Note: The following chapter is centred around an event that considering I've based my story around the real reults of 2014, I couldn't really leave out. There will be no description of the crash itself, or speculation about the cause, or Jules' injuries/condition, it is a chapter solely based on how I imagine my characters might think, feel, and react under the circumstances, some of which is based on my own feelings immediately after Suzuka. I know the F1 fan community, not just the inner circle continue to keep Jules and Michael in their thoughts. If it takes a miracle to bring them back to us in any form, then that is what we will hope for, however bleak it may seem, particularly in Michael's case. Let's hope 2015 is safer for all our motorsport boys (and girls) wherever they are. E x
Edit: 18/7/2015 this chapter was published many months before Jules slipped away. Rather than changing or deleting it, this story is from now on dedicated to his memory
EM
I had considered ringing Dan the moment I stepped onto Japanese soil, my heart racing at the thought, but decided against it. It was for both our sakes I told myself. He had more than enough to focus on over the course of the grand prix weekend without the added complication of..well...me.
The weather wasn't helping the situation either. Warnings were starting to come in of an approaching typhoon with rumours circulating that the race itself might be in jeopardy. There was no sign of that today however as I shouldered my kit and headed down to the garages, a little sore still, a little tired, but otherwise none the worse for my unscheduled hospital stay.
I had happily taken the McLaren team up on their offer, the invitation to spend practice with them eagerly confirmed as soon as I had touched down. I was under strict instructions from Darren not to overdo it this weekend, and what better way to ease gently into the usual routine than by chilling out in the McLaren garage for a couple of hours. I was only following orders I justified. It was a damn good excuse anyway and I couldn't wait to see everybody. I'd only missed one race but somehow it felt like I'd been away for far too long. I needed to feel the petrol flowing through my veins once more.
"Jenson!" I grinned as I entered the garage, and held out my hand to the tall Brit who had looked up from the car and was currently making a beeline towards me.
"Enough of that" he brushed my hand aside and moved to pull me into a hug. I held my breath, not wanting to reject the friendly gesture but anticipating pain. None came, instead I was clasped warmly but gently, and released with a smile.
"It's good to see you"
"You too" delight was something I knew I'd never have to fake with Jenson, or the rest of the team for that matter. Despite their stern, unsmiling figurehead, the team on the front line had been nothing but excessively welcoming from the very start.
"Have you met Kevin?" Jenson motioned to the young Dane on the other side of the garage. Younger than me I realised with a start. So many of them were these days - I wasn't watching older men putting their lives at risk anymore - I could have been watching my cousin, or my little brother. I WAS watching the man who had been my lover.
"Briefly" I answered in response, and waved to the blonde driver who raised his hand cheerily in return.
Jenson leaned in for a final word in my ear.
"I bet Dan's glad to have you back - he wouldn't say much but last time I saw him he was wandering round the paddock like a zombie"
I smiled weakly at him as he put his helmet on and climbed into the car. I wasn't so sure it was my state of health that had the Red Bull driver so worked up, but the information only reaffirmed my decision not to approach Dan until after the race. Whether what I had to say to him would make things better or worse I couldn't guess, but one thing was for sure - it was best said once the main business of the weekend was completed safely.
Once the car had accelerated out of the garage, the rest of the crew headed over to add their own greetings before they were called back to work. I embraced them all like old friends, glad to be noticed, glad to be missed, grateful that there were a few people in this manic environment who cared enough about an insignificant little (large) photographer to make sure that I was alright. Here at least for a little while I could push aside my worries about the rest of the weekend, and the inevitable conversation that lay ahead.
DAN
"How's it going?" Jenson clapped me on the shoulder as we waited for another round of media calls.
"Good! Better if this weather holds"
"Tell me about it! Good to see your girl back though."
"You've seen her?" I couldn't hide my surprise.
"She spent the session in my garage" he suddenly looked puzzled, embarrassed even. "You didn't know?"
I knew she'd be around, assumed she was busy trackside somewhere, not sitting in a garage a couple of doors down. I felt a new wave of disappointment and anger, rational or not, that she'd gone straight to them instead of me.
"She probably said, I just forgot about it. Is she there now?"
"She was when I left - it was a fairly open invitation I think."
I just nodded, refocusing my mind as I was directed here and there, the Japanese TV crews calling out our names. Actually they were calling out Jenson's name - the guy was infuriatingly popular around here.
I remained distracted throughout the interviews, answering most of the questions on autopilot. My mind was asking questions of it's own that I couldn't answer, and I couldn't get out of there fast enough to find out the truth for myself.
