by J C Williams
The running track was starting to resemble a parking lot for the infirm, with a number of mobility scooters parked erratically. The woman who’d just completed her archery attempt returned with a contented look on her face. She walked warily around the four-wheeled collection which had increased in volume considerably since she’d parked. She stood by what she thought was her steed and gently lowered herself into her seat. A man she assumed to be from their club waved in her direction. She adjusted her glasses and returned the gesture as she fiddled with the controls. It was clear she was struggling as she twisted and pulled at the throttle. The scooter burst into life, virtually throwing her off the back like a testosterone-fuelled rodeo bull.
“That’s my scooter!” shouted the man, who had now broken into a more energetic trot.
She headed directly towards him with a look of panic on her face. “I can’t stop!” she screamed. “It’s got a mind of its own!”
“Let go of the accelerator!” he commanded.
“I can’t!” she insisted. “The controls are different to mine. Help, it’s quicker than mine!”
“It’s been modified!” he shouted, as she moved at pace up the running track. She negotiated the 100m track at world record pace and continued to wail as she flailed her arms. Desperate pensioners dived for cover as she moved through the sea of blue rinse like a snowplough. She headed towards the perimeter fence and was forced to turn aggressively; the scooter leaned and threatened to tip over.
Emma and Jack heard the commotion and as Emma was about to comment, Jack was gone. He took off like a greyhound and as he broke into his stride it looked like a cat chasing a mouse. He soon caught up with the joyrider and he felt like a hero who was about to rescue the baby-filled pram freewheeling towards a busy junction.
He was running at virtual capacity to keep pace and the crowd looked on with concern. He leaned forward and gripped the elastic strips which were used to secure the occupant’s shopping. Jack assumed the battery-operated device would come to a controlled stop with the appropriate pressure on the rear.
The woman tried to reach for him as Jack made reassuring noises. He had now secured both hands on the metal parcel shelf and was startled by the forward momentum, which nearly pulled his arms out their socket.
The driver had calmed down by this point, perhaps reassured by Jack’s presence, and almost appeared now to be enjoying her trip on the pimped-out vehicle. Jack was tiring and exuded one final burst of reverse thrust. With his arms secured, he attempted to dig his feet in, like an anchor. They were now back on the athletics’ track and the grass underfoot, regrettably, provided minimal friction. As a consequence, his feet were now static and he was being pulled along like a water-skier.
Jack’s arms were beginning to shake under the strain and his legs were beginning to buckle. Like a fallen tree he collapsed forwards. His hands held firm, but his torso was now being dragged like a sack of coal. The weight of Jack on the rear caused the front wheels to rear up like a wild stallion as the woman held on for dear life. The scooter was now on two wheels and Jack hung on valiantly for a further fifty meters before collapsing in a heap, forced to release his catch like an exhausted fisherman.
“Head for the sandpit!” shouted Jack, with his head firmly planted in the grass.
Fortunately, she heeded his advice and swerved towards the long-jump pit. As the scooter wheels dug into the soft surface, it produced the desired result and the speed began to notably decrease. The wheels continued to spin, but with no purchase she was going nowhere.
The vehicle’s owner had now caught up and was relieved to be back in contact with his prized possession. The brakes had been modified to a small thumb control, he explained, and the accelerator was replaced with a foot control, like a car. As the woman panicked, it turned out, she unintendedly pressed down harder with her foot and increased the speed.
Jack arrived on the scene, with grass burns over his face and knees. He’d lost one trainer in the pursuit and had chunks of mud sprouting from the waistband on his shorts.
“No!” said Emma, shaking her head.
Jack looked offended. “What? I haven’t said anything.”
“You don’t need to, I know what you’re thinking! No!”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he protested.
“You’re thinking of racing old people, aren’t you?”
Jack pulled a face. “Maybe… erm… a bit.”
Emma was forming a response but, before she could speak, Jack continued on.
