Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
I n retrospect, it was a mistake to cycle the nearly ten-mile distance from my house to Woodstock where the obstacle course was being held in the grounds of Blenheim Palace.
After a week of running to and from work, and spending lunchtimes clambering up and down the bookshelf ladders in the library as a makeshift training regime, I was already exhausted.
But I was feeling nervous about seeing Leo again, so I decided that it would be a good distraction to cycle along the canal towpath and have a peek at the new floating bookshop on my way, rather than sit stewing on a bus, which would inevitably take around the same time to make the journey because of traffic.
Leo and I hadn’t communicated much over the last week.
I’d sent him a few messages updating him on my progress chatting with Scammer Brian, which he’d acknowledged, and he’d promised me he was reading through my research on Marc again.
But any tentative attempts by me to move the conversation away from the investigation into more general topics had been met with even briefer responses.
I tried to take some hope from the fact that he continued with the kisses at the end of his messages, but the more rational part of my brain told me they were merely a reflex, and that he was not actually interested in getting to know me better.
I was becoming more and more convinced that he hadn’t really left Oxford at all and had instead engineered a pretend absence in order to avoid me after I’d nearly kissed him at the gym.
If that was the way he wanted to play it, then that was completely fine, I lied to myself.
I would do my best to act as if everything was normal, and as if I hadn’t spent the week catching myself looking for him in the library’s business section and being sad he wasn’t there.
I cycled along Blenheim Palace’s imposing drive feeling quite smug that I was able to sail past the queue of cars, locked my bike up at a handy rack, then followed the lurid heart-shaped signs through the parkland to find the obstacle course.
Despite having lived in Oxford for the past six years, I’d never visited this grand estate, but it still seemed vaguely familiar, probably because it had featured in so many film adaptations of my favourite books.
If only Leo and I were here to enjoy a leisurely day together, on a date featuring a picnic and a romantic stroll among the deer perhaps, rather than having to haul ourselves around an obstacle course with the added hazard of everyone trying to hit on each other, even if it was in pursuit of the investigation.
I gave myself a mental shake. Getting carried away with wishful thinking was not going to help.
If he wanted to be just friends, that was absolutely fine by me.
I would pretend the almost-kiss never happened and avoid the risk of more embarrassing near-misses by keeping a safe distance from him like in covid times, and everything would be completely normal.
I turned a final corner and stopped dead at the sight in front of me.
The obstacles looked horrendous, and I wasn’t even standing near them.
I had no doubt that on closer inspection the sheer wooden walls and barbed wire tunnels would be even more terrifying.
The app hadn’t been lying in describing the event as popular.
The place was thronged with safety marshals, and the field was full of the kind of people I immediately clocked as being ‘professional competitors’, decked out in Lycra and neon trainers which probably cost more than my monthly rent.
The blokes were ostentatiously stretching their muscles, casually leaning against the fence and pulling meaty thighs towards their chests.
I swear some of them were actually grunting to emphasise their testosterone-filled credentials, although it was hard to hear over the noise of distorted music thumping from the speaker system.
As for the women, well, most of them looked like they’d come straight from central casting, all toned limbs, bouncy hair and perfect make-up.
I really hoped they’d gone for the waterproof stuff because it wasn’t going to last long once they encountered actual mud.
I shuffled on the spot feeling extremely self-conscious in my oldest workout gear and tattiest trainers.
I’d chosen to wear scuzzy stuff knowing that it was going to get completely trashed during proceedings, but now I wished I’d put a bit more effort in.
I was going to stand out for all the wrong reasons among this glamorous lot.
‘Hey, nice to meet you, I’m Leo,’ said the man himself, striding across and holding his hand out towards me.
All my good intentions about remaining cool around him immediately seemed unachievable.
His trainers at least looked like they’d seen some action, but his white t-shirt was probably going to go full-on Mr Darcy emerging from the lake as soon as he went near any of the water obstacles.
I swallowed.
‘I’m Leo,’ he repeated, still waiting for me to shake his hand.
With an effort, I pulled myself together. ‘I know perfectly well you’re Leo. What’s with the introduction again?’ I hissed.
‘You’re Katherine, are you? Lovely to meet you,’ he said loudly, reaching out and taking my hand as I was apparently stuck in position.
Blame it on the Mr Darcy wet shirt mental image.
Then he lowered his voice, and whispered in my ear, sending a delicious shiver down my spine.
