Connected (F1 Story)

Chapter Ten: Our Victory

The video is really worth watching. Definitely.

That week was tough, incredibly tough in fact. From the service in Nice to the drinks afterwards and the days following those events. The leadup to the Hungarian Grand Prix had been unfamiliar, a venture into the unknown, for a want of a better phrase.

The sun set on the Saturday evening at the Hungaroring in Budapest as the whole grid of drivers sat around a big round table at a nearby restaurant. As a mark of respect, all corporate events had been moved to the day beforehand or cancelled so everyone could celebrate the life of Jules. Together.

Chatter filled the air as food was served and I sat with the rest of our Marketing Team, away from our two drivers. This wasn't our night.

I picked at my pasta before politely setting down my knife and fork. My appetite had been wiped clean from me. I couldn't stomach anything.

From nearby Daniel (who was wearing his cap with a message for Jules written on it) stopped talking with Sebastian Vettel and looked over to me, giving me a reassuring expression to make sure that I was okay. Which I was.

"Feels so weird," Lizzie commented quietly, too not finishing her food. "Different. Not good. I don't know how to deal with this."

"I know what you mean," I replied, noticing Bridget give us both an empathetic look. She hadn't been to an international race in a good two years. She certainly hadn't been to one other than Silverstone since I had been part of the team.

"I'm going to go to the toilet," Lizzie said, not using the usual 'wee' or 'piss' terminology. Our boss' presence had that effect. Even if she was being much, much nicer than usual.

"I'll come." I stood up and pulled my skirt down. Yes the restaurant was big, but that didn't mean that it wasn't stuffy inside the room- especially with twenty drivers and another one-hundred plus personnel from all ten teams sharing not nearly enough floor space.

Off to to the toilets we went and I did the most plausible thing which was to stand right next to the open window, with my head practically out of it. A text came through from Samuel asking when I'd be back at the hotel and I replied honestly; I didn't know. Usually the driver meeting would last under an hour, but tonight it could be a lot more than that considering the circumstances.

"Dude, can you sing or something?" Lizzie asked, shouting from inside the cubicle. Good point, well made.

Humming the first thing that came into my head (Michael Jackson), I stuck my head back inside the room and helped myself to some of the fancy hand lotion. That was a big bonus to hanging out in a place like this.

Thankfully, Lizzie came out after not so long and flicked water from the wash basin tap over me. Merci buckets, Green.

"God, I am so tired." The blonde leant back against the tiled wall and sighed. Actually, she did have unusually big bags under her eyes- which she never normally had.

"Is Paul alright?" I asked, tossing her a mini towel to dry her hands. At times I could be an awesome friend (when it suited/ when I could be bothered).

"He's alright, I'm alright...what about Danny?"

"Yeah...better. I really shouldn't say this, but it wasn't a shock...however horrible it still was." I knew it sounded even worse out loud.

"And you?" asked Lizzie sympathetically.

"Just being there for Dan..." I shrugged, brushing my hair away from my eyes. "Although..." But then I stopped, shaking my head. The hair went back in front of my eyes. Blimming-fucking-tastic.