Night Wait

Jacob wasn’t exactly sure how he’d worked out that Stoermer Vonich drove around the tracks on a Friday evening, every grand prix weekend. Maybe it was the noise- he also wasn’t sure how no one else seemed to notice, or if they did, seem to care. Maybe it was the fact that he noticed Stoermer’s Ferrari was always the wrong way around in his garage on Saturday mornings.

And he didn’t really know why he came to watch him. It has surprised him how easy it was to sneak into the grand stands at night, or at least at most circuits. Sometimes it meant he didn’t get much sleep, because sometimes the Ferrari would only come out after one in the morning. Sometimes it rained and could be very cold.

He shivered and let out a frosty breath into the crisp night air. Tonight was one of those cold nights. Tracks like Valencia or Spa were usually quite pleasant after the sun went down, but this was Canada, and the temperature dropped pretty quickly.

Wrapping his McLaren team jacket more tightly around him and rubbing his ribs in an effort to get warmer, Jacob craned his neck to see further over the barriers onto the track. He always sat right at the bottom row if he could, out of the way of the brightest lights that were always on at the sides of the seating area, and out of sight of anyone in the windows of the commentary and press boxes.

So this is the ‘glamour’ of the F1 life.

Just as he was sick of the podiums, he was sick of the hiding and the secrecy. He knew it was his own fault, his own fault for falling for someone he could never have, but he hated it all the same.

Jacob reluctantly peeled his sleeve back, exposing his wrist to the cold air as he checked the time. It was past midnight, and he’d usually spot the lights go on in Stoermer’s garage by now. Squinting, he sighed and sat back against the seat again- all the garages past the pit wall were shrouded in blackness.

The track was very dark, but there were a few lights around and it was probably enough to see by. Jacob’s stomach squirmed. He always got so nervous, waiting for the noise of that V8 engine. Often, different scenarios played over and over again in his head- what if he locks up and goes into the barriers, what if something goes wrong on the car, what if he has a serious accident. It was like a broken record, sharp and painful. He didn’t really know what he would do- he had no idea where to find the stewards, they were probably all in bed, and there wasn’t anyone else in particular to call. All he thought about was having to run across the tarmac towards the flames.

It made him feel sick just thinking about it, so he tried, as always, to turn his thoughts away from racing. Instantly an image of his little sister floated into his mind. Jacob’s family was small, but he liked it that way- fewer complications. His mother had died when he was much younger, and he didn’t remember a lot about her, only that she had been quite sharp-tongued and he had thought at the time, unfair and strict. But from what he had heard from his father, she had cared about him very much.

He had been born in the city of New York, but he had never been particularly attracted to it. Too many tight spaces. Far too many people. He had much preferred his long summers in Virginia, karting every day and enjoying the outdoors. It was his father who had first persuaded him to have a go at karting; he’d always had a fascination with cars (mainly the speed factor) but had never previously had the money to start anything. For an F1 driver he started relatively late into the karting championships, but quickly passed in to the Formulae.

He remembered that his mother had never particularly approved of his karting activities, but he wasn’t sure why. At the funeral his father had taken him aside and said, Jacob remembered the seriousness of his tone, that he should always continue doing what he loved, no matter who approved of it or not.

His sister, Jessica Jackson, was born just three months before his mother passed away. It was a hugely difficult time for him and his father, having to manage his karting while looking after a baby on their own. But he didn’t remember much other than the freedom he felt when he raced.

Of course, she wasn’t very little anymore- she turned thirteen next month. Since Jacob had progressed into Formula 1, he had grown more and more distant with his family, his father only occasionally coming to see him race, Jessie hardly ever. But Jacob forgave him for that; it probably only brought back memories of when his mother had been alive, and he suspected that his father didn’t want Jessie growing up in this kind of environment.

The main contact he had with his family was his uncle Robert, who often came to the circuits when they were in Europe, and here in Canada. Jacob really did like his uncle- he was his mother’s brother and so he felt like he was the main link back to her. Robert had been his family support that all drivers seemed to need at one stage or another, and Jacob was grateful for it.

