Girl on the Run

by Jane Costello

  I bite my lip.

  ‘After things got better with Adam, I forced myself to forget about Oliver,’ she continues. ‘I thought it’d be hard at first because he was at the club, but you know what? It was easy. Especially after I found out he’d slept with you too. No offence.’

  ‘None taken. I think.’

  ‘The point is, it was easy to forget about him because I saw him for what he really was. Not the unassuming Mr Nice Guy we thought, but a player – just one who was good at disguising it. I had a husband, and an amazing, lovely, incomparable one at that. Once I’d realised that, I never gave Oliver and his texts a second thought. Including that one.’

  ‘So you forgot about it.’

  Misery is etched on her features as she sits down on the sofa next to me. ‘Unbelievable, isn’t it? Yes, I forgot about it. As if it was something I’d missed off a shopping list.’

  ‘What was Adam doing, looking through your phone?’

  She sighs. ‘We’re all due to go and see his sister in Durham by train. Adam wanted to check what time we were to arrive and the reference number had been sent to my phone when I bought the tickets. I was feeding Lola at the time and trying to get Jamie’s lunch done – so instead of getting it myself I told him to help himself.’ She shakes her head. ‘How stupid. How careless. But then that’s been me all over, Abs, hasn’t it? Careless. I had this amazing man, this fabulous life – and I’ve managed to lose it all.’

  Emotion explodes in her eyes as I put my arms round her and squeeze her tightly. ‘You don’t know he won’t come back. Maybe once he’s calmed down—’

  ‘He won’t come back,’ she tells me sadly. ‘I know Adam. Every bone in his body is decent – and he believes totally in the sanctity of marriage. This will be unforgivable in his eyes.’

  I frown. ‘But Adam loves you.’

  She sighs, resigned. ‘Adam loved the woman he thought I was. What he got was something different.’

  ‘You made a mistake, Jess. That doesn’t mean—’

  ‘Let me give you a piece of advice, Abby,’ she interrupts, her eyes burning. ‘If you ever find somebody like Adam, if you find somebody noble, and loving and funny, someone who’ll stand up for you and who believes in you when others don’t . . .’

  I look up, my own eyes filling up now.

  ‘Never let him out of your sight.’

  *

  I decide to stay at Jess’s, comforting her to the best of my abilities until I finally lead her drunkenly to bed at 3 a.m. and tuck her in.

  I head for the spare room, strip to my T-shirt and knickers and look at the ceiling. There are eight hours before I stand at the start-line of the most physically challenging event of my life. My mind is in such turmoil that there’s no way I can sleep. And Jess’s words keep returning to me, hammering into my brain: ‘Noble. Loving. Funny. Who believes in you when others don’t.’

  Tom.

  Oh, Tom.

  Have you ever had an absolute certainty that someone would have been The One if only you’d had the chance?

  My feelings for Tom are like nothing I’ve known before: feelings so powerful I had no idea it was possible for anyone to experience them, let alone me.

  What’s terrifying is the thought that I may never be able to forget about him, no matter how hard I try. That he will forever remain the one true love of my life – but in a sad, unrequited, old-woman-who-ends-up-owning-too-many-cats sort of way.

  The alternative, I know, is far more appealing. And it’s within my reach, if only I’ll take it. Daniel is attentive, attractive and available. He’s only been in my life for a short time, but has already eased the pain of Tom not being available more than I can say.

  I close my eyes and picture both men tomorrow morning – Tom at the start-line like me, and Daniel waving loyally at the side. The image makes me feel dizzy. Exhausted. And entirely incapable of running over thirteen miles.

  Chapter 85

  Jess pulls out of the race. If there were less at stake I’d do so myself, but with ten grand of donations riding on it, not to mention almost a year of training, it’s not an option.

  Instead I spend all morning at Jess’s house attempting to summon some energy, in between failing to reach Adam on his mobile. Surely if I explain how distraught Jess is, I can persuade him to change his mind?

  I know this thought is a triumph of optimism over reality – I only have to think about how I’d feel in his shoes to know that. It doesn’t stop me trying though, even if all I succeed in doing is leaving whispered messages begging him to call back. Every time I put down the phone and wander, with strained casualness, to the kitchen, I feel less confident about my chances of success.

