CHAPTER EIGHT #2
The shameful feeling now transformed into a gelatinous cube of horror, sloshing around inside and making him feel queasy. He loved to tell himself that he was the kind of man without a biased bone in his body, but Raina seemed to trip that comfortable idea of himself up quite regularly.
‘It’s okay that you didn’t know,’ Raina finally said, her voice soft and pensive. ‘Most people don’t.’
There was a world of stories in those three words, Tom realized.
Eventually, an empty calmness fell over mile twenty, signalling a respite. The next batch of athletes would be the charity runners, and Tom wondered if the sight of men in tutus and giant London landmark costumes could be enough to knock this uncomfortable feeling to one side.
‘How’s your piece coming along then, Your Majesty?’ Raina asked without preamble. ‘Just how much trouble am I in for?’
‘For God’s sake,’ Tom bristled. ‘I’m not cancelling anyone – I’m writing about you and your podcast.’
‘Well, what do you want to know now?’
‘I want the name of your past stalker so I can pay him a visit.’
She blushed. ‘No. Next?’
‘Funding?’
He expected her to recoil at the question but she showed no visible reaction.
‘We have extra content for patrons; they pay a monthly subscription. Plus, advertisements and sponsors. I’m not embezzling from anyone.’
The ‘arsehole’ at the end of her sentence was implied, rather than spoken.
‘Studio rental?’
She laughed at that. Loudly and unguardedly. ‘I have microphones, two chairs, a tripod and a desktop in a small room on the first floor of my house. That’s the studio. I might splash out on a mini-fridge if we get nominated for the Mondays, you never know.’
The Monday awards were given to radio and podcast creatives. Tom remembered a previous ceremony. A sports commentator got into a fight with a soap star and the night had gone downhill from there. However, he knew that they’d grown into one of the more coveted award listings.
‘Is that something you want? An award nomination?’
‘Sure, why not?’
‘Just seems a little frivolous.’
‘Yeah, put that in your notes. Uppity podcast host has ambition for accolade that might allow her audience to grow. More disabled women welcomed. Just awful. Seriously, write that down.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, you seem better than trivial accolades. You’re above them.’
She didn’t respond for a moment. He wanted to cuss himself out. He’d never felt so verbally clumsy in his life. She turned him into a babbling idiot with no filter.
‘One of my subscribers is a charity runner,’ she finally said. ‘Deedee. She’s raising money for multiple sclerosis.’
‘Might be hard to spot her.’
‘Her hair is purple and she’s running in a dinosaur onesie.’
There was a breath of silence before both of them laughed. Tom because he was anticipating the image and Raina joyfully knowing exactly how her friend was going to look.
‘She’s a good time, can’t wait to see her.’
‘They shouldn’t be too long.’
He was right. Soon enough, a colourful tsunami of charity runners appeared over the small hill, heading down towards Tom and Raina. More neighbours had appeared by this point. Some of them brought chairs and a couple of police officers and medics were dotted about both sides of the road.
Water stations materialized out of the side streets and the smell of barbecuing began to fill the air.
‘DEEDEE!’
Raina shrieked her friend’s name in delight, gently bumping Tom Branimir out of her path. She waved frantically at the blur of purple barrelling towards her.
‘Oh, my God!’ barked Deedee, her West Country accent made stronger by her emotional state. ‘You came!’
‘I can’t believe you’re actually wearing it!’
‘Lovey, I’ve almost passed out twice. I can’t believe they let me wear it.’
Raina thrust a bottle of water into her friend’s slightly shaking hands. ‘You okay to go on?’
‘I don’t know, I just really want to walk.’
‘It’s this mile,’ Raina said, lovingly brushing back the wet strands of hair stuck to Deedee’s forehead. ‘It’s the wall. You’ve done so well, Deedee. So well. I’m so proud of you. Just a bit further, if you’re up for it.’
Deedee made a wounded noise but took a long swig of cold water. ‘All right.’
‘Yes, lady!’ Raina cried, clapping loudly as Deedee set off again. Her pace was steady but definitely not walking speed.
Tom watched Raina’s face. It was full of devotion and pride. He had to shake himself out of that same charismatic spell he kept falling under. One that thought she was perhaps the most endearing person he’d met in a long time.
‘Mate, get your girlfriend onto the pavement.’
Tom cast a glance at the red-faced man who had spoken. He wasn’t a runner but was drinking one of the provided water bottles.
‘Those are for athletes,’ Tom said disdainfully.
The man scoffed and nodded towards Raina. ‘Move her or I will.’
Tom raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to the man, so they were only separated by a few inches. ‘You absolutely will not. Mate.’
He put years of being a working-class Scot living in England into his address. He felt Raina step neatly onto the pavement and place a hand on his elbow.
‘Let’s move down a bit,’ she said genially.
‘No, this is our spot,’ Tom retorted, never breaking eye contact with the red-faced, water-hogging intruder. ‘He can leave.’
‘You what?’ snorted the man, his voice loud enough to alert one of the female police officers, causing her to glance over at them in concern.
‘He’s not worth the time, Tom. Let’s just go into the shade a bit.’
The man twisted to leer at Raina, his face full of aggression. Something lascivious entered his features and it ignited a flicker of rage in Tom. He suddenly didn’t care what he had to do to make the man look back at him and away from Raina.
So, he slapped the plastic water bottle out of the man’s hands.
What happened after that was slightly difficult to recall but he remembered the man’s fist hitting his face. He remembered hitting back. Harder. That part was marked with painful clarity.
He didn’t remember hitting the pavement with a thud, but he must have done. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was Raina’s open, concerned face staring down at him while she anxiously repeated his name. Her lashes looked so long and he liked the red lipstick she was wearing.
‘You’re so pretty,’ he mumbled before losing consciousness.