Up to a point some of this is true. The setting and the girl were real, everything after the concert is fantasy (unfortunately). An older story.
****
I can't say that I noticed her particularly to start with; she was just one of the girls who came out to mark the grid positions. After three or four races I realised that each girl always marked the same grid row, and as I was generally on the corner looking up the paddock (the cars were lining up in the paddock before exiting out into the pit lane) she was often in the viewfinder of my camera. And she was always smiling and turning towards any camera pointed in her direction. I smiled back, but if she saw me she didn't let on.
I spent most of the first day dodging between the grid line-up and one or two of my favourite spots to take photos from. (There aren't that many at the circuit, the catch fencing gets in the way a lot.) She always seemed interested in what was going on around her, and, like I said, she always had a smile on her face. Row 4 was her station, a big pole with the number on so that the drivers could see where they were to pull up. A pretty blue-eyed blonde. She wore what all the girls wore; a white sponsors t-shirt, shortish black skirt and flat shoes. When the girls had first appeared, walking down the pit lane, they mostly had been carrying heeled shoes, but they were obviously unsuitable for standing around all day.
---
After the last race had started I wandered off to take a few pictures of the race, and then made my way to where the concert, the Santana concert at that, would be taking place. I found a spot not far from the front and sat down on the ground to wait. I went through the day's pictures and started to weed out some of the ones I wasn't going to use. In the background I could hear the last race winding its way to its finish, and then that too went quiet. On the stage the roadies checked the instruments, and the lighting guys tested the spots and the stage lights. The sun had left the sky, daylight bleeding gently away. As it got darker, the concert started, Carlos Santana playing like the rock god he is. I raised my camera. After a couple of songs there was movement beside me. I glanced around and saw that about half of the grid girls had just arrived. They were milling around each other laughing and chatting. I looked back to the stage and took a few more shots. The crowd was swaying, singing along, playing air guitar, most of the usual concert activities. I switched my weight to try and relieve some of the ache in my legs (it had been a long day). As I did so, the person next to me moved as well. We bumped each other. "Sorry." We both said looking at each other. She smiled. It was number 4. She looked a bit different in her civvies.
"You're one of the girls from the grid aren't you? Number 4?" I said.
"I am indeed." She said, still smiling. "You've been photographing me all day haven't you?"
"Not exactly." I said a little shamefaced. "To start with I was trying to shoot round you, then I thought 'what the hell' and started shooting you and the others as well."
"Get some good pictures?"
"Of you? Yes actually."
"Good." She grinned and held out her hand. "I'm Gemma, my friends call me Gem." I shook her hand.
"Pleased to meet you Gemma. I'm Dave." I was about to say something else but stopped.
"What were you going to say?"
"I was going to say something like Gem was a perfect name for such a beautiful jewel, but thought you'd probably heard it all before."
"That's sweet of you." She smiled again. "He's not bad for an old guy is he?" She said indicating the guitarist on stage.
"He is one of the great guitarists, maybe not as good as Jimi or Gilmour, but he has his own style."
"Jimi?"
"Hendrix, and Dave Gilmour."
"Oh, I have heard them play."
"I thought no-one under thirty would have heard of them."
"My parents, I hear a lot of older music."
---
We stood next to each other for the rest of the gig, swaying to the music, singing, playing air guitar. The music ended and Carlos Santana left the stage. The crowd began to make its way out. Gemma stayed by my side as we walked amongst the many that had stayed for the concert. I asked her where she was from, and then laughed when she told me; only twenty miles from me, I had passed it on the way here. Gem looked at me so oddly I had to tell her why. She smiled too.
"Where are you staying?" Gemma suddenly asked me.
"I'm camping in the field beyond the grandstand, near the hotel." I replied, wondering where she was going with this line of questioning.
"We're all at the Hotel." She said, indicating some of the other grid girls around us. "It's a bit cramped though, three to a room." A smirk crossed my face. "What are you thinking about?" Gem prodded me.
"Sorry." I said, reddening. "It's a bloke thing, three pretty girls in one room, I was getting visions."
She giggled.
"You didn't need to tell me that, you know."
"I have a problem with not telling the truth. I can never remember who I told what, so I always tell it like it is."
"Can't make you popular?"
"Nope! But it does save time, and little white lies are easier. If you always tell the truth, little fibs slip through unnoticed."
"I think I like that."
By now we had crossed the infield of the circuit and were heading towards the exit. The crowd had thinned out as people went different ways. The other grid girls were ahead of us. Gemma stopped me.
"Can we meet in the morning? We've got an early meeting, but then a gap until the first race, about eight?"
I looked into her eyes for the first time and saw she was serious.
"All right. How about that coffee stand there?" I pointed. "But maybe you shouldn't come alone. I wouldn't want anyone to think I was up to no good."
She giggled again.
"I suppose I could ask Adele to come with me, if it worries you."
"Thanks. I'll see you in the morning then?"
She nodded, and then scampered off to catch up with her friends.
---
It was about ten to eight when Gemma and her friend Adele appeared. They were wearing similar clothing to the day before. I was waiting near the coffee stand which was just opening.
"Good morning ladies. How would you like your coffee?"
"White, no sugar please." Gemma answered. Adele just nodded, looking at me suspiciously. As I waited for the drinks I could hear them talking.
"Are you sure, Gem? He looks a bit old?" Adele was asking.
"Oh Ad! Don't be so judgemental. He's a sweetie. And he asked me to bring a chaperone." Gemma admonished her friend.
I collected the drinks and carried them over.
"And how are you two lovely ladies this fine if chilly morning?"
Gemma giggled while Adele rolled her eyes.
"Well I'm fine, but I think Ad has a hangover!"
Adele grunted.
"How can you both be so chirpy at this time of day?" She moaned.
"Well, I'm meeting two pretty girls, why should I be sad?" I asked.
Gem giggled again, and Adele even smirked.
