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‘Why not?’
‘Come on. Who’s going to look out for you?’
Pete’s audacity shocks me. That he still thinks he has a say. I think of the handsome doctor who treated me. Maybe I should go and get his number. ‘I can take care of myself.’
Stella turns to Pete. ‘I’m not leaving either.’
‘What?’ Pete looks like he’s about to explode. This is a lovers’ quarrel I don’t need to be in the middle of. He’s not going to be any help to me. He’s not even going to be at the race any more.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ I mutter, and I notice that neither one of them protests.
Pete is furious. Stella defiant.
As I slip away, my mind is still reeling. Pete and Stella. Stella and Pete.
‘Adrienne?’ Someone shouts my name from the next tent over.
I glance back. Jason – the podcast guy – runs up beside me.
I stiffen, my shoulders tight by my ears. ‘Not now.’
He holds his hands up. ‘I know, I hear you. I get it. I’d leave you alone if I felt like I could. Just five minutes …’
‘I’m here to race, that’s it. I don’t have five minutes.’ A crowd of photographers and media have gathered by tent number two, where Rupert holds court, and a man carrying a huge video camera on his shoulder blocks my path. I dodge out of the way, but Jason still follows me.
‘Please, it’s important. I have something to show you. You’ll want to see it.’
I sigh. ‘What?’
He glances over at the documentary crew. In his hands he’s got a red spiral-bound notebook, which he grips tight. ‘Not here. Come with me.’
‘No, I can’t right now.’ I want to be alone.
‘After dinner, meet me?’
‘OK!’ I say, exasperated, desperate to get this guy to leave me alone.
‘Promise?’ He wipes away a few beads of sweat from above his eyebrow.
I walk away without answering. I don’t want to be dragged into Jason’s podcast; it took everything I had to get them to leave me alone the first time. It was hard enough getting up the courage to come here. I want to concentrate on my why: the answers promised by Boones.
Jason reaches out, grabbing my arm. I twist away, but he only holds on more forcefully. I almost scream, but the look in his eyes stop me.
‘It’s about Ethan, OK?’
I feel the blood drain from my face, my insides turning to liquid. There’s no trace of a lie that I can see. No trickery.
‘You were right all along. It wasn’t a random accident. And I can help you prove it.’
‘Show me,’ I say, my previous reticence forgotten.
But then the camera I dodged earlier is suddenly right in my face. ‘Adrienne Wendell?’ a young woman asks, standing behind the cameraman’s shoulder. ‘I’m Jackie Henman from OutRun Productions – we’re doing a documentary on the race. How does it feel to be Boones’s runner thirteen?’
‘Excuse me, I was in the middle of –’
Jason sneaks behind the camera and mouths ‘Later’ at me. He lifts his notebook, pointing to it.
I nod, following him with my eyes as he retreats. Then Jackie asks me another question, and, just like that, I’m sucked back into the vortex of being in the public eye.