“Well, think about it. We’ve got this big, wide, smooth cycling track. It would be amazing! Plus, the people in scooters are naturally going to be a bit excluded otherwise. It will be like Mario Kart! They could throw old-people things at each other instead of mushrooms — balls of knitting or bags of boiled sweets!” Jack was getting excited, pacing back and forth and rubbing his chin. “It could be the start of a series. Le Mans. Ooh, hang on… Isle of Mans.”
Emma tried to suppress a smile, and on reflection it was quite a good idea. “You’re mad,” she said, “though it would be pretty good to watch, wouldn’t it?” And then, “You know, I think Grandad might need to get himself a scooter,” she said, looking off, behind Jack. “He’s looking a bit uncomfortable.”
Geoffrey had an arm draped around Ray for support and was walking uneasily towards them. “I think this half marathon…” he said once caught up and, after taking a gulp of air, continued, “may be a bit more of a challenge than I thought.”
“Grandad, are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Jack. “I’m all for these new activities you’re into such as hot yoga and boxercise, but a half marathon is serious. You could do yourself some real damage.”
His words of caution, however, appeared to have the opposite impact on Grandad, who now straightened up in defiance. “I’m going to do this,” he said, “and raise a boatload of cash in the process.”
Jack knew it was useless pressing the point. “Do you need me to give you a lift home?” he asked.
“No, Ray and I have signed up to do a pottery class at the Legion Club.”
“You’ve got a better bloody social life than me!” said Jack, and then, turning to Grandad’s accomplice, “Ray, by the way, I’ve hired a van to help you move next week. We should get all of your stuff in a couple of trips.”
Ray was out of breath from his cycling exploits and Emma looked uneasy as he fidgeted with the back of his trousers. He’d been walking somewhat gingerly and his hand pressed on his lower back.
“Are you feeling alright, Ray? You’re not having another funny turn?” asked Emma.
“No, luv, it’s that bike,” said Ray. “The bones in my arse are on fire from that saddle. Geoffrey, I told you this was a bloody stupid idea!” he said, turning to Grandad. He moaned as he pulled at something stuffed down the back of his trousers. He looked like a slapdash magician retrieving a rabbit from a hat. He increased his effort and a flash of bright pink fabric appeared, like magic, and glanced through the air in a colourful whorl.
The groan he released as the object left his trousers caused those in the vicinity to fix their eyes on him.
He stood holding his bum with one hand, a shocking pink bra dangled from his other.
“Ray, why on earth did you have a pink bra down the back of your trousers?” asked Emma.
“Oh, that. It’s not just a bra,” he said, pointing it in her direction. “It’s a padded bra.”
To clarify the point, he moved it even closer to her, but in view of where it’d been, Emma thought it best to retreat a few steps back. She could only hope that there were no more surprises to be had from the depths of the old fellow’s underpants.
Ray looked at the ladies’ garment with disdain. “That soppy old sod said that a padded bra down my trousers would stop the saddle from digging into my arse,” he said.
Emma looked puzzled. “Ray, you do know that you can buy cycling shorts which have proper padding built-in?”
It
was evident from the blank expression that this was news to him. “He had me in the lingerie section of Marks & Spencer for forty minutes looking for this. He was dressed like that as well,” he said, pointing out Grandad in his revealing running outfit. “The woman behind the till asked me if I wanted a gift receipt and as I was about to explain, he pushed it down the back of my trousers and started asking me if the padding felt nice.”
“I’ve got a feeling this anecdote is going to end up with security being called,” suggested Jack.
Ray was unsure what to do with the bra, which swayed like a flag in the evening breeze. “This any good for you, lass?” he asked Emma.
“Ray, it’s a kind offer, but I think we should probably burn that, don’t you think?”
Ray shrugged. “As you like, then.”
