They had planned to stay by the marshals’ tent, but Anya has been gone for ages. She had moved away while talking to Helene, hurrying towards the sports hall out of the rain, pressing her phone to her ear.
Callum has been left unanchored. He surveys the rain sheeting across the hillside. He glances towards the lights and shelter of the hall. People crowd the doorway. Many peer from under waterproof hoods despite being undercover, their minds gone running with their children.
Jimmy Davenport has been as good as his word. They have heard from all but two of the marshals. Georgia is doing well, and she is almost back within sight. Where the hell is Anya?
He glances across to Zac, to find him shivering. He shouldn’t be standing there like that, with only his hoodie, jeans and trainers as scant protection from the elements. Callum is about to ask him why on earth he hadn’t gone inside when the rain began, but the words slam into one another, piling up in his throat, refusing, for once, to turn his concern into a rebuke.
‘They’ll be coming down the hill soon. Let’s go and fetch your mother out here or she’ll miss it.’
Zac nods. Silently, they trudge towards the hall. People make way for them, no doubt keen to avoid contact with their soaking clothes. When Callum spots Anya she is still on the phone. She has moved to a corner, her hand pressed to her mouth, listening intently. Her demeanour makes Callum uncomfortable, and he keeps his distance, Zac loitering beside him.
Callum watches his wife, thinking back to the moment he had wrapped his arms around her. At first it had seemed odd to stand like that; they were a middle-aged couple grown unused to showing affection in public. Then he’d felt her lean in to him. It was a good sign, he hopes it’s an indication of what is to come.
Anya is waving her hands around now and repeatedly clutching her forehead as though she can’t believe what she’s hearing. She looks appalled. Callum studies her – he can’t recall seeing her green waterproof jacket before, or those trendy-looking wellingtons. And her hair seems to be tinted red – is he imagining that, or has she coloured it?
‘Has your mum dyed her hair?’ he blurts to Zac.
Zac frowns. ‘How should I know?’
‘It looks redder to me.’
‘I suppose.’
Zac seems so pale and preoccupied that Callum is distracted from thoughts of Anya. ‘Are you all right?’
Zac shrugs. ‘Sure.’
Callum isn’t convinced, but he’s not one to push the kids when they don’t want to talk. Perhaps that’s why he suffers less than Anya. Her desperation to help tends to override her ability to hang back.
The parents around them have formed groups, laughing and joking with one another as their anoraks and umbrellas drip onto the shiny floor. He knows a few of them to say hello to, but he’s never been for a beer with any of these dads, not even after volunteering for some of the school climbing excursions. Yet Anya must know at least a few of them. Perhaps that’s why she’s hiding in the corner on the phone, so she can speak in private.
Finally, Anya comes stalking across, putting her phone back in her bag. ‘Bloody Sophia,’ she says, running a hand through her hair. ‘You won’t believe what she’s done.’
Callum gestures towards the door. ‘Come on, we need to get back out there or we’ll miss the finish. Georgia’s doing well, she’s only got two marshals left to pass.’ To his surprise, Anya isn’t buoyed by this news. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’ll explain in a minute. Come on, I don’t want to miss Georgia coming in – she deserves to see us all cheering for her after what she’s been through.’
She marches off and Callum follows, Zac shambling next to him. He glances towards his son for clues, but Zac is hunched into himself, his mind elsewhere. What is happening to his family today?
The hillside is still empty, and the rain hasn’t let up. It blurs the view, forcing Callum to repeatedly look down to clear his vision.
‘Zac, go and wait inside,’ he insists, ‘you must be freezing.’
‘I’m fine.’ Zac doesn’t move.
Anya pulls her hood up and stands with her arms folded, a belligerent gaze fixed on the tree line.
Callum edges closer. ‘Come on, tell me what’s going on.’
‘Just wait a sec, will you. If I start now I don’t know what mood we’ll be in by the time Georgia comes down that hill. Let’s just watch her come in, okay? We can sort the rest later.’
‘All right.’ Callum puts a hand on her arm to reassure her. Anya doesn’t shift her gaze but she pats his fingers as though to say thank you. They are taking baby steps, but it is something.
‘It must be a nightmare, running in this,’ Callum says. ‘She’s going to be muddy.’
‘For once I don’t care,’ Anya replies. ‘I just want her back safely.’