that sent him flying through the air.
All around there were shouts of horror, but Polly was galvanised into action. She was first over the barrier, racing across the track, dodging the lethally spinning wheels of the bike, lying on its side, and throwing herself down by Ruggiero.
‘Don’t move,’ she said, unsure whether he could hear her.
‘Hey—’ Piero Fantone had caught up and tried to pull her away.
‘I’m a nurse,’ she said, struggling free. ‘Get an ambulance.’
‘Ambulanza!’ Piero bawled, and turned back to her.
Ruggiero gasped and made a movement. Through the dark plastic of the visor Polly saw him open his eyes, saw the stunned look in them before they closed again.
‘Did he break anything?’ Piero demanded.
She ran her hands lightly over Ruggiero.
‘I don’t think so. But I’ll know better when some of this leather is removed. We need to get him inside.’
‘We keep a stretcher here. It’s on its way.’
From behind the visor a voice growled words she didn’t understand, but the gist of them was clear to Piero, from his urgent voice and attempts to restrain him. His reward was a stream of Neapolitan words that Polly rightly guessed to be curses.
‘He’s all right,’ Piero said.
‘It’s certainly reassuring,’ she agreed.
Ruggiero began to fight his way up, swinging his arms wildly so that Polly, kneeling beside him, was knocked off balance. He managed to get onto one knee before keeling over and landing on her as she raised herself. She reached out quickly, supporting him as he collapsed against her, his head thrown back. For a moment she thought his eyes opened and closed again, but it was hard to be sure.
‘We should take off his helmet,’ she said, laying him gently back onto the ground.
Piero gently eased the helmet off, and now she could see Ruggiero clearly for the first time. It was the face in the photograph with Freda, but older, thinner, his hair disordered and damp with sweat, making him look vulnerable—something she guessed was rare for him. His eyes remained closed, but she saw his lips move.
‘What’s he saying?’ Piero asked.
‘I can’t tell.’ Polly leaned forward, putting her ear close. She felt the warmth of his breath against her cheek and heard a whispered name that made her tense and look at him sharply.
‘Sapphire!’
‘What did he say?’ Piero asked.
‘I—I didn’t catch it. Oh, good—there’s the stretcher. Let’s get him inside.’
She backed away as several men lifted him and began the journey back across the track. Polly stood watching, frozen with shock, until Evie put an arm around her.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes,’ she said in a dazed voice. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘Come on—let’s follow them.’
His head was full of darkness, spinning at top speed, like an endless circle. In the centre of it was her face, smiling provocatively, as so often in their time together. But then the picture changed and he saw her as she’d been at the track, standing there, luring him on until he crashed.
But then she’d appeared beside him, taking him up in her arms, pulling open his clothes, speaking words of comfort. He’d groaned, reaching out to her, and she had vanished.
He opened his eyes to find himself lying on a leather couch, with Evie beside him.
‘Steady,’ she said.
‘Where is she?’
‘Who?’
‘Her. She was standing there—I saw her—where is she? Ouch!’
‘Don’t move. You had a bad fall.’
‘I’m all right,’ he croaked, trying to rise. ‘I’ve got to find her.’
‘Ruggiero, who are you talking about?’ she asked frantically, fearful that his wits were wandering.
‘That woman—she was there—’
‘Do you mean the one by the track?’
‘You saw her?’
‘She was in the stand with me. When you crashed she rushed over and helped you.’
He stared at her, scarcely daring to believe what he heard.
‘Where is she?’
‘I’ll fetch her. By the way, she only speaks English.’
‘English?’ he whispered. His voice rose. ‘Did you say she was English?’
‘Yes. Ruggiero, do you think—?’
‘Get her here, for pity’s sake!’ he cried hoarsely.
Evie slipped out.
While he waited Ruggiero tried to stand, but fell back at once, cursing his own weakness. But inwardly he was full of wild hope. It hadn’t been imagination. She had returned, her arms outstretched to him, as so often in hopeless dreams. Now it was real. At any moment she would walk through that door—
‘Here she is,’ Evie said from the doorway, standing aside to usher in a young woman.
At first he saw only a tall, slender figure with long fair hair, and his heart leapt. In a movement that afterwards caused him agonies of shame, he reached out an eager hand, said her name. Then the mist cleared and he found himself looking at a face that was gentle and pleasant, but not beautiful—and not the one his heart endlessly sought.
‘Hallo,’ she said. ‘I’m Polly Hanson. I was watching, and I’m a nurse, so I tried to help.’
‘Thank you,’ he murmured, dazed.
The world was in chaos. He’d thought he’d found Sapphire. Instead, here was this prosaic female whose passing resemblance was just enough to be heartbreaking. Once more Sapphire was only a ghost.
He knew he’d spoken her name—but how loud? Had they heard him? He fell back, passing a hand over his screwed-up eyes, wishing things would become clearer.
‘Thank you,’ he said again, forcing his eyes to open.
Piero looked in to say, ‘The ambulance is here.’
‘What damned ambulance?’ Ruggiero roared. ‘I’m not going to hospital.’
‘I think you should,’ Polly said. ‘You have had a bad
