Chapter 28
That evening, as she stood at the side of the pitch for their Tuesday evening training session with the Sandycove Seafarers, Kitty tried to explain the concept of flow and energy to a distinctly unimpressed Shazza.
‘I think you are unnecessarily complicating what is a simple interaction between foot and ball,’ Shazza said. ‘Hence the name. The game isn’t called kinetic-flow-spin or whatever you said, is it?’
‘No… but…’
‘But something tells me that you’re beginning to enjoy yourself, am I wrong?’ teased Shazza. ‘The woman who never went out, now never stays in.’
Kitty didn’t like to admit it, but life seemed so much bigger than it used to be. Time stretched away from her, enticingly. Minutes and hours that before were to be endured now were full of possibility. You never knew what was around the corner and it was the very possibility of life which was exciting. Kitty was beginning to enjoy these time-filling activities, and yes, if Dave did come home, she might even keep one or two of them going. She liked her new life… and new friends.
‘There are the lads,’ said Shazza, giving Rory and Tom a wave. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Grand,’ said Rory, giving Shazza’s hair a pull, making her twist away and flicking him back.
Tom gave Kitty one of his handsome smiles. Getting to know Rory and Tom was possibly the nicest part of this new life she was leading. They were both so nice and it was as though they’d all known each other for years. She smiled back at him. If nothing else, she thought, she’d made an amazing new friend, and when Dave came back, perhaps they would all be friends. Maybe Dave would be sociable again, and they could all continue going to The Island or perhaps on Pansy-Pearl. Except Dave once felt seasick while they were watching a documentary about killer sharks.
‘I hope Tara is in a good mood tonight…’ Tom was saying.
‘And not her angry, sadistic one,’ said Rory. ‘I’m exhausted and not in the zone for star jumps or running around too much… I’ve been working too hard.’
‘Rory,’ said Shazza, ‘you serve food from the comfort of a van… it’s hardly working too hard. Try nursing or coal mining. Or… journalism!’
Rory laughed. ‘You try peeling potatoes for 500 drunken festival-goers who are in desperate need of soakage…’
But Rory’s premonition about Tara came true and she turned up in a bad mood, her killer instinct back with a vengeance, and made them run the length of the pitch over and over until Shazza and Kitty collapsed on the sidelines.
‘I think…’ gasped Shazza, lifting her head, ‘…I am having a heart attack… quick…’ She fell back to the ground, ‘send…’ She mumbled something inaudible.
‘What was that, Shazza?’ asked Rory.
‘Send the alcohol,’ managed Shazza. ‘Send the St Bernard dog with the brandy.’
Rory laughed so hard, he too collapsed to the ground, and lay on his back, kicking his feet, while Tara stood over them, stony-faced.
‘Right, you lot,’ she said, ‘twenty push-ups, and then we will practise our passing and then on to shooting…’
Kitty tried to remember everything she had learned the previous evening. Focusing on the blades of grass, thinking of the ball as being part of her, giving the ball spin with a flick of her toes. ‘Here!’ Shazza kicked the ball towards her and Kitty stared as it came to a standstill at her foot, and then she had an idea that she needed to send it across to Rory, and after a glance at his position, she thwacked the ball with the side of her foot, watching as the ball swooped towards him.
‘Nice one!’ he called over.
Had she just kicked a ball successfully? Was she playing football? For a few brief moments, she had been concentrating so hard that she had forgotten where she was, almost as though she had glimpsed that usually elusive ‘flow’.
Finally, practice over, they all made their way back to the changing rooms.
‘So, what do you think, Tara?’ asked Shazza eagerly. ‘Are we improving?’
Tara contemplated them. ‘The bad news is I’m resigned to you never actually improving very much,’ she said.
Shazza looked crushed. ‘What’s the good news?’
‘The good news is that you didn’t get any worse.’ Tara smiled. ‘It’s an improvement,’ she said. ‘Of sorts. Miniscule. Tiny. Infinitesimally small. But an improvement nonetheless, especially you, Kitty. What have you been doing? Taking a magic pill?’
‘Something like that,’ said Kitty, smiling back.