Page 5 of The Trip of a Lifetime

‘Nana, firstly, thank you for a lovely meal this evening. It was so nice to see you.’

Even Erin could hear herself buttering up her grandmother. She saw her most weeks. Today hadn’t been the long-awaited visit she made it sound.

‘It was lovely to see you too, darling.’

‘I was thinking that you really should do this race. It would be amazing. Just think how great it would be to stroll into book club and chuck in that nugget of information. Sandra thinks she’s been there and done it, but you could totally trump her last trip to Italy that she doesn’t stop talking about.’

Martha laughed. ‘I forget I tell you everything. I need to stop doing that.’

‘But what do you think? You’d see Harrison again. You could absolutely beat him this time; put that old grudge to bed.’

There was silence on the end of the line for a moment and Erin wondered if the call had disconnected.

‘I don’t think that would be the best reason to do it,’ Martha said.

‘Maybe not, but what about a personal challenge, like you used to do all the time. Get you out of your shell,’ Erin said and then when another silence stretched, she thought she’d gone too far and added, ‘Let’s not forget the fifty-thousand-pound prize money. Would that be a good reason?’

‘I tell you what then,’ Martha said. ‘I’ll do it. But only if you do it with me.’

3

MARTHA

May

It had taken us a further week to talk ourselves and each other into racing but somehow, between us, we had managed it. I was doing this for Erin, I supposed she was doing it for me.

Over the following couple of months, we’d purchased everything we’d need: sturdy but lightweight rucksacks, sleeping bags, ground mats and all manner of small items that might come in handy. I’d gone through the motions of this with an enthusiasm I managed to drag up from somewhere, but my reservations were enormous and I had to keep reminding myself I’d done this before. However, it felt ever so much more ridiculous what with me being seventy now. I’d been twenty the first time and I remembered feeling invincible. Now, I felt a bit creaky and I had no idea how big this trip of a lifetime was going to be.

We’d been second-guessing the destination which the production company had been keeping a secret. They didn’t want us to have too much time to research the region. It made sense, really. One click on Google and we could have found out everything we needed to know. It wasn’t the case before the first race. I’d always known where we were going but there was no one clicking on anything in those days; it was the reference section of the local library, or a paper map if you could get hold of one.

When we found out we were going to Canada I was honestly shocked. It was such a huge country and one neither of us had been to before.

They hadn’t told us our destination until we were at Heathrow airport. A taxi had picked us up from my apartment in Shoreditch and dropped us off into the safe hands of one of the producers of the show. When we’d raced the inaugural Trip of a Lifetime I’d been one of the youngest people involved in the TV show and that was including the production company as well as the other contestants. Now, I was at least three, maybe four decades older than Cally, the producer who’d been assigned to us. This did not fill me with a lot of confidence.

Cally had seen us onto the plane with no fuss and shown us into first class seats where we’d been offered champagne.

‘Enjoy it while you can,’ she’d said with a grin.

Then she’d taken our phones and left us with the strict instruction not to talk to anyone. I’d craned my neck around looking for the other contestants, but I couldn’t see anyone I recognised. Then again, it had been fifty years. Why on earth did I think anyone would be familiar?

Erin was asleep next to me with her head on my shoulder, looking every inch her mother’s daughter. It hurt my heart to look at her sometimes. She wasn’t Clare, I knew that, but if she’d taken on her father’s dark hair and bold features rather than the fair hair and soft and gentle contours of her mother’s, it might have been easier. Nature had a way of reminding us of our greatest losses. It was both a blessing and a curse.

My mind was also on Harrison Golding, as much as I tried not to think about him. I knew he’d be there as the producer had given us a list of the contestants.

Four of us were originals: me, Harrison, Priya and Femi. Sadly, Bob had died some years back but his twin brothers were running on his behalf. We all had companions this time. As we were all in our seventies, the production company knew we’d need a little support.

Harrison’s partner was called Sam, according to the list. I wondered if it might be a Samantha, possibly his wife. I was feeling nervous about seeing him again after all this time and that annoyed me. I’d practised my look of complete indifference in the mirror. It was a look that said, I think I know you from somewhere but can’t be bothered to remember where from. Of course, I was also working out whether my hair looked better tucked behind my ears or left to hang softly around my face. With my look of indifference, it was better hanging softly, I decided. It would hide a few of the wrinkles that had developed. This was going to be my expression when I came across Harrison again at the big dinner we were having tonight. One last beautifully cooked meal before the restrictions started.

Some of the more uncomfortable elements of The Trip of a Lifetime were coming back to me: the rationing of food to make sure our cash lasted the trip, the nights spent on terrible beds in terrible hostels or rickety night buses. Perhaps they would give us more money this time. We were pensioners after all. They couldn’t starve us… could they?

We landed at Vancouver International airport in late afternoon, although it felt like the middle of the night to me. I’d not managed to sleep at all during the flight and I was left feeling hung-over, even though I’d not touched any alcohol after that glass of champagne over ten hours ago.

Cally aided us in getting our bags off the baggage reclaim and through passport control. She saw us to the toilets and handed us both a coffee when we came out.

‘This is total luxury,’ Erin said with a grin. ‘I’ve never travelled in such style. I’m so glad you cajoled me into this.’

‘I think you cajoled me into this actually, and anyway, all of this is just to make sure we don’t talk to anyone,’ I said, and Erin’s grin slipped. ‘They just want to capture our faces on camera at the point where they tell us exactly where we’re going. Shock, disbelief and worry appear so much better than calm and controlled on screen. We talked about this. We won’t be getting a cosy train to the first destination. They will make sure we can’t afford to. Suffering looks great on TV too.’