  ‘Why aren’t you running your race today, Mum?’ asks Jamie, messily dipping a soldier into his boiled egg. ‘Daddy and I were going to watch.’

  Her lip quivers, but she holds herself together. ‘Daddy had to go somewhere on business, sweetheart. And I’m not feeling well.’

  ‘Have you got a cold?’ he asks.

  She nods. ‘Yes. I’ve got a cold.’ Her eyes glaze over again, but she turns away before Jamie can see.

  ‘You know, Abby,’ he muses, ‘Callum MacKenzie has got Ben 10 wallpaper.’

  I have never met Callum MacKenzie, Jamie’s new friend, but I’ve heard so much about him this morning I feel qualified to be his godmother. ‘And he’s got Ben 10 curtains. And a Ben 10 pencil-case. And a Ben 10 Shaker Maker.’

  ‘Gosh,’ I say, as if I have a clue what a Shaker Maker is. ‘Callum MacKenzie must like Ben 10 a lot.’

  ‘Not really,’ he shrugs. ‘He prefers Transformers.’

  I persuade Jess to come and watch the race – largely to get her out of the house, as I suspect she couldn’t be a less effective cheerleader today if she’d been struck down by laryngitis.

  She, Jamie and Lola follow me in their car while I drive home to get my running gear and pick up my suitcase for Paris, although I’m in two minds about whether to call it off.

  On the one hand, I want to prove to Daniel, and perhaps myself, how committed I am to giving our budding relationship a go. But I can’t help feeling as if I’m abandoning Jess in her hour of need, despite her fervent protestations that I mustn’t consider cancelling.

  My train of thought breaks as the phone rings. I put on my hands-free and answer. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Abby.’ The voice is husky and wounded but I recognise its owner immediately. ‘It’s Adam.’

  Adrenalin races through me as I pull over, bump the car up on the pavement rather more violently than I’d intended, as Jess sails past me. This is not a conversation I can have while driving, especially given my record.

  ‘Adam – thank God you phoned.’

  ‘What is it?’ he says dully. ‘You left a message.’

  ‘Listen to me, Adam. Jess is mortified,’ I say urgently. ‘She knows what she did was unbelievably, stupidly wrong and she’s out of her mind with shame. She loves you, Adam. She needs you. You’ve got to give her a second chance.’

  ‘She doesn’t love me, Abby. Not that I blame her. I always knew she was too good for me.’

  ‘But she’s perfect for you. You’re perfect for each other.’

  ‘From the moment she agreed to go out with me I knew this would happen one day.’ It’s as if he hasn’t been listening to a word I’ve said. ‘I didn’t think it possible someone like Jess would ever want to be with someone like me.’

  ‘Of course she wants to be with you. She made a horrible, stupid mistake. But don’t make her pay for it for the rest of her life. Plus, think of Jamie and Lola.’

  There is a silence, the seconds passing torturously before he speaks. ‘It took years for me to believe she might be in love with me. Years to think that she wasn’t going to wake up one morning and see me for what I really am.’

  ‘Adam, you’re—’

  ‘Do you know what’s really ironic?’ he carries on before I can finish my sentence. ‘Just when I started
believing it, when I finally convinced myself, she fulfils every one of my worst nightmares.’

  ‘You’ve got to go back to her,’ I tell him. ‘You’re made for each other. I . . . honestly, Adam, I can’t imagine you not being together.’

  ‘Can’t you?’ he says. ‘Well, you won’t have to imagine it. It’s already happening.’

  *

  The moment I pull into the car park, I turn off the engine, leap out of the car, and dive over to Jess before she can step out of her people-carrier.

  ‘Phone Adam now,’ I hiss, quietly enough for the children in the back not to hear. ‘He’s just been on the phone. Go on. I’ll watch the kids.’

  She steps out of the car and dials the number, her hands trembling violently. But after a few seconds she turns to me and shakes her head solemnly.

  ‘Leave a message,’ I urge.

  She nods and turns away, speaking quietly but coherently – uttering the shortest and sweetest sentence in the English language.

  ‘Adam,’ she whispers as a waterfall of tears spills down her cheeks. ‘I love you.’

