I emit a squeak of my own as Hennie pats my behind.
‘Come on, Hartley! Go go go!’
‘Hands off, perv,’ I shout back to her, shimmying through as quickly as I can behind Owen.
Martha Jane’s cosy cafe interior comes back into view and I get to my feet, running behind Owen and Josh as they stumble their way around tables and crowds of people.
I hear a yelp and a crash from behind me, followed by a very frantic, ‘Oh God,sorry, I’m so sorry–’ from Elliot and a loud bark of laughter immediately after from Hennie. Heads spin in our direction. I shoot a few nervous and apologetic smiles as I pivot around a large group at the exit of the cafe, and emerge back into the glow of the warm, low sun.
34
It only takes a minute of running before it feels like my chest is going to explode from the effort of sprinting after Josh and Owen. I thought I had fairly long legs, but the sprint on these men is something else. I turn back to Hennie, who is holding up pretty well under the circumstances. She even has her signature grin plastered across her face. Elliot, just behind her, looks like he’s barely broken a sweat.
Basketball players. Ridiculous.
Luckily the distance between The Warren and The Lakes isn’t enormous; we only have to run around the perimeter of the Tower Stage to get there. A band is in the middle of a set on the Tower stage, aiding us in our journey as it means the paths are mercifully empty. I can’t stop myself from turning to look at the stage and the crowd surrounding it, feeling slightly queasy at the sight. Knowing I had stood there in a crowd that size, if not larger. My stomach turns over and I make myself look away.
My pace must have slowed as Hennie powers past me, yelling, ‘Come on now, Harty! Seven minutes to go!’
My chest burns with the effort, and she must notice as she grabs my hand to pull me along behind her, darting aroundpassers-by. I hold zero shame in such a small woman deeming it necessary to pull me in tow.
I look around to see Elliot behind us, still running at an easy pace. I suppress a glare in his direction for his never-ending composure.
Josh, to everyone’s dismay, tries to execute a slick action-hero-esque slide across the bonnet of an ice cream van and ends up completely losing his footing on the landing, resulting in him tumbling downward and receiving a mouthful of grass. I grab his arm as I pass him and pull him along with us, dutifully ignoring the spitting sounds he makes the rest of the way.
Finally, we speed past the edge of The Lakes to find the same small gap between the trees that we had found earlier, Owen still leading the pack gaily.
‘Come on!’ Owen calls out, sweeping his arm to gather us. The boys pause to let Hennie and I run down the path first, and there’s the door. Exactly as it was earlier.
Trying to control my panting, I check the time: 4.59.
Josh almost retches behind me. ‘I was not put on this earth to run two days in a row,’ he complains. ‘There must be consequences for these actions.’
‘So, what do we actually do?’ Owen says from behind me, his breath also heaving.
I approach the door, preparing myself.
‘Uh,’ I murmur, eying Elliot uneasily. ‘Do you think we knock?’
‘Sure, why not?’ he says, making his way confidently to the door and knocking three times.
We stand in silence, waiting with baited breath and wild eyes.
‘What were the actual instructions?’ Hennie prompts in a whisper.
‘He said that we need to say our favourite… dessert,’ I say apologetically, all too aware of how nonsensical it sounds.
‘Huh,’ Owen replies. ‘Not what I thought you were gonna say.’
There’s another pause as Josh steps in front of the door.
‘Sticky toffee pudding,’ he shouts directly at it.
Owen snorts and shakes his head.
‘Almond croissant?’ Hennie adds weakly.
Josh’s head whips round, looking offended. ‘That’s a snack.’
