‘Remember that athletics club we were talking about?’ she asks her daughter. ‘Well, Laura’s going to help to raise funds for it. Make some cookies or something.’ ‘Actually,’ I say, ‘I was thinking I’d rather be involved in the more, um . . . active side. I’ve just entered that 10k you were talking about . . .’ ‘Really?’ Her eyebrows shoot up. ‘Well, if you think . . .’ ‘And I wondered, maybe I could help to plot courses, if we’re thinking of including some cross-country running . . .’ ‘Cross-country?’ she splutters. ‘D’you know anything about that?’ ‘Well,’ I say airily, ‘I’ve just been to stay with my sister in Scotland and we did a bit of fell and mountain running.’ ‘You ran up a mountain?’ Naomi blinks as she hands me a mug of puddle-tea. ‘Well, just a small mountain really . . .’ I don’t mention that, technically, it was a hill. It felt like a mountain, and that’s what matters. ‘God, that’s impressive. And yes, I think some cross-country would be great for the kids.