  You’d think, given their volume and enthusiasm, that my supporters had stepped off an FA Cup Final coach. Which would be fine if I wasn’t only warming up.

  The cheering is largely led by Priya, Matt and Heidi, who arrived with a banner the size of a modestly sized parachute reading: ABSolutely FABULOUS! – something I can’t help thinking isn’t especially impressive, considering they work in the creative sector.

  Then there’s Mum and Dad, who arrived together – but only because Dad’s car was playing up, Mum hastily insisted as her cheeks deepened in colour.

  Then there’s Daniel, who packed my case into his BMW and is now winning over everyone with whom he comes into contact, thanks to his down-to-earth charm and understated amiability.

  Finally there’s Jess and the kids. Jess is the only one not cheering, instead gazing into the middle distance with vacant eyes. I’m still glad she came though; just having her here eases my intense anxiety at least a little.

  With half an hour before the start, every competitor is on the field of Sefton Park and the atmosphere is electric. Without wanting to appear ungrateful for the vociferous support, I slip temporarily to the back of the warm-up area, out of sight of anyone I know. Including those I most dread seeing: members of the running club.

  After fifteen minutes or so, I’m naively thinking I’ve got away with it, when I can feel someone looking at me. Instinctively, I turn – and lock eyes with Geraldine.

  Before I can think, I glance away, pretending not to see her . . . then curse myself for being such a coward. Reluctantly, I look back and catch her eye. There’s no pretending now. I take a deep breath and walk towards her.

  ‘Geraldine. Hi! Lovely to see you.’ I plaster the most happy-go-lucky look on my face that I can muster. It makes the muscles in my cheeks burn.

  ‘Hello, Abby,’ she replies, but I can’t work out her expression. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Great, thanks, Geraldine.’ My stomach twists and turns into a knot, no matter how much I tell myself not to be stupid.

  This woman was a friend. Well, almost. I certainly got on perfectly well with her for months – and she’s done nothing wrong except be the woman Tom’s going to marry. She can’t help that any more than I can.

  ‘Listen,’ I continue, ‘Tom told me your news and I wanted to say . . . well, I couldn’t be happier.’

  She stops stretching and frowns. ‘What?’

  ‘You and Tom. Your news. I’m thrilled for you both. Really.’

  Her expression is torn between irritation and amusement. I’ve never considered Geraldine to have a scary bone in her body, yet the way she looks at me now terrifies the life out of me.

  ‘Do you always congratulate people when they’ve split up, Abby?’

  I gawp at her as my surroundings swim in and out. Because that’s all it takes. One sentence. And my heart almost stops beating.

  Chapter 86

  When I’ve finally got over my shock and Geraldine works out I’d got my wires crossed and wasn’t rubbing it in, she starts to explain.

  ‘It was a mutual decision,’ she tells me.

  ‘But what about your wedding?’ I ask. ‘His proposal?’

  ‘I’d have been waiting until I was a hundred if I’d stayed with Tom,’ she says, but she doesn’t look half as devastated by this revelation as I might have expected.

  ‘But he told me . . . at least I thought he’d told me . . .’ I think back to our conversation at the running club and try to recall the exact words.

  ‘What did he tell you?’ she asks.

  I shake my head out of my daze. ‘I don’t know. When I spoke to him the last time I saw him at the club, I got the feeling . . .’ I wonder how to put this delicately. ‘I thought you were still going strong. Also, there was gossip going round that you were about to get engaged.’

  ‘God, I feel so stupid about that now. I think I might have been the source of that. Shows how perceptive I am, doesn’t it?’ She laughs self-consciously. ‘Tom was building up to a break-up and I interpreted it as him preparing to propose.’

  ‘I thought you said it was a mutual decision?’

  ‘In the event it was,’ she says philosophically. ‘Though I could see it coming a mile off, Abby. Even before we had the chat I asked myself some very hard questions, top of which was: “are Tom and I really meant to be?” The more I asked myself, the more convinced I became that we weren’t.’

  ‘I’m really sorry, Geraldine,’ I reply truthfully.

