The racing weekend in Suzuka in early May sees the farewell ceremony for the team managers and racing officials, organized by Faith and held at Mori’s house. The Japanese ceremonies will continue throughout the year, and Faith is planning on being there as often as she can, but this one has been fit into the schedule and is an important step on the way. On Thursday, in the afternoon, everybody arrives at the house, which offers an appropriately quiet atmosphere.

  The house itself is not involved. She does not want to have it invaded. Some tents have been set up in the grounds. There are speeches by the Formula 1 management, by Oliveira, by the CEO of Akane. There is no speech from Faith. The whole thing is over in less than two hours. Mori would have liked that.

  When everybody has left, Tom finds himself on the terrace, with Faith, Ren and Nicholas. They are having beer and gin tonic. Faith is looking stunning once more in a blend of traditional Japanese and western fashion. Wherever she has found that piece – she looks like a doll, or a creature from a dream, Mori’s dream, perhaps, and it suits the occasion perfectly. She looks at once fragile and dignified. And out of reach.

  “Shall we?”, she asks after a while, rising from her chair. Without waiting for an answer, she goes into the house.

  Ren and Nicholas have risen also. “We are going to put the urn into its final resting place”, Ren explains.

  Ah, right. Shit. He has not seen that coming.

  Faith returns from the house, holding a cylindrical black vessel with both hands, and a pink rose between her fingers. She looks a little flustered. The men follow her down into the garden, where on the southern wall of the foundation a shrine has been set up. Faith places the urn inside. Nicholas and Ren put a stone slab above it. Some Kanjis have been cut into the stone; Mori’s name. Faith lays the rose down on the slab, letting her hand rest on it for a minute. She whispers something and before she turns away to make space for the men to pay their respects, she says, “Thank you, Daijiro chan. I will honour your gifts to me. I hope you’ve found the light, and that there are cars, wherever you are.”

  Afterwards she addresses the men in an only slightly forced cheerful manner. “Thank you for being here and sharing this moment. Shall we have dinner?”

  The house has an excellent cook, and the mood lightens considerably. Tom is starting to enjoy the evening when Ren and Nicholas announce their wish to depart. Faith asks them to stay, but they claim to have work. She rolls her eyes, hugs them, and the couple depart.

  And so they are alone, all alone together, for the first time ever. Tom is not sure at all whether this is a good thing, but he finds himself unable to leave. She shows him the guest room, sparsely furnished but prepared for overnight guests, and leaves him. Tom looks around. The house is impressive in its thought-through simplicity. It suits Faith well, much better, than the stuffy manor in Scotland.

  She has truly come into herself in the last few months, leaving him behind in the process. He feels oversized and clumsy, in addition to his general cluelessness as to what he wants and where he wants to go. They need to have that conversation. Mike Carter has been talking to him about NASCAR, but it has been just talk, not an offer. It is not a nice prospect to bring that up, but it has to happen, and why not tonight? Instead of being overwhelmed entirely, he might as well take action.

  When he returns to the living room, the one with the weird painting, she has changed into less ceremonial and more comfortable western clothes and is sitting at the piano, half-heartedly playing a melody in what he perceives to be a minor key. She stops playing when he enters but stays seated on the bench.

  “A beautiful instrument”, Tom says. “Have you brought it here?”

  She shakes her head. “I had it brought here from next door. It was his. He had it in his room. It’s custom made, the best of the best. He knew about these things.” She touches the wood of the piano tenderly.

  “Is that so?”

  “Oh yes. Not many people knew. Music was a language that he understood perfectly. It was also his refuge.”

  This explains a lot. Tom would not have guessed it.

  She gets up and points towards the sofas. “Lets sit over there. Care for another drink?”

  “Another beer, perhaps.”

  “Sure.” One of the walls is hiding a fridge, a bar. It is all so very clean and functional. She hands him the bottle and sits down beneath the painting, feet pulled up, relaxed, g&t in hand. She is incredibly at home.

  He sits on the other sofa, looking at her, and then looking away.

  “What is it?”, she asks.

  “Nothing.” He forces a smile. “You have arrived, haven’t you?”

  “I like this place. And I’m going to need it, too.” She takes a sip from her glass, making the ice clink. “We have struck a deal with Akane. They are buying Mori Motors and continue the team as well as the tuning shop, unchanged. And Claymore, from next season onward, will be furnished with the exact same material, customized for our needs. I think it’s good if I have a place to stay. I need to be around a lot, I guess.” She grins. “Claymore will be a flaming sword.”

  Akane means ‘flame’. Claymore is the sword. Tom whistles through his teeth. “That’s a mighty deal. How did you pull that off?”

