Connected (F1 Story)

Chapter Nine: Tribute

For Jules x

Monaco was my favourite place for many reasons. It was warmer than the UK at any given point of the year, and when it did get a little bit chilly in Winter, the sun would still be out, making the reflections on the water dance.

Monte Carlo is the playground of the rich and famous (not that you had to be some sort of genius to work that out), but aside feeling slightly out of my normal social circle when I went out, everyone I saw (mainly) waved. I knew most of the people in our apartment block- and not just because half of them had something to do with Motorsport.

Daniel and I's rented flat was home for the two of us. We had it all to ourselves...our own place, away from the F1 Circus and the mayhem that came with it. It was, effectively, our piece of paradise. And I grinned every time I called it that. It wasn't massive; it only had two small bedrooms, a tiny study, one bathroom and an open-planned kitchen/ living area, but it was special. And as for my favourite part of it? Well that was that it was just Dan and I there, alone...and the terrace.

We both knew we were lucky to be able to afford a terrace rather than a balcony, and in the evenings...mornings...during the day, even when it was on the odd occasion raining, you would find me sitting out there. Working, or gazing off into the distance, contemplating life.

Since I'd moved in (the beginning of January that year) we had replaced the outside furniture- it being the 'moving in' present from my parents. There wasn't quite enough room for a separate table and chairs, but the wicker sofas and glass table did the job very well.

Over the railings lay a street which, during high season, was a hub of activity grâce à the ice cream shop. It was convenient how close it was to say the least. Nonetheless slightly worrying how often I would visit if they hadn't sold out of my favourite flavour, honeycomb. I say no more.

Past the street and other apartment blocks to the right there was a row of shops that, because of how high up we were, you could see over to then the harbour. The icing on the already pretty spectacular cake.

The harbour was where each day I would pick out a new yacht. Or lean over the railings for hours staring the waves, being a nosey bugger watching other couples stroll along, or runners out and about. Or even Fernando Alonso stopping for a quick drink in his sports gear.

If I couldn't sleep at night for whatever reason then that is where you'd find me- sitting out on the veranda, with or without the blanket (usually Daniel was wrapped up in that as well as the duvet. So, for the best part, I had to do without).

It was peaceful where we lived, but the buzz of one of the most prestigious places in the world was never far away. Especially if the people downstairs were throwing a party.

Which we had in fact been invited to after I ran into Céline whilst doing the mad dash around the supermarket. I'd run out of coffee and she'd accidentally used up all of the...caviar. No, I am not joking.

"Saskia..." Daniel popped his head around the door of the study where I was working from home. We'd landed back in the principality early morning after spending four days apart.

Dan had been in Las Vegas with a few friends from Perth while I stayed stuck to my chair at HQ. The days had gone fast during the F1 typical 8 a.m. to 10p.m., but as soon as night fell and the phone stopped ringing, I landed back in reality. I had missed Australian to say the least.

"Yeah?" I smiled, pushing my paper work away from me. A quick check of my watch told me it was just after six. Time to start getting ready...once I'd had some food. The maid had left some sort of cake on the side and it had been staring at me since precisely nine o'clock that morning. Sadly, I then remembered that I was on a strict diet for Lizzie and Paul's wedding. Not so fun. Perhaps I could take the cake down to Céline's...