Chapter 27
‘Come on, Adam!’ Cath cheered him on, her voice loud and clear above the noisy chatter and clapping of the crowd, gathered near the finishing line in Roundhay Park.
The race had started and finished just down the road from their old house.
It had felt strange coming back this way, driving the streets she knew so well.
She even took a small detour to look at their not-so-long-ago family home – the smart brick-built suburban semi.
Someone else’s car, and life, parked there now.
It didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as she thought it would.
And it certainly didn’t feel like home anymore. A chapter closed. A drive-by salute.
Adam was red-faced and sweaty, and his run had slowed to an achy-looking jog.
The race number, pinned to his T-shirt, askew.
He’d heard her above the noise and looked up with a big grin that she captured on her phone camera.
‘Well done! You’re nearly there,’ she cheered him on proudly.
And she squeezed herself back from the front row of onlookers, managing to zigzag past the gathering of supporters and already-finished runners wrapped in foil blankets, to keep up with him for the last few metres.
He was in, after a few last wobbly steps over the line, and he took himself to one side, knees bent, hanging from the waist and panting like a dog.
Another click of the camera, the pics might come in handy for his charity donation page.
And she was there giving him a big hug, no matter how sweaty he was.
‘Amazing. Well done, son.’
‘Urgh, thanks.’ His breath was short and sharp, making it hard to speak.
‘Here, have some of that water they’ve given you.’ She took the plastic bottle he was clutching, that they’d thrust at him along with a medal at the finish line, and unscrewed it for him.
He glugged it down, puffed out another big breath, and then stood up taller. ‘Cheers, Mum.’
‘You did fantastic.’ Looking at him with a huge sense of maternal pride, relief and awe, Cath knew that Adam was definitely back on track.
*
She stayed into the early evening.
Adam had taken a quick shower back at his flat, whilst Cath made them a coffee, and they then went into the city centre on the bus, which was easier than trying to drive in and park.
With her son now ‘famished’, they found a cute little Italian bistro.
All red-and-white-checked tablecloths, and huge bowls of carbonara and penne arrabbiata pasta, with a shared garlic pizza.
Leeds centre was looking extremely festive, with colourful Christmas lights strung across the streets, and shops with windows adorned with bows and baubles, and inside, packed to the hilt with gifts galore.
She ought to make the most of this shopping opportunity, she’d mused, but other than quickly nipping into John Lewis and picking up a couple of Molton Brown bubble baths for her nieces, and a bracelet she thought would suit Susie, she’d found the sheer number of people, the city buzz, a little overwhelming.
Tilldale Village Stores felt a comforting world away.
Tilldale, home … Will. Her heart dipped.
She was glad she’d had this busy day already planned.
Last night’s announcement from Will had hit her like a truck, if she were honest. She’d had to be super-careful driving down this morning, forcing herself to concentrate on the traffic, emotions and a poor night’s sleep making her brain feel fuzzy.
She did feel a bit more herself now, her ‘Mum Day’ refocusing her. Life, as always, went on. It had to.
Back at the flat, they said their goodbyes, with big thanks to Adam who, at the last count, had raised almost four hundred pounds for the village hall funds.
Yippee! With Trev and Steph stepping up to donate a hefty chunk and many of his uni and bar workmates getting on board too.
Then there were the Christmas wishes as – oh, and it still hurt a little – they’d be missing the big day together.
She’d brought down his wrapped gifts and left them here with him.
It had felt very flat handing them over earlier.
They shared a farewell hug, with an extra squeeze for good measure.
It was time to get back in that Mini and head up the A1.
Her day with Adam complete, her brain moved on to the next priority – turkey and tinsel. Cath’s head was once again swimming with her to-do list.
There was one mammoth lunch to organise.
*
With only one week to go, the community lunch event was steamrolling in. Cath’s list was getting checked off, but there was one very crucial thing not as yet sorted. Kev was still on the case, but Cath was feeling extremely uneasy about it.
When she got back after her long journey from Leeds, she spotted a missed call from Nikki, plus a couple of others from an unknown number, and a voicemail message.
It was from Nikki: ‘Hi, Cath. Umm, hope you’re okay?
Sorry, forgot it was Adam’s run and you’re away down there.
Hope it went well. Ahm, have you heard from my Kev, yet? He’s been trying to get hold of you.’
Her friend’s tone was definitely iffy. Something was up.
Kev had news. And it didn’t sound good. It had to be something to do with the oven thermostats that he’d been trying to source.
Without those, there were no cookers, and without cookers there was nowhere to roast the turkeys.
And without turkeys there’s no Christmas dinner and no event.
She felt a horrid black swirl of anxiety inside.
She called Nikki back straight away. She knew it was late, almost ten p.m., and she was knackered, but she had to find out what it was they were dealing with.
‘Hi, are you back?’ Nikki’s voice came down the line.
‘Yes thanks, it was a good day. Adam did great. So hey, what’s this that Kev’s been trying to call me about?’ Cath was straight in there. ‘You’ve got me worried.’
‘Ahm, yeah, well, Kev’s right here.’ She sounded cagey. ‘I’ll let him explain.’
Kev came on and began to tell Cath how he’d tried every online site he could think of for parts.
He’d even called up a couple of scrap merchants and the recycling centre, and drawn a blank.
The ovens and their parts were seemingly obsolete.
