Page 35 of Unapologetic Love Story

‘I had one, so I can joke about what I like actually.’

He stared at her in horror. ‘What?’

‘Yep. A guy got a little too fond of the podcast.’

‘Raina!’

‘Why do you think I don’t live here any more?’

‘You used to live here?’

‘Yeah. Poplar resident for four years. Lived not too far from the giant mural of the chihuahua.’

‘So, this was an annual tradition?’

‘Still is. I come back every year.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, I’m hoping you’ll see. This is the best day in London.’

‘Tell me why?’

‘Is this off the record?’

‘Absolutely not.’

Stop talking, her common sense rose up and shoved its way to the front of her thoughts. Boring and dull, remember? Nothing worth writing about. Don’t get sentimental.

‘I don’t know how much you know about the marathon, seeing as you’re a heathen, but this is the twentieth mile. People are struggling by this point, even the seasoned runners and the pros. It’s brutal. Some people tend to lose all confidence and doubt their ability to complete it at all.’

‘I would have thought the first mile would sort that out for people.’

‘Nah, one mile in, you still feel optimistic. Your Big Ben costume doesn’t feel like you’re carrying a car. You feel good.’

‘I don’t need to have run one of these to know that none of it feels good. Except, maybe, the end.’

‘Now, Tom,’ Raina said slyly, ‘you can’t spend the whole process thinking about the finish, you’ll never put in a good performance.’

Tom made a noise of disbelief and then started to choke on his mint. He pounded his sternum a few times, glaring at Raina with accusatory eyes. She merely laughed.

‘We’re here to remind them why they’re doing this,’ she added, a quiet seriousness creeping into her voice. ‘We’re here so they remember that they can do this.’

Tom wanted to strangle Raina Lewis for making him get up early on a Sunday. She had no good reason for doing this to him, he realized. She was screwing with him.

He was feeling quite superior about the fact that the runners wouldn’t appear for a couple of hours. However, Raina stepped forward. Her face lifted up into the cool sunshine and she smiled widely. Tom dragged his gaze away from her face to see what she was looking at.

A disabled competitor in a racing wheelchair appeared at the top of the high street, heading down towards the side of the road where Tom and Raina stood. He moved steadily, clearly taking great care to control his breathing.

Raina clapped loudly, causing the athlete to glance over and offer a strained but appreciative smile. His pace never faltered and he was soon way ahead, almost out of sight.

Only once he was gone from view did Raina stop clapping.

Tom felt a quiet discomfort. He didn’t want to poke the spot and articulate just what it was that made him feel a mixture of surprise and shame. He stepped back and regarded Raina as she whooped and cheered for more para-athletes as they raced down the strip of street. Visually impaired runners also joined the scene, raising their hands to acknowledge the cheers from an enthusiastic Raina.

‘I didn’t . . .’ Tom spoke softly, clapping alongside Raina as more runners came down the slight incline. ‘I didn’t know . . . I never realized—’

‘Uh huh,’ Raina said dismissively, clearly not interested in his backpedalling. ‘Well, now you do.’