‘When I was at school there was a cross-country race every year. It was for the oldest lads, those about to finish school, and it was always held at the end of the final term, just before the summer holidays. It was hard, about six miles long and tough terrain, up to the top of Lendep Hill and back down through Drumsford Wood. A killer. I doubt they could get away with it these days but it was a school tradition, seen as a final test before leaving the school, a graduation I suppose.’
He turned to see if we were listening, and I nodded at him to carry on, and we tried to keep up with his long strides.
‘Mr Franks the PE teacher used to stay at the back, to make sure that everyone did the whole route so there wouldn’t be anyone hiding near the school and then running back when they thought they’d waited long enough. There was another teacher at the top of the hill, marking everyone off as they passed and checking that everyone was still alive. As you can imagine some lads loved it and some hated it. I was looking forward to it; I found running easy and it would be good to get out of the classroom and away from all the teachers and the crowded corridors.
‘When it was my turn it was a hot summer, broke records apparently. It was a roasting Thursday in the middle of July and we were told to take it steady, but there was no way they were going to cancel it. This year, at the top of the hill, as well as having someone checking us off, they had another teacher handing out water to stop us getting dehydrated.
‘We set off to a cheer from the rest of the school and we all ran too fast across the playing fields before settling down to a sensible pace. The slow ones must have been halfway up Lendep Hill and the fast ones already descending when Doug Bannister finally turned up. He’d been at an interview for a job at a local business for when he finished with school, but he knew he would still have to do the run. Of course there was no one behind him. Mr Franks had set off with the rest of the year and he was barking at the slow ones to get a move on and pick their feet up and put some bloody effort in. Bannister was on the football and swimming teams so he was quite fit and apparently he set off at a good pace.
‘I was doing well. I wasn’t winning. A lad called Chris Lockton won every race; he was a member of a local club and trained three times a week. I was in second place though and feeling pretty good. There was a nice breeze at the top of the hill and I could see the school in the distance, some of the younger kids still on the school fields watching us run to our freedom. The second half was tougher than I expected with the steep descent and then through the winding woods but I stayed in second place and got some cheers when I finished.
‘More and more people started finishing and we all sat together on the field, feeling tired but happy. Some of the younger kids brought out buckets of cold water and we got them to throw them over us to cool us down. We’d heard that Bannister had set off after everyone else and we thought about him still climbing the steep slope of Lendep Hill in the hot sun as we lay on the grass, dripping in cold water and recovering. Eventually we heard Mr Franks’s fog-horn voice shouting at the last few lads to sprint to the finish, where he finally got his glory and went flying past them all to boos and cheers from all of us.
‘There wouldn’t be any more lessons that day; it was considered enough that we had finished the run. We were all laughing and chatting, nearly finished with school and feeling grown up, just waiting for Bannister to finish. It got to a time when we expected him back but there was no sign. We waited another fifteen minutes and somebody said he was probably taking it easy; there was no point in him killing himself. And then Mrs Crawford and Mr Hunter turned up. They’d been at the top of the hill, handing out the water and marking people off as they passed. They asked what we were all doing still at the finish line, so we told them, mucking about, waiting for Bannister. They looked at each other and Mrs Crawford said that Doug had passed them ages ago, taken his water and seemed fine. They’d slowly walked back to the school after collecting all the empty plastic cups in bin bags. Even Mr Franks looked concerned and he was never bothered about anyone. He said that if Bannister had fallen it was most likely in the wood or on the descent so Chris and me should go back and check Drumsford Wood, he would miss out the wood and head straight to the bottom of Lendep Hill.
‘The sun was at its hottest now, sending down hard heat. We took two flasks of water, one for us and one for Bannister, and set off fast across the school playing fields again. Mr Franks shouted at us to slow down, that he didn’t want any more casualties. He was running twice as fast us in the other direction, straight to the foot of Lendep.’
Dad paused and turned to check we were still keeping up. He’d slowed down now he was telling a story and Jon had taken the chance to recover a little. He saw we were right with him, took a deep breath and continued.
‘It was an adventure and we were excited. We didn’t think anything really bad had happened to Doug, just a sprained ankle or cramp or something. I could tell Chris wanted to find him too. I think we both hoped he was in the wood and we would rescue him and take him back to school as heroes. A Hollywood graduation. We slowed down when we reached the wood; it was hard to keep the same pace on the rough tracks and it was nice to be in the shade. We took more care to look left and right; he may have tripped and fallen to one side of the path and the undergrowth was thick on both sides. I knew Chris was right behind me; I occasionally felt his hand on my shoulder as I had to slow and turn a sudden left or right. The tight track eventually opened up and began to arch left, a long gradual sweep, and we sped up again. I had just begun to lengthen my stride and looked up, plotting our course, when I saw him. Face down on the floor, arms spread out ahead of him, like he’d fallen whilst halting traffic. He was so still that I think I knew he was dead straight away. I stopped running in a step and Chris crashed into the back of me. He was about to complain when he looked up and saw Doug. We both stood still and stared. Doug’s left leg splayed out to the side and it looked painful. I was sure he would have moved it if he could. We slowly walked up to him and I knelt down next to him and touched his shoulder and said, ‘Doug … can you hear me?’ There was no movement, no response. I touched his cheek and it was already turning a little cold. I didn’t want to but I knew I had to so I turned his head towards us, and it was then I knew he was dead. His eyes stared right over my shoulder, not focusing, not moving. I heard Chris, a few steps behind me. He made a strange noise, a mixture of a groan and a yelp …’
Dad stopped walking and me and Jon came to a halt behind him. We stood waiting, watching his back … Eventually Jon spoke. He asked the question I wanted to ask: ‘How did he die?’
Dad turned and looked from Jon to me and back to Jon again.
‘He had tripped on a tree root and fallen onto the stump of a young birch tree. The stump punctured his heart and killed him. We didn’t know that at the time though. We just knew there was a lot of blood and he was dead. Chris said he would go and get help. He told me to wait with Doug. I remember thinking two things simultaneously: why do I have to wait here and how are they going to help? But then I saw the look on Chris’s face. He was terrified, and already backing away. I could see his legs were wet and he followed my eyes down and saw what’d happened. He looked ashamed. I told him not to be daft. He took his T-shirt off, rubbed his legs dry, threw it away and ran off, nearly falling over as he set off. I didn’t know what to do. I sat down away from Doug with my back against a tree but that seemed disrespectful somehow, so I moved closer and sat cross-legged next to him but that felt strange, I was too close so … I stood up … and waited for them to come.’