by J C Williams
This was the tricky part of not listening. He didn’t have a clue what Hayley had asked, so he either had to admit to not listening to the love of his life regaling him with what she’d been up to with her friend, or just agree.
“Sure!” he said, full of enthusiasm. “If you’re happy, I’m happy!”
“Aww, you’re wonderful. I said to Hayley that I didn’t think you’d be overly keen, but that’s great that you are. You’re the best.”
“No problem!” said Jack, happy to take the plaudits. “Sorry I’m late, by the way. Sue from the Castletown branch said she’d cover me for a couple of hours, but she didn’t turn up.”
“You forgot to ask her.”
Jack paused for a moment.
“You forgot to ask her, didn’t you?”
“… Yes. Yes I did,” he said with a sigh.
Emma shook her head. “Men! Well, shutting the shop for a couple of hours isn’t the end of the world.”
“I didn’t shut.”
“Who’s looking after the shop, then?”
“Grandad and Ray.”
“What, you’re kidding, right?”
“No, they popped in after their Pilates class and offered to step in. They will be fine!”
“I’d sooner leave your cat, Horace, in charge. How was his head after the other night, by the way? Grandad, I mean. Not Horace.”
“Fine, he’s never really had hangovers. It must be a pirate thing. Anyhow, Ray just told me that his house sale is going through, so he can clear his debt and either sell his shop or pay someone to run it for him.”
“He’s still moving in with Grandad?”
“That’s the plan. I think they’ll have a right laugh up there.”
“When did they start doing Pilates?” asked Emma.
“Since their Hot Yoga class was cancelled. Although, I’m not convinced it was cancelled, as the sign is still up in the gym. I think they’ve just told them it was cancelled as a polite way to get rid of them. I imagine they weren’t quite the audience they were looking for.”
Nobles Hospital car park was always a nightmare and Jack felt the sweat run down his back as he circled like a vulture for the third time.
“We’re going to be late!” announced Emma.
“That’ll help, Emma. You announcing what I already know will miraculously make a space appear.”
She used her hand to cover her face as a small boy took great pleasure in pointing the giant willy out to his mother.
“Look, I’ll drop you at the front door and I’ll find a space and meet you in there?”
“Fine, but don’t be too long, I don’t want you to miss it.”
There were at least fifteen people smoking at the entrance who smiled as the van pulled up.
“Please clean this van!” she said through gritted teeth as she climbed out.
“Emma!” shouted Jack through the open window. She turned and Jack threw her a piece of tissue. “Would you do me a favour and wipe the penis for me?” he shouted, loud enough for the smokers to hear.
With a look of thunder, she threw it straight back at him. “Just hurry up!” she said with her cheeks blushing.
Jack turned into the car park and as luck would have it there was a space staring directly at him. He pulled in and reached down to pick up his phone. When he looked up he was startled to see an older, stocky man with a fat neck, wearing a flat cap. He had a passing resemblance to Fred Dibnah and looked like he knew his way around a pigeon coop. He rattled his ring on the passenger side window and pointed at a blue disabled sign, clearly displayed between the parking bays.
“Shit!” said Jack. He looked at his watch and weighed up his options.
The man continued to rattle on the window much to Jack’s annoyance.
“Alright!” shouted Jack, “I can hear you!”
He wound down the passenger window.
“You don’t look too disabled yourself, pal!”
Without speaking, the man pointed behind him. Jack looked in his wing mirror and saw a frail-looking woman with one leg wheeling towards her husband. Jack raised his hands and tried to apologise.
“Here, Stanley,” the woman said as she moved up the side of Jack’s van. “Have you seen that gigantic cock?”
“I have, Mabel, and I’ve just told him to shift!”
Jack made for a hasty retreat, but the car park was full. There was no option but to park on the main road which was a good quarter of a mile from the hospital. Fortunately, he had his shorts and trainers on. He abandoned his car in the first available spot on the roadside and sprinted towards the hospital. As he passed the car park he cursed to himself as there were now, of course, several gaping spaces.
The main doors to the hospital were automatic — the ones that revolved very slowly. Two small children jumped into his section and as they moved they deliberately bumped into the glass door, causing them to keep stopping. After the third time, Jack was about to unleash a tirade until he saw the children’s mother on the opposite side. She gave them a look that only a mother could and Jack smiled sweetly, patting one of them on the head. They looked in wonderment, unsure what witchcraft powered these huge doors. He smiled, as it was the exact same thing he’d done when he was younger. “There’s a man on top, he rides a bike and it makes the doors go around,” he said to them. As he moved into the main reception area, he looked back and the children were looking desperately for the man on the bike.
After the sprint from the car, he was out of breath and sweating. A huge welcome board greeted him with an array of directions on it. He scoured it looking for a clue, but he had no idea where he was going.
Mercifully, two uniformed volunteers sat behind a small desk with a badge saying: ‘Here to direct you.’
Jack composed himself and stood in front of the mature, grey-haired helpers. He wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts, leaving clear evidence of a moisture trail. For the life of him he couldn’t think of the department he needed to ask for. Struggling for breath, he stood in front of them and smiled. “I need…”
His mind was blank. He panted and rested his hands on the helpers’ desk, causing them to move backwards in their seats.
