It May Rain

Chapter Thirteen

The weather has finally cleared up, and even though it's still frighteningly cold outside, the sun is shining, giving me motivation to actually go outside.

It's a Saturday morning so I'd usually spend it having a lie-in, but I've made myself a (belated) new year's resolution to spend less time at home and get out there and try new things. Today I signed up for a runner's club around a central London park. It starts at bloody ten o'clock in the morning, meaning I've had to wake up at eight to be there on time, so I hope it will be worth it in the end.

I haven't jogged or gone running in absolutely ages so I'm not sure how my body will react to this torture, but I read online that people of all ages turn up, so if all goes tits up I can hang at the back with the old people. The inspiration for signing up also came from my ungraceful gallop down the stairs at Magnus + Son, which left me more out of breath than I'd care to admit.

"Hello everyone, and welcome to our Saturday morning fun run! I hope you all wore your thermals because today is chilly, chilly, chilly."

I look around and everyone else is around the forty or fifty age range. That is, until I spot a blonde woman in her twenties at the edge of the group. She looks skinny and like she's a seasoned pro at running. I bet she'll be ahead of the pack in no time.

We all set off and within seconds a leading pack forms and bolts way ahead of me. After a few minutes my chest begins to burn, and somehow the icy winter air entering my lungs seems to be exacerbating the fire burning within me. How is that even possible?

And then my ringtone filters through my earphones. I stop at the side of the path and answer the call, fighting for breath.

"Hi Hugo. I...can't really talk right now, I'm...in the middle of something," I huff.

"Oh. What are you up to?"

"I'm jogging around Green Park."

"Why are you doing that? It's freezing outside."

"I'll call you back later, ok?"

I immediately hang up because I can't deal with his questions at the moment. I need to focus on getting my circulatory system back to working order.

We left on relatively good terms last Thursday, but he had lots of other interviews to get through that day so I left soon after the staircase incident. We've still got a lot of unsaid things to say to each other, but I didn't think that would have involved calling me at ten in the morning on a Saturday.

I hear a message notification pop up and I predict it's Hugo.

| If you can't talk, are you free to message?

I reply back:

| Have you ever seen someone typing a message whilst jogging???

After I send that, I realise I've gradually been slipping in sarcastic remarks into my everyday speech.

Christ, am I morphing into him?

| No, but I don't see why you couldn't. You only need your legs to run

I roll my eyes, wondering how he manages to wind me up using only a few words.

| But seriously, I need to talk to you Mae. I might not have signal for the rest of the weekend and I need to talk to you before Monday. Please?

I reply:

| Fine, let's meet in a couple of hours. 12:00 ok for you?

| I can't meet you, I'm in Copenhagen. I'll call you in an hour xx