Connected (F1 Story)

The Dilemma

"Saaaaassy..." The voice at my hip gently tugged at my sleeve as I looked down at him. "Danny said I could have a biscuit..."

"Did he tell you to say that?"

"I think so." He nodded, happily jumping up at one of the breakfast bar stools. "Yes."

"Does Danny know that he's not allowed one. Paul will go mental!"

"Danny is funny." Felipinho giggled, wiping his dark hair away from his eyes as I handed him a glass of blackcurrant squash. I'd flown it over from the UK with us seeing as they only did syrupy juice in Monaco. Giving one of our nice glasses to a five year old was a big risk but neither of us had put the dishwasher on yet. Admittedly, both of us would rather chill out in the bedroom. Chill out.

I tiptoed to see past the child (we were looking after) to see Daniel still on our veranda. He was picking up the Lego pieces, stopping more than frequently to inspect his handy work of what was meant to be a boat.

It looked nothing like a boat.

Swivelling back towards the breakfast bar as my non-work phone buzzed, a text had come through from Captain Exercise himself.

I'll give you a bell when I'm on my way over. Have you spoken to him yet?

Nope, Paul, my inner monologue sighed, I haven't spoken to him about that. Yet.

Quickly replying to Paul and deciding that Massa's son wasn't going to wreck the far from tidy kitchen, I grabbed Daniel a beer from the freezer and ran it outside to him. Daniel was dressed for winter even more so than me. He had two pairs of gloves on for starters.

"Are you coming in now?" I asked him, giving him a smile as I kissed his cheek.

"Gonna go collect the bins, then I'm all yours. What time is Felipe coming to collect the little one?"

"Few hours yet. I'll give him his dinner in a bit...Paul is coming over to sort out meal plans with you in an hour."

"No Lizzie?" Daniel gingerly asked, resting his hand somewhere that Felipinho would definitely have a chuckle at.

"Nope," I said regretfully and shook my head.

"Bloody hell," Daniel sighed. I couldn't help but agree with what he said. This was now complicated.

---
Picking up the landline and fully expecting it to be the office in Milton Keynes calling (for Daniel and I had spent most of yesterday talking to them), I was a tad surprised to hear Paul's voice at the end of it .

"Yo, yo, yo!" he said into my ear, making me hold the receiver further away from my face. "How is my favourite Saskia going?"

"Good, thanks. Where are you at?" I questioned, urging him not to say anything at that moment in time.

"Running up to your block now, I've got the spare key so I'll let myself in. Actually, can you give me a hand with this vitamin shit. I've got the team tops from Abu Dhabi too. I washed them...I know, I'm amazing."

"Took your bloody time!" I sniggered, trying to remain serious. It failed. "I'll meet you down there in five minutes, okay?"

"Cheers, see ya." And then he hung up, swearing as presumably he narrowly missed running into someone. Or tripping up the kerb. Or stacking it over his own feet. He had big feet, and you know what they say about big feet?

Big socks.

"Paul?" Daniel asked, stalling reading a book to Felipinho on the couch. He'd already stopped twice to turn the heating up. It was now on at full capacity and whilst the Australian still sat in a coat and two jumpers (a t-shirt and several under-armers also) I resulted to walking around in my vest top. That would have been off too if it wasn't for Felipinho who sat happily beside Daniel, laughing at the character voices he was putting on. His impression of an English footballer was pretty much spot on, which was quite worrying.