Shona scanned the fun run crowd for Harry’s hat.

The closed-off high street was an ocean of heads on this humid June Sunday, two thousand heads to be precise, but a wizard’s hat ought still to be conspicuous. She hoped so – it was her only way of recognising the unfamiliar Harry.

Shona limbered up self-consciously as she wove through the runners and walkers. She hadn’t anticipated being alone. Nigel, a workmate, was to be her running mate – until this morning when he’d wheezily phoned her.

“Won’t be up to it, sorry. Gone down with a stinking cold. Doubt I’ll be in work tomorrow either.”

“No worries, Nige. Dose yourself up and get back to bed.”

“My neighbour Harry mentioned he’s doing it, though, if you want company. He’ll go at your pace. He’s been very poorly, so having to take it easy.”

“How will I know him?”

“You shouldn’t miss him,” Nigel spluttered, “says he’ll be wearing a wizard’s hat. He’s had it years apparently, it’s a good luck thing.” He was about to say more, but his voice gave way into a torrent of breathless coughs.

“You get back to bed, Nige,” Shona sympathised, “I’ll find him.”

She saw the enormous pointed hat bobbing near the starting line. She was rather surprised to find its owner amongst the mainly serious runners who flocked to the front of the crush, intent on completing their six miles in speedy times. Silly costumes tended to be worn by the less competitive participants nearer the back.

She approached the man, who with his back to her was doing a sedate jog on the spot.

“Excuse me. Harry?”

“Yes?” He turned round, and Shona’s jaw dropped. Harry looked at least eighty.

Nigel had to be having a laugh. “He’ll go at your pace” indeed. Yeah right, she may be no Kelly Holmes but she didn’t quite need a Zimmer frame to manage six miles. Still, she’d committed herself now, no harm being pleasant to the old boy.

“I’m Shona.” She instinctively adopted the loud, slow tone she used with her hard-of-hearing granddad. “I work with Nigel.”

“Nigel?”

“He should have been here too, of course, but he’s not very well. He told me to look out for you.”

“Well how do you do, Shona?  I hope you can keep up with me.” Harry said this with a twinkle in his eye, though gave Shona an odd look when she laughed.

She decided he was a sweet soul and that she would remain with him today, if only to ensure he survived the course.

“How are you feeling?” she yelled, loath to ask him direct questions about the nature of his illness.

Harry looked slightly baffled again. “Never better, my dear. I’m seventy-eight and on top form.”

“Seventy-eight? Wow!”

“Eh up, we’re about to get going.”

He patted her arm bossily and bent his little knees into a starting position, concentrating on the race official’s commands.

When the starting gun blasted, the runners at the front zoomed away like hares – including Harry. Shona, concerned her new friend had failed to pace himself, speeded up to keep alongside him.

By the one-mile mark, though, he wasn’t even panting. Unlike Shona.

“You all right there, dear?” he asked.

“Mnff,” she managed.

“Can be a bit of a struggle when it’s muggy like this, eh?” Harry smiled sympathetically. Shona was doused in sweat. “I must admit, though, I don’t usually bother with these short distance events. I’m more of a marathon man.”

“Marathons?”

“Done London a few times. Few half marathons too – Great North Run, things like that. I like to support this one, though. The charity was so marvellous with my grandson.”

“Grandson?” Shona puffed, forced to slow to a trot.

The Simon Evans Trust, for which this annual event raised funds, provided care and counselling to cancer patients.

Somewhere in the corner of Shona’s mind a penny was dropping.

“Yes, he’s taking part today, with a few pals. Now if you don’t mind, I’d quite like to try and beat my time from last year so I’m going to get a wriggle on.”

“No problem.” Oh bliss, she could stop pushing herself to keep up with him. “See you at the finish line.”

“Cheerio Shona,” Harry called back as he sprinted away on his spindly legs, “good luck.”

“The old man left you standing then?”

Four miles on, Shona had abandoned all pretence of running and was massaging her side, suffering from stitch, as streams of people overtook her.

She turned to encounter a lithe young man with genial brown eyes and the most lovable smile.  Wearing a wizard’s hat.

“You wouldn’t be Harry’s grandson, by any chance?”

He broke away slightly from the two friends who accompanied him. “Harry junior. And I gather you’re Shona.”

Shona couldn’t help laughing, despite feeling like a blushing, dripping mess beneath his gaze. “Your granddad must think I’m crackers. So it’s you who’s Nigel’s neighbour. He just told me to look out for a wizard’s hat.”

“He wouldn’t know I had one done for Gramps as well.” Shona noticed how attractively Harry’s hair curled on his damp forehead beneath the hat. “I spotted you down the front talking to Gramps. We stuck at the back, let the serious runners go on ahead. I guessed you were Nigel’s colleague but couldn’t catch up to say hello until now.”

“Harry senior ran me ragged.”

“He’ll have finished and be enjoying a cup of tea somewhere by now. He’s such an inspiration to me. I took up jogging after I got the all-clear three months ago.”
Shona was humbled by the energy and pluck she’d witnessed today. She had no excuse to be out of breath. “I could do with doing the same.”

“I run on Tuesday evenings,” Harry looked at her hopefully, “if you fancy joining me.”

“Tuesdays sound good.”

“We could replace a few calories by going for a bite to eat afterwards.”

“Can’t wait.”

Shona may have been one of the last to straggle home in the run, but felt what she had won was far more appealing.