He still hadn’t given up, however, but he wanted to warn her that it wasn’t looking good.
Cath went quiet, racking her brain for a solution.
There was only a week to go. Forty-one people were booked in.
She couldn’t cancel this event, not now, not when everyone was so looking forward to it, and all the helpers who’d given their time and been so invested in it, the kind donations.
But she also knew that they couldn’t afford two new industrial ovens, even if they could get them delivered and set up in time.
‘Okay, well, thanks for letting me know, Kev.’ She tried to sound calm – it wasn’t Kev’s fault after all – but her voice trailed.
‘Hey, I’ll keep trying for you, pet. I’ll not give up yet. I’m just sorry I couldn’t sort it out sooner for you all.’ He was trying his best to sound cheery.
‘Thanks, Kev.’
‘Well then, here’s Nikki back for you.’
‘Sorry, hon. Not great news, is it.’
‘I’m gutted,’ Cath confessed, disappointment and weariness biting hard. ‘What the hell are we going to do now?’
‘I’m really not sure.’
‘Well, it’s a Sunday night and it’s late. There’s nothing much we can do right now. Let’s sleep on it.’
‘Yeah, we’ll chat tomorrow.’
‘Bye, Niks.’
Dammit. She’d only wanted to do something special for the community and its elderly, after all.
Something to put a smile on their faces, fill their tummies and give them a wonderful day to remember.
Okay, so she might have got carried away with the grand lunch scheme, and doubled the numbers with the care home guests coming.
Taking on an ancient village hall that the real DIY SOS might have baulked at.
And now she was worried she’d got their hopes up just to let them down.
Why on earth hadn’t they gone with something smaller, more practical?
Had she wanted it to be here in Tilldale Village Hall so much that she’d been blinkered?
Then instead of having to cancel at this late stage, which now looked inevitable, they’d still have something lovely to enjoy.
Was it too much to ask that it might go off smoothly?
Shitty McBloody Shitface.
*
Two days on, still no closer to an oven solution and with only five days to go, the local Brownies from Kirkton were at the hall doing a mega washing-up session of the crockery and cutlery to freshen it ready for the big day, plus a general tidy-up, including a quick sweep of the steps and entrance area.
The organiser had heard about the event and the fundraising, and said their local group would love to get involved.
Cath was worried all their hard work might be for nothing.
Although at least they would all get their ‘charity’ badges and the leader had also mooted interest in using the hall’s facilities for projects in the future.
She knew she had to rip the plaster off and be brave enough to make the decision and call the lunch event off, or perhaps at least scale it down to a coffee, tea and mince pies social.
But she couldn’t help wonder if there was any other way she could still make this work.
Yesterday morning, she’d even phoned about a church hall venue in Kirkton to see if they could use that instead.
She’d heard it had a reasonable kitchen facility, but it was already booked out – of course it was.
Clutching at straws, she’d even wondered if the supper group might all cook one turkey and some roasties at home, and then carry it all over to the hall.
But they couldn’t risk the food hygiene not being right, especially considering the guests were nearly all OAPs.
An hour later and the dinner plates and knives and forks were sparkling, the children happy to have achieved their tasks, and Cath was thanking them all, and waving as she saw them out.
Brown Owl saying again that she’d be in touch, as they had a craft idea that might work well for the lunch day, too.
They’d been busy making robins and reindeer, apparently.
‘That sounds lovely, and thanks so much.’ Cath saw them out to their minibus, with her head mentally in her hands, whilst smiling all the while. She couldn’t put off making a decision for much longer.
It was when she was locking up, just a few minutes later, that a call came in. She recognised that mobile number: Kevin.
He didn’t speak, but was singing as she answered: ‘Driving home for Christmas’ in the style of Chris Rea, his voice getting louder.
Honestly, he sounded odd and possibly slightly mad.
There was a low hum like a vehicle engine noise, too.
Was he pocket-dialling or something? Until she listened to the words, as he sang on, ‘I’ve got thermostats in my van. ’
‘Kev?’
‘Halloo, halloo. Yep, it’s me, and I’ve made a mercy mission all the way down to Belper.’
‘Belper? That’s way down in Derbyshire.’ Hundreds of miles away.
‘It is indeed. Guess who’s just sourced two still-in-working-order thermostats for your old school ovens?’
‘You haven’t?!’ Cath was incredulous.
‘I bloody well have, and I’ll make sure they’re fitted and tested out, tonight. How’s that for you?’ He sounded delighted with himself. And so he bloody well should be.
‘That’s unbelievably brilliant. But how?’
‘Found an old primary school that had closed a while back. Traced and got chatting to the old caretaker online. Same cookers and everything, still working. They’ve no use for them as the old school’s going to be knocked down and cleared soon for local housing.
He’s pulled a few strings, and I’ve given a donation to St Giles Hospice and Bob’s your uncle. The internet is a wonderful thing!’
‘You’re a wonderful thing! Amazing, I think I’ve just fallen in love with you, Kev.’
‘Hah, well, don’t tell our Nikki that.’ He chuckled.
‘Wow, that really is just the best news. Well, safe rest of your journey, and thanks so much.’ She still couldn’t quite believe it.
‘No worries, pet. And I’ll message when I get them all fixed up later.’
‘You’re a star, Kevin.’
‘Hah, I feel like one of the three wise men bearing gifts.’
‘You are. You bloody well are.’