ALICE Ch 241

Starting positions for the British Grand Prix

1. Verstappen (Red Bull)

2. Norris (McLaren)

3. Alonso (Aston Martin)

4. Flores (Freedom)

5. Sainz (Ferrari)

6. Wilde (FUTA)

7. Hamilton (Mercedes)

8. Bottas (Aston Martin)

9. Woodcock, M. (Williams)

10. Pattinson (McLaren)

11. Dunham (Freedom)

12. Mido (FUTA)

13. Dunham (Freedom)

14. Tanaka (Mercedes)

15. Woodcock, S. (Williams)

16. Ricciardo (Haas)

17. Magnussen (Haas)

18. Ocon (AlphaTauri)

19. Laakso (AlphaTauri)

DNF LeClerc (Ferrari)

It’s painfully quiet in Alice’s little closet of a room at HQ. She sits on the bench, hands clasped. The room smells like a gym, although it’s difficult to tell if that’s Alice or Glynda. Nobody is ever particularly put together after being in a Formula One car, and Glynda’s under enough pressure that her sweating can be forgiven.

Glynda peels her polo away from her chest and fans herself a bit, then goes back to gazing at the opposite wall. They’re as far from each other as they can get in the confined space.

Glynda’s was the voice in Alice’s ear today. Lora handled Mio. It’s the best solution under the circumstances. Lora would not be easy to replace, and Glynda previously managed Faye.

“If you want to say something, I’m listening,” Glynda says finally.

Alice shakes her head. “I don’t.”

“You drove well.”

Alice takes a deep breath and nods. Glynda turns to go, then pauses. The room is so small that she doesn’t have to even reach. She puts a fingertip on Alice’s shoulder, and Alice looks up.

Glynda glowers down at her. There was a time when Alice would’ve been intimidated. That time isn’t now. If Alice stands up, she’s a full head taller than Glynda. It’s a little difficult to focus; like this, Glynda’s distractingly generous chest is literally impossible to ignore. It makes Alice want to laugh.

“What?” she asks after a moment. Glynda’s just standing there.

The older woman sighs. A lot of things could be said that aren’t. The car was slow. Not disastrously slow, just slow enough that Alice couldn’t start at the front. Glynda’s not as good as Lora, but she’s OK.

Slow, but not too slow. OK. Fine. Sufficient. Mediocre. Alice stays calm.

“What?”

“God. This is so bloody stupid.” Glynda groans in frustration.

Alice is taken aback.

“Why did it have to be my daughter?” Glynda demands.

“Excuse me? I didn’t hit her,” Alice says defensively. Or is Glynda just venting? At all her bad fortune? The privileged, white woman who gets to travel the world with her daughter?

“Not that,” Glynda says disdainfully. “You. You.” She points that finger at Alice’s face.

Affronted, Alice stands up. “What?”

“Why couldn’t you just go and be with Irina. And Cosette. And bloody Kylie and the… Woodcocks,” Glynda adds, frustrated. “Why her?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ. You’re pissed about me and Faye?”

“No! I’m not. That’s why I’m angry.”

“You aren’t making any goddamn sense,” Alice says through gritted teeth. “Sounds like you’re the one with something to say, Glynda.”

“You make her happy!”

Alice hesitates.

“I’m sorry?”

“You make her happy,” Glynda repeats, throwing up her hands. “I’ve never seen her this way.”

“She’s on ****.”

“It’s not the ****,” Glynda hisses. “And it would just make my life so much simpler if it was just my team and my career riding on you. But it’s my daughter as well. Why am I saying this? Never mind.” She stalks out of the room.