Chapter 17
17
The next day
I’ve commandeered the coaching staff’s meeting room for the academy evening, and LeMar’s loving being in control of the white board. Most years, the under-eighteens would be dying to soak up tactical insights from our home-grown striker, fresh from scoring this weekend’s winner. Tonight though, they’re just waiting for the star of the show.
Only, when Tony does finally arrive, there’s none of the usual off-hand charm. Everything about him’s pent-up, from how he’s tapping his toe to the way he keeps interrupting LeMar. At first, I’ve no idea why. Maybe he’s stressed because he was a bit delayed. LeMar’s already told me Tony was last on the medic’s list and it might run long. But as Tony jumps from topic to topic with no bridge between them, I’m picking up on a theme. He keeps coming back to how players have to work out who they can trust, or they’ll end up getting conned. I try telling myself players get like this over nothing, it’ll be the after-effects of a bad training session or the weight of the next game. But each time Tony drags up trust, he glares at me.
After half an hour, I’ve still no clue what I’ve done, but obviously, there’s something. And he seems to be getting more worked up every minute, so I suggest taking a break, and pull Tony out into the corridor.
‘If there’s a problem, it’s easier to just tell me.’
‘Nah, I can do without a hoard of teenagers hearing my business.’
‘OK. In here then.’ I’m aiming for ready to listen but my voice comes out harsher than it should. Pushing open the door to the indoor pitch, I hunt around for the lights. They flicker on, a dirty grey-yellow that does nothing to warm up the cavernous space.
‘You gonna take them heels off, before you tear up the Astro?’ From Tony’s tone, you’d think we were on his personal property.
I bend to remove my shoes, adrenaline-fuelled shakiness forcing me to reach for the breeze-block wall. I’d forgotten how much those extra four inches levelled up the height difference between us. Standing a stride or two away, Tony’s taking up even more space than usual.
‘So, what is it?’ I’m looking for eye contact, but he’s too busy glowering down at the floor.
‘I dunno I’m in the mood to do this now.’ His arms are crossed tight, matching his voice.
‘Whether you want to or not, you need to tell me what’s going on, or I can’t help you.’
I’m pushing deliberately, but it takes me by surprise when his head jerks up. ‘Oh, you think you’re here to help, do you? Well, I’ve had all the help I can take off of you, I can tell you.’
I lean back against the wall, the rough blocks harsh where my sheath dress leaves my shoulders bare. ‘OK. I get it. I’ve pissed you off. But you’ll need to fill me in on how.’
‘What? So you can make it all better, like you reckon you always do?’
‘No. Because you’re obviously dying to fight, and I can’t join in unless you tell me what we’re fighting about.’
‘Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking kid.’
I shrug. ‘Then stop behaving like one.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe talking don’t come as natural to me as it does to you.’ He spits the words out, and I’ve got a nasty feeling I do know what this is about.
I try to keep my voice relaxed. ‘So, I’ve said something I shouldn’t.’ I hold his gaze, even though I’m dying to look down. ‘Tell me what.’
‘Don’t pretend you don’t know. You’ve been gossiping with your mate Chrissie, haven’t you? ’Bout how I’m not fit to play.’
I keep my focus on his eyes, which have become the colour of smoke, trying to force him to connect with me. ‘I did speak with Chrissie, and I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have.’
‘Too right you fucking shouldn’t.’ His voice is edging towards a shout.
I keep mine conversational. ‘No. I’m getting that message loud and clear, thank you. But I didn’t say you weren’t fit, just that I thought Chrissie needed to make sure you and she were communicating, in case there was an issue.’
‘And what do you reckon gives you the right to stick your nose in?’
‘Mainly that I care about you.’
‘No, you don’t. All you care about is what makes you look good!’ His voice is loud enough there’s the beginning of an echo off the hard ceiling.
I raise my eyebrows, my mouth hard. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘You know what I mean.’ He’s not shouting any more, but his voice is sulky.
‘I actually don’t.’ I let enough anger show that I’m glad Tony isn’t between me and the door.
But he doesn’t move towards me. Instead, he leans a hand on the wall, bows his head and kicks at the AstroTurf, then looks back up to me. ‘You think I’m too dumb to notice? How you’re all over me when we’re on our own, but the minute someone else shows up, you act like I’m nothing?’
I’m about to say he could never be nothing, but he holds his free hand up. ‘I don’t need no more excuses. Christ knows, I’m sick of hearing the stuff ’bout your job.’
‘That’s not an excuse.’
The nasty short laugh is the opposite of his usual roar. ‘Well, maybe it ain’t. Cos you wouldn’t wanna risk the job, would you? Not when it gives you everything you need. And I gets it, why you get off on having all the guys going on ’bout how great you are, how nice, how kind.’ His fingers tighten, balling up his free hand. ‘What I weren’t so sure ’bout was what was in it for you? Getting me following you round like I was on a fucking string.’
‘Tony, I’m…’
He shakes his head. ‘Oh, you don’t need to explain. I figured it out all on my own. I mean, it’s true, I started out thinking you was just after a bit of a thrill, only you didn’t want no one knowing you’d stoop that low. Cos you’re too good to go near a player, aren’t you? But I worked it out in the end. You thought it’d make me play better, didn’t you? And that’d get everyone talking ’bout what a great job you’d done, fixing poor old broken Tony Garratt. Only you was so busy working on it, you forgot there’d come a point where you’d have to drop me or dirty your hands and fuck me. Isn’t that right?’