All things considered, the evening had been a huge success. They were overwhelmed by the number of people who’d turned up and had a healthy list of participants in each discipline. With the contingent who were travelling over from the UK, every event was now fully subscribed. Everyone appeared to have enjoyed themselves and there were no injuries reported, apart from Jack’s scraped knee, which Emma put antiseptic cream on, and Ray’s arse, which Emma didn’t put antiseptic cream on. The venue emptied almost as quick as it filled up. Jack and Emma sat back in the empty stadium and reflected on the evening.
Jack placed an arm around Emma’s shoulder, and they enjoyed the tranquillity that had now returned.
“Jack,” whispered Emma. “You’re still thinking about racing those mobility scooters, aren’t you?”
He paused for a moment. “Absolutely!”
.
Chapter Ten
O n a sun-drenched Sunday afternoon, there was no finer place than Peel to enjoy a sumptuous ice cream. The Cathedral City and fishing port is the quintessential seaside town, boasting an extensive beach overlooked by an imposing 11th-century castle on the adjacent St Patrick’s Isle. A constant trickle of happy tourists sauntered along the promenade and the smell of freshly cooked chips hung in the air. When the wind changed direction the aroma of smoked kippers filtered over from the nearby curing houses.
“We should do this more often,” said Emma, struggling to prevent a rogue drip from her whippy ice cream.
Emma and Hayley sat on the seawall under the shadow of Peel Castle and could easily pass as visitors to the idyllic beach.
Hayley was having little more success with her frozen treat and giggled as drops of her ‘mint choc-chip’ spilt onto her legs. “I know,” she said. “It really is beautiful down here. I feel like I’m on holiday. I wish I could wave a magic wand and come back here hundreds of years ago. I’ll bet the place has hardly changed.”
“Not sure they’d be eating ice cream,” teased Emma.
Hayley suddenly had a thought. “This time next week you’ll be in your new house!” she said. “That’s come around so quick, I bet you can’t wait?”
The smile on Emma’s face confirmed — she was grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve enjoyed the flat, but to be honest I cannot wait. To have our own place is going to be wonderful. I think Jack is looking forward to it, but he’s been in that place a long time. He’s a bit concerned that Horace isn’t going to settle.”
“Poor dear,” Hayley offered. “Horace, I mean, not Jack.”
“We’re going to have our own garden! Is it really sad that I cannot wait to have to cut my grass?”
Hayley shook her head, saying, “No, not in the slightest. It’s a really big deal and I’m pleased for you. Bit embarrassing, though.”
“What is?” asked Emma, concerned.
“I don’t appear to have received my invitation to the house-warming!”
“Don’t you worry about that, Pete has already been on to me. Kelvin is coming over in a couple of weeks, so I think we’ll do a joint housewarming/welcome-to-Kelvin party.”
“And in a few weeks, you’ll be joined by Baby Tate,” said Hayley, rubbing Emma’s firm and pronounced bump. “Emma, you’re going to be a mum and a homeowner soon, how brilliant is that.”
Emma didn’t reply. She sat with a contented look on her face, imagining what lay ahead for her. She’d always loved children, but never thought she’d be a mother. Laughing children were everywhere, and she admired the look of happiness on the faces of their parents as she struggled to believe that she, too, would soon be one of them.
“What about you, Hayley?”
“What about me?” Hayley said, deliberately coy.
“You don’t have to tell me,” assured Emma. “I’m just really happy for you.”
“I know, I think I’m just worried about tempting fate. We had our third date last night and it’s going well. She really is wonderful.”
Emma smiled. She had a warm expression and genuinely cared. “Tell me about her?”
“She’s thirty-four, her name is Lauren and she makes chocolate.”
“Ooh, I love her already! What a romantic cliché you two could be, one a florist and the other a chocolatier. I will make sure that Jack is fully aware of her profession. In fact, come to think of it, I should remind him of yours. Our neighbour is a florist and I couldn’t tell you the last time he bought me some. You should bring her along when we have the housewarming?”
“Hopefully. I’m just taking things really casually at this point. I don’t want to get too heavy and scare her off.”
