Page 50 of My Summer of Magic Moments

‘You know, after everything you went through, I’d really like to do it. I’d like to think I can help other people in that situation too. So how do I get signed up?’

‘It’s all online. Just look up the Race for Life, Newcastle.’

‘Okay, I’ll do that a bit later. Once dinner’s all sorted. And I’ll dig out my trainers and get myself motivated again.’

Back at her house later, surrounded by bare walls and cardboard boxes, the phone buzzed into life.

‘Hi, Claire. You know the Race for Life – well, I’m on the website now. There are three dates. Which one are you booked on?’

‘The 24th of September. The Saturday.’

‘Ah … right. Are you sure it’s the 24th?’

‘Yes, I’m pretty certain that’s the date I put in my diary.’ It was the day after Andrea’s birthday, that’s how she remembered. They’d decided to postpone her birthday drinks until after Race Day. A hangover might seriously affect performance.

‘Okay, the muddy one. Did you know you were doing that one, or were you meant to be doing the normal run on the Town Moor?’

‘The normal one, as far as I know. What’s the muddy one all about?’

‘Three miles of mud and obstacles at Newcastle Racecourse, apparently. Thick, gloopy mud by the looks of last year’s photos.’

‘I’ll check with Andrea – she’s the one who booked it. She might have jotted down the wrong date. We’re on the normal run, I’m sure. Andrea wouldn’t want to mess up her hair – a bit of sweat will be bad enough. Leave it with me and I’ll give her a quick call. Get her to check her email confirmation.’

‘Okay.’

Ten minutes later, after explaining the situation and sending Andrea off to check, the call came back.

‘Do you want the good news or the bad news?’

‘Go on …’

‘We’re definitely booked in for Saturday the 24th … and it definitely is the muddy one. Soz. I’m not sure how I managed that. It’s still three miles, though. We’re not on a half marathon or anything.’

‘Oh my God. Three miles of mud and grime and assault-course battering. What have you got us into, girl?’

‘We could just rebook on the other one and not turn up for the muddy one.’

‘Mmm.’ Claire’s mind was buzzing. It might actually work better for publicity and sponsorship. The mud-wrestling-style images would work really well in the paper, if Dave let them have a slot. If she could get through cancer, she could get through a bit of mud. It might even be fun in a weird, horrendous kind of way. ‘No, let’s do this thing!’

‘You sure?’ Andrea sounded horrified.

‘I’m sure. Just think of the publicity we could get. We’re bound to raise more money.’

‘Okaaay. I think. What am I agreeing to?’

‘It’ll be fun!’ The slogan of the ‘Pretty Muddy’ campaign had stuck in her mind: ‘Cancer plays dirty, but so can we!’ she chanted down the phone. And she thought about little Reece and his family.

‘Okay, your call, Claire. We’re on.’

‘I’ll just ring Sal back – tell her the good news.’

They both laughed.

21

After a long day working in the garden, sitting down on the patio with Mum, enjoying a glass of wine and listening to the birds

D., Cornwall