Chapter 7 #2
I look down at the bag that he hands me and then back up at him. “I can’t eat this. I’ll be sick.”
“No, you won’t,” he says bracingly. “Bit of grease is just what you need and then a strong coffee. You’ll feel fine afterwards.”
I’m not convinced, but I have to grudgingly admit that by the time we pull up to the field where the run is happening that I feel something close to human again.
I climb out of the car and look around as Niall unclips Cora from her car seat.
It’s a cold day, but the air is crisp and the sun is shining although it’s watery and thin.
A wind gusts and dances around me and leaves flutter down from the trees in a flurry of reds and golds.
All around us people are getting out of cars chattering and stretching, and there’s a palpable air of excitement.
I look up and take the baby sling that Niall offers me.
Fixing it, I take Cora and settle her in.
She peeps over the top, her eyes bright and curious, looking at everything.
I stroke her soft cheek and adjust her bobble hat so it’s covering her ears.
Then with one hand under her rump to support her, I look at Niall.
He’s dressed in another pair of those gorgeous form-fitting black running tights and a black running shirt under a long-sleeved orange t-shirt advertising the run.
The material clings to the bulging muscles on his arms and he glows with the last vestiges of his tan from summer.
He spends so long outdoors that his colour never really goes, although he insists it’s windburn most of the time.
His white-blond hair shines palely in the watery sunlight and although he brushed it down firmly before we left, strands are already drifting around his face like the gold that Rumpelstiltskin wanted spun.
He’s stretching his legs and doing runner things that I have no idea about, because the only time I’d run anywhere was if a lion was chasing me and I’d still hope the lion had a defibrillator after I’d gone a few steps.
However, I don’t have to know what he’s doing to appreciate it, and I lean against the car, glad for my sunglasses and hoping they cover up my covert observation of his long, lean body.
“You okay?” he asks, a smile playing around his full lips. “You look a little flushed, and is that a bit of drool?”
Okay, they didn’t cover it up and it obviously wasn’t covert.
I flush harder. “I’m fine,” I say in a hopefully nonchalant manner. “Just waiting to feel human. And don’t be so big headed,” I chide. “People dribble for many reasons.”
“Babies and old people, mainly.”
“And for good food.”
“Hmm. So, what food am I?”
Steak, I think. “Soggy toast,” I say.
He throws his head back and starts to laugh, and I smile because his laughter is so him. Big and bold and full of life.
When he stops laughing, he starts to walk towards the tent where people are registering, and I fall into step beside him.
“It’s so cold,” I say. “I hope she’ll be okay.”
He looks down at Cora. “She’s a snug little bug. She’s fine. She’ll get body heat from you as well.” He looks out over the fields. “I won’t be that long, maybe an hour or so, and you’ve got the keys. Get back in the car if you feel too cold.”
I shake my head. “We’re your cheerleaders. We don’t leave a man behind.”
A smile tugs at his lips. “I think that might be the army.” He offers me a half wave as he wanders to join the queue. Within seconds he’s started a conversation with the people in front and within a minute they’re laughing. I shrug. It’s so him.
“What a gorgeous baby.”
I turn around to see a stout old woman standing in front of me.
She’s dressed in a brown coat and wearing green wellies that look well-worn, unlike my navy ones that Niall gave me this morning.
She has a round red face, grey wispy hair plaited and wound around her head, and a small mouth which is pulled very tight. She looks mean and cross.
“Thank you.” I smile tentatively but she doesn’t return the gesture. “She is gorgeous, but I’m probably biased.”
“Ah, is she your first?”
“Oh, she’s not mine. She’s my goddaughter. We’re looking after her while her parents are away.”
“How lovely.” She reaches out an old wrinkled hand and prods Cora’s cheek.
Cora looks startled and I resist the urge to move her away because the old lady is just being friendly, even if she does have the same expression on her face as the child snatcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang .
“And you’re carrying her around yourself.
Why isn’t your wife doing that, or is she running? ”
I blink. “I don’t have a wife.”
“Ah, I’m sure you will.” She gives me a thin-lipped smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Wives are a gift from God to a young man. Stops men from being too wild. You should look for one.”
I blink because that sounded way too evangelical for my taste. And also very rude. She goes to touch Cora again, but I step back under the pretext of banging mud from my boots.
She shoots me a glance but bends and coos at Cora again. “And when are your mummy and daddy coming back?”
“Not mummy,” I say steadily. “She has two daddies instead.”
She freezes and slowly looks up at me with a deeper red starting to mottle her cheeks.
“This child has two men for fathers?” I nod.
For a long minute there’s silence and then she grimaces as if she’s going to be sick.
“That’s absolutely disgusting,” she hisses.
I’m so taken aback that I can’t speak. Instead I cradle Cora protectively and step back, but it doesn’t stop her.
“I cannot stand that. Two men having a child. It’s against nature and God.
Social services should be called in at once. ”
Her voice is rising and people are beginning to stare. Cora startles and I soothe her, feeling anger run through me. How dare this bigoted old lady say such things?
“Last I heard, social services don’t use the Bible as a handbook.
” She opens and shuts her mouth, looking like a fat, grey fish.
“And I really think that G-God has a lot more things to be bothered about, like your terrible dress sense and the fact that you d-don’t appear to have changed your hairstyle since 1975. ”
I come to a stop, the flurried, stuttering words dying away to a stunned silence. Taking advantage of it, I turn around and stop dead. Niall is standing there, his arms folded across his chest and a fierce, proud look in his eyes.
“How long have you been there?”
“Enough time to wonder if Oswald Mosley’s mother needs to take her medication,” he says in a loud voice. I hear a huff, and when I look around, the woman is marching away. I turn back to Niall.
