Page 25 of Runner 13

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 one will ever 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.’

‘I know,’ Stella replies.

‘And I don’t blame you for –’

‘Blame me? Excuse me?’

I hold up my hands. ‘No, that’s not what I meant. I know you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t owe me anything. I know that. I get that. This is coming out all wrong. When I heard about Yasmin, I …’

A bolt of pain flashes in her eyes when I say her name, and she almost crumbles.

‘This was a bad idea,’ she mutters.

‘No, wait, Stella, please.’

She spins round on me. ‘Why did you come here? I thought you’d stopped racing for good.’

‘I wouldn’t have come, but your dad –’

‘My dad? What’s he got to do with this?’

‘On the invitation he told me to come and “find answers”. He promised to tell me something important if I finished the race. But it’s probably just a big game, right? I mean, how could he know anything about what happened that night when the police didn’t even know?’

‘The police? What are you talking about?’

‘Surely Pete must have told you. When Ethan was three, he was hit by a car. It was right after all the … well, what happened in Ibiza. He survived, and the police closed the investigation. Joyriders, they said. But I was convinced it was connected to Glenn. Your dad knows who was driving the car, and he’ll tell me if I finish the race. ’

Her lips purse, but she remains quiet.

‘If you get him to tell me now, then I’ll quit the race,’ I say.

She sighs. ‘He’s not here. He’s gone to Ouarzazate to talk with Nabil’s family.’

I shake my head. ‘I still can’t believe he is dead. It doesn’t feel real.’

Stella doesn’t reply.

My shoulders slump. It’s too late. The gulf is too wide to build a bridge between us.

‘For what it’s worth, I am sorry. Yasmin deserved so much better. If I had known what she would do …’

‘Nobody could have stopped her,’ Stella says, her voice tight. Her body stiffens, and I can see the grief still buried there, so close to the surface.

I feel an old simmering rage return to boil within me. The same emotion that bubbled up when I heard that scream seven years ago and realized what Glenn had done. He’d extinguished one of the brightest lights I’d ever known. I close my hands into fists to stop them from shaking with anger.

Stella coughs and my eyes snap back to her. She looks me up and down. ‘Don’t quit, Adri. You should run. You look strong out there. She would be proud of you.’

Then she walks away.