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Ijust about make it down the drive without running over the fucking pariahs of the press who line the gravel path down to the farmhouse. I make a mental note to talk to someone about some security. I’m not sure if it’s something my agent can do, or Kelsey, but maybe there’s someone they can recommend. It’s a relief to get back inside the house.

‘It’s awful out there.’ I shuck off my jacket and throw my shades down onto the counter where Grant’s preparing lunch for the kids.

‘Worse than yesterday?’ he asks, continuing to chop cucumber into sticks, each slice of the knife a little bit more aggressive.

‘Much. Not sure who gave them the right to ask such invasive questions, but yeah, definitely worse. Today they were mainly asking if I was worried about missing Singapore?’

‘They either don’t have family or are complete monsters. Who wouldn’t miss a race to come home and grieve for a much-loved parent?’

It’s a good question, but not one I can answer.

‘I’m going to talk to the team’s head of security and see if there’s anyone they can recommend to help give us a bit more privacy until this dies down.’

I actually can’t think of anything more awful than Elise having to face these vultures right now. While she and I both grew up in the public eye because of our celebrity parents, she’s made every possible life choice to take herself as far from the spotlight as possible.

She’s never had media training on how to handle such intrusive questions without snapping, especially when she’s under emotional duress, like she is now.

It would be nothing short of a bloodbath if she steps off the property.

‘Maybe we could try an electric fence or something, so if they get too close they’ll get zapped.’ I laugh in response but it’s not a bad idea at all.

I’m just opening a couple of beers when I hear movement upstairs. It sounds like Elise is heading to the bathroom, but at least I know she’s out of bed.

‘How’s the to-do list looking?’ he asks as I extend a beer bottle to him.

‘Awful, Grant. I don’t know how to do this.’ I’m not even saying it for sympathy or so he’ll help me more, I truly mean it. I’m good at being organised about my racing life, but outside of that I don’t feel like I can get a grip on anything most of the time.

‘I chose the flowers.’ I didn’t have a clue what I was doing but I have a memory of some flowers that Mum loved to have on the windowsill and I went for a whole lot of those ones. They’re pink and white, but I don’t remember what the florist called them or what they’re supposed to mean.

I’ve felt like that a lot recently. With Elise not getting out of bed and Grant looking after the kids, all decisions are on me. Which is fine. I’m happy to do it. It’s time for me to bear the weight of this responsibility for once in my life. But I do wish I wasn’t doing it alone. I want it to be perfect for Mum and I think that can only be delivered by Elise.

‘I hope you got Astrantias.’ Hearing Elise’s voice in the doorway sends goosebumps down my arms and tears pinpricking the backs of my eyes. ‘Mum planted them in the garden and picked them all the time. While she still could, she used to leave them in our shared bathroom. They symbolize strength, the strength that she wanted us to have.’

My arms open and Elise attaches herself to me and I finally let myself cry. The kitchen fills with sounds of sobs and apologies on both of our parts which neither of us really need to be saying. All we need is to grieve in our own ways, to process the loss, and to remember Mum together.

The jet lag is brutal, and I’ve spent the last two sleepless nights running over different memories of Mum from the last three decades. There are so many good ones and that’s what’s been important to me while trying to come to terms with the loss.

I can’t even begin to think how it’s been for Elise, because although we’ve both known that Mum’s been sick for years, Elise is the one who’s had to live with it every hour of the day since then. I’m just hoping all of her good memories haven’t been taped over by the ones of Mum losing her motor functions, and her ability to recognise people.

We hold each other for what feels like hours, while Grant busies himself around us, feeding the kids, tidying up, and starting dinner so Elise and I can just be together. I’m going to have to thank him in a major way when things start to feel more normal. Elise picked herself a good guy. I’m almost jealous. No, that’s not right – I’m envious.

I’m envious that Elise has someone to look after her while she grieves. I’m envious she has someone to hold her when she cries. I’m envious she has someone to listen to her stories and memories of a person that they’ve heard a hundred times already.

Could Harper ever have become that for me? I almost snort into my sister’s hair. Not likely. He must know by now that Mum’s passed away – it’s on every news outlet, and of course I wasn’t there in qualifying – but he hasn’t rung.

Well of course he hasn’t, you idiot. You blocked him!

He can’t.

I’d almost forgotten about that picture and that I’d blocked him off of everything.

I don’t even know the result from qualifying.

