This contest is extra-special because it is only the second time it has been held on home turf. The race will begin in the field behind the tennis courts, and the first section of the run is on the rough path they use for training all year. After that, they will divert onto the fells proper. There will be plenty of rock scrambles to negotiate, a few small gullies, and about half a mile of narrow ridge, but Georgia has run more challenging courses than this one, and she can already picture herself striding confidently across the ever-adjusting landscape, until she reaches the final section where they leave the woods behind and begin a steep sprint down the hillside towards the school field and the finish line. She sees herself alone at that point, the other competitors already beaten. She hears the cheers of the crowd as they spot one of their own in the lead – her parents and Zac at the front, hands raised, urging her on. For a moment she imagines another familiar face in the melee. Would he be proud of her, or would his face hint at sentiments she would rather not see?
She has no desire to go back to sleep, but it’s so early that she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Ideally she would go for a run and clear her head, but today is the one day she can’t. She has to save her strength for later. She debates going downstairs to get a drink, but she doesn’t want another run-in with her parents. She had raged at her mother last night for treating her like a child – she is seventeen years old, she doesn’t need permission to go to Bethany’s house. Her mother had hardly got a word in before Georgia had turned on her heel and fled upstairs.
It is as though her mother is single-handedly capable of releasing a pressure valve inside Georgia. Afterwards, there had been no chance of going back down – not with her mother and father setting about their own personal Armageddon. She had grabbed her earphones and turned her music up as loud as she could to drown out their embittered mudslinging, but she still found herself cowering from their vehement voices, as though any minute the fallout of their fury would begin to rain down on her. She isn’t sure how long it took for them to stop shouting, because she had fallen into a fitful sleep.
If it weren’t for her, perhaps they wouldn’t have been so angry with one another. She wonders whether she should find them and say sorry. But apologies feel like weakness. Apologies feel like forerunners to confessions. Today Georgia needs every bit of strength she can muster. She will not allow herself to offer up a speck of softness for her mother to exploit.
She heads to the bathroom, splashing her face with water to wash away her malaise. Then she snuggles back into bed and picks up her phone.
She doesn’t have any texts. She is about to move on to Facebook when there’s a knock on the door. She stiffens, then relaxes when she sees her dad poke his head around.
‘How’s our athlete feeling this morning?’ he asks, rubbing his eyes. He looks exhausted. ‘Would banana pancakes help? Some early strength for later? Your mum’s having a bit of a lie-in – come down and we can talk through your race plans today.’
Breakfast sounds good, and she’s grateful he’s hinting that the coast is clear. ‘Okay, thanks.’
He leaves the room and she collects her dressing-gown. Her dad is good at cheering her up and putting things in perspective. She thinks of all those university prospectuses in her desk drawer, and imagines she and her father hundreds of miles apart next year, on a morning just like this one, her room empty as he walks past without a glance. Emotion expands in her chest. She sits on the bed and takes long, slow breaths. She needs to hold it together today.
She almost brings the phone. She really wants to keep it with her in case Sophia calls back, but she needs it to be fully charged for race time. Reluctantly, she leaves it plugged in, and heads for the stairs.
Her dad is already taking ingredients out of the fridge.
‘So, are you okay this morning?’ he asks without looking round, hearing her come in.
‘I’m good.’
‘Ready?’
‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’
He turns and smiles. Comes over to her and wraps his arms around her. ‘Whether you come first or last, I couldn’t be more proud of you, Georgia. So, you run like the wind, and have a good time today, okay?’
‘Okay,’ she says, listening to his words and trying to relax. She pushes her face against his chest, hiding from her thoughts, needing to quash the terrifying thought of letting him down.
25
ZAC
Zac has a plan to save his sister’s reputation. He’d sat up most of the night before it came to him, mechanically despatching person after person on the small screen while he worked through his anger. He had rechecked his newsfeed, hardly able to believe what had happened.
‘Sleeping beauty!’ Jacinta had labelled the photo. By 2 am it had 42 likes already, and the comments were all along the same lines: OMG – how did you get that?
Jacinta: LOL – not telling.
It was a virus, spreading before his eyes. He only stopped watching when he fell asleep.
Through the night, Maddie kept apologising to him, sending text after text. He didn’t see the messages until he woke up, by which time he’d realised he needed her help.
Maddie calls him five minutes after he texts his request, asking in a quavering voice, ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Will you give me her address or not?’
‘Not unless you tell me what you’re planning.’
She sounds terrified, as though Zac intends to arrive at Jacinta’s house locked and loaded. Zac allows himself to entertain that scene for a moment before he returns to the plan in hand.
‘I want to talk to her. I want to make sure she takes that picture down.’