Darren did something in computer programming, which was far too boring to talk about he said, when I politely asked what he did as we sat down in the pub with our first and only drinks of the night.
‘Like me then,’ I said, sipping at a very nice rhubarb and ginger gin and tonic. ‘I work for an accountancy firm.’
‘Do you earn pots of money, like moneybags Laghari here? Still driving the Porsche?’
‘Yes, and just as well with the parking around here. Managed to squeeze it in between a couple of Chelsea tractors.’
‘Yeah, it’s a nightmare but we’re within walking distance of the town and the run in the morning. Although, I’m tempted to move north. You get so much more for your money. Do you live in Churchstone as well?’ he asked me.
‘Yes.’
‘You ought to consider it, seriously,’ said Ash. ‘You could fit your place into Claire’s twice over. She’s got a lovely house. Double-fronted terrace. Old York stone, little front garden. It’s cute but not small. And it’s right on the edge of the park.’
I looked at him in surprise. It was the most complimentary thing he’d said in recent weeks.
‘The park where you want to do the run?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ I replied, reeling from Ash saying a nice thing instead of being his usual cynical self.
‘So what do you want to know?’
And for the rest of the evening we picked his brains about how it all worked, my disquiet growing all the while. There was so much more to it than I’d ever imagined and also a huge amount about the technology involved. That bit had definitely passed me by .
‘Oh yes,’ said Darren with a gleeful smile. ‘You’re going to need a minimum of three thousand pounds to get started.’
Ash, mid-drink, spluttered and I put my drink down with a bump.
‘Three grand?’ he repeated.
‘Yeah. There are a lot of upfront costs to consider. And all the kit you’re going to need. Folding tables. Scanners. High-vis vests. Walkie-talkies. Cones. Signage. There’s quite a list. But I think the parkrun people help you a lot with what you need and they can point you in the direction of grants and stuff.’
There was so much more to think about than any of us had even considered and I was beginning to wonder if we hadn’t perhaps been a bit ambitious, chivvied along by Hilda.
‘Have either of you registered?’
‘No.’ We exchanged nonplussed expressions.
‘Do we need to?’
‘You don’t have to,’ explained Darren. ‘You’re just listed as an unknown on the results sheet. But if you do, you get a bar code, which you have scanned at the end of the run. Then, a couple of hours after the run, you receive an email which tells you what your time was, how many people ran, what your age-graded score was. Look that one up. And a whole load of other stuff including what your PB was.’
‘PB?’
‘Personal best. I can print them off for you back at the house, if you like.’
He’d brought his laptop along and logged in to his parkrun account to bring up the detailed page of all his results over the last two years and a whole load of stats and information about the event itself. I began to tune out; this stuff didn’t interest me, but at the same moment, Ash leaned in. It was the most animated I’d seen him and he began to ask lots of questions about how the technology worked and what information was recorded. I was more interested in the practicalities of what was required to make an event happen. Did Hilda have any idea at all about what we were about to attempt? Suddenly I realised that I felt a decided prickle of interest. Until now, I’d been going through the motions, without really believing that it would ever actually happen… but what if we did pull it off? What if we did make the Churchstone parkrun happen? How great an achievement would that be?
Sharing a bed with someone was no big deal. No big deal at all. Except when it came to it and that awkward shuffling about who would use the bathroom first, ergo who would get into bed first. Thankfully, I’d brought sensible PJs, although the cami top revealed a bit more cleavage of my very average-sized boobs than I’d normally display in public.
I took first dibs on the bathroom, changing in there and cleaning my teeth. When I got back to the bedroom, clutching my toilet bag and towel to my chest, Ash departed without a word. I heaved a silent sigh, switched the lamp on and the main light off and hopped into bed, pulling the duvet up to my chin. For good measure, I tugged the pillow as far to my side of the bed as possible without it falling off and lay there waiting for Ash to return. There was absolutely no reason for the apprehension that danced on the very edge of my nerves – no Claire, of course not – as I strained to hear the noises in the bathroom and the signal that he was coming back.
The door squeaked and the floorboards creaked and I heard the door to our room close. I opened my eyes and gulped – a proper cartoon almost-swallow-my-tongue gulp at the sight of a half-naked Ashwin Laghari. My memories had not let me down. He stood there in his boxers, calmly arranging his clothes on the chair tucked in next to the wardrobe on the opposite wall, the muscles of his back rippling as he moved.
As he started to turn, I blinked my eyes shut quickly but temptation proved too much; as soon as I felt the bed dip at the bottom, I opened them again. He knelt on the end of the bed and I got a perfect view of his golden-skinned chest and the dark hair dusting his pecs. Our eyes met and he paused and stared at me. The silence of the room buzzed between us and all my hormones surged up in a tsunami of desire which must have been written all over my face but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his. His movements had pulled down the duvet and I was aware of my exposed skin and my tingling nipples that hardened into come-get-me points.
‘If you keep looking at me like that, beard or no beard, I will kiss you.’
And for the life of me, I couldn’t think of a single reason why he shouldn’t.
‘Claire,’ he warned, in a low voice that sent a tremor of excitement coursing through me.
I swallowed. What the hell was I thinking?
He moved another pace forward and I stared at him, at those eyes that looked back at me with dark intent. I sucked in a breath, which sounded loud in the quiet, semi-lit room, which was filled with shadows. Unable to tear my gaze away I studied his lips. My pulse flickered and danced with the anticipation of what the much-maligned beard would feel like.
Another pace. A pause. His hands drew level with my waist, one on either side. I swallowed again. Another pace. His knees were placed on either side of mine. His eyes bored into mine. The silence between us was fierce and powerful, almost throbbing in the night air. Another pace and his face was inches away, his body straddling mine. I swallowed. There was a whisper of a smile as his lips curved in response. But he didn’t make the final move, just stayed there hovering above me. I knew I had to breach that final space; it was part of the challenge. There would always be a challenge with Ash and that was why I’d liked him so much the first time we’d met.
I let a smile play across my lips and tilted my head back slightly. The challenge was what had been missing between both of us. The spark in each of us had been extinguished, in him just as much as me. And now I felt it roar back into life and I smiled again as I lifted my head and kissed his mouth. With a whisper of a sigh, his body sank onto mine, simultaneously soft and hard, adjusting to my shape as one hand scooped around my waist and the other around my shoulder, his lips moulding to mine as if they were coming home.