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7. Seven

Seven

Harper

“ W ell, I’m going to settle in and watch the race now,” I said to my dad, after speaking on the phone for over an hour.

“Words I never thought I’d hear my daughter say. I will too, I think. Love you, sweetheart.” I placed my phone on the couch and turned the TV to a sports channel I never stayed on for longer than a minute.

A beautifully presented female journalist appeared on screen first, standing in a team garage.

“Welcome to the World GT Racing Car Championship Australia. We’re day two here in Darwin. It’s a balmy, thirty-nine-degree day, and we can’t wait to see what unfolds.” After her introduction, the list of drivers appeared on screen. Thomas was second, his perfectly sculpted hair was tousled just right. He was holding his racing helmet in his hands but was looking down, laughing. The sight of his smile was beginning to make me feel a little weak, if I was being honest with myself.

I had no idea what to expect from this coverage, but I enjoyed seeing Chris and Will on the screen. Keeping it on in the background, I haphazardly cleaned my apartment, freezing in many different spots when something exciting would happen. Usually, at this point on a Saturday, I would be going for a walk with friends or stopping in at the local store to buy food for the week. I didn’t mind the change in routine.

A while later, it was time for the race, so I sat down with a bowl of popcorn to watch it unfold. I was quickly becoming a fan of the whole thing, with the loud engines roaring, the expert commentating mixed with the vibrant colours of each team. I had to admit, Echidna Racing had the best colours—bright green and purple. I sent a good luck message to Chris for the day and to tell him I was fast becoming a fan. I was met with an instant reply.

Chris: Fantastic, you should come and join us next time, Allenwright!

I smiled, grateful for how welcoming Chris had been. He was an excellent leader for the staff and the team; pure passion and love for the sport motivated him.

All of the teams and cars were lined up on the starting grid, with the same journalist walking around talking to each of them. When approached, Thomas smiled before quickly putting his helmet on to answer his questions.

“Thank you, yes, very much looking forward to this race. We had some good pace this weekend, just looking to keep the momentum going.” He nodded and turned to speak with Tony, deciding the conversation was over for him. Typical.

“And the Darwin GT Enduro is underway,” the commentators announced after a practice lap. The first lap burst with action, with the cars twisting and turning down the track, weaving in and out between each other, some grazing side panels, in attempts to pass. Down the first corner was utter chaos, all the cars bottlenecked, and one even spun off the track, ruining their attempt at a perfect first lap. I looked out for the two Echidna Racing cars, number 45 and 89, Will and Thomas respectively. They were currently running side by side, with Thomas edging forward ever so slightly.

I wondered what their relationship was like. Thomas insisted they were friends, but he was dominating in points and skill, as opposed to Will, who was more experienced but lagging. The first race I watched of Thomas’s was when Will was encouraged to overtake to earn him more points since the Championship wasn’t in Thomas’s grasp just yet. This fired Thomas up on the radio and also after the race. Whenever I saw them together, they seemed civilised, but I could always feel slight hesitation on Thomas’s behalf. Maybe that was just him.

The remainder of the race was not quite as dramatic as the first lap, with not so much side panel damage. The pit stops were clean, and fast, and Thomas was drifting between second and third place, eyeing off first as his car hung off the back of the number one spot. Hungrily, he swerved from left to right, trying to overtake the first car, intimidating them. I could imagine his jaw clenched and his knuckles white through his gloves on the steering wheel. On the third last corner of the track, on the final lap, Thomas made his move. He was cunning and unforgiving as he touched the bumper of the car in front of him and then swerved out to overtake. It was a last-ditch attempt for first place, and the commentators matched his energy.

“Henry-Jackson overtakes Eagan with ease and relentless attitude. He’s going to win again, moving himself ever so slightly up the Championship list. Chris Verco is going to be one happy team owner.”

Just as they finished speaking, Thomas’s car powered through the finish line. The Echidna team ran out past the pits onto the side fence to yell out Thomas’s name while hugging each other. I felt a sense of pride, not just in Thomas winning, but in the team who I knew worked so hard, celebrating as well. These were as much their wins as Thomas’s.

I sent a congratulatory text to Chris and the team on social media and stood up to turn the TV off, when suddenly, Thomas’s car pulled up at the number one podium stand. His tall frame contorted as he disembarked from the car, the commentator catching him straight away.

“Congratulations, Thomas! Another win for you. How was that race?” the interviewer asked, angling her microphone up under the helmet that he was trying to take off.

“Thank you. Yeah, that was tough. Eagan was in my sight for most of that. He put up a great fight, and I had to get creative with how to overtake him. Thanks to my team for their efforts, as always. Cheers,” he finished with a thumbs up and flashed a dopey smile at the camera.

