Edie wished that something could have been done for her brother Rodney. He was such a dear little chap. Even after seventy years she could hear him saying ‘One day I’ll race you.’ But he never did.
‘Trouble is, ’es a poor-doer’ Gran opined every time the doctor was called to the little boy. ‘Looks like my sister Gladys. She never thrived.’
Edie heard all this but didn’t really understand why Mummy often sobbed herself to sleep, or why Daddy read ‘The Daily Express’ without his spectacles on, the paper completely covering his face and a hankie tucked into his sleeve. Until the day she came home from school to an empty house, well empty apart from Gran who said nothing except ‘You’ll have to keep a stiff upper lip about this,’ but refused to be drawn about what had happened. That night Mummy and Daddy came home alone.
It was an effort to get up from her chair, even though it was on risers, so when her letterbox snapped shut Edie grizzled, ‘More bloomin’ junk mail’. All the same, she struggled up to see what had been delivered. She looked with interest at the flyer she picked up. It was about raising money for children with heart disease. They wanted people to join in in a sponsored race. Good idea, but what could an eighty-three year old who used a walking aid do to help? She made herself a cup of milky coffee and thought about Rodney, born before there was any treatment for his heart. Could she join in that race for him? She’d better start practising: perhaps go to the Post Office or the shop every day instead of just once a week. That would be a start.
The race got under way with runners, walkers. babies in push chairs, young and not so young in wheelchairs but just Edie with her walking aid. Perhaps because she was the only entrant with a walker, or because she was the last to get going, the reporters and photographers paid special attention to her. She only managed to do a couple of kilometres and a marshal had to give her a lift home, but she felt so triumphant that she’d taken part and raised money for a worthwhile charity. One of her carers recorded her interview on local radio when she told listeners ‘That race was a win for my brother Rodney.’
About the author
Penny Rogers writes short stories, flash fiction and poems. .She is a regular contributor to CaféLit and her novella 'Amelie at the Window' was published by Bridge House in October 2025. When she’s not writing Penny knits socks and makes pickles and preserves.
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