by Dani Atkins
‘Fifth,’ he said, returning to join us a few minutes later. ‘I’ll settle for that.’
I smiled and hid my look of amusement as grown men with grazed knees and grass-stained trousers slipped back to join their wives and children with slightly embarrassed expressions. A few were muttering ‘never again’, but I’d put good money on them putting in a repeat performance next year.
‘And now mothers, please,’ crackled the voice over the microphone.
Maddie
‘Mummy, can you get out of the chair to run with the other mummies?’
I really felt for Chloe at the look of regret in her eyes as she gently touched her daughter’s cheek. ‘Not this time, my love. I’m not well enough this year.’
Hope looked disappointed, which showed more than anything how good a job we’d all done at not letting her know how sick Chloe was.
‘Now I won’t have anyone to cheer for,’ Hope said sadly, and I suddenly understood why parents who weren’t good at sports put themselves through this annual ritual, because everyone wanted to be a hero in their child’s eyes, even if they were the one limping in last over the finishing line.
‘Next year,’ Chloe promised solemnly, tilting up Hope’s chin so she could look into her eyes to pledge her promise. ‘I’ll run it next year.’
I kept my head down, staring at the grass I had steadily been plucking up blade by blade, while I waited for the inevitable question.
‘Maddie? Would you run in the mummies’ race?’
I bit my lip and slowly raised my head to meet my daughter’s beseeching face.
‘I don’t think so, Pumpkin. The race is for the mummies and daddies from the school. No one here knows who I am.’
It was a lie, of course. Although I continued to garner curious looks every time I was seen with Hope, almost everyone knew our story.
‘And it wouldn’t be fair if you had a whole team of mummies to run in the race, while your other friends only had one,’ I said, which I thought was a very reasonable argument. ‘And then what if people started asking if the nannies or the au pairs could run instead of the mummies? Well, it would just get silly.’
‘But you’re not a nanny or a pair,’ said Hope solemnly, which made all three of us smile. ‘You are a mummy.’
There was a long moment of silence. Around me I could see mums of various ages heading down to the start line.
‘She has a point,’ said Ryan quietly. He glanced across at Chloe, and I could see he was asking for her approval.
‘You should do it,’ Chloe said, her words coming out in a rush, as though if she didn’t get them out quickly she might possibly snatch them back at the last minute. She gave a small wry laugh. ‘Hope might actually have a mother who stands a chance of getting placed if you run.’
Her eyes went over to the two women who between them clearly believed had the race sewn up. The one with the cropped red hair held out her hand, and the shorter blonde woman placed her own within it. Perhaps it was the quiet smug complacency of that handshake that decided me. Or perhaps it was because here, at last, was something that as a mother I could possibly do better than Chloe.
‘I don’t know. I haven’t run in years.’
‘It’s like riding a bicycle,’ Ryan said with a grin. ‘Only without the frame and the wheels.’
‘Very funny,’ I said, but even though I hadn’t yet said ‘yes’, my fingers were already unbuckling my sandals. I always preferred to run barefoot.
‘You can do this, Ace,’ Ryan said, and suddenly I really, really, wanted to.
I got to my feet.
‘Yay! Maddie’s going to run,’ squealed Hope, leaping up beside her father.
‘Last call, mothers,’ came a summons from the field.
I turned to go, but before I could, Chloe reached out and grasped my hand, pulling me down towards her. ‘Go win it for our girl,’ she urged.
The redhead was looking daggers at me as I went up to speak to the teacher waiting at the start line. She was patently eavesdropping as I spoke to the young woman with the whistle looped around her neck. ‘I’d like to run in Chloe’s place this year,’ I said quietly. From the look on the redhead’s face, she’d heard me clearly enough. She reached out and grabbed the arm of the blonde woman, her only competition, or so she had thought. To be fair, her friend didn’t seem to be fazed, and merely shrugged her shoulders in a nonchalant way.
