Chapter 7
Seven
Fin grimaced at the shambles surrounding him. With only another five minutes left in the session, he was counting down every damn second. He was going to need a stiff drink and a lie-down as soon as he got home. Catherine had clearly not been understating when she’d declared the team not very good.
The team was terrible, and it had been quickly evident they were going to need a little more than gentle direction. And not to win the comp—he’d already given up on that idea. Just to get them to a standard where they could play the game without all falling over like skittles.
It was like watching a miniature clown circus, with nineteen kids all eager to gain possession, wound up like spinning tops then let go, whirling across the field towards the ball like individual cyclone systems, spreading chaos as they bumped into each other.
He was almost hoarse from calling, ‘Spread out,’ every damn minute.
They were resilient, he had to give them that, bouncing straight back up again as soon as they were knocked down, but he was amazed there’d been no broken bones or concussions.
Another ball careened off the pitch close to Tori, who ran after it.
Fin followed in case his goddaughter wanted to kick it back onto the field and he’d be there to chase after it when it inevitably went in a completely different direction than intended.
A little girl, maybe about five or six, who he’d noticed a couple of times avidly watching the training session from the sideline, also took off after the ball.
Tori, recognising that the girl would reach the ball much faster than she would—no flies on that kid—stopped and waited at the sideline. Fin pulled up beside her and waited too.
An older man who was clearly here with the girl yelled, ‘Well done, sweetie,’ as she scooped it up mid-run before sprinting back with it tucked under her arm, her frizzy curls, contained in a high ponytail, bouncing behind her.
Fin smiled at the girl as she pulled up beside the older man. ‘Thanks,’ he said and gestured for her to throw him the ball.
Her smile dimmed and she drew closer to the man Fin assumed was her grandfather.
The man placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘Give him the ball, love,’ he urged.
The girl glanced at the field, where the kids were standing around waiting for the ball. Or some of them were, anyway. Three were engaged in a game of tiggy. One was chasing after a butterfly. Another was attempting a headstand. She glanced back at Fin with solemn brown eyes.
‘You’re a fast runner,’ he said, because she was and he was fucked if he knew what the etiquette was for getting a ball off a reluctant kid.
Before the man could say anything, Tori was filling in the blanks. ‘That’s Winnie. She’s new. She doesn’t talk.’
Oh. Tori’s statement was typically matter-of-fact and Fin glanced at the older man for confirmation. He gave a slight nod. ‘We sign.’
Fin wasn’t sure if that meant Winnie was deaf or there was something else at play, but finally, for the first time since setting foot on the pitch, Fin didn’t feel out of his depth.
He’d grown up signing, mastering AUSLAN at his grandmother’s lap.
It had been over a decade since he’d used it but he still remembered plenty.
‘Hi, Winnie.’ Fin spoke as he signed. ‘My name is Fin.’
The little girl’s eyes grew large. She didn’t respond but he’d definitely made an impact. Her gaze wandered back to the field. It was filled with such longing it almost took Fin’s breath away. Addressing her directly, he spoke and signed, ‘How old are you?’
There was still no response so the older man did both verbally and with his fingers. ‘She’s five.’ He proffered his hand. ‘I’m Gordon Harris, Winnie’s grandfather.’
Fin shook the older man’s hand before returning his attention to the girl, whose gaze was still fixed on the field. He signed as he spoke to her. ‘Would you like to join the team?’
It was an impulsive offer but why not? They were down a player and at least she could run and pick up the ball without falling over.
Gordon beamed. ‘How awesome is that, Winnie?’ he signed.
Winnie didn’t answer. She just shook her head and handed the ball back to Tori. Fin signed, ‘Thank you,’ but she shyly tucked her face against her grandfather’s leg.
‘You don’t have to,’ Fin assured as he spoke and signed, keeping his gaze on Winnie, who was peeking out at him from under her frizzy fringe. ‘You can just watch if you want. Hope to see you again soon.’
Fin gave one last smile and started to turn away. Gordon’s, ‘Thanks,’ stopped him.
‘I meant it.’ Fin nodded at the older man. ‘We need another player and she’s the right age group. Even if she only wants to join in the training, she’s welcome.’
He didn’t know Winnie’s story, but being new anywhere could be tough enough without the added communication barrier. And he could see she was dying to get on the field.
‘Thanks,’ Gordon said again.
‘You know how to sign?’ Tori said as they walked back to the restless band of kids hovering in the middle.
‘Sure do. So does your daddy.’
Tori glanced up at him, squinting into the afternoon sunshine. ‘Really?’
‘Yup.’
Donny had never been as good as Fin, who had grown up in the same house as his grandmother, but along with all the Ballyshannon cousins, Donny had been able to sign to some degree or other.
‘I’m going to ask him to teach me and Nellie so we can talk to Winnie too,’ Tori declared.
Fin nodded, his heart swelling with pride at the five-year-old’s generosity of spirit. Donny’s kids might have inherited his two left feet but they were such dear, kind little girls, which spoke volumes about how they were being raised.
