Chapter One #2
Elise rushes off to sort them out and I make a start on the washing-up. It’s the least I can do. Everything’s on the draining board and the worktops are sparkling when Elise returns, peace restored in the living room, weariness carried heavily in every ounce of her body.
‘I’ll bathe and put the kids to bed. You go and grab yourself a glass of wine and chill in front of the TV,’ I tell her. It’s an order, not a suggestion.
‘Lifesaver, thank you, Ki.’
I might have come over here to moan about Harper, but I can tell that now is not the time. I don’t want to add to her burden when it’s so clear she’s already physically and emotionally worn out from the day. Even though I know she’d protest, saying she’s always here, regardless, to listen.
‘Who wants a story?’ I call out as I enter the living room. Cassie cheers, racing into my arms so I can spin her around and Jesse springs up and down in his bouncer. I can’t believe he’s already fourteen months old.
Bathtime turns into a slip and slide, but it’s worth it to listen to the sounds of my niece and nephew playing happily together. When they are dried and creamed, I lay Jesse down in his cot and thankfully he settles almost immediately, but Cassie is another story. Literally.
I finish one of her favourite books and she quickly requests a second, which turns into a third and it takes all my willpower to reject her pleas for a fourth. She’s only three, but she’s every bit as strong-willed as her mother and has the too-pretty-to-deny eyes to match.
‘I’ve still got to go give your mum a story, so it’s time for you to settle, missy.
Come on, bedtime.’ I tickle her sides and she screams, legs thrashing around under her duvet.
I need to leave soon, and Elise won’t thank me for riling Cassie up like this, but it’s worth it to see the pure joy radiating off her face.
It’s not the kind of bedtime I ever remember having as a kid.
When we were on tour, Mum would be warming up or already on stage by the time Elise and I were put to bed, and Dad …
well, the less said about that the better.
I know it really matters to Elise that her kids have what we didn’t, which is why I always find it so hard to resist their pleas for just one more story.
‘Okay, Uncle Ki Ki, Mommy deserves a story.’ She claps and then rolls on to her side to face the mountain of teddies she keeps with her. It’s precious to say the least.
Pressing a kiss to Cassie’s forehead, I pull the duvet up to her chin and wish her goodnight.
She mumbles back but is more interested in how many of her bears she can cuddle at once.
She’s peaceful when I check on her after grabbing the baby monitor from Jesse’s room, so I head back downstairs.
One of the best things Elise and Grant ever did was make Mum’s house feel like their own home so it feels like a wonderful multi-generational household.
Elise is curled up on the sofa in her pyjamas, hair scraped back, no remains of today’s make-up left on her face.
Her glass is full of a straw-coloured white wine and there’s some crime drama on the TV.
She appears calmer, but I can see in her eyes that her mind is still going a mile a minute.
She’ll only have one glass so she can hear Mum or the kids in the night, and yet again, I feel guilty that I’m about to disappear for the best part of nine months.
‘You okay?’ She asks, like it’s been me taking care of the rug rats and Mum all day.
‘I’m good, kid, are you?’ My sister glares at me with the same stare she’s been giving me since we were little – the one that reminds me that she is exactly thirteen minutes older than me.
‘I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tired. Cassie’s been full of beans all day and Jesse just wants to shove anything he can reach into his mouth.’ I appreciate that she doesn’t mention Mum and instantly feel bad about that.
‘Mum okay?’ It’s a stupid question, because of course she isn’t. She has a godawful disease which is slowly taking her from us.
The Parkinson’s diagnosis came as a complete shock at first, and then within a few months we noticed every single symptom they warned us about. Elise was incredible and took it in her stride, and I just about coped with seeing it eat away at Mum for the three months a year I was around.
‘Bad day. She thought I was Aunt Judith this morning.’ I try to hide my wince, but a frown pulls at my sister’s lips and I know she’s concealing how bad it really is from me. ‘Her memory is really deteriorating and it feels like the rate of decline is increasing every day.’
This is something else the doctors warned us about. Dementia. Another disease that often comes hand in hand with Parkinson’s as the condition begins to worsen.
‘I’m so sorry, Elise,’ I apologise like she isn’t my mum, too, but I know the burden is not shared equally between us.
Mum will forget me first because I’m just not around enough.
It will kill Elise to be forgotten, and she’s the one who will have to face it every single day.
It is truly the cruellest disease. I feel a stab in my heart every time Mum looks at me blankly, unable to place me as a part of her fading life, but at least I’m not confronted with it every hour of the day.