‘I don’t see there’s any problem with that,’ said the teacher kindly. She glanced over to the edge of the field, where I saw Ryan had repositioned Chloe’s chair to get a better view. Hope waved excitedly at me, and I waved back.
‘Excuse me, but the rules of the race say that it should only be mothers who compete.’
I didn’t know who this woman was. Her children were older than Hope, and she clearly wasn’t one of Chloe’s friends. I turned very slowly to face her. ‘Would you like me to take a blood test?’ Her blonde friend sniggered and several of the other mothers smiled back at me from their positions on the starting line.
‘I just don’t think it’s very fair, changing things at the last minute.’
‘Life isn’t fair,’ I said, glancing back at my three-man support team on the edge of the field. ‘Get over it.’
The woman looked very much like she wanted to smack me, which would certainly have been an interesting way for the afternoon to end. To make sure that hers were the only toes I was stepping on, I turned to the other twenty or so women who had chosen to run in the race. ‘Is everyone else okay about me running?’
I was greeted with a chorus of yesses and absolutelies and go for its.
I smiled sweetly at the redhead and took my place a couple of runners further down the starting line from her. I breathed in and out slowly as I waited for the race to begin. You can do this legs, I told my limbs silently. Heidi made you strong again, all you have to do is remember how to move. I smiled down at my bare feet on the grass. And if you could just manage to move faster than the redhead can do, that’d be great.
I took one last glance over at Chloe, Ryan, and Hope. They were all smiling. Chloe raised her thumb in the universal symbol of good luck.
‘On your marks.’
I felt my heart quicken.
‘Get set.’
My muscles tensed.
‘Wait!’ I cried, straightening from the position my body had automatically adopted in preparation for the spring forward.
‘What is it?’ enquired the teacher, whose arm was still poised above her head, waiting to start the race.
‘This is wrong,’ I said.
The redhead made some grumbling comment, but I ignored her.
‘This isn’t right,’ I said, looking at the row of runners who were staring at me as though I might possibly have lost my mind. And maybe I had.
‘Can you please give me a moment?’ I asked.
‘Oh really!’ said a voice from my left. No prizes for guessing who that had been.
I broke away from the line of women and lightly jogged over to the edge of the field.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Ryan, his eyes clouding in concern. ‘Are you not feeling up to it?’
‘I feel fine,’ I said, gently pushing him aside and taking the handles of the wheelchair out of his grip.
‘What the f—’ began Chloe, as I started to steer the chair onto the field.
‘No swearing in front of our daughter, please,’ I said primly. Behind me I heard Hope giggling.
‘Are you totally crazy?’ Chloe asked, as I continued to propel us to the start line.
‘Not totally,’ I said, my face splitting with a grin as I saw the smiles of approval of everyone we went past. ‘Just enough to do this.’
‘For Christ’s sake, is this some sort of joke?’ The redhead was staring at Chloe and me as if we were ruining her big moment.
‘Not at all,’ I said, with what I thought was admirable restraint. ‘You should be very happy.’ She raised one over-plucked eyebrow at that.
‘If it was just me running . . . I’d have creamed you.’
Her blonde friend laughed, and earned herself her own look of disdain.
‘Okay now?’ asked the teacher at the start line.
I looked down at Chloe and then back up to the teacher. ‘Yes. We’re good.’
‘On your marks. Get Set. Go.’
The redhead was gone like a tangerine greyhound, her blonde competitor tight on her heels. The tendons of my arms stood out like cords as I began to push the chair down the field. From the sidelines I could just about make out Hope’s cries of encouragement above an unexpectedly loud roar from the rest of the crowd.
I was aware of several runners at the periphery of my vision. They should all have been far ahead of us, and yet strangely they seemed to be running at exactly the same pace as I was pushing the wheelchair. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw at least four of the other mothers just standing on the track. One clearly had something in her eye, at least that’s what seemed to have happened by the huge and exaggerated fuss she was making as she clapped her hand over it. No less than three other runners stopped and crowded around her, offering assistance. They were all grinning.