She was still in the garage, laughing and joking with one and then another as if nothing had happened. She wasn't the same fragile, vulnerable creature I had last seen swamped by hospital bedsheets, and I was relieved of course...in a way. Yet there was also a suddent twinge of hurt that she seemed so carefree when I'd bottled up my feelings over the last few weeks, dwelled on them to the point of madness. I couldn't even bring myself to tell my friends the truth in Singapore, and they were the only ones who'd known the whole story about Michelle. At least until recently.
I paused a few paces from the entrance, aware that I couldn't exactly march straight in to an opposing team's garage without a reason. As if I was emitting some kind of ultrasonic signal she detected my presence almost instantly and something changed. I wasn't sure that she was pleased to see me - if anything she looked scared and apprehensive but she walked towards me nonetheless, conscious perhaps that she didn't want to be overheard.
"Why have you been avoiding me?" I demanded quietly, making a conscious effort to keep my face neutral, while we were still in full view of the garage.
"I wasn't avoiding you - I was just giving you space"
I could see by the change in her expression that she knew how pathetic the words sounded the second they were out of her mouth.
"I think I've had enough space" I hissed, drawing her away from prying eyes and prying lenses.
"I didn't know what you wanted. Your texts...I...I've got a lot I need to say to you and I didn't want to say it now when your mind should be on preparing for qualifying and the race."
Her voice was faltering but honest at least, and I relaxed a little when I realised that there were more emotions beneath the surface than I had initially thought.
"Sunday night after the race then...unless it's a victory"
I offered a hesitant smile and was rewarded with one in return, but the barriers were still up and the distance between us remained.
EM
Red Flag.
I let the camera hang loose on it's strap, and concentrated instead on counting my boys back in one by one. Except they didn't all come back. I knew where Adrian was - we'd all seen him leaping nimbly over the barriers and out of harms way, but there was still one missing. I'd had very little contact with the charming Frenchman, but it was enough to see that he was likeable, popular, and talented. This was Formula One I reminded myself sternly - accidents happened all the time, but drivers usually walked away without a scratch.
I shivered slightly beneath my raincoat. Despite preparing for the conditions as well as I could, the rain had run down my sleeves as I lifted the camera, and trickled down my face and under my clothes. But this wasn't why I shivered. The PA system had gone eerily quiet, and there were no images, no replays of the incident which had stopped the race like there would normally have been.
Like there SHOULD have been.
**
The podium was an understandably muted affair, neither the drivers, nor spectators in the mood to celebrate and even those who didn't know what was going on could sense the anxiety in the air. For the first time since I started this job my mind was back in the university lecture hall debating dilemmas in photojournalism. Admittedly the lecture was probably designed with acts of war and terrorism in mind but the principles were the same - as a professional photographer it was my job to record and document events, whether good or bad. As a human being however, it was a different story. Lewis, Nico, Seb - I could see that their minds weren't really present on that rostrum and I didn't think their bodies wanted to be either. I wasn't interested in capturing their discomfort - these weren't the images that any of us wanted to remember. Hoping that Darren would forgive me I turned back towards the garages
Hurrying down the pit lane, I wasn't really looking where I was going, only seeing my own shock and disbelief reflected in the fleeting faces as they dipped in and out of focus. I knew exactly where I wanted to be though, and I was drawn there like a magnet. I'd seen Dan's face on one of the big screens, a face I'd come to know like my own but it wasn't enough. I needed to see him with my own eyes and I didn't stop running until I reached my destination.
Together they stood in a semi-circle of solidarity, arms across each others shoulders, staring grimly at the monitors. I hovered awkwardly on the outside, my gaze fixed only on one man. He looked unusually pale, his golden tan lacking it's regular glow and that dazzling beam a distant memory. His eyes were wide in horror, his expression utterly shellshocked. I didn't dare intrude, however much I wanted to reach out and touch him, to reassure myself that he at least was safe. As if sensing my thoughts he lifted his eyes from the screen and looked straight at me. Wordlessly he let his arm drop and held out his hand, drawing me into the group, the warmth of his body radiating through my clothes which were still dripping. I turned and held out my own hand to the guy on the other side of me. I didn't know who he was, it didn't matter. We were part of the same Formula One family and one of our own was in grave danger.
"It's been twenty years since Ayrton"
I never saw who spoke but the words hung in the air like the storm clouds above. I think to a degree we all had it in the back of our minds but now it had been spoken and could not be unsaid.
