After we’ve passed through Lake Heath, the route doubles back towards Hart’s End, crossing several fields. I nearly get lost at that point because the track is practically non-existent. Then I spot Stan’s white peaky cap up ahead by a gap in a hedge and breathe a sigh of relief.
The main road into Hart’s End is on the other side of the hedge and I spot a signpost that says the village is one-and-a-half miles away. My heart sinks. I’m not sure I’ve got another hundred yards in my tank, never mind over a mile! My legs feel like jelly.
A squeaky noise makes me turn. A woman on a bike is pedalling very slowly up the slight incline. She’s red in the face and sweating with the effort, and I feel an instant solidarity. As she passes, we exchange a knowing smile.
‘Hellish this, isn’t it?’ she shouts cheerfully.
‘Bloody awful. Especially when you haven’t done any training.’
She slows to a stop and gets off the bike. ‘I’m meeting my friend for lunch.’ She nods at a country pub in the distance. ‘Wish to God I’d brought the car instead.’
‘Know what you mean.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Hart’s End. The other runners are probably back there by now.’
She makes a sympathetic face. ‘I’m Sue, by the way.’
‘Twilight.’
Her eyes open in surprise. ‘Lovely name.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You can borrow my bike if you like.’
‘What? Really?’
She shrugs. ‘You’d get back a bit faster, wouldn’t you?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’ It’s extremely tempting. But I can’t. Can I? ‘But what about you?’
‘Oh, I’m getting a lift back with my friend. I’m not getting back on this bloody thing. I’ll give you my address and you can drop the bike back any time.’
I smile. ‘It’s a lovely offer. Thank you so much. But I can’t. I’d feel terrible cheating like that.’
‘Sure?’
‘Sure. But thanks!’
‘Okay.’ She clambers back on the bike and pushes off, calling back cheerfully, ‘Have a good one!’
‘You, too. Enjoy your lunch!’
She waves energetically and gets a bit of a wobble on before managing to straighten up.
Mournfully, I plod on as my new friend disappears from view, round a bend in the lane. Why didn’t I say yes to the bike? I’m on my own again now. Even Stan’s cap is nowhere to be seen. Will everyone be waiting for me when I get back to the village green? Oh God, yes, they will. Lucy will make sure they are. I’ll no doubt get a welcome committee and a round of hilarious applause for coming in last. Theo Steel will be there, grinning away and clapping and thinking I’m a total plonker.
A mechanical noise behind me distracts me from this nightmare vision.
I turn and spy the number forty-five bus to Hart’s End rumbling slowly up the incline, and my heart leaps in my chest. It’s like when the cavalry turns up in those cowboy and Indian movies my granddad used to love.
My tired brain is suddenly razor sharp. There’s a bus stop a few yards ahead and if I hurry, I’ll just make it. It would be rude not to! Fumbling in my shorts pocket, my hand closes on the pound coin I use to work my locker at the gym. Yes! I start to run, frantically sticking my hand out to stop the bus.
It grinds to a halt, the doors open and I clamber on.
‘One-fifty,’ says the driver, unsmilingly.
My heart sinks. ‘But it’s only a mile to Hart’s End.’
‘It’s still one-fifty.’
I clutch my stomach. ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ I tell him truthfully. ‘But if I could just sit down, I might be okay.’
For one terrible moment, as he glares at me under his mono-brow, I think he’s actually going to get up and manhandle me off the bus.
Then he jerks his thumb backwards with a disgusted look, waving me on.
‘Really?’ I’m so grateful I want to kiss him.
I fall into the nearest seat, ignoring my gawping fellow passengers, and stare out of the window as my heart rate slows and the nausea subsides. My ankle is throbbing gently.
As we approach Hart’s End, I catch sight of several groups of runners jogging wearily to the green and I quickly slide down in my seat to avoid being seen. I’m planning to get off at the high street stop, then jog the rest of the way, mingling with the other runners so Lucy won’t be able to single me out.
Approaching the stop, I glance this way and that along the high street. The coast is clear. No one will ever know I cheated a little bit! Feeling pleased with myself, I step off the bus – and the first person I spot, coming out of the newsagent’s with a paper under his arm, is Theo Steel.
I dive behind the bus shelter and hide until he’s safely on his way, then I start jogging after him, smiling at my lucky escape. Thank goodness he didn’t see me!
Finally arriving at the green, I join Paloma who’s flopped out on her back on the grass. She sits up, shading her eyes against the sun. Luckily, the threatened storm has passed. ‘Hey, well done. You did it. Not bad for someone who never exercises.’
‘Aw shucks,’ I say, feigning modesty. ‘It wasn’t too hard at all, really.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ says a voice at my shoulder, and I spin round to see Theo Steel standing there.
‘Oh, hi. Yes, I finished just behind you, I think.’ I laugh nervously. ‘What took you so long?’
He grins. ‘I did the course twice.’
‘Ah! Right. Of course.’ I swing round to Paloma. ‘You two haven’t met, have you? Paloma, this is Theo.’
Paloma gets to her feet and they shake hands. ‘The man who reads books about crochet,’ she says, smiling up at him.
‘He was translating it,’ I explain hurriedly. ‘He’s a book translator.’
‘Really? How fascinating.’
‘Is it?’ He laughs. ‘Well, thank you. I don’t