A woman who was running, and I use the term extremely loosely, beside me, suddenly dramatically slapped her hand to her side. ‘Stitch,’ she gasped out, coming to an abrupt halt. It was the first time I’d ever seen anyone suffer from that kind of injury while walking. Nevertheless two other mothers immediately came to her aid, narrowing down the field of runners yet again.
I passed a woman I recognised from the playground who was hopping around theatrically on one leg. She yanked off her trainer to shake out something invisible from within it. She gave me a shrug and retired to the edge of the field.
The cheers from the crowd were increasing with every runner who fell by the wayside, some quite literally. One of the kindergarten mothers could have got herself an Oscar for the way she dramatically staggered around crying ‘Cramp, cramp,’ in a way shot gangsters do in old movies. When she crumpled to the ground, people were literally cheering like maniacs. I glanced around and saw the entire field was littered with mothers who were now no longer in the race. Yet about three-quarters of the way up the track were the two women who between them had always had the race sewn-up.
‘Third place work for you?’ I asked, bending down and speaking into Chloe’s ear.
‘Go for it,’ she urged.
‘Hold on,’ I warned, as for the first time since the race began I started to run. It wasn’t fast, and it probably didn’t look very elegant, but we were moving at a fairly rapid lick down the field, powered by the cries of encouragement from all around us.
I looked up and saw the two women ahead, still giving it their all. From where we were, it looked as if the redhead had it in the bag, which was a shame. But then, surprisingly, the blonde looked back over her shoulder at us and suddenly began to power ahead of her friend. They were neck-and-neck for a few seconds and then gradually she began to inch ahead.
I’m not sure who saw it happen. Maybe no one; maybe everyone. But I saw it all with perfect clarity. I saw the blonde swerve out of her own lane and deliberately veer into the path of the woman running beside her. Whether her foot deliberately came out to bring down her fellow runner was never really certain, but all I knew was that they both tumbled to the ground in the only genuine fall of the entire race. This was no pantomime, no play-acting, but as I pushed the wheelchair past them, I thought I might possibly have glimpsed the blonde mother give me a very brief wink before returning to nurse her ankle.
Five metres ahead was the finishing line and all around us people were screaming out encouragement. Four metres, then three, then two. It was hard to keep pushing when you’re laughing, but somehow I managed it.
The line was just ahead and in the second before I propelled us across it, I took one hand from the wheelchair and held it up, Chloe slapped it in a high-five, but instead of dropping away she gripped hold of my hand, her fingers tightly lacing with mine.
And that was how we crossed the line.
Together.
Chapter 21
Three Months Later
‘999. What is your emergency?’
‘It’s my mummy. She won’t wake up. Please can you hurry? Can you send a doctor to my house? It’s 5 Mansfield Avenue.’
‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’
‘My name is Hope.’
‘Okay, Hope. Can you tell me what happened?’
‘There was a loud crash and now they’re both on the floor.’
‘Who’s on the floor, sweetheart?’
‘They both are.’
‘Okay, someone is on their way to you. You’re being very brave.’
‘Tell them she’s got a pulse, but it’s very weak.’
The operator gave a sharp intake of breath and there was relief in her voice. ‘Is someone else there with you, Hope? A grown-up?’
‘Yes, but she’s on the floor, doing breathing into Mummy’s mouth.’
‘Who is it doing the breathing, Hope? Who’s there with you?’
‘My mummy.’
‘Okay, Hope. I know this is all very scary. Just hang on. Help is on the way.’
Three Hours Earlier
Maddie
‘They really need to get some better magazines in this place.’
‘You say that every single day,’ Chloe replied. ‘Why don’t you bring a book?’
‘Then I couldn’t do my daily rant about the out-of-date Readers Digest collection, could I?’ I said with a smile. ‘How did it go today?’ I asked, noticing for the first time that Chloe looked exceptionally pale and wiped-out after her session.