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that her father probably only remembered the dirty words now. But Fin could teach them some basics while he was here. Because he didn’t think teaching them how to run in a straight line and not bang into anything was remotely feasible.
*
Half an hour later an utterly dejected Fin started the engine as Sweeney buckled up. ‘That wasn’t too bad,’ she pronounced.
Fin blinked. Was she joking? ‘That was an unmitigated disaster.’
Her lips twitched as he reversed out of their parking spot. ‘They just need a little time.’
‘They’re going to need an Easter fucking miracle,’ he muttered.
Pressing her lips together, she quickly turned to look out the window. ‘It was … entertaining, at least. I got some great snaps. Can’t wait to get back to my laptop and look at them more closely.’
Fin frowned. ‘Entertaining is an understatement.’
As if she couldn’t hold it in any longer, Sweeney laughed. She tried to stifle it with her hand but it escaped nonetheless.
‘This isn’t funny.’ Which only made her laugh even harder. Shooting her an exasperated glare didn’t help.
‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised. ‘Sorry. It’s just …’ More laughter. ‘You should have seen the look on your face when that kid with the red hair did a sliding tackle and took out not one kid but four, toppling them like dominos.’
‘Matthew,’ he supplied stiffly, even though the humour of the situation tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘I thought the pièce de résistance was when Alex went to headbutt that ball but missed entirely and got Donny, who was just getting up off the grass for the third time.’
She laughed anew. ‘I got that on camera.’
Fin glanced at her. ‘You didn’t.’
‘I did.’
Turning his attention back to the road, Fin’s lips twitched. ‘I gotta see that,’ he said, trying to be serious but failing as a honk of laughter escaped and the dam burst.
When their laughter eventually settled and there was nothing but the hum of the engine between them again, Sweeney asked, ‘Who was the little girl on the sidelines you were talking to with Tori? Is she deaf?’
‘Her name’s Winnie. Tori said she doesn’t talk and her grandfather said that they sign. But—’ Fin’s brow furrowed as he watched the road. ‘I don’t think she’s deaf. She seemed to hear her grandfather when he yelled out to her after she picked up the ball.’
‘So she’s … non-verbal?’
‘I suppose so. I invited her to join in some practice sessions if she wanted, so I guess we’ll find out if she decides to take me up on it.’
‘How long has it been since you signed?’
‘God.’ It had been so long. ‘About a decade. Not since Granny passed.’
‘I used to love watching you sign. You and your grandmother. You were so fast and it felt like you had your own separate language. Like you had this bond that was stronger than any spoken words ever could be.’
‘Yeah.’ Fin nodded. It had felt exactly like that, and the fact Sweeney recognised it only confirmed how very well she knew him. ‘It was like a bond.’
‘How’d it feel to be signing again?’
He laughed. ‘Rusty. But … also really comfortable. If that makes sense?’ Fin flicked her a glance before returning his attention to the road. ‘Like, that’s what I did here. Back in the day. I signed. It was part of my identity.’
She nodded slowly. ‘It makes perfect sense. You have these really deep ties to Ballyshannon. Much deeper than me. Generations of family and culture that you’ve put on a shelf the last couple of years while you’ve been away, and coming back has been hard and then this whole stupid engagement thing made things weird, but Winnie suddenly connected you to your roots again. ’
‘Yeah.’ Fin nodded. It was like Winnie had handed him his favourite pair of old slippers that he’d been missing. ‘Sounds right. Wiseass.’
She hooted out a laugh as she rolled her head to look to the window. There was silence for a minute or two as Fin navigated streets littered with memories, until Sweeney broke it with a real clanger. ‘Mai wants us to come over tomorrow night and discuss social media strategy.’
‘Hell no.’ Fin’s pulse shot up in alarm.
‘Even though I would seriously give a kidney to taste Mai’s bún cha again, we need to stay the hell away from that house.
I’m really not comfortable with lying to them and, between the food, the beer, that whole relaxed happy family vibe they’ve got going on and years of telling Donny everything, I’ll be spilling my guts to him in an hour.
And you know as well as I do that he’s terrible at keeping a secret. ’
As kids, Donny had never met a secret he could keep. There was no malicious intent—he was just a gregarious oversharer who rarely ever realised he’d betrayed a confidence until it was out of his big mouth.
‘True, but …’ She rolled her head back to pin his profile with her warm gaze. ‘We’re not the ones lying to them.’
Fin pulled into the driveway, cut the engine and turned in his seat. ‘Yes, we are. It might not have been our idea but we’re a party to it. Thanks to our mothers, we’re in this up to our necks.’
‘I know.’ She huffed out a breath. ‘We will laugh about this one day, right?’
Fin rolled his eyes. He bloody hoped so. This situation—dreamed up by two sixty-year-old women trying to cover their asses—was so ridiculous it was comical. ‘Yeah, yeah. One day.’