Page 56 of Away We Go

Her reply with a thumbs up tells me she’s now in the thick of it all and is too busy to type words. Today is race day and if I wasn’t on my deathbed, I’d be there next to her running around with my camera to capture the last-minute preparation before lights out.

“Not today,” I croak.

With the decision made to stay home and nurse myself back to health, I change into my pyjamas, each movement of my body causing a jolt to my brain. I hadn’t felt this bad yesterday, or even this morning when I’d informed Serena ‘I was fine to come to work,’ but it seems I’ve taken a turn for the worse. This is the sort of cold where the usual over-the-counter medications don’t seem to work. The sort of cold where my head is throbbing, my nose is blocked, my throat is on fire, and I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest.

“Not good.”

I lie my aching head back against the pillow and pull the blanket over my shivering body. A minute ago, I was boiling hot, so it’s safe to assume I have a fever to go along with all the phlegm.

My phone vibrates on the table next to me and I wince at the sound.

Nicky

You’re sick?

Ah, that hadn’t taken long. For the last two days, I’d been avoiding him for several reasons. One: I knew I had some sort of cold and didn’t want to risk giving it to him. And two: we decided to keep our distance until the public spotlight is off us.

Cherry

I’m fine. Focus on the race.

My eyes hurt from just sending that message and I throw my phone to the side. Sleep is the best course of action to get over this cold, but I refuse to miss watching Nicky’s race. I swallow two paracetamol tablets to help combat the fever and turn the TV on to the sports channel.

“Ah, the driver's parade.”

I turn off the lights and settle back on my pillow, thrilled that I at least get to see Nicky on my TV screen.

My phone vibrates next to me.

Nicky

Do you need anything? I can send James to get it.

Poor James. These days, it feels like he’s working for both of us.

Cherry

How are you texting me? I’m watching you on TV.

I squint at the brightness of the screen across the room from me. My eyes aren’t playing tricks on me; Nicky is there with all the other nineteen drivers. Only he’s got his head down, staring at his phone.

Nicky

I’m multi-tasking.

Cherry

I’m going to need proof that this is happening in real-time.

His lips twitch into a smile on my screen.

Nicky

What sort of proof?

Cherry

Do the chicken dance!

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