‘You’d think after four weeks I’d be getting used to it, but . . .’
‘Only another two to go,’ I said encouragingly.
I got to my feet and felt a momentary and totally unexpected head rush, which had me reaching out for the back of the chair for support.
‘Are you okay?’ Chloe asked.
I breathed in deeply and felt the room steady. ‘Yeah. I’m fine. Just got up too quickly.’
‘I wish I could do anything quickly,’ Chloe said with a small sigh.
I reached for her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘You will. Soon. In another two weeks you’re going to be done with radiotherapy and all of this will fade away and become a distant memory.’
Chloe’s face was worryingly pale, and there was a tremor in her hand which I don’t remember having seen before as she anxiously tried to tug her hair in place to cover the new area of exposed skin on the back of her head.
‘It’ll grow,’ I said sympathetically.
‘I know,’ she replied, looking troubled by far more than the loss of her hair, although it must have been hard to lose it again when it had only just started to grow back after her surgery.
‘I will definitely not miss this place,’ Chloe declared, falling into step beside me as we headed for the exit of the radiography department. ‘Nor that bloody mask I have to wear.’
‘Perhaps they’ll let you take it home as a souvenir when you’re done?’ I said. ‘You could have it as a Halloween costume. That’d keep the trick-or-treat kids away from your door.’
Chloe looked at me and shook her head. ‘For a mother, you don’t like children all that much, do you?’
‘Only our one,’ I said with a grin. We stepped out through the automatic doors and I immediately shivered in the chill of the October afternoon.
‘God, it’s cold out here.’
Chloe gave me a curious glance. ‘Not really. Although the hospital is heated like a greenhouse, so maybe it’s just the change in temperature you’re feeling. Or maybe you’re coming down with the bug that Hope had last week.’
‘I hope not. I still have chauffeur duties for the next fortnight.’ I smiled at her, but then the banter died on my lips as I noticed how much trouble Chloe was having keeping up with me as we crossed the car park to the place
where I’d left my car. I tried to put it in the same spot each day, as it was the closest I could get to the entrance. Chloe was too proud to admit it, but even that short distance was becoming a real struggle for her now. Her weakness worried me, though we’d been warned to expect that her treatment might leave her exhausted. I resolved to have a quiet word with Ryan about it as soon as I had a chance.
Chloe
My hands were trembling as I attempted to buckle up the seat belt. I saw Maddie watching me; saw the frown lines marring the perfection of her brow, before she leant across and took the clasp from my fingers and clicked it into place.
‘Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to go back inside and get someone?’
I shook my head, and then instantly regretted it. I was getting a blinding headache. ‘I just want to go home. I need to rest.’
For a moment I thought Maddie might put up an argument, but then she slipped the key into the ignition and started the engine. ‘Why don’t you close your eyes and try to have a nap on the drive back,’ she suggested.
‘That doesn’t make me very good company,’ I said, already feeling my eyelids fluttering to a close.
‘Oh, you’re rubbish company anyway,’ said Maddie sassily. ‘I don’t know why I bother sometimes.’
She was joking, I knew that. I knew her well by now. Better than I once could ever have imagined or believed. She was nothing like the Maddie I’d invented all those years ago, when she was the one who was sick. This Maddie was funnier, quicker, and also a great deal kinder than I ever would have suspected. Although for Ryan to have loved her as much as he had, perhaps I should always have known that. She also swore a lot more, but I was used to that by now.
For some reason I suddenly felt the hot sharp sting of tears behind my closed eyelids. ‘I can’t thank you enough for doing this; for driving me here every day.’
‘Not that again,’ said Maddie with a huge long-suffering sigh, which didn’t fool me at all.
‘I mean it, Maddie,’ I said, forcing the invisible lead weights off my eyes so that I could look at her when I spoke. ‘You didn’t have to give up your time to do this.’