‘Anyway,’ Elise says as she waves the stress away, ‘what’s going on with you? I love you, bro, and I know you love us, but you didn’t barge your way in here just to put the kids to bed.’
I groan, the lavender candle burning on the mantelpiece not doing a thing to soothe the anxiety that’s been curling in my chest since the phone rang this morning. ‘Elijah’s broken his leg. Three places. It’s bad.’
‘Oh, shit.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Okay, so he’s out for, what, three to six months? Half a season or thereabouts. Isn’t that what the back-up guy is for? That’s not what’s got you in this funk.’
She knows me way too well. ‘I think Anders has written him off for the whole season. Oh, and Harper James is his replacement.’
The room falls silent. Elise pauses the TV show to allow us to talk properly and the house suddenly feels unnervingly still.
‘Look, baby bro,’ she says, which only makes me want to groan louder.
‘I know what’s going on in that head of yours.
He’s so much like the man you’ve desperately tried not to become, and I know you hate everything about his attitude and how he treats people, but it’s temporary.
He’s temporary. Elijah’s leg will heal, the team will go back to normal, and the rookie prick’ll be shunted back down into the lower category faster than he’s crawled up. ’
And this is why she’s the best sister in the world.
She’s the best mum, daughter, carer and, when she can finish her degree, she will be the best nurse, too.
It’s everything I need to hear. I know she’s right.
Deep down, in the rational part of me that’s buried by the anxiety, I know this.
My brain loves to catastrophise while hers is made of steel – or carbon fibre.
I always joke that she stole all the sensible genes in the womb.
‘I just…’ I’m not even sure what’s left to say.
I just want everything to be okay. Easy.
‘I thought this was going to be the season.’ I can’t find the words to say it, to say that I’m wondering if this will be my last season.
I’m not sure I’m there yet. I’m not sure I’m ready to say it out loud.
‘I thought this was going to be the one where everything would be—’
‘You finished top of the podium last year and got your fourth world title,’ she quickly interjects. ‘You’re already a legend. Way better than Dad ever was.’
‘I know, but I still feel like I have everything to prove this year. I’d like to go for the points record, if I can.’ She’s heard the whispers about me retiring – and no one knows me better than Elise – so she knows exactly what I mean.
‘Harper doesn’t have to get in the way of that. Elijah doesn’t stop you winning. As your second driver, he supports you and the team. You just have to put Harper into a little box in your head and focus on your own drive.’
If only it were that easy. We’re going to be breathing each other’s air for months, sharing pits, simulators, private jets, locker rooms. The whole atmosphere is about to change and it’s going to affect my performance, no matter how hard I try to prevent it.
I’ve been around men like him before and I know what it will do to me. I don’t know what Anders is thinking.
But my sister’s right. I’m an elite sportsman and if I lose the mental game then I don’t deserve to win. I mentally prepare a box and shove Harper James into it, padlocking it closed.
‘Okay, smarty pants. You’ve got me there.
I have every intention of bringing home the cup this season, don’t worry.
It’s not like I don’t already have four.
’ I shrug like it’s nothing, but it means everything to me.
The first one has pride of place in my home.
The second lives in Mum’s room, and the third was for Elise.
The fourth is displayed in the premises of a local youth charity that I’m the ambassador for.
I think it’s finally time to bring one home for Cassie and Jesse.
‘Good. Now can you let me get back to my show?’ she admonishes with the most obnoxious eyeroll I’ve ever seen. I can’t help but silently laugh.
She unpauses the TV, chucks a blanket at me, and I sink into the cosy L corner of the sofa.
I fall asleep within minutes in the worst position for my back and neck, only to be woken by Jesse’s screaming at 4am.
It’s perfect timing because a car is coming to get me in an hour to take me to the airport … to meet Harper James.
Elise comes downstairs carrying Jesse, face puffy and hair askew, grumbling about never getting a full night’s sleep. I plant a kiss on her forehead and whisper my goodbyes.
‘Good luck, bro. You can do this, regardless of who’s in the other car. You’ve got this. And don’t forget: we love you, whatever happens.’
I drive back home and wait for the car to pick me up.
My sister’s words stay with me until the second I climb the stairs to board the jet and find Harper James kicking back in a recliner, his trademark arrogant smirk curling the corners of his lips.
My hope and excitement evaporate and I’m left with nothing but frustration and irritation.
‘All right, Walker? How’s it going, mate?’
His face is almost split in two by how wide his grin is, and I loathe him instantly. We’ve only met a couple of times, and we definitely aren’t mates. Urgh.
It’s going to be a long season.