  She looks pleased with herself. “They want the brand, of course. I pretended that I had other offers that I had to consider. And we are doing so well with Claymore that they were eating from my hand, eventually. And there is huge potential in Claymore-Akane. They couldn’t say no, in the end. Oliveira can do his thing, I don’t have to worry any more, and Claymore can win races, so many races.” She lifts her glass. “You are the first to know.”

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  He does not reply. She does not look lost, or lonely, that is the only thing he can think about.

  “We should let them win once more this season, don’t you think?” She laughs softly.

  It is not that her irony is lost on him. It is just that there is no place for him that he can see. Before he knows it, he says, “There is no more ‘we’, Faith. I would like to cancel my contract, and I would appreciate it if we could do it quickly.”

  He only realizes what he has said when he sees the short flicker in her eyes, and the change in her expression, if only for a brief moment. If he had not been looking at her, he would have missed it because she immediately switches back to calmness, with just a hint of tension around the corners of her mouth. He knows this face; it is her business face.

  “This is a surprise”, she says. “We’ve talked about it, I know.” Her blue eyes search his face, but he holds her gaze, and she goes on. “This is sad. But we owe you so much that it would not be fair to throw things in your path. What are you going to do?”

  “Mike Carter wants to set up a team in the NASCAR series.” This is not a lie. The implication that he is going to be involved he leaves for her to understand. She does not ask any further, luckily. He might not have been able to sustain an exaggeration like this and turn it into a lie.

  The longer the silence lasts, the more real the situation he has placed them in becomes. This is it. He has finished it. The only thing he cannot bring himself to do now is to get up and leave. Maybe there is still a magic word that one of them will say. But then she rises and says, “I’m going to ask Nicholas to prepare the documents. We are going to pay you a bonus, despite you being the one to leave. But I do not wish to think about it now.”

  Tom has risen, too. This has not been the magic word, nor is the “Thank you” he barely manages.

  She leaves without another word.

  He cannot sleep. Maybe the house is too quiet. He turns and turns in his bed, gets up, lies down again, goes out onto the terrace, returns to bed, to no avail. This has been going on for three hours.

  Where have they taken the wrong turn? It feels so wrong to be in the same house with her, alone, for the first time, and also for the last time. The roller coaster ride of the past year has messed up his sense of direction. He has to leave, or he will just prolong his misery. And it does not seem to be her misery at all. She is going to move one of the engineers up to his rank, Sully most likely, and then everything is going to be fine. Except that he does not really want that to happen. He sighs and turns around once more, his train of thought starting all over again.

  “Tom, are you awake?”

  He has been lying with his back to the door and is scared shitless for a second. He must have literally jumped because she laughs.

  “You ought to say ‘Fuck you’ now”, she giggles. “Like back then.”

  His heart is still beating wildly, his blood is rushing in his ears. “You’d deserve it. Shit, Faith! Can you walk through walls or what?”

  “Yes. It’s my super power.” She is still giggling. “Let me in?”

  He needs a few seconds to process the question. Then he makes space for her and lifts the covers. She slips into bed beside him. They are not touching. There are only a few inches between them. The sound in his ears takes on a whole new quality.

  “You cannot leave me, you know”, she says after a while. “I don’t know what makes you think you can leave me. I’m so lost without you.”

  He swallows hard. “You’ll be fine. There is no point for me in crawling around at your feet, hoping that you will drop a morsel for me.”

  She does not reply. He goes on. “I also cannot bear to be pitied any longer by everyone who knows us.”

  “This is what it’s like?”

  It is dark in the room. He can barely make out her shape beside him. She cannot see his face. He has to answer. “Yes.”

  “They pity you?”

  “They think that…” He hesitates.

  She has no problem finishing the sentence. “That we should be together?”

  “Yes.”

  “Isn’t that kind of absurd? So soon? Much too soon.”

  His body goes tense and he breathes in sharply, turning away from her. “You’re right. It’s absurd.”

  She is sitting up. He can see her more clearly now. “That’s not what I said.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “I said, too soon. Absurd because it’s too soon.”

  He keeps quiet.

  “Absurd because it’s too soon”, she insists.

  He holds his breath, waiting for her to speak on.

  “I’m here”, she says eventually. “And so are you. And this is how it should be. Don’t you think?”

  “And you would let me?”, he asks.

  “You’re never going to find out.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you don’t ask.”

  “Oh, give me a break”, he says, laughing and pulling her into his arms.

  “Do I have to propose now or what?”, she asks when she is lying in his arms, later.

  “I would appreciate it.”

  She sighs. “Okay.”

  “Okay.” He puts his arms around her even tighter. Okay is a good enough word.