The Saturday Morning Park Run: A gloriously uplifting and page-turning book that will make you feel happy!

by Jules Wake

  ‘Claire?’ Ash’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

  ‘And how’s Ashwin Laghari doing?’ I asked with a teasing note in my voice because I didn’t want to dwell on everyday stuff. For now, I wanted to enjoy fairy-tale Ash and me, the high-flying couple we’d once been on that very first date.

  ‘I’m doing okay. Although…’ There was lengthy pause. ‘I’ve got some bad news.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Er… it’s about Saturday.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you can’t make the parkrun?’ I laughed, knowing it to be impossible. We’d worked too long and hard for that even to be considered but when the silence down the line seemed to get heavier and heavier, my skin goose bumped in sudden awareness.

  ‘Ash?’

  ‘I’m really sorry. It’s work… I can’t… not when I’m still so new with the company.’

  ‘But… you’re run director.’

  ‘I know but you know I wouldn’t let you down if it wasn’t important. There’s a sales conference this weekend down in Gloucestershire. I’ve been invited to present a session on the Friday and I’m expected to do a board-address thing on the Saturday morning.’

  I was too disappointed to respond. He’d clearly forgotten he was supposed to be taking the girls to see Swallows and Amazons at the Regal. I wasn’t going to make him feel any more guilty than he already did.

  ‘Claire? Don’t be cross. I know it’s a big deal because it’s the first one but if you think about it, the important thing is that we’ve built a legacy. It’s the first one of many. And after three, four, five, six, you’ll look back and it won’t be such a big deal.’

  What he was saying made perfect, logical sense, and if I took a couple of deep breaths, I could be equally understanding and logical but something else bothered me. A niggling thorn that dug its way in.

  This is the beginning of the end.

  Coffee Girl and Ashwin Laghari might have sparkled and flown high in a relationship that would have glittered with explosive chemistry like fireworks in a November sky, but it would never have lasted. Our careers would always have come first.

  Claire and Ash… well, it had been good while it lasted but we were headed in different directions now. Our blossoming relationship was about to hit its autumn before the petals had properly unfurled. I doubted they would get the chance now; I couldn’t see it surviving much longer. Maybe, to use a pertinent pun, I should nip things in the bud now, but a lump in my throat stopped me saying anything.

  ‘Claire?’

  ‘Mmm, you’re right.’ I forced the words out. The parkrun was more than one run and no matter what, I was proud of what we’d achieved to get there.

  ‘I’ll make it up to you. Maybe dinner one day next week.’

  Yes, but what about making it up to the girls? He still hadn’t realised that he was letting them down as well.

  ‘This week is already… well, it’s just unravelling fast. God, I’d forgotten what it’s like. And it’s even worse starting a new job. So much to do just to get up to speed. But it’s great to be working again. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed it. The routine. Being valued. Having stuff to do.’

  Ashwin Laghari was back and I couldn’t begrudge him feeling good about himself and his new sense of purpose. I thought of the sad figure he’d cut before I’d realised he’d been made redundant, before Hilda had taken him in hand. Ash needed work; it defined him.

  ‘You sound happy,’ I said, genuinely pleased for him. ‘And I know the feeling. I’ve got a ton of work stuff to do tonight. Good luck at the conference. I hope it all goes well and you blow their socks off.’

  ‘Thanks and… I’m really sorry about Saturday. I’m going to miss you.’

  ‘Yeah, me too.’ But I didn’t think that would last very long. ‘Welcome back to real life.’

  He laughed, and I was grateful that I was able to sound like Coffee Girl, the sort of woman who would accept that careers came first because inside I didn’t feel like that anymore.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  ‘Morning,’ Sascha appeared carrying two big thermos flasks and a basket over the crook of one arm which was full of plastic cups, a plastic bottle of milk, and some wooden stirrers. ‘Thought I’d help you kick off the event.’