“I need…” he said again… “women.” He raised his hand above his head and gestured as he struggled for inspiration. “Women,” he repeated, pointing, as it happened, in the general direction of their crotch.
The woman on the left ever so slowly reached for her phone as her colleague smiled at Jack. “Do you have someone with you? A carer, or someone we can call?”
“What? No… I mean I haven’t got a carer. My girlfriend is here to have someone look her over. We’re having a baby.”
“You got someone pregnant?” the woman asked in surprise. She didn’t want to get too close to him, so pointed at the board and provided him with the general directions. “Follow the signs for maternity and ultrasound,” she instructed.
Jack continued his jog and soon ran into the ward. There was no one in reception and no sign of Emma. He thought about phoning her, but there were signs everywhere prohibiting their use.
“Shit,” he said.
There were three doors on the left-hand side and to his immense relief he saw one with the ultrasound sign on the outside. He assumed this was for the reception area and opened the door. A burly skinhead looked back at him as did a rather annoyed looking nurse. “You can’t come in here!” she insisted. A woman was getting an ultrasound but it certainly wasn’t Emma. The three doors were actually three different treatment rooms. Mercifully, a nurse now sat by the reception desk and directed Jack to the correct room.
Emma lay wired up to an array of machines as a friendly-looking nurse exchanged small talk.
“Sorry, Emma,” he said. “I just saw Julie that you went to school with.”
“Oh, how is she?” asked Emma.
“Having a baby, at a guess. I probably saw more of her than her husband was happy with.”
Jack looked on in wonderment as the sight of h
is unborn child radiated off the screen above them. The nurse talked them through the image, and in truth, Jack couldn’t make out anything. He smiled politely, but the thing that really struck him was when the nurse said that everything appeared to be as it should.
Jack didn’t convey his emotions as much as he should. He’d been secretly having moments of dread that something was going to go wrong. When the nurse confirmed everything was fine, he felt a wave of emotion and for someone who didn’t really hold hands, he took Emma’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I’m just going to take some blood, if that’s okay?” asked the nurse, who had a wonderfully assuring manner. “Did you find your way here, okay?” she asked Jack. “We’ve recently moved and people are struggling to get here. Sorry about this, but you may feel a little prick.”
“That’s how we ended up here!” laughed Jack, unable to let the perfect set-up for a joke go to waste.
Emma rolled her eyes. “Do you have any test in that cabinet that can confirm that he’s actually the father?” she asked.
They looked in wonderment at their scan as they walked through the plume of smoke outside the hospital. The one-legged woman in the wheelchair took a lungful of toxic fumes, giving Jack a scowl as he walked by. With the use of social media, it was seconds before the Island had the pleasure of seeing their new arrival.
Emma gushed over the picture as Jack smiled on.
“We’re going to be parents!” she said with a spring in her step.
.
Chapter Nine
T he National Sports Centre — known locally as the NSC — is a multi-sports and athletics complex, located in the Island’s capital, Douglas. Jack had been in negotiations for weeks to secure it as a venue for the Wrinkly Olympics and was thrilled to have been given permission. There was initially some resistance, with some on the council who thought the event could be viewed as ageist. Jack had many flaws, but he was passionate about the club, and assured the detractors that it wasn’t the case. He brought along several members of the club who spoke enthusiastically about the friendships they’d formed, the new pursuits they were now involved with — including the previous world record attempt — and how much they were looking forward to the Olympics. The event wasn’t exclusive to the Isle of Man; clubs from all over the UK were enthused and entering teams into the various disciplines. Once the decision-makers were aware of how many tourists it would bring to the Island and the positive coverage in the media, they were eager to provide all the support required. Jack was quick to take them up on this offer and secured the use of the facilities to run his training camps. A number of the staff and coaches from the NSC were eager and willing to provide their expertise and time to help the Silver Sprinters prepare.
The athletics track was a modern facility complete with a covered stadium. Jack turned up just after the shop closed and reflected in the quiet solitude. The stadium was empty and the only sign of life was a couple of cyclists taking advantage of the route that ran around the perimeter of the running track. The Island’s only branch of McDonald’s was located teasingly within eyeline; he always thought that was a perfect irony.
He was nervous at the prospect of the event, but also excited. They were the same emotions he’d felt when organising the previous record attempts. The audience would always be a sympathetic one, in view of the overall purpose, but he wanted to do it right. He wanted to raise awareness, but also use it to raise money for their new fund. The council had agreed to let them keep the gate receipts and there would be surplus funds from sponsorship and other commercial activities.
“Are you soaking it all up?” asked Emma. She walked towards him and handed him a coffee she’d bought from McDonald’s. “Thought we should see what the competition’s coffee is like!”
Jack placed his arm around her shoulders. “To think, this stadium will be hopefully full in six weeks.”
Emma smiled, taking a ‘selfie’, seeing as though they had the place to themselves. “I’m very proud of you for doing this.”
“I couldn’t do it without you!” he replied.