‘Tony, that’s not true,’ I splutter, shocked.
‘Then how come you’ve been freezing me out, ever since I kissed you?’
‘I… Tony, it’s not like that… I…’
‘Just thought you could keep giving me the odd smile, and I’d stay being a good boy?’
‘Tony, I’m sorry I made you feel like that but I promise, it wasn’t intentional.’ I look away from him for the first time. ‘This isn’t easy for me to talk about. But we can, if you want. Only I need you to calm down first, OK?’
He pulls his mouth into a sneer. ‘Nah, like I said, I don’t need nothing explained to me. Least of all by you, however much you reckon you’re the one round here with all the answers.’
And he’s so thick with self-pity, I’m suddenly angry enough, I could breathe fire. But I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of raising my voice. Instead, I make sure it’s quieter than before. Quieter and colder. ‘Then this is done. And you can storm off like a spoilt brat, or pull yourself together and finish talking to the boys. But either way, leave me alone.’
He starts to say something, but I interrupt. ‘Now.’
Tony looks at me, shakes his head, and walks an exaggeratedly massive arc away from me to the door. As he pushes his way out, the anger disappears and I’m just sad. I know it’s ridiculous, but it feels like grief. This is the end of the teasing, playful thing that meant every morning, there was a spark of excitement about coming into work. And it’s such a grim end. Not just what Tony said, or how he said it. But because I want to claim that was all a reflection of what’s broken about him. Only that wouldn’t be true. The damage I carry around with me played its part too. And that makes me flat and grey inside, a wave of tiredness pushing aside the jittery leftovers of fight or flight.
I’m still slumped back against the wall, knees drawn up to my chest, when LeMar puts his head round the door an hour or so later.
‘Sorry, Genie. I was going to turn the lights out. I didn’t realize you were in here.’
I try to sound bright, like it’s completely normal to be sitting alone on the indoor pitch on a Monday night. ‘Are you finished?’
LeMar shrugs. ‘Tony’s still in with them, but I wasn’t contributing much. I thought I might as well go.’
That doesn’t sound like things improved after I left. I should go and shut the evening down, but I can’t face it.
LeMar’s still looking at me. ‘Genie, are you all right? You seem weird.’
I’m tempted to say everything’s fine. But then I remember LeMar at fourteen, pacing around my living room after visiting his mum in hospital, raging about the doctors telling white lies.
I sigh, letting it pull my face down into unflattering lines. ‘It’s just Tony.’
‘Did he hurt you?’ LeMar asks quickly.
I shut my eyes briefly, forcing back tears. ‘No, of course not.’ I make myself smile. ‘I did something stupid, and Tony was letting me know he didn’t appreciate it.’
LeMar, being LeMar, doesn’t ask for details. Instead, he shrugs. ‘I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. Garratt’s permanently on the edge of a melt-down.’
That doesn’t fit with what I’ve been told. I mean, the training staff aren’t exactly effusive about Tony, but it’s more like they’re wary he’ll slip back to old ways than that he’s a current problem. Only there’s stuff players see that coaches miss, so I ask, ‘Has he got agitated before then?’
‘A full-on tantrum?’ LeMar’s voice is scornful. ‘No, but it’s been on the cards for a while.’
I raise my eyebrows.
He smiles. ‘Yeah, OK. I know what you’re thinking.’ LeMar sinks down next to me, not touching, but as close as he gets to any woman who isn’t Katia. ‘And it’s not like I don’t have some sympathy. I mean, I get it. He’s here on his own, he can hear the clock ticking on his career, everyone’s watching, waiting for a slip-up. But the life he’s lived, it’s his choice, isn’t it?’
‘Not everyone’s you.’
‘I’m not judging. Just saying actions bring consequences.’ He turns his face to me, his cheek flat against the grey of the wall and the shadows adding an extra inch to his high-top. ‘And, Genie, I’d steer clear. Do your job and leave out the extra stuff this time.’
‘I don’t ever really do anything all that extra.’
‘You did for me.’
That’s the closest he’s come to admitting that, when he was the only quiet kid in the academy, the player care office was his safe space. I’d like to hug him, but he’d be horrified, so I settle for a smile.
‘I don’t remember you being any trouble. And if there’s an issue with Tony, he deserves the same help from Player Care, whether you like him or not.’
LeMar draws his hand down his face. ‘Only, Genie, I know you. You’re seeing him as this lost puppy who needs looking after. And it might be Garratt does need some of that, because how he is, it’s weird. Like at training, he’s how you’d expect, always has to be the best at everything. But it’s not just the technical stuff. He started out like he couldn’t be bothered with us. Now, he’s got so he has to be everyone’s best mate. Do you know what I mean?’
‘Yes, I do,’ I say, smiling.
LeMar sighs. ‘Yeah, I thought you might. Only I don’t know as it’s something to smile about. Because the minute training’s over, it’s like he’s flipped a switch, he’s that keen to leave. And the last week or so, he’s hardly been able to keep the buddy stuff up for a full session. I get it’s him trying to show he’s here to play for the team, but it’s got to be adding weight on.’
That’s my fault. Suggesting he tried harder with the others was obviously a stupid idea.
LeMar inches his hand a fraction closer to mine. ‘So, I get you’ve got to do your job. But watch out, OK? This puppy, it might bite.’
I make reassuring noises, but I am concerned. Not for me, for Tony.