Emma squinted against the beating sunshine and looked straight at Hayley, her gaze fixed yet strangely out of focus.
“Are you, okay?” asked Hayley.
Emma didn’t speak as she slowly removed her sunglasses from the top of her head and placed them firmly on her face. She took the laminated menu for the refreshment bar which sat next to her and used it to hide her face.
“Hungry?” asked Hayley, “or embarrassed to be seen with me?”
“What, yes, I know,” said Emma, obviously not listening.
“You’re holding the menu up the wrong way! What’s wrong?”
Emma was staring intently at a small mobile fish bar sat on the edge of the harbour. There were a number of people waiting to get served but her attention was drawn towards one very particular blonde-haired woman, standing on her own looking uncomfortable, almost out of place.
Hayley was starting to get concerned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Emma.”
“I think that’s Helen,” she said, lowering the menu.
“Helen?”
“Helen, as in Helen.”
Hayley knew she should know who Helen was, but she didn’t. She gave a lazy half-smile only, unsure if this was good news, but it seems it wasn’t as Emma didn’t appear overly eager to see this Helen person, and women need an ally if there’s bitching to be done.
Emma could see that she didn’t have a clue.
“It’s Helen, Jack’s ex,” said Emma. “And why the hell am I whispering, she’s about a mile away.” Distance perception had never been one of her strong points, but she continued to stare, like a hungry leopard stalking a sumptuous wildebeest.
Mirroring her behaviour, Hayley also started to whisper, “I thought she left the Island.”
“She did, or at least I thought she did. The last I heard she was moving to Liverpool to live with her new man, a scientist, I think. Jack was heartbroken when she left. I suppose I was as well. After all, we’d been friends for years. She just upped and left us both. And Horace as well.”
“Poor dear,” Hayley said again. “Horace, I mean.” She was hoping for a laugh but there was no response as Emma was distracted yet again. “Look, are you sure it’s her? It is quite a distance?”
“Come on,” was the reply. “I need to get closer.”
Emma took Hayley by the hand and moved covertly to the opposite side of the road. They were in stealth mode and moved like a pair of cartoon villains.
A small boy sat with his grandparents on a brightly-painted wooden bench. Emma smiled and gestured towards the small telescope w
hich hung around his neck.
“May I borrow that for just a moment?” she asked.
The young lad stared blankly and didn’t move.
Emma produced a pound coin from her pocket and used it to secure his cooperation — like dropping a coin into a vending machine, it had an immediate, desired result. She placed the device to her eye and ogled like a pirate.
Then she handed the toy back to the lad after only a brief moment. “You can keep the money,” she told him, while blinking her eye as if a speck of dirt were lodged there.
“Was it her?” asked Hayley as they walked away.
“I couldn’t say as it wasn’t a telescope but rather a kaleidoscope and I’ve now got a headache,” Emma said.
They moved cautiously, stalking their prey, until they were close enough that Emma gain confirmation.
“It is her,” Emma stated. “I wonder if she’s moved back? Oh god, I wonder if Jack knows she’s back?”
“You’re not worried, are you?”
“Me? What… no. No, of course not,” she said unconvincingly. “Why would I be threatened by the woman the father of my child was in love with and devastated over?”
Hayley put a hand on Emma’s arm and moved her towards an empty bench. “Emma, please… sit down,” she insisted.
Once sat, Emma took a series of deep breaths and did her best to compose herself.
“Emma, don’t be crazy, Jack’s in love with you. You’re having a baby and you’re moving into a new house next week. She’s probably over visiting her family for the weekend and Jack will have no idea that she’s here. Also, for what it’s worth, I can see now you’re much more attractive than she is.”
Of all the things Emma heard, it was the last bit that sunk in — it brought her comfort.
“I know I’m being irrational. I just know how much he liked her and how hurt he was, because I was the one who picked up the pieces with him. Do you mind if we go? I don’t really feel like seeing her and updating her on the news in my life. Might be a little bit awkward.”