The training session was open to all four Isle of Man branches of the Silver Sprinters and, indeed, to anyone who wanted to attend. There was no upper age limit, but the minimum was 60.
“What events are you putting in?” asked Emma.
Jack took a list from the pocket of his white Adidas tracksuit, and cleared his throat:
“Cycling, twenty kilometre and forty kilometre;
“Running, across all the main distances;
“Half marathon, to be run on the cycling track;
“Archery,
“Discus,
“Hammer,
“… and Shot Put.
“I’d like to have done more, actually, but we’ve only got the stadium for the day. If it works out, maybe next year we can do swimming events. I’ve got to be a bit careful we don’t do too much — we’ve only got so many volunteers.”
“I think it sounds absolutely brilliant. I cannot wait.”
Their tranquil isolation was disturbed by the echoed sound of shouting. They looked at each other, but it wasn’t clear where the noise originated.
“Yes, come on, yes!” shouted a motivational voice in the distance. Jack was going to comment that it sounded like the soundtrack to a cheap porno movie, but knew what the follow-up question from Emma would be and thought better of it. On the cycling track, just outside the athletics arena, they could see a figure dressed in white being shadowed by a man on a bike. The runner was moving so slowly that the bicycle following was wobbling, verging on falling over.
“Come on!” shouted the man on the bicycle once again.
Jack shook his head. “I know who that is without even seeing them.”
“Who?” asked Emma.
Jack strained his eyes but the figures disappeared from view. “Who else do you know that would wear white shorts, a white skin-tight vest, and white socks pulled up to the knee?”
“Grandad?”
“Exactly! I saw Ray in the florists earlier, so I’m guessing he’s borrowed Hayley’s bike.”
Jack and Emma walked to the fence and waited for what seemed like an eternity for them to reappear. Sure enough, Grandad soon came into view. He’d taken a black marker pen and proudly drew the emblem of the Silver Sprinters on the front. For someone who was nearly eighty-three, they had nothing but pride in him. He was puffing as was Ray who looked like a schoolgirl delivering newspapers on Hayley’s floral-decorated bike.
“Hey, Grandad! What’s going on?”
Grandad didn’t break his stride and raised his thumb. “I’m going to do this half marathon!” he announced. “Training starts now! I’ve raised six hundred pounds in sponsorship so far!”
Emma smiled as the training run moved slowly on. “It really is wonderful, all this. In what other dimension would we get Grandad out running for a half marathon and Ray doing exercise on a bike?”
The venue soon became a hive of activity as people in all shapes and sizes began to arrive. Emma and Jack’s coffee shop managers were all involved and personally arranged for their respective club members to be transported. The managers didn’t need to be there and weren’t getting paid to be there; they wanted to be there. Such was the demand that they’d had to put on coaches to bring along the eager participants from all over the Island. Jack and Emma were thrilled that the individual clubs had turned into micro-communities, also.
The club members were all being brought together for the first time and it was wonderful to see them; the power of social interaction is one that was most definitely not lost on Jack and Emma. Children and grandchildren also came along to support their elderly friends and relatives; the stadium was nearly full and this was just for a preliminary training session. Due to the delicate nature of some of those in attendance, the ambulance service had kindly agreed to give up their time and was eager to get involved. The media were passionate about the initiative and turned up to provid
e welcome coverage, but it looked like ‘word of mouth’ had done their job for them.
Virtually all of Jack and Emma’s club were in attendance and it was wonderful to see them embracing the events. The ‘Bingo Girls’ were exceptionally willing to try their hand at the discus, but as Emma observed, the good-looking, tanned instructor — currently stood behind them gyrating their hips — may have played a small part.
Jack had bought a new whistle and held a clipboard like a consummate professional. He escorted Emma around the different disciplines, stopping occasionally to offer approving looks.
“You’ve not written anything down, coach?” teased Emma. “In fact, you haven’t even got a pen!”
“I know, but it makes me feel important,” said Jack, chin up, but then his expression changed to one of concern. “I think we need to review some of these field events,” he said. “There are two people trying to pick the hammer up, and I’m sure that lady over there is using the shot put like crown green bowls.”
“I think Grandad’s pace may have dropped,” suggested Emma, “but, fair play, he’s still going.”
Grandad was on his second or third circuit and Ray had now dismounted, walking at a pace beside him.
“They’re cute, those two!” said Emma. “It’s nice that they’ve become such good friends. Hang on, why do you look puzzled?”
“I’m thinking we need to put on some events to factor in the physical capabilities of our contestants,” said Jack. “Maybe a few leisurely pursuits, something more sedate than throwing a hammer. I think some of the older ones are going to struggle. I mean, look at the old girl on the archery.”
A delicate woman with wispy white hair held onto the bow which was nearly as tall as she was. She fought with the bowstring, but her arms shook as the tension increased. On the verge of giving up, a man stood behind her and moved forward, giving her a supporting hand, enabling her to release the arrow. The look on her face as it struck the target brought a smile to Jack and Emma’s faces.
“Perhaps you’re right,” said Emma. “Maybe include the traditional events for the more adventurous and some others for the ones like that lady — something like table-tennis or croquet.”