  ‘That’s brilliant.’ I almost snatched the coffee from her hands. It was ten past eight on a gloriously sunny Saturday morning – the Saturday morning – and the butterflies in my stomach were preparing for mass migration. Coffee was exactly what I needed.

  Last night I hadn’t got much sleep and I was quite grateful for the trip to the Regal, which I ended up doing in Ash’s absence. I lied to Poppy and Ava, telling them he’d paid for the tickets as a treat because he couldn’t make it.

  ‘I was too nervous to have one at home earlier. Thank you.’

  ‘Nervous, what on earth for?’ She spoke with the blithe confidence of someone who didn’t do nerves. ‘Shall I set up here?’ With a tilt of her head, she indicated the trestle table near the finishing funnel. ‘I’d say you’ve got it all sorted.’

  ‘We’re getting there,’ I said. She put down the flasks and, efficient as ever, poured two cups of coffee. ‘Wouldn’t catch me up at this time running around a park. Can’t see the appeal but to each his own. Hope it goes well.’ She lifted her cup in a quick salute.

  ‘Thanks. Nothing I can do now. Just pray people turn up.’

  She shrugged. ‘There’s always next week. Rome wasn’t built in a day.’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been telling myself the whole way through this.’

  ‘You’ve done a good thing. Good for the community. Most of those volunteers that turned up… I’d never seen them before and I’ve lived in Churchstone nearly all my life. This park should be used more and before you say it, not just because I’m going to benefit from the custom. I know people think that I’m a bit of ballbreaker and I’m only interested in my profits, but this park is special.’ She stared off into the distance and then her mouth softened. ‘When I was seven my gran used to bring me here every Saturday morning, rain or shine. When it rained she bought a picnic rug and we sheltered in the bandstand and ate banana sandwiches out of tin foil and drank black tea from a thermos flask. You know the old-style ones with the tartan pattern on the outside? Bless her. She was a lifesaver. My parents were going through a shitty divorce and I was caught smack bang in the middle. Those Saturday mornings were a reprieve. The only time in the week when I didn’t have to feel guilty for being with one instead of the other. My gran loved this park. I miss her. She died last year.’

  ‘I’m sorry. She sounds like she loved you.’

  ‘Oh God, yeah.’ Sascha rubbed at the chrome valve of one of the big thermos flasks and I suspected she was avoiding catching my eye. ‘She wasn’t the sort that spoiled you, wasn’t backwards about clipping you round the ear if she thought you deserved it either, but I always knew she was in my corner. Hilda reminds me a bit of her. Kind but firm, and speaks her mind.’

  ‘Talk of the devil,’ I said, spotting Hilda in another new tracksuit. I blinked. She’d outdone herself today. She marched across the park resplendent in a shiny fuchsia-pink shell suit that rustled along with her self-important steps.

  ‘Freakin’ hell! Where did she get that little number?’ Sascha put her hand over her mouth, hiding the snigger I could hear. ‘Is it vintage?’

  ‘I think she gets them online,’ I murmured.

  ‘And that’s why some people should not be allowed an internet connection,’ muttered Sascha.

  Following in Hilda’s wake was a man with a large camera around his neck, who was obviously Adam, the photographer from the local paper, and a second older man tagging along behind him.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ murmured Sascha, sidling away.

  ‘Morning Claire, this is Mr Benton and his father Mr Benton, senior. Ooh is that coffee?’

  ‘Do call me Harold,’ said the older man, who swept off his panama hat an
d nodded to me with old-school courtesy. ‘I’m not here in a professional capacity. I’m just being nosy.’ Hilda was already helping herself to coffee and offering him one.

  ‘And I’m the son of the nosy one, here in a very professional capacity. Adam Benton, photographer with the Churchstone Advertiser.’ He held out a hand.

  ‘Hi, nice to meet you and thanks so much for coming.’

  He gave me an amused smile and glanced back at his father, who was chatting to Hilda over their steaming drinks. ‘I’m not sure I had an awful lot of choice. My dad met Hilda in the library this week. She’s… very persistent.’

