Going For Gold

By Allison Hay

Illustration: Shutterstock

WRITTEN BY BETH MCKAY

A family of winter sports enthusiasts gather around the TV, but for two of them, their achievements are just as impressive as their sporting heroes…

Icy air and an alpine blue sky promised snow. It was enough to excite both of Katie’s teenagers, who were already debating the possibilities of sledging while they drove through the Dartmoor countryside.

She couldn’t help smiling at their animated faces in the car mirror. Snow was a rarity down here in the Southwest so even a few flakes raised hopes and stirred a flurry of memories.

The first time around, they were so unprepared that Tom and Bella had to slide down the Devon banks on Katie’s old kitchen trays. The bright plastic sledges, which they invested in afterwards, then grew dusty in the attic for years before they finally had a proper outing.

“Do you remember the black run we made?” Bella recalled eagerly.

“It was awesome!” Tom grinned. “Matt fell off and broke his nose!”

Katie winced. Her recollection of taking her best friend’s son to A&E was less entertaining.

“Best to keep that one under wraps at Gran’s!” she advised.

She drew up outside her parents’ cottage at the foot of the hill. Tom and Bella piled out, engaged in a heated argument about who would be the most daring on the slopes.

“Morning, Mum!” Katie wrapped her arms around Helen’s floury apron at the kitchen door.

Hello love. The scones are in the oven. Grandad’s watching the ski championships next door. Why don’t you go straight through?

Helen stole quick pecks on the cheek as her grandchildren rushed past her to the sitting room.

“Always a whirlwind!” Katie shook her head ruefully.

“You know me. I’m just pleased to see them,” Helen reassured her daughter. “Go and join your dad! He’s glued to the skiing. Apparently there is a real chance of a medal for the freestyle this time.”

Katie smiled. Both her parents were huge fans of winter sports, even though they had never so much as set foot in the mountains abroad. There was nothing Bruce, her dad, liked better than to cheer on favourites from his armchair.

Katie recalled the thrill of staying up late as a child, to watch the figure skating. Like most of the nation, she was entranced when Torvill and Dean danced their way to gold to the stirring music of Ravel’s Boléro. Their victory inspired Katie to sign up for school trips to Plymouth ice rink for years afterwards.

As for Eddie the Eagle, with his breathtaking antics on the ski-jump, his daring had astounded them all. A complete amateur at the sport, he had flung himself over those huge drops on the Calgary slopes in an inspiring quest to achieve his Olympic dream.

Tom would definitely have approved of him, Katie mused. She picked up the laden tea tray and carried it through for her mother.

Soon they were tucking into hot buttered scones while Bella explained the latest “Big Air” event to her grandad.

“It’s a bit like skateboarding,” she told him, “only you stay airborne on a snowboard for so much longer.”

“The landing’s softer too,” Tom added grimly, a veteran of many skate-park tumbles. He had been an avid admirer of Lizzy Yarnold’s skeleton races in the Korean Olympics.

Katie had to admit that it was riveting to watch a woman turn herself into a human torpedo. Lizzy was the first Britain to win gold twice at the Winter Games and a tough act to follow. It had been great to see women dominating the medal haul for a change.

In these latest championships, the heroes and heroines were yet to emerge, of course, but Katie loved the way it brought her family together, across the generations. It gave them all something to talk about and celebrate.

She slipped back out to the car while everyone was engrossed. Katie had hidden the cake in the boot, its large box packed carefully in the cocoon of the children’s ski jackets.

She had ordered the cake secretly for the village hall party, from an artisan bakery in Sidmouth. Livvy, her friend, had done her proud. Katie lifted the lid and risked a peep. It was a real work of art: two different layers, with pale yellow icing piped with delicate roses and feathery leaves. She hoped it would remind her mother of the bouquet she had carried fifty years ago, to wed her childhood sweetheart. Helen and Bruce were wartime babies, who had married late, with little money at the outset. Katie wanted to spoil them now.

She lifted the box gently and tapped on the door of the neighbouring cottage. Mrs Finch was delighted to be part of the conspiracy and beamed as she showed Katie inside.

Her surprise safely stored, Katie returned to a jubilant sitting room to catch up on the medal news. Her heart skipped a beat. Tomorrow it would be her parents who were going for gold.