Page 53

I take it out and hold it up to the light. A dribble of water remains. But in the water there’s a residue of powder, leaving a trace all along the bottom of plastic.
It could be nothing. Maybe he’s just a conscientious doctor picking up the trash. But it sets my heart racing.
I dive back into the bag, my search taking on a different urgency. My fingers snag on a flap of material, and when I pull, the bottom of the bag lifts.
Underneath is an assortment of pill bottles held downby elastic. I’m no doctor, but I recognize the drug name. Ketamine. Why is a running race doctor walking around carrying sedatives? And is it for a patient or for his own personal use?
I hear Emilio’s footsteps returning. I grab one of the bottles, slipping it into my pocket, replacing the bag’s contents as best I can.
I’m back in the main part of the medical tent when Emilio emerges with a blister pack of aspirin. I mutter my thanks, rushing to get out of there. My breath catches in my throat as Emilio calls out my name.
I spin round slowly, the bottle burning a hole in my pocket. ‘Yes?’
‘Your father,’ he says. ‘He needs you. Spend as much time with him as you can.’
I nod, and slip out into the dark.
21
Adrienne
I wake in the middle of the night, still haunted by Rupert’s words.
It should have been you.
It sends me right back to those awful memories from seven years ago. My racing family abandoned me once the charges against Glenn were dropped. Most people wouldn’t pick up my calls, left my messages on ‘read’. The ones who did answer were sometimes worse. I had to face their confusion, their outrage and betrayal.
How could you do that to Glenn?
They were right to ask. As a coach, he’d taken me from a lump of directionless talent and shaped me into a contender. Goals that had seemed impossible were suddenly in my reach: sponsors, prize money, a chance to turn my running hobby into a proper sporting career. But what I couldn’t tell anyone was how wrong I was to ever trust him. And no onewillever know, because of a promise I made, and the rash, impulsive decision I made to tell a lie in the heat of the moment.
Yet no matter how many times I relive those events in my head, I always come to the same conclusion: that if it happened all over again, I’d do the same thing.
I slip out of the sleeping bag, careful not to disturb my tentmates.
Outside, there’s a reward for my restless mind: the night sky in the middle of the Sahara. It takes my breath away. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such a concentration of stars, even though it’s one of my favourite things about ultrarunning: being out in the wilderness in the middle of the night, taking the time to look up and appreciate the window to the rest of the universe. Here there’s so little light pollution that it’s like that window has been polished to a crystal-clear shine, and the overwhelming silence – no buzz of electronics or roar of distant vehicles – makes the experience even more immersive. The otherworldly cloud of the Milky Way hangs in the air, like a veil caught in a breeze, so much colour and movement. I feel like I’ve been given a front-row seat to the most spectacular night-time ballet, and I wish I could just sit and watch for hours.
Most of the other runners are sensibly asleep, giving their bodies the rest needed to be ready for another stage. Normally sleep isn’t a problem for me. I’ve been known to catch five or ten minutes on a chair mid-race, able to drop off even if there’s hustle and bustle around me. When Ethan was a newborn, I’d had no problem following that old adage of ‘sleep when the baby sleeps’. I wasn’t sure if ultrarunning had prepped me for motherhood or if the broken post-partum sleep was added training for ultrarunning. Regardless, Pete called it my ‘superpower’.
If I had it, the power’s abandoned me now.
It’s why when I spot someone else walking through the bivouac at this hour, it grabs my attention. They’re moving quickly, almost breaking into a jog. It’s only when they pass beneath a small light hanging outside an administration tent that I catch a glimpse of the person’s face.
‘Stella!’ I’ve called out her name before I can stop myself. I wish I could take it back, but she’s turned now; she’s seen me.
Now it’s my turn to jog. I want to talk to her. I don’t want her to run away from me again.
‘Hi,’ she says, when I’m close.
‘Um, listen. I’m happy for you and Pete. Really. It’s … it’s good to see you.’
She wraps her arms round her waist, then drops them, shifting in her stance. ‘Sorry you had to find out that way. That wasn’t our intention. I didn’t even know you’d be here. Presumably Pete knew?’
‘He knew.’
She shakes her head. ‘Probably didn’t tell me as I wouldn’t have come if I’d known.’
That stings. ‘Well, you’re going to be part of the family now. Part of Ethan’s family. So I’m glad you’re here. We need to talk. I tried to reach out after what happened.’