"I'd like to be like that. Free," said Cardy. "I really wish..."

"Do it then, you know what they say, just do it."

"I hate that expression," said Hen.

"Hen, not now!" I wasn't sure why I admired the runner, but I did.

"Mum, Dad, there's something you need to know," Jess began. Cardy had walked ahead. As if they'd planned it but I couldn't believe they had.

"You're..."

"Shut up, Hen. Of course he's not leaving university."

"Mum, listen, I know you'll listen at least, I'm gay."

My mind was a blur. All I could think was of the runner looking like the record-breaking Roger Bannister fifty years ago, and what he had...not caused...but prompted.

"I'm glad you've found yourself, Jess, that's what matters." The afternoon had turned to dusk in a trice. The grass was wet, which cleaned our boots, but the sky was cold and unwelcoming as only high, unbroken white cloud can be. Make your own way, that kind of sky always said to me. I can't help.

"Is there someone special?"

"No-o. It's just, there was this girl, actually two girls — "

"You're quite a catch, Jess."

"Mum! I just knew it wasn't me. I had to tell them, and now I've told you."

Hen was silent. I couldn't imagine what he was thinking about, unless it was his mistress, if he had one. I wondered whether it would be a self-defensive "at least I'm normal" that he was uttering silently inside to be followed later, when we were alone, with "I told you so" when he had never voiced anything of the kind. But he surprised me.

"You're brave, Jess. I like that," he said finally. He should perhaps have put an arm on his son's shoulder. But then they hadn't really touched for years. English awkwardness, Stelios would say.

Ah, Stelios! I have to say that for me the runner made me think of Stelios.