"We were all worried about Felipe though and look at him now"
Another voice attempted to break the tension and give us all a little hope, and I could see a few nods, a few shoulders relax a fraction. Beside me Dan was looking me up and down with concern.
"You need to dry off - you can't stay like that"
"I'll be fine" i insisted "My waterproofs are pretty good so it didn't go right through"
He carried on talking as if he hadn't heard, or as if he was afraid of the silence, or what I might fill it with.
"Seb and I keep a few sets of clothes at the track...you're as tall as we are...something might do..."
Despite the events of the last month, and the emotions of the day, he was still trying to look after me. When it was his friend who had been hurt, and he should have been the one in need of support he was still putting me first. If I didn't know Dan as well as I did, that alone would have told me all I needed to know. There weren't many men in the world who could match up to Daniel Ricciardo, I only prayed I wouldn't be forced to try and find one.
DAN
I headed straight for Seb's clothes assuming they'd be a better fit, and hoping he wouldn't mind under the circumstances. Must remember to compliment him on his useful girlish figure later, I thought to myself, but now was hardly the moment for jokes.
"Here - these should do if you belt them low"
I thrust the jeans and t-shirt towards her and she took them with a nod but no sound.
"I'll be back, you can change here - don't go anywhere..."
"Please" I added as an afterthought, aware that the words had come out as an order, as opposed to a request. I knew that the media were waiting, hoping for answers...a quote...something to appease the TV audiences who were doubtless wondering what was going on. I was usually fairly relaxed around the cameras, particularly with crews I'd come to know well, but today I was dreading it. Today I didn't feel like having every word, every fleeting expression scrutinised by millions.
I moved from microphone to microphone repeating the same robotic phrases that I knew we were all saying:
"No I haven't seen what happened"
"The result isn't really important"
"Our thoughts are with Jules and we're hoping for some good news"
All around there were whispers, theories, but few definite facts. There was also worryingly little news. That was the worst thing. One by one we realised that there was nothing more we could do as night fell over the circuit, and parted with the same words:
"Let me know as soon as you hear...if anything...whatever time it is"
I had a feeling sleep would not come easily to any of us tonight.
***
The journey back to the hotel was in almost total silence. It was an unprecedented situation for both of us, neither of us really knowing how to deal with it...or each other.
"I just keep thinking about what would have happened if it had been you" she blurted out as I shut the door behind us and we sat down on the bed. On opposite sides.
However well intentioned it may have been, it was the wrong thing to say.
"Why does it matter who it was? It could have been any of us. What's the point in saying you're so glad it wasn't me, when somewhere out there is a family wishing it was anyone but Jules. Have you thought about that?"
The response slipped out before I could stop it, and I watched the hurt well up in her eyes as my words hit home. Undoubtedly I WAS glad that it wasn't me - that natural human reaction was hard to deny, but accepting that, admitting it aloud meant saying that I was glad that a colleague, a friend, was currently lying in a hospital bed instead of me. The amount of guilt in that single thought was soul-destroying.
"Of course I've thought about that" she shot back.
"I know.. I shouldn't have said that" I admitted.
"We still need to talk.."
"Not now" I interrupted hurriedly, unable to cope with that on top of everything else that was going round inside my head.
"I know"
Silence returned and it wouldn't leave.
I lay back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling, wishing that my mind was as smooth and blank as the plaster above. I felt Emily mirror my movements on the other side of the bed, and some time later recognised the regular sounds of sleep.
I turned out the light and listened to the tones of Japan while the hours ticked away.
EM
I woke hot, disorientated and in total darkness. The source of the heat was soon explained - there was a firm but gentle pressure down one side of my body and around my waist, and from it radiated a warmth that permeated through my (Seb's) clothes and still further. I felt a surge of hope in my chest. Whether it had been a conscious action or not, at some point in the night Dan had sought comfort and seemingly found it. I could feel his breathing as he slept peacefully against my shoulder, his left arm outstretched across my stomach.
I lay like that for a while, unable to move without waking Dan, and unwilling to move away. All I ached to do was to roll towards him and tangle myself in his embrace but I was all too aware of how much was still unsaid and unresolved. If I reached out for him now and watched him recoil away from me I knew that I would crumble. With that thought in mind I began to dread the morning, and his reaction when he woke up.
We still needed to talk. But when.
Note 2:
Once again apologies for just how long it's taken to update (in my defence it is my longest chapter yet). I'm ashamed to admit that it took me far too long to realise that the best way to tackle this one was probably just to write as genuinely and as humanly as possible. If you feel that I've done this appropriately then I'm happy. If not - sorry, I tried!