I found myself smiling back at him; his sandy blond hair poking out in all directions on top of his head, red sweaty face, and those freckles . I thought about sending Thomas a congratulatory text message but stopped myself. We weren’t even friends .

Thomas

“Congratulations, mate!” Will extended his hand out to me as I walked into the garage.

“Well done, Jacko!” Landon yelled out, along with cheering from the crew. This was our second win for the season and everyone in the garage was stoked.

Post-race was one of my favourite times of the weekend. Once the debriefs were over and the media commitments done, it was time to chill. Literally. Chris always had two ice baths set up for Will and me after the race. Even if we were somewhere colder like Tasmania, we would still use them.

It calmed my mind. There could be a lot of noise and so much pressure during the race that the freezing temperature soothed my body and mind.

I was scrolling through my phone in the ice bath when Chris forwarded me the email with the subject: This one’s a keeper .

I opened the email to see a digital version of Harper’s story on me. I braced myself to read it but was pleasantly surprised.

“Thomas Henry–Jackson, a professional to his core, is a devout rev head with a passion for racing, cars, and his team. Echidna Racing is full of kind, hard-working, and dedicated people who bring each race event to life so that the drivers can perform at their absolute best. The week I spent with the team was both eye-opening and exciting, starting up a new interest for me that I had never considered.”

Harper’s article was written with such respect and insight into our team that I had to wonder how she found so much to say after such a short stay. I guess that was the thing—she was a professional and bloody good at it, too.

Once again, I felt ashamed of how I had spoken to her in those first few days, the regret was palpable. I let my childhood shit get in the way—all the media following my parents around trying to get insight into the next Melbourne Cup winner. It bothered me and my brother. We felt shut out and separate from not only our parents but also the kids at school, who would give us shit for always appearing in the background of a shot in the news. It may have sounded like a pathetic attempt at childhood trauma, but it was always just my brother and me. We were the family, and our parents were only around every once in a while. It was me, my brother, and our nanny (yes, a nanny) for most of our childhood.

I was grateful for the opportunities that growing up with money gave me. I never would have started kart racing if it wasn’t for my dad’s push. I knew I owed them gratitude for how we were brought up, but I guess I just wished we could have been more of a family unit.

As I got out of the ice bath and changed into my casuals, I decided to read through Harper’s article for a second time. I pictured how she would have looked, perched at my desk, typing away, and pretending not to notice me, which always drove me wild.

** *

Harper

My car was packed and ready for the two-and-a-half-hour drive to Nelson Bay. I was spending the weekend with my entire family to celebrate my brother Andy’s birthday. The entire Allenwright family hadn’t been together since both my brothers moved to Perth for the Navy, which was two years ago. With snacks and a playlist ready to go, I was glad to get out of the city and have a change of scenery. The drive up was going to be a lot of fun, full of in-car karaoke, and unhinged road rage. Just like any other girl’s road trip.

I was jamming out to one of my favourite songs when an incoming call came through. I had to read the name a few times before registering who it was. ‘ Thomas Henry-Jackson (Prick)’ was how he was saved in my phone, just in case I ever forgot. I hit the green answer button on my steering wheel.

“Hello? Is this a butt dial?”

“What? No, it’s Thomas. How are ya?” he asked, his voice sounding slightly muffled. I turned the speaker volume up.

“Yeah, I know it’s you. Why are you calling me?” I tried to keep my tone casual.

There was a slight pause before he answered, “Why not? Is there a rule against calling you?” His usual accusing tone was ever-present.

I kept my eyes on the road as the traffic started to build closer to Nelson Bay. The sun was setting in the distance, a vibrant mix of light orange colours.

“No rule, just confused. Did you mean to call a different Harper?” I answered sarcastically.

“There is only one Harper I know and it’s you. Can you stop being difficult for once?” He was getting frustrated with me, which only made me want to tease him more.

“Fine, what would you like to talk about, Thomas? And why are you so muffled?”

His response was a loud sigh on the other end of the phone before he chuckled. “The headphones I’m using are broken. Only one ear works.”

I realised I had no idea what to say to him, so I stayed silent on the other end. Then I remembered his race last weekend.

“Hey, congrats on winning the race up at Darwin!” I said, feeling proud for thinking of something to say.

He paused. “Yeah, thanks. It was a pretty big challenge, but it worked out in the end. Pressure’s on to get to the Championship now. Getting closer.”

I considered briefly how he must have felt after his win. I could hear the pride in his voice and couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to go. I’m about to arrive at my parents’ place for the weekend,” I said, feeling a slight sense of disappointment at the thought of hanging up.

“Oh sure, no worries. Maybe I can give you a call later on?”

“Sure thing! Have a good weekend,” I replied and hung up.

