Come to think of it, why had she always cared for him so well? Because it was her job? Or because she cared? She was so damned hard to read, with her calm smile and her composed manner. He knew that more went on under that cool demeanour than he could see, but he couldn’t guess at what it was.
His thoughts eventually faded to nothing, Clara’s face hovering in his mind’s eye. He fell into a half-sleep, some kind of trance, and time slipped past unnoticed. He began to dream: scenes from his life flashed through his thoughts in a tumbled mess, out of sequence. There was Clara, picking him up after he’d crashed his autocarriage. Had that only been a week ago? There she was again, bending to kiss Lukas. His best friend. He saw her sitting in the stands, watching as he prepared for another race