  ‘Oh God, I’m sorry,’ I looked over his shoulder. ‘Although, to be fair, this was her idea so she deserves most of the credit, and,’ I laughed, ‘if it’s any consolation, I’m a victim of that persistence too… but look where it got us.’ I waved my hand around the park and the busy team of volunteers who were setting up.

  ‘Quite an undertaking.’ His admiring grin and swift, flirty glance wasn’t entirely unwelcome. ‘I wasn’t sure what to expect but it all seems very organised.’ He turned his head to take it all in.

  ‘That’s thanks to the parkrun organisation, who’ve given us lots of support, but mainly to our fantastic team of volunteers.’

  ‘How many people are you expecting to turn up and run today?’

  ‘I’m not sure but I’d be pleased with forty.’

  Charles had promised that most of the Harriers would be coming along, Penny and Janie had persuaded the school to put leaflets in all the children’s book bags, and Elaine had taken two cartons of leaflets up to the secondary school. There’d been a lot of interest on Facebook and Hilda had been telling everyone about it, pressing leaflets into the hands of every shopkeeper on the High Street.

  ‘Seems like a lot of effort for forty people.’ He shrugged and I wondered if he was being deliberately confrontational to get a story.

  ‘Not at all. It’s about taking part and making a free event available to the local community. The smallest parkruns average about thirty to forty people. Did you know, there are even parkruns in prisons?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’ Now I had his interest.

  ‘Yes, there are over twenty parkruns in prisons and young offender institutions throughout the UK. Don’t you think that’s amazing?’

  ‘You sound positively evangelical,’ teased the photographer.

  ‘You know what, I am. This,’ I held out my hand to indicate the park full of people, ‘has changed my life. I’ve got to know more people in the last six weeks than I have the whole six months I lived here before then. I’ve made friends, met people I’d never normally have met, and I think we’re going to make a difference to a lot of people’s lives.’ I thought about Elaine, Marsha, and Wendy reconnecting.

  ‘Don’t you think you’re attributing quite a lot to… well, a run in the park?’

  ‘No, not at all. There’s been a lot of interest and support from the community.’

  ‘So how does it all work?’ he asked with another one of those flirty smiles which gave my ego a welcome boost. Aside from a few texts, I’d barely heard from Ash. Not even a good-luck text this morning. With a smile warmer than he perhaps deserved, I gave Adam a very quick explanation, apologising for its brevity as I had a volunteer briefing to do in the next five minutes. ‘And that’s about it. Actually, if you’re staying for the run, it would be great if you could let us have some photos. I’m supposed to appoint a volunteer photographer but that one fell by the wayside this week. Just too much to do.’ I might as well take advantage of his flirty interest.

  ‘I’ll definitely do it today but I can do better than that. Hey, Dad. Fancy a job?’

  Harold lifted his head as Adam explained that we were a photographer short. ‘I’d be delighted, especially if I get to spend some time with this lovely young lady.’

  To my surprise, Hilda simpered – or something very close to it. Oh God, was this husband number five coming up?

  ‘That would be fabulous, if you could. But do you know what?’ I turned to Adam. ‘Hang around, talk to people. Then come back next week and take part. There are lots of stories here, lots of human interest. Isn’t that what local papers want? Now, please excuse me; I must go and brief the team.’

  As Adam stepped back I saw that I’d piqued his interest. ‘I think I will stick around. Interview a few folk. Thanks Claire, hope it all goes well. Perhaps I can give you a call… do a follow-up piece?’

  I just nodded. He had my number but, nice as he was, he’d make a poor substitute for Ash.

