Those Who Wait (Formula 1 - Daniel Ricciardo)

16... Doubt

The British Grand Prix.

My first home race in F1, on a track I'd never failed to podium at when racing GP2 and had won my first single-seater race in British formula 3. It was track I loved and a Grand Prix I loved even more. As I'd touched upon in my track walk with David Coulthard, it was a Grand Prix I'd been attending since the age of 4, when the Stewart GP team still existed.

With qualifying now behind us, myself in 7th and Dan in 10th, we made our way to the paddock in the uncharacteristically good weather for Britain. The sun was beaming down on us and the crowds were out in force.

I was unsurprisingly separated from Dan on this walk to the paddock, finding myself in the middle of a swarm of photographers and fans wanting autographs. Luckily Millie was still by my side, pushing our way through the crowds and making sure nobody bumped me with their cameras. A bang to the head with one of those heavy pieces of technology would definitely not be a good idea just before the race.

I felt quite overwhelmed by tis experience, much less press attention being centered on me at the majority of races. But this was my home race and it seemed like everybody wanted a piece of me.

Finally we made it to the paddock and headed into the motorhome for our breakfast with the rest of the team. I could feel the eggs and bacon calling out to me, but unfortunately Jen appeared as if by magic and swiftly placed my usual pre-race breaky infront of me before I could even dream about the full English I could see the pair of interns, Sam and Henry, devouring on a table near the window.

*

A little while later and I was stood at the back of the garage having a quick discussion with Gianpiero and Rocky, and making sure I knew each of the potential race strategies. I'd spent the evening before pouring over notes, much like any other race, but sometimes it was good to double check.

"How's it going?" I looked up from the car settings printout Rocky had handed me, a hand resting lightly on my shoulder. I was immediately greeted by a warm smile and chocolate brown eyes. Returning the smile warmly, I allowed him to discreetly place his hand on my waist as we stood chatting, the garage door thankfully clear of any rogue photographers.

"Great, but tiring. There's so many fans and press that want to speak to me," I sighed.

"It's the same for me in Oz, except I don't have Lewis or Jenson to take any of the interest away from me." I smiled as Dan related with me, feeling glad that atleast I wasn't the lone British driver.

"That's true, how's your day been so far?"

"I met your mother again in the paddock. She scares me." I frowned slightly at the mention of my mother. She'd never been particularly happy with my involvement in motorsport, but at the moment she was being exceptionally cold.

"Yeah well she used to scare me too."

"Not anymore?" He raised his eyebrows at me.

"No, not anymore. In fact I'm surprised she's here, but I'll tell you about that later. It's not exactly a pre-race topic. Dad should be hanging out in the garage for the race though," I shrugged, smiling up at him as I mentioned my father.

"Ok I'll say g'day if I see him."

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a crop of ginger hair appear in the garage, shrill laughter managing to be heard over the noise of the busy garage. Geri Halliwell, sorry Horner, had entered the space, hugging and greeting every person she bumped into.

"Oh look girls, you must come and meet our two stars!" she beamed, beckoning her guests over as she noticed Dan and I. As they approached Dan slipped his arm away from me, adjusting the cap on his head casually and leaning back against the control desk behind us.