‘I thought it made sense for us to be incognito again. This is meant to be a dating mixer after all. I figured other people might get suspicious if we arrived and immediately acted like we know each other.’
I forced my mind back to the practical, with some difficulty, and took a step back.
‘But what if some of the people from the Single Mingle are here? They couldn’t have failed to notice you dragging me out of there halfway through the event.
And now you’ve pretended like we’re meeting for the first time again, it’ll probably have the opposite effect and make them wonder what on earth we’re playing at. ’
Leo chuckled. ‘They’ll probably think that we’re a real-life couple and it’s a kink we’ve got going on.’
My stomach did a funny little flip at the way he was so casually referring to us being a real couple. ‘Do you reckon? I’m not sure I like that idea.’
He laughed louder. ‘You’re so easy to wind up. What does it matter what the rest of the people here think about us? Unless they like the look of one of us, they’re most likely worrying about their own appearance and whether they’ll pull by the end of the event.’
‘Good. Then there’s little danger of me attracting attention, as I failed to get the memo about sexy athletic wear and turned up looking like I’m about to take part in a school sports day,’ I said glumly.
‘Fishing for compliments, Holmes? You look pretty good from where I’m standing,’ said Leo.
I got to enjoy the thrill of his admiration for approximately five seconds before he hurriedly clarified what he’d actually meant.
‘At least you look like you stand half a chance of getting around the course. I don’t rate the chances of some of that Lycra still being in one piece by the end of it.
There’s aerodynamically tight and then there’s looking like the clothes have been spray-painted on.
I’m surprised they weren’t arrested for indecent exposure on their way here. ’
‘Well, if we’re going to screen them as potential Scammer Brian candidates, we’ll have to get a lot closer to them so I can listen out for his voice.’
‘Lucky us. The perfect weekend entertainment,’ said Leo.
‘It was your idea. I was just the fool who let you to talk me into this,’ I said. ‘I could be at home enjoying a quiet Saturday morning, catching up on sleep after doing not one but two evening events at work this week. Sounds like a much better option to me.’
Even as I spoke the words, I knew they weren’t strictly true. I was happy to be here with Leo, even if it did mean having to bear-crawl through a marsh later.
‘It’s all part of the bigger picture,’ he reminded me.
‘Hmm.’
‘Chin up. We’ll get through it together,’ he said. I reckoned he was drawing on his rowing coaching skills to try to jolly me along. I didn’t appreciate it. ‘Shall we go and get our race numbers?’
‘Race? Nobody told me it was also a race. The element of competition makes this infinitely worse.’
Leo smiled. ‘It’s only a turn of phrase. We’ll take our time. It’s meant to be fun. Besides, I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be spending my Saturday morning with.’
I shot him a glance. Was he being genuine or was this part of his patter for the benefit of our fellow attendees? But I didn’t have time to dwell on it, because the founder of SO Ox had pounced on us.
‘Happy weekend, guys, it’s great to see you here.
It’s Kat, right? I never forget a face,’ said Dom.
‘Great you two have hit it off, but let’s see whether it will stand the test of the upcoming obstacles.
’ He chuckled. I didn’t join in. ‘Here’s your course map.
Beer and wine are on tap for survivors, sorry, course finishers, and don’t forget to visit the photo booth for your before and after pictures.
Anyone who uses them as profile pics on the app will get a week’s free membership. ’
And just as quickly as he’d arrived, he was on his way to speak to another group of nervous-looking participants.
‘I’m not sure whether to be flattered or concerned that he can remember who I am,’ I said, somewhat unnerved by Dom’s little speech. ‘Let’s take a look at the map and see what we’ve let ourselves in for.’
According to the map, the obstacle course started off with the ‘Lung Burner’, a half kilometre run up and down a zigzag course on what looked like the steepest slope in Oxfordshire’s countryside.
Never mind my lungs, I suspected my legs would be screaming by the end of the first haul up the hill.
Then came ‘No Man’s Land’ which was illustrated by some disturbing cartoons of barbed wire and exploding mines.
I pointed them out to Leo. ‘The pictures are just for dramatic effect, right?’
‘I guess we’re about to find out. Anyway, you’ve got this. Your suffragette predecessors would never have let a bit of barbed wire get in their way, would they? I’m still finding bruises from our encounter last week.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, worrying that I really had hurt him. That was the last thing I would ever want to do.
‘Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,’ he said.