I was unsure about why he called. Did he want to try to be friends? Maybe he’d had a crisis of conscience after being such an asshole?

Either way, I was suddenly looking forward to seeing his name appear on my phone soon.

As I pulled up to my parents’ house, I saw my dad and brothers on the front balcony with beers in their hands, waving me in. I couldn’t wait to spend time with them all. I had missed them so much. My brothers gave me about two seconds after getting out of my car before they picked me up and Andy threw me over his shoulder, just like he used to do when I was kid.

“Okay! Great! Put me down!” I yelled, struggling to keep a straight face. Andy did as I asked, and Brendan went to fetch my things out of the car. Moments later, Mum and Dad came out and hugged me.

“So good to see you, darling,” Mum whispered in my ear.

After the welcome party had died down, I took my bags to my room and lay on the bed for a few minutes. After a full day of work, and then a lengthy drive, I was feeling sufficiently exhausted.

I was happy for my parents, that they were finally settling in one place. It couldn’t have been easy for my mum. Being the wife of a military member required a lot of sacrifice, forgiveness, and a certain level of sanguine in times of chaos. Their retirement had been nothing short of busy, which was typical of my parents. They went on an overseas trip for almost a year straight after their joint retirement party, and now lived in their dream home by the beach.

My story on Echidna Racing and Thomas was well received. I had a barrage of text messages and congratulatory emails come through shortly after the article was released online Saturday morning. I was proud of the story and considering the short amount of time I was given to both write and finalise the story, I was also impressed with how well I’d done under pressure. Chris sent me a very kind message, which I read out to my family over breakfast. I felt a sense of contentment as I looked around the table, surrounded by my entire family smiling back at me, proud of my efforts.

“Harper, we have just read the online version of your story. Thank you for painting the Echidna experience as honestly and thoughtfully as you have. Thomas is our rising star, and you emulated his likeness perfectly. You’re always a part of our family. Chris.” I smiled thinking of the team at the racing headquarters. I wondered what Thomas had thought, or if he had even read the article.

Could that be why he called?

***

I enjoyed the weekend with my family. It was always hard to say goodbye, though, especially to my brothers as I knew I wasn’t going to see them for a while.

“Take care of yourself, Harps,” Andy said as he pulled me in for a quick hug.

“Love you, sis,” Brendan said, messing up my hair.

After we’d all said our goodbyes, I hopped into the car and tried to hold onto my tears just long enough to be out of eyesight. Sometimes, I wished we weren’t all so spread out, but I could say with confidence that my family were all incredibly happy where they were. They all lived the life they wanted, and with that knowledge, it was hard to stay sad for long .

Just as with the drive up, I had a phone call around two hours into my journey as I neared the outskirts of Sydney.

‘ Thomas Henry-Jackson (Prick) ’ was calling again .

“Thomas,” I answered.

“Hey, Harper, how’s it going?” His voice was chirpy and much clearer this time.

“I’m alright. Soon to hit Sydney traffic,” I said as I noticed the cars in front of me starting to slow down. This was going to be the worst part of the drive.

“I believe I have some grovelling to do,” Thomas stated through my car speakers.

“Oh, is that so?” I responded, trying to sound disinterested.

“Harper, your story on our team was brilliant, and you didn’t make me seem like a prick, even though I was one to you the whole time. Thank you for that, by the way. It was great.”

His genuine apology took me by surprise. I looked ahead as the traffic came to a grinding halt. “Well thanks, Thomas. That’s nice of you to say. I’m glad you liked it. Chris sent me a message as well.”

This conversation was all very polite, but I was still feeling a little baffled as to why he was randomly calling me, twice in the space of so many days.

“When you’re back, would you like to get dinner?” he asked out of the blue.

I frowned, both my eyebrows coming together. I caught my reflection in my rear-view mirror. Yep, confused.

“Umm…” I couldn’t string words together.

“How about tonight? You won’t have any food in the house if you’re still driving back. I could bring some takeaway over?”

“You don’t know where I live,” I answered, not acknowledging his invitation.

“I will when you tell me,” he replied, not missing a beat.

I took a moment to consider his invitation. I guessed there was no harm. I could test a little theory about what his face did to my nerves.

“Fine. I’ll text it to you. If you even so much as breathe in an asshole-y way, I’m kicking you out.” I hung up the phone, best to keep him guessing. As I was still at a standstill, I texted him a time, my address, and the foods I didn’t like, mainly seafood. I had no idea what he was into or what he might bring with him.

Arriving home, I begrudgingly walked up to my apartment with my bags and plonked them just inside my door. I felt instant relief at the sight of my apartment.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about Thomas being in my space, but I changed into some loungewear and tidied up quickly.

Was it anxiety or excitement I was feeling? Only time would tell.