Elise pulls away from my hug and tears flood my cheeks as she produces a picture on her phone of the flowers in question.

‘Yeah, that’s what I picked, amongst many others. I could see them in my mind and when the florist pointed to these ones I just knew.’

‘You did good, baby bro. I don’t need to know what else you picked to know that. Mum will love it regardless.’ The way she speaks in the present tense, as if Mum’s still here watching over our good and bad choices, breaks me again and this time it’s her holding me up as I cry.

She’s so strong, she just soaks it all up, giving me my moment to grieve. I’m sure, because I know her, that she’ll give me all the moments I need. We’ll give them to each other.

Grant’s off chasing the kids somewhere, giving the two of us a moment of privacy.

‘Bloody hell,’ I say, reaching for a tissue from the counter to blow my nose. ‘I don’t think my tear ducts have had a workout like that in a long time.’ I can’t even think of the last time I cried that much.

‘Sometimes we just need it. I’m glad you let it out. I was worried when Grant said you hadn’t cried yet. Now, tell me more about the funeral.’ A switch has flipped and Elise is back in organised, superwoman mode, ready to take on the world.

‘I still have all this to do.’ Thank God for my to-do list on my phone because it’s easy for her to scan and understand where I’m at with funeral planning.

‘We can do this.’ She squeezes my hand, and for the first time since I’ve been home, I can agree with that. Things start to feel easier when you don’t feel so alone doing them.

We eat together, my sister, brother-in-law and I, discussing the outstanding decisions and splitting up the tasks between the three of us.

Once everything’s been loaded into the dishwasher, I spot a text from Anders asking if I’m free to jump on a video call. So, I head upstairs to the guestroom I’m staying in and prop my phone up on my pillow and make the call.

‘Hey, Anders.’ As I say his name, Jackson appears in shot, too. ‘And Anders Junior.’

They both laugh and it breaks the ice. There’s no way in the world they don’t notice how bad I look so at least this eases the conversation slightly.

‘How’re you doing, son?’ Anders asks. And just like that, I’m on the edge of tears again. Growing up without a father and now Mum’s gone, I’ll probably never hear anyone say that word to me again.

‘Dad,’ Jackson warns and I’m grateful to him, but he doesn’t need to protect me from this. Anders is one of the best men I’ve ever known and I’m beyond thankful to have had him in my life, guiding me in my career and nurturing my ambitions.

‘I’m doing okay. We’ve decided to have a quick turnaround on the funeral so we have a lot of planning to do, but it’s going as well as it could. How’s everything out there?’

I want to apologise for not being there, but I’m not sorry to be missing it for something this important. That would be doing a true disservice to my mum.

‘Ah, you know, we’ll do what we can. London’s trying not to be excited about his first Grand Prix as he doesn’t want to seem insensitive.’ Anders shrugs like he doesn’t quite know what else to say to him.

‘He should enjoy it. It’s a rite of passage.’

I don’t ask how he did in qualifying, because then I would also have to ask how Harper did, and I can’t bear to say his name out loud.

‘Yes, it is. Not that you need to be worrying about us out here right now. We just wanted to check in and make sure you’re doing okay. We hear that you’re not looking for flowers for the funeral so we’re making a team donation to Parkinson’s UK. I hope that’s okay.’

It’s more okay than he’ll ever understand. It means everything to me. ‘Thank you so much. It’s perfect.’

‘If you need us, any of us, Kian, just text or call. I know Cole’s already missing you, but he doesn’t want to intrude. None of us do, but you are constantly in our thoughts.’

It’s beyond noticeable that he doesn’t mention Harper and that I don’t ask about him.

‘Tell Cole to text me, the idiot. And thank you, I really appreciate everything you’ve done to make sure I could be here with my family.’

‘You’re family to us, too, Kian. That’s what we do for family,’ Jackson says.

I nod, knowing that if I say anything else right now I’ll break down.

They say their goodbyes and I exit the call. I smash my face into a pillow and scream out my pain, thumping the other pillow beside me.

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair.

It’s so not fair.

Mum was so young, and the way she gradually lost her faculties was just so cruel. And despite knowing it was coming, I wasn’t ready. Maybe I’d never have been ready.

All the tears in the world don’t help, nor do the muffled screams. I just feel so drained. So wrung-out.

The only saving grace is that exhaustion takes me quickly and sleep puts me out of my misery.