“You didn’t feel like you should jump in?” I ask incredulously.
He shrugs. “Why should I? You were handling it fine. Will you pin my number on my shirt?”
The abrupt change of subject makes me blink, but I hasten to do it.
But as I’m pinning and smoothing my mind is teeming.
I may have stuttered, but I stood up for Cora and Oz and Silas, and for the first time in a long while I feel a tiny part of the pre-Thomas Milo start to unfurl.
It’s quiet and sleepy but it’s still there, and I feel a soft thrumming in my blood, like I’m waking up from a long sleep.
After we’ve accompanied Niall to the starting line, Cora and I stand back, watching as a very energetic woman in tight running gear leads the runners in a pre-run warm-up. I look around curiously.
The run is taking place across several fields, so I can’t see all of the jumps.
Apparently spectators can follow alongside the runners, but I’ve seen Niall in action before and the only way I’m keeping pace with him is if I attach motorised skates to my feet.
What I can see are hay bales set up as obstacles and some sort of massive climbing wall which has ropes attached.
I shudder slightly. It’s like some sort of fucked-up sports day.
I turn when I hear the very peppy lady starting the countdown as the runners jog on the spot.
There’s a palpable air of excitement in the air and it makes me smile.
I search for Niall in the crowd and jerk when I see him.
Instead of jumping around, he’s an oasis of stillness standing staring at me.
For a second, it’s like I have tunnel vision and there’s just him in this busy field.
Then the starting pistol goes off and the crowd surges forward.
My mouth tilts up in a tentative smile and he grins back, touching his fingers to his forehead in a salute before turning gracefully and merging into the crowd.
I stride past some spectators to the edge marked out by yellow waist-high rope.
The runners pass me in flashes of colour and noise and suddenly he’s there, jogging easily, his body moving smoothly.
His face has a huge smile on it, full of life and enjoyment, and it makes me laugh.
He looks up and his grin widens and then he’s gone.
I stand for a long minute while the line of runners surges past me and then I’m alone with Cora, her warmth solid against my stomach and chest. I smile down at her. “Well, there he goes. Uncle Niall’s running again. The silly man. Like Forrest Gump with very nice hair and sarcasm.”
She gives me a wide, gummy grin, her brown eyes warm and alert under the shadow of her hat. One tiny fist in a pink mitten gets out of the sling and she bats me happily. I catch her hand and kiss it. “I’m going to get a drink and then we’ll have a walk, baby girl.”
There’s a clearing next to the run which is full of brightly coloured trailers selling everything from prosecco to artisan pastries.
The air is filled with the smell of savoury things cooking, and I inhale appreciatively.
I’m hungry again despite the muffin earlier.
I queue, acknowledging compliments about Cora which she accepts with the ease of a small ruler of a kingdom.
Finally, with a cup of hot chocolate and an iced cinnamon bun that’s as big as my head, I amble along the spectator’s path.
I actually like this sort of thing. I’ve been to some of Niall’s runs before.
He’s been doing them since he was a teenager.
However, they’re usually very focused and all about finishing times.
This is much more fun with an air of jollity about it.
Groups run together with the faster people stopping and waiting for their friends.
People of all sizes and ages run along happily.
There seems to be more of an emphasis on completing the course rather than competing.
Eventually I settle at the water jump. A stand is set up alongside a large pond and a very loud man is hailing the runners as they hover, waiting to jump.
I look at the water and wince. It looks bloody freezing and it must be, as one of the announcers at the beginning was adamant that anyone who wanted to do the course twice wasn’t allowed to do the water bits again or they could get hypothermia.
I finish my bun and juggle Cora, cupping my hands over her cheeks to warm her as I watch people encouraging the reluctant jumpers. I’d be reluctant too, I think, watching them gasp as they pop to the surface like corks in a bath. In fact, they’d need a cattle prod to get me off that platform.
I join in with the crowd around as we count down and cheer the hesitant people, watching as they pull themselves out and stop to hug their watching families and chat as if they’re at a garden party.
It takes me a second to see Niall but suddenly he’s there, standing next to an older woman, and he’s all I can see. He’s filthy dirty, his hair is wet, and mud streaks his face and arms and legs, but he has a grin similar to what I imagine a marauding pirate would have and he radiates happiness.
The woman hesitates despite everyone’s shouted encouragement, but Niall moves near and speaks to her.
She listens and nods and finally they turn, and we all shout as hand in hand they jump.
They bob up gasping, and in Niall’s case laughing, and the woman blows him a kiss.
He grins and swims for the shore and pulls himself up in one powerful movement.
Once out, he hesitates, looking around the crowd. I see the exact moment that he spots me because he jerks and stands staring at me.
“Good work,” I say heartily and he grins, saying nothing but pacing towards me.
I gulp as he gets to us and, holding my shoulders tight, he bends his head to drop a kiss on Cora’s face.
She laughs and holds her arms out to him, but I swallow hard.
His scent is made up of grass, wet earth, and light sweat, and I inhale, trying to draw it into me to keep.
He straightens with his hands still holding me close, and before I can say anything, he drops his head and kisses me.
It’s a chaste kiss, with a nod to our surroundings, but his lips are warm and I catch the faint taste of peppermint.
I gasp and he kisses me again, and everything fades away for a second apart from the realization that this is Niall kissing me.
We’re brought back to reality when a wry voice with a strong Irish brogue says next to me, “You two had better not be crushing my baby.”
We break apart, and Silas and Oz are standing there grinning.
They rush forward, intent on getting to Cora who wriggles energetically when she sees their faces, but I stand still watching Niall who’s looking at me with a slightly sheepish look.
I can’t help noticing, however, that it’s mixed with a lot of determination, and I swallow hard.