His meandering train of thoughts was cut short as distant footsteps broke the shadowy silence of the grandstand. Jacob’s blood froze as they got louder and his body insisted on staying exactly where he was, as if the darkness would keep him safe. Get up, run that way-

But his legs refused to operate. The footsteps stopped and Jacob reluctantly turned his head, bracing himself for whatever extreme telling off he was about to get-

“Thought you’d be here.”

His eyes widened in surprise and relief. “Valerie?”

“Hey, Jake,” she smiled. His main engineer plonked herself in the seat next to him and shivered. “It’s freezing out here.”

“How did you get in?” Jacob asked, a little stunned.

“Same as you, I guess,” Valerie kept smiling, but he suddenly noticed that her usually enthusiastic olive green eyes were wary and worried. He opened his mouth to speak but frowned and closed it again, sweeping his gaze back to the pit wall on the other side of the track. They sat in silence for a minute.

“Are you waiting for him?” Jacob felt Valerie shiver next to him.

Jacob suddenly felt a flare of anger. “Can I not do anything anymore without someone knowing about it?” he muttered, tempted to stand up, but he wasn’t sure why.

He was hoping Valerie would respond with an equally irritated reply, but she remained silent. After a few moments the anger faded and he sighed, rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his hair.

Still no sign of him.

“Jake,” she began, then hesitated as he glanced at her.

“There isn’t any point in telling me not to,” he said stubbornly.

“I wasn’t going to,” Valerie crossed her arms, shivering again. “I was going to remind you that Joe wanted to talk to you about the set up for tomorrow, and you need to see Karsten before he goes to bed.”

Jacob groaned. Karsten was his trainer out here on track, and while the German was very thorough in his night-before-qualifying exercises, it never put Jacob (or Karsten) in the best of moods. Usually he would get all his jobs done before midnight, so he could come down to the track.

“Is he still up?” he rubbed his cheeks, trying to get some warmth into them.

“Well he usually waits up for you, doesn’t he?”

Jacob detected something else in her tone and narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying?”

Valerie paused again, and it was a long and thoughtful one. “You know the team care a lot about you, you know that, right?”

Jacob stared stonily out past the fence to the pit wall, still watching for any signs of light from the Ferrari garage. Nothing.

“And you don’t have to do this to yourself.”

Jacob turned his head. “Do what exactly?”

She gestured towards the silent circuit beyond the fence. “I’m talking about you, beating yourself up every race. I’m not the only one that notices.”

He gritted his teeth slightly but squared his shoulders. “I doubt anyone would guess.”

“It’s not about if they’d guess or not,” Valerie suddenly snapped. He glanced at her and her expression was not positive. “It doesn’t do you any good, Jake.”

He was about to reply with well I can’t exactly stop it, can I?, then realised how childish that sounded. Once again his anger faded into nothingness.

“I just mean that sometimes, it would do you good to look around at the people who care about you more than he does.” Valerie sighed, reached over and gently squeezed my hand. “I don’t like you being like this, it doesn’t do you or the car any good. You ruined the tyres far too quickly in Spa.”

Jacob couldn’t help but give a little laugh. Silence again. He wasn’t sure how long they sat there for in the darkness, just gazing out onto the track. His thoughts wouldn’t go to his family anymore, he was back thinking about the qualifying he would have to do tomorrow, and the race on Sunday. His main engineer, Joe, certainly thought he could get another podium, maybe even a win if they could get a good position over the Ferrari drivers.

No V8 noise. No light in the pit lane. Nothing.

“Maybe someone saw him last time,” Valerie whispered. It suddenly felt much more silent and Jacob agreed on the need to whisper.

“Apart from me, y’mean?” he asked sarcastically.

She nudged him with her elbow. “You should get some sleep. Q3 tomorrow, Joe said, nothing less.”

Jacob sighed heavily through his nose. “Okay.” He gave another small smile. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

His engineer grinned back, green eyes now back to their normal excitable self. Jacob was relieved. She stood up and disappeared up the shadowed steps.

Jacob sat more upright than before and gave one last, slightly forlorn glance over the track and pit lane opposite. She’s probably right, maybe he realises how stupid he’s being. He swallowed as he realised that sentence could also relate to himself.

‘You know the team care a lot about you, you know that, right?’

Without looking back, he stood up, wrapping his jacket around him once again, and started to walk back to the paddock to find Karsten.