  ‘Don’t be,’ she says. ‘For so long, I’d been saying to myself: “I’m in my thirties, I need to get married – and Tom is my man.” He was the most convenient option because he was there. What I hadn’t stopped to consider was whether he was really the right option.’

  ‘I . . . see.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, I loved Tom,’ she continues. ‘I still love Tom. But he’d become like a brother, not a husband. Not even a boyfriend. I’m not saying I wasn’t upset when we split up. When you’ve had three years with someone, that’s inevitable. But we’d grown apart. I knew that a long time ago but pretended it wasn’t happening because it wasn’t what my biological clock was telling me to do. By the end, I was with him for all the wrong reasons. We’re friends, Abby. Nothing more. You can’t get married to someone when that’s all you feel, can you?’

  ‘I guess not,’ I whisper. ‘And there’s still plenty of time for you to have the wedding and kids and—’

  ‘Cherie Blair had a baby at forty-four,’ she grins. ‘More important to find the right guy first, don’t you think?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I agree numbly. ‘When did all this happen?’

  ‘Just before you left the club. The same week, now I think about it. But I’ve only really started talking about it now. The last thing we wanted was to have a grand announcement. You know what a hotbed of gossip the club is.’

  ‘And . . . how is Tom?’ I venture.

  ‘You know, I don’t really know,’ she says sheepishly. ‘I’d thought he’d be fine – after all, technically it was he who wanted to call it a day in the first place. But I haven’t seen him much since, even at the club. We’ve spoken on the phone once or twice but he’s been a bit evasive.’

  ‘Right.’ I stare into the distance.

  ‘I hope he’s okay though. Whatever happened between him and me, he’ll always be a friend. And he’ll be a fantastic husband one day – just not mine,’ she smiles. ‘Oh, listen, I’ve got to go and join the rest of the group – you should come with me. It doesn’t matter if you haven’t been lately. You’re one of us.’

  Reeling from her revelations, the last place I want to be is with the rest of the group. But Geraldine already has me by the hand and is dragging me in their direction.

  As we approach, the first person to turn and look at me is Oliver.

  ‘Abby,’ he grins, planting a lingering kiss on my cheek. ‘How�
��s my reluctant half-marathon runner? Still reluctant?’

  ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’ I reply.

  ‘And looking gorgeous,’ he adds, smiling the cutesy smile that used to have me in raptures – and now has precisely no effect whatsoever.

  I suppress a smile. ‘You’ll never change, will you, Oliver?’

  ‘I’ll try not to,’ he says innocently.

  ‘Yeah well, watch out,’ I tell him, ‘or someone might come and poke you in those fairytale-moon eyes of yours.’

  I feel a tap on my shoulder and spin round. It’s Mau. Her outfit is the most spectacular yet – a pillarbox-red halter top and Olivia Newton-John leggings.

  ‘I’d hoped you hadn’t given up so close to the race, Abby,’ she says.

  ‘After all this training? You’ve got to be kidding,’ I reply. ‘I needed a bit of a break from the club, that’s all.’

  She nods and pauses, looking at me as if something’s just hit her. ‘Exactly like Tom.’

  I must blush, because she puts her hand on my arm and leans closer to whisper to me. ‘Don’t let that one get away, love . . . will you?’

  My stomach is a whirlwind as the start approaches – and not just because of what I’m about to do.

  I also keep replaying one sentence: Tom’s words when I last saw him.

  The woman I’m in love with has been right in front of me.

  I can’t even think about the implications of this, of what it might mean. I know what I hope it means, but the idea that he could have been referring to me still seems so unfeasible that I daren’t even wish it.

  The loudspeaker announces that competitors are to line up at the start. As I follow the crowd and get into position, I find myself suppressing tears of frustration and confusion. Then I hear a shout.

  ‘Come on, Abby! I’m so proud of you!’

  I look to the side and see Daniel, my lovely loyal Daniel, cheering me on. I manage to wave – and his face lights up. The idea of turning my back on him to pursue Tom, when he’s about to whisk me to Paris, doesn’t bear thinking about. Yet, I can’t help thinking about it. Stupidly. Because, by anyone’s standards, I’m getting way ahead of myself. Just because Tom and Geraldine aren’t together any more, doesn’t mean he’s mine.