Chapter 6 #2
It was a question Lia was used to hearing. While female footballers were nowhere near as well-known as their male counterparts, recognition was growing, helped in part by England women’s dominance on the international stage.
As more and more people had begun to watch the women’s game, Lia had been stopped on the street a few times for photographs.
But she still wasn’t used to hearing it from her grandmother.
Blank brown eyes stared back at her, from a face wrinkled with age. Deep laugh lines creased the corners of a mouth that used to smile so freely but now was slow to grin. Her silver hair was cut short, curling around her ears.
Lia blinked away the tears that threatened. “I come to visit often.”
“That’s nice.” Her grandmother patted her hand.
Over her shoulder, Lucy—her grandmother’s favourite nurse—shot Lia a sympathetic look. “She’s also a great footballer, Iris. We watched her game earlier, remember? Lia’s team won 3-0. She scored two goals.”
And had bagged an assist and the player-of-the-match award, which sat in the bag she’d dumped into her apartment before making her way across the city to the care home, wanting to make it before visiting hours ended.
Her achievements paled, somewhat, in light of her grandmother’s dementia.
Lia wouldn’t be the player she was without her.
She used to come to every single game. Now Lia looked at the stands, seeing the faces of her teammates’ friends and families, and knew no one was there for her.
The heartbroken look on Milly’s face when Lia had said she likely wouldn’t need any complimentary tickets for spectators for any game that season still plagued her mind.
“My granddaughter wants to be a footballer one day.” A rare genuine smile broke over her grandmother’s face. “I’m always taking her to practices and matches. Two nights a week, and games on Sundays.”
The lilt of her Welsh accent washed over Lia like a comforting blanket, even as the words stung.
Lia’s childhood. To her, it felt like a lifetime ago—long journeys from their home in the village of Dyffryn to the training ground at her first team in Cardiff, endless weekends traipsing across the country trying to find other girls’ teams to play against. Then, later, moving from their little village to Manchester when Lia had joined Manchester Wanderers.
But to her grandmother, she was still living in that era.
“She’s very good,” her grandmother continued. “I’m so proud of her.”
More tears stung at Lia’s eyes, harder than before to keep at bay. “I’m sure she’s grateful for everything you do for her.” More grateful than Lia would ever be able to put into words.
“Thank you, dear. Someone has to look out for her—my useless son certainly doesn’t. Too busy trying to keep that wife of his happy. I never liked her. Too far up her own arse, if you ask me.”
At that, Lia couldn’t help but laugh. Her grandmother had never hidden her disdain for Lia’s stepmother.
Even as a child, she remembered the curl of her grandmother’s lip whenever she’d been visiting and Vanessa opened her mouth.
The opposite of the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about Lia’s mother, even though she’d died in childbirth.
The day that Lia had gone to live with her full-time, away from the home she’d grown to hate, had been the best day of her life.
“Your granddaughter sounds lucky to have you.”
“No, I’m the lucky one. Hey, if you’re a famous footballer, maybe you could give her some tips?”
Her smile tightened. “Maybe.”
Lia stayed a few more minutes before deciding she’d lingered long enough. It was clear her grandmother wasn’t going to remember who she was today and was confused about why Lia was keeping her from joining in the game of bingo going on in the family room downstairs.
Lucy stopped Lia on her way out. “I’m sorry it wasn’t a good day for her today.”
“It’s okay. I know the drill by now.” Her grandmother’s condition had declined slowly the first couple of years, but by the third year, Lia had known she was no longer in a position to care for her. In the two years she’d been in the care home, it had continued to get worse.
“You played great today.”
“Thanks.” It was like a distant dream. She couldn’t have wished for a more perfect debut.
Already, she could see the morning headlines—that she looked like she’d always been at Albion, that Wanderers’ earlier draw meant that they were missing Lia’s goals and would struggle for the remainder of the season.
But her visit had put things into perspective, her euphoria fading. There were more important things in the world than football, though Lia forgot that sometimes.
“Has she had a good week, though?”
“Yes.” Lucy squeezed Lia’s shoulder. “She won bingo yesterday, so she was over the moon about that. And we have a new patient, Beverley, whom she’s taken a liking to. The two of them are always sitting together gossiping. She’s happy.”
Lia nodded. “Good, that’s good. Hopefully she’ll be feeling better on Wednesday.”
“I hope so, too.”