  As it was the same team as last time and they all knew the ropes, the briefing didn’t last very long and the marshals with their lanyards and walkie-talkies set off to take up their positions. Charles and I had walked the course earlier to make sure there were no issues and aside from a large fallen branch that we’d picked up from the main path and tossed into the shrubbery, there were no hazards or obstacles. Elaine, Wendy, and Marsha checked the stopwatches and the scanners and made sure the funnel was set up to their liking while I paced about, trying not to mind too much that I wouldn’t be running today. It was going to be difficult watching them all set off and disappear into the trees and then have to wait for at least twenty minutes before we caught the first glimpse of the lead runner.

  ‘Claire,’ Penny came dashing over, Hilda hot on her heels, still rustling like a paper bag. ‘We’ve been talking. And we think it’s only fair that Charles acts as run director for you today, or at least during the run.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He ran the course last week. He’s co-director anyway and we all feel really strongly that you should run the first one. You’ve been an absolute hero setting all this up.’

  Hilda nudged my arm. ‘Just say yes, dear. You know you want to. And isn’t Harold charming?’ I eyed her and gave in to a sudden urge to hug her. ‘Thank you, Hilda.’ I could tell that she’d been instrumental in arranging this.

  ‘It’s only right, dear. You’re the one who’s made this happen. Honestly, if I’d known what was involved, I’d never have suggested it.’

  ‘Now she tells me,’ I said, as we both began to giggle.

  ‘It’s been a ride though, hasn’t it?’ Hilda winked.

  ‘It certainly has. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’

  ‘Me neither. And look…’ She pointed to the growing crowd of people gathering around the edge of the big ground sheet we’d spread on the other side of the path for runners to leave their things.

  ‘Blimey!’ I’d been so busy with other things, I’d not realised how many people had begun to gather but there must have been at least a hundred runners and it was only quarter to nine. ‘Build it and they will come,’ I murmured, shaking my head.

  ‘And they’re coming.’ She lifted a gnarled old hand to fist bump mine. ‘We did it.’

  ‘We certainly did.’ I straightened and a burst of pride fired up the blood cells in my veins, pushing through a zing of electricity. ‘We certainly did.’

  ‘And I for one would be disappointed if you didn’t run it today… and so would you.’ She glanced over to where Poppy and Ava were bundled up in coats against the early morning chill. ‘I’ll keep an eye on both of them.’ Poppy was playing with Bill as always and Ava was guarding the small pile of tins of brownies, cakes, and cookies that some of the volunteers had brought along.

  ‘That’s very kind of you. Although Bryan – he gets my train every morning – has said she and Bill are very welcome to join him on the tail walk.’ Bryan Fellbrook, it turned out, had once been a keen runner but had got out of the habit. His wife had died recently and this, he thought, would give him something to do on Saturday mornings. I hoped so. Since that first volunteer meeting, he and the other lady with the gorgeous auburn hair had come and sat with me a couple of times and the three of us had developed a little commuter friendship, chatting all the way into Leeds.

  In the end, I didn’t take much persuading and
I was very grateful to Charles.

  And so I found myself in the thick of a crowd of runners facing Charles on the start line, my heart pumping with nerves and excitement. This was it. The Churchstone parkrun.

  ‘Welcome everybody!’ yelled Charles, using the script I’d put together, ‘And thanks for joining nearly one hundred and forty thousand runners this morning who take part in over 600 parkruns every Saturday morning in the UK alone. It’s great to see so many of you here.’ He went through the standard announcements about the course, the finishing line, barcodes and scanning process. ‘And finally, I want to say a big thank you to Claire Harrison and Hilda Fitzroy-Townsend, who have been so instrumental in setting up this run. And also, Ash Laghari, who unfortunately can’t be with us today. Can you ladies give us a wave and can everyone give them a bit of a clap and a cheer.’

  Feeling very self-conscious, I put up my hand and was almost deafened by the cheer that went up around me. A couple of people standing nearby, complete strangers, clapped me on the arms and the back.

  ‘Well done.’

  ‘Good job.’

  ‘Thanks so much.’

  I just grinned at them, not sure what to say. I wasn’t sure I deserved this much credit. Suddenly, I wished Ash were here and I felt in my pocket for my phone.