All That the Heart Desires by June Moonbridge

persistent.
    “Well, I saw Ayrton Senna in his last season. I had a role model who gave me my enthusiasm.”
    His eyes widened. I was sure he didn’t expect this kind of answer.
    “You were…”
    “I was a little girl at the time,” I finished for him.
    “And who is your favourite?”
    I looked at him and blurted out without thinking.
    “The legend himself. Ayrton Senna.”
    There was a short silence.
    “Agree. He is…was great.”
    I took the glass from the table and drank half of the orange juice: I never knew how to sip my drinks. It was refreshing as my throat was dry.
    “Interesting.” I put down the glass.
    “What?”
    “That you agree with me.” We were staring at each other.
    “Many of us do, you know? After his death some of us managed to win more Championships, but nevertheless the cars we are driving now are so different to the car he had then. I won’t lie … not all of us share this opinion, but we all strive to be as great as he was…”
    I was surprised by his answer. I’d had similar conversations with racing enthusiasts who had tried to diminish Senna’s role in Formula 1.
    It was definitely time for me to go. I stood up abruptly.
    “Thank you for your hospitality.”
    He quickly stood up too.
    “Where are you going? What’s the rush?”
    I was halfway to the hallway, which was now even darker as the sun had nearly set. I heard his footsteps behind me.
    The anger that rose within me was too strong for me to hold back, and actually I didn’t want to hold back anymore. I turned around and the words flew out of my mouth.
    “Look … I have brought you the perfume you wanted. Now you have it. And please, arrange for the billboard to be removed. I just hope … I hope that whoever gets the gift will know how to appreciate it and your effort to get it. This is the last bottle I’ve made. I will not make another one…”
    I turned to leave.
    “Wait! For heavens’ sake!”
    I turned back in surprise.
    “The perfume is meant for you. Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t know why you didn’t want to sell it to me? I know it was you on the Grand Corniche. Yes, your disguise is fantastic, but you cannot fool a nose.”
    I stared at him in shock. I was not sure what surprised me more: the way he talked to me or the fact that he knew very well who he was pursuing.
    “Yes, it took me a day or two to realise it, but … no two women smell the same. It doesn’t matter if they use the same perfume. You are the one person who should know that.”
    I looked in his eyes again, taking my glasses off. Although grey, they were strangely calm. We were standing only a few steps away from each other, yet I felt like the English Channel was between us—literally. I was just a simple shop assistant to him, and he was a big star in the world’s fastest sport.
    He spoke more gently.
    “Who are you afraid of? Me or yourself?”
    The last question almost prevented me from breathing properly. Christ, what was he talking about? The memory of his embrace became vivid. I longed to be in his arms again. It didn’t matter if it was only for a minute; I was drawn to him like a moth to a candle.
    My strong desire to get out of there started to melt like an ice cream in the heat of the summer sun here on the C ô te d’Azur.
    “Who are you afraid of?”
    “Just don’t say. It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. I know too well, it’s not true.” I tried to turn around but I couldn’t. I was truly trapped, mesmerised by those eyes. I sensed his determination that he would do anything to keep me there. He didn’t know I’d already made the decision that I never wanted to leave.
    He reached his hand out to me.
    “I can’t,” I said in a whisper. It was my last attempt to get away but, at the same time, I knew I didn’t want to. Suddenly I dropped everything. My handbag fell from my left hand and my glasses from my right. Not only did I take his hand, I threw