26. Scarlett
W hen I wake, it takes me a minute to realise where I am, but when I do, I’m upset to see Jamie’s side of the bed is empty.
Lifting my phone from the bedside table, it vibrates in my hand alerting me to an unread message.
I unlock the screen and press on the message from Jamie.
Morning beautiful, gone for a run.
Won’t be long.
He sent that around an hour ago and I can’t believe I slept through him getting out of bed and leaving the room.
I stretch before throwing back the duvet and swinging my legs over the end of the bed and head for a shower.
Luckily, Jamie’s bedroom is right next to the bathroom, and a quick scan of the landing assures me I can make it to the bathroom without encountering Pat.
Listening attentively, I’m pretty certain I can hear her moving around in the kitchen.
As I re-enter Jamie’s room with a towel, he’d graciously left on his chair for me, wrapped tightly around my body, my phone pings with another message.
Come meet me in the park.
I’m watching the kids play football again.
I smile at the thought of him doing something other than beating himself up with the guilt he admits is ruining his life at the minute.
As I dry off, my phone pings a gain.
Bring coffee ;)
I chuck on last night’s jeans, deciding going commando is better than wearing dirty pants, and rummage around in Jamie’s drawer for a T-shirt that isn’t going to swamp me.
“Success!”
I smile as I pull out a faded, old, band T-shirt.
I remember him saving up for this when he was in his rock era.
It’s a little big on me but it doesn’t look ridiculous.
Tucking the front into my jeans, I leave the back free and admire myself in the mirror.
“That’ll do,”
grabbing my phone, I head to the kitchen to ask Pat where the flask is.
Pat hands me two bacon sandwiches wrapped in foil and a full flask.
“His lordship rang, I guessed you’d be heading over to the park, too,”
she looks different this morning, more like the Pat I know of old.
The lines around her eyes appear a little softer and they seem to have their sparkle back.
“Thank you!”
My arms are too full to give her a hug but I still manage to squish myself into her side and plant a kiss on her cheek.
“You’re the best,”
“Oh, don’t I know it,”
she chuckles as she wipes her hands on a tea towel and begins to wipe down the units.
“I’m so happy for you, all these years I hoped but…”
she shrugs her shoulders and waves me off.
“Go, before those get cold.
Jamie will not be happy if his food is cold!”
She has a point.
The man is obsessed with food.
My parents used to joke they couldn’t fill Tom and Jamie during their teenage years.
It hasn’t altered over time either. “On it,”
I say as I shimmy into Jamie’s discarded hoody and head out of the house to the park.
I can see the football pitch from the roadside and I make out Jamie standing pitch-side.
He looks like he’s shouting encouragement at the kids playing.
Well, I hope it’s encouragement, and not his army style, boot camp motivation.
Lord, help them if it is.
His eyes light up when I hand him the foil package Pat sent for us, and get him to hold the cup from the flask as I pour the liquid lava, that is Pat’s coffee, out for him. “You spoil me,”
Jamie kisses my temple before he takes a bite of the bacon sandwich.
“Thank your mum, not me.”
The words are mumbled around the mouthful of bacon and ketchup.
I can’t remember the last time I ate anything as tasty.
“Hey, that kid is pretty good,”
I point at the young lad who is knee sliding down the pitch with the hem of his football shirt pulled up over his face.
Jamie laughs when he sees him.
“That’s the second goal he’s scored while I’ve been watching,”
Jamie takes another bite of his breakfast.
“We’re 3-0 up now thanks to that kid.”
The rest of the team crowd the young boy, clapping him on the back and jumping around in joy as the do.
“You legend,”
Jamie shouts across the pitch and the young lad jumps to his feet and takes a bow in Jamie’s direction.
Both of us laugh loudly at his exuberance.
“That’s my grandson, Josh.”
the old guy we’ve been standing next to moves a little closer.
The pride is evident in his eyes.
“He wasn’t keen on joining the team but I’m glad he did.
It’s been the making of him these last few months.”
The old man pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and runs it under his eyes, I’m not sure if the tears are his pride, the early morning chill or a mixture of both.
“He’s really good, he looks like he’s been playing for years.”
Jamie turns to face the old man. “Jamie,”
he holds out his hand for the man to shake.
The man removes his hand from his pocket and shakes Jamie’s proffered one wholeheartedly.
“Ben.
I’ve seen you watching them over the last few weeks.
It’s nice they’re gaining some interest.
They’ve had it hard,”
Ben pauses to watch as his grandson takes another shot on goal but misses by a hair’s breadth.
“The coaches are really good with them.
They take their time and make sure the kids are all having fun.
Josh has a few problems; those guys don’t stand for any nonsense from the rest of the team.
Any sign of bullying or showboating, and they shut the kids down.
I like that about them.”
I can see Jamie take a few minutes to gather his thoughts so I dive in and introduce myself too.
“I’m Scarlett, it’s nice to meet you,”
Ben nods his head as he pats my arm.
“You, too, Miss Scarlett.
Does he make you stand on the side lines often?”
Ben chuckles to himself.
“My Betsy wouldn’t have stood for that; God rest her soul.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,”
Jamie and I offer our condolences at the same time, and my arms come to wrap around Jamie’s waist, pulling him in tightly.
I saw him tense when Ben mentioned losing his wife, and that brings our own loss to the forefront of my mind.
“Has Josh been bullied?”
Jamie asks.
“It’s kids, they can be little shits.
He gets bullied for the colour of his skin and then there’s his disability.
We’ve tried to teach him that his differences don’t matter; they’re not who his is, but you know what kids can be like.”
Ben’s fist is suddenly punching the air as we turn to check out the match.
Josh has scored another goal.
“Yes Josh!”
the hanky is out again to dab at his leaky eyes.
“I told you he was good!”
The referee blows the whistle to indicate the match is over and everyone cheers.
The home team lads all huddle together, congratulating Josh, the only goal scorer of the game.
“Same time next week?”
Ben nods in mine and Jamie’s direction and we both promise to be there.