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January
Then
“The fire alarm!” I clutch my hands over my ears and step back as Freddy waves a tea towel over the burnt bacon.
The fire alarm is screeching, but I’m far too short to do anything about it. Instead, I take the checked tea towel out of Freddy’s hand and start to wave it about while he reaches up and removes the battery from the fire alarm.
“You really can’t cook at all.” He laughs as he pecks the end of my nose. This is how it is now all the time, the two of us, together. We came back from our break, nearly a month ago, a different couple. Now we feel like a unit that fits together. That I can’t imagine not being together. I still do my studying, and he still works at the garage. Of course we do, that’s real life. But now we take it in turns to stay at one another’s houses at the weekend. He’s still not allowed to stay over during the week. I say allowed; what my parents don’t know really doesn’t hurt them. We don’t speak about the conversations we whispered in the dark during our time away, the conversations where we talked about dreams and futures and being together. Forever.
"And now I’m going to be late,” he adds, glancing at his watch.
“I’m sorry, I know I’m rubbish.” I tip the bacon into the bin, just ever so slightly concerned at what it may set light to in there.
‘Are you coming?” His fingers link with mine and he puts on his most adorable, beseeching look. “I don’t want to go without you.” The ocean blues pin me in place and make it hard for me to say no.
There is an enormous frog in my throat, and my stomach is rolling like I’m sat on a boat. Freddy is racing today, and a, I don’t want him to, and b, I don’t want him to.
The weather’s all cats and dogs, raining a nasty deluge for days. I’m convinced the race should be cancelled, but Freddy assures me it’s fine; they just change the tyres to ones designed for wet conditions.
I’m not reassured.
“I don’t think my nerves can take it. Anyway, I thought I was a distraction?” I tiptoe and plant a kiss on the first skin I can reach. His chin. Catching hold of my elbows, he lifts me up so I can kiss his lips properly. I’m a dolly pendulous in the air, arms of steel suspending me as though I’m air and feathers.
“Are you worried I’m going to damage my dashing good looks?”
“Cocky,” I retort. “I’m worried you’re going to die.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Come on, we’ve still got to pick Dani up.” He grabs his keys and grasps my hands tight. “And yes, you are a distraction, but I would be more distracted if you weren’t there.”
Try as I might, I can’t come up with an argument against that.
It’s freezing. Dani and I are stamping our feet to keep warm, both of us offering a despairing swear word every couple of minutes. I don’t know if we are expecting the expletives to warm us up, but it’s keeping us mentally stimulated which helps. The track is crowded, people shouting and bellowing over the roar of idling engines and excited conversation. The Bales are well known here judging by the amount of people who have greeted Mr Bale already.
“Here you go.” Freddy’s dad comes towards us carrying two polystyrene cups. He keeps telling me—usually in the morning when I’m sneaking around his house—to call him Charles, but it doesn’t sound right to me.
“Thank you, Mr Bale.” He frowns at my formality but doesn’t comment on it. Dani giggles by my side — she finds the dynamics of a serious relationship amusing and has told me repeatedly she’s glad I did it first so she can learn from my cock-ups. She finds my tales of awkward family meals with Freddy’s dad and brother hysterical, especially the time when I dropped an entire gravy boat all over the dinner table during Sunday lunch. I then offered to wash the table linen and shrunk it. It was Freddy’s mum’s best tablecloth.
“Bad thing to be late to a race, Amber.” A critical voice murmurs into my ear and I straighten my shoulders as I register the unfriendly voice of Henry Bale. He doesn’t like me very much and it has nothing to do with shrunken tablecloths. Every day he puts more pressure on Freddy, more responsibility, and longer hours. It’s the one thing Freddy and I get fractious about. I think he should tell him to stick it.
“Why’s that, Henry?” I say, not bothering to turn around.
“Freddy likes to check the car himself before he drives, he is religious about it. Interesting the first time you come to a race he doesn’t get the chance to do it.”
He’s right. Freddy literally sprinted into the building leaving Dani and I to meander around until we found someone we knew.
“Surely the car’s been checked, though?” I ask, my chest tightening with the anxiety I felt earlier in the kitchen.
“Of course it has. He’s my brother, and I care about him.” Henry’s voice is mocking, and I really want to punch the bastard.
I ignore my instinct to call him a twat and concentrate on trying to spot Freddy in the crowd. It doesn’t take long. Soon I see him striding confidently towards me and my heart gives a little jump of pleasure. “Quick kiss before I have to get ready.” He wraps his arms around me tight and brushes his lips over mine.
“I have to say… now don’t let this go to your head… but you look very attractive in that suit.”
And Jesus does he. Freddy is sporting a dark blue racing suit, and it’s all trim and tucked in all the right places.
“Ah, so now she likes motor racing.” He laughs and kisses the top of my head. “I’ve got to go.”
I hold onto his fingers tight. “Go and check your car,” I insist.
