for me to help her wait on them. We’re in the boardroom where they’re dining, dishing out freshly baked bread rolls, when the door opens with a whoosh and Luis comes in.

  I look up with surprise. There was an empty seat, but I had no idea it was for him.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he apologises to the sponsors. ‘Terrible traffic.’

  ‘No problem,’ Simon replies, indicating Luis’s chair. He sits down in it before he sees me, and then jolts a little in shock.

  ‘Oh, hello! I didn’t know you worked here?’

  ‘Just helping out,’ I reply, embarrassed, because now everyone is looking at me and before that I was just an anonymous waitress. ‘Brown, white or granary?’ I ask, holding up the bread basket.