Chapter 53
JACK
MONACO
There’s time to make a quick tea before I call my grandad. We talk every Monday, though next Monday will be different because I can visit his nursing home in Essex. The thought drags a smile out of my permanently sullen face.
I tip in the milk and freeze. For fuck’s sake.
Earl grey with a drop of milk – I’ve made Minnie’s tea.
I cover my eyes with my hands and consider drinking it anyway, but I’ll break down in front of Grandad, and he’ll tell everyone in his home that his grandson’s lost his marbles, then Mum would ring, and finally Dad, who’d call me soft.
I don’t even know how I’d explain the situation to them.
I wonder what Minnie’s doing right now. I can’t even picture her in her house because I’ve never been.
I’ll never step foot in her teenage bedroom.
I’ll never sit in the kitchen where it all started.
I’ll never meet her dogs. There’s a whole side to her I’ll never know.
The thing that weirdly cuts the most is I’ll never win her mum over.
I’m not a meet-the-parents kind of guy, but Cara’s the most important person to Minnie, and it stings that she got the wrong impression of me.
Or maybe I proved her right, in the end.
The blood rushes to my throat and I call Grandad before I can work myself up more about it.
On the second attempt, two huge nostrils flash up, with round glasses perched above and pale eyes peering from behind.
He leans away and his face becomes normal-sized.
He’s in the armchair in his room. I can picture his phone propped up on the dresser.
He mutters something to someone out of shot, his eyes half-slits as he strains to see me, before finally beaming. ‘Oi oi, there’s my second favourite grandson!’
My lips stretch into a grin. It pulls at my cracked nose and chapped lips. ‘Rude! I’m the only one here, aren’t I? Ted’s nowhere to be seen.’
His laugh’s hearty – a smoker’s rasp – and it sounds like long evenings in his garage fixing up my kart together.
‘Y’alright, Grandad? Finally got the hang of FaceTime then.’
‘Nah it was all Shirl.’
‘You talk a lot about Shirl. Anything going on?’ I lift an eyebrow.
‘On your bike, lad. No one will ever replace my Jean.’ Interesting. She’d been going downhill for a while before she died, and he was devastated when it eventually happened, but you’d think after five years he’d be up for moving on. He pauses. ‘Ace job in Qatar, you champ.’
‘You saw it? Wasn’t it during your roast?’
He pulls his hoity-toity face. ‘Got special dispensation to eat in my room. Can’t miss my grandson being crowned a three-time World Champion.’
‘I appreciate the effort.’
‘I tell you, that Blanchet’s a cheeky bastard, in’e?’ I doubt étienne would appreciate hearing his name pronounced with a hard ‘ch’. ‘’is brother wasn’t such an ’ard racer in F3. Remember ’im from back in the day?’
‘Sure.’
We talk about the race in depth, with him going through his usual list of observations and learnings which are often so astute I pass them over to the team. His body might be failing him but his brain’s sharper than mine.
We move on to talking about family. Mum’s at a spa, Dad’s just come back from a golfing weekend, and Teddy and his carer are at a theme park with his swimming club.
Joy flickers inside me at the thought of him laughing his head off on rides with his mates.
These brave people go through bigger things every single day than what I’m going through temporarily, and a little perspective feels needed at the moment.
‘You look tired, son,’ Grandad remarks.
‘End of a long season, innit.’
‘If you say so.’
What is this? Do I have MINNIE DUMPED ME written across my forehead?
‘I’m just… homesick.’ It’s not a total lie.
Essex is where I’m from, Monaco’s where I live, but for me, home’s not a place, it’s a person – and that person wants nothing to do with me.
Fuck me I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. It’s making me poetic.
His eyes crinkle in the corners. ‘Good thing you’re coming back soon, then.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, stretching my arms. ‘Hey, Grandad, I’m curious. You know earlier when you said no one will ever replace Grandma? Would you do it over again? Even with her Parkinson’s and, you know, passing and that.’
He’s looking at me like I’ve announced I’m leaving Pagari to drive for DFK. ‘Course I would. Where did that come from?’
‘Just… wondering. It’s a lot of pain, innit.’
‘You don’t measure a life in how much pain there was, or the bad times – and trust me, there was bad times.
’ He itches his nose. ‘When I think of your grandma, I don’t think about clearing up after her or all the pills or the money worries.
She’s that girl I met at that bus stop all them years ago.
She’s the mother of my sons. She’s the most beautiful woman in the world.
I’d do it over again every time. She wasn’t perfect – Lord knows no one is – but she was my Jean, and she was perfect for me. ’
I let that sink in. Grandma was a difficult woman, and from the outside, she blocked my lovely grandad from doing what he wanted to do, like taking me to Italy.
But from the inside, it might’ve looked different.
They had genuine lifelong love, and a forty-five-year marriage to prove it.
I’m sceptical about my parents’ marriage but I guess that doesn’t mean all Bowdens are cursed.
‘There was a girl, Grandad,’ I say softly.
His whole face lights up. ‘Go on, my son! What’s she like?’
‘She’s…’ I look down, trying to squeeze Minnie into a sentence that won’t cripple me, but I can’t do it.
I can’t think about her gorgeous blonde hair, her soft skin, her beautiful blue eyes, her kind heart, her infectious laugher, her glasses.
I blink rapidly to clear her image from my head.
‘Don’t get too excited, I made a mess. I don’t think she’d take me back if I tried. ’
He’s quiet for the longest time, and I can feel my eyes welling up under the heat of his gaze. Fucking hell, he’s going to tell my parents their son’s a mug.
‘What if she hurts me, Grandad?’ I whisper so quietly I’ll be surprised if he catches it.
He looks thoughtful, and I can’t tell if it’s because his hearing aid’s playing up or he’s considering what I said.
‘When you get in that race car, you know there’s a possibility you can get hurt, right?
’ he says, and I bow my head. ‘And it’s quite possible – sometimes it’s not even under your control, especially with that git Micah around.
But you’re not thinkin’ about that when you get in the cockpit, are you?
You’re thinkin’ about the chance of success, even if it’s slim. ’
I shake my head. ‘Relationships are different.’
‘They’re not different. It’s all mindset. Like I said when you was a little karter: you can do anything you set your mind to, you just got to want it hard enough.’