26
It takes four of the lads to heave the money bin into the back of Dad’s car at the end of the event. The crowd has dispersed, the Crawford players have all mucked in with the final tidy-up so Olly won’t struggle to get the pub open again in time for Sunday lunch, and we’ve all treated ourselves to a celebratory beer. Dad wants to start counting the collected coins straight away, to see how we did, but I convince him it’ll be better done tomorrow. It’s not going to be a quick job.
When we do finally tot it all up, we’ve raised– including William’s donation– over eight thousand pounds. And in the days that follow, we see the hoped-for spike in season ticket sales. By the following weekend, we’ve sold close to two hundred in total, which means we can now pay off a large chunk of Dad’s loan for the ground share. We’re all understandably delighted. Dad has no doubt that we can meet the remaining amount through ticket sales throughout the season. We only need to attract around fifty extra spectators per match to cover his initial outlay.
There’s more to celebrate too, which I share with Dad, Cassie, Bob, Marge and Barbour at our Friday night kitchen table meeting.
‘I’ve finally secured our first friendly match,’ I announce proudly.
It hasn’t been easy. A lot of the other clubs have either got games booked in already or have given their players time off over the summer and can’t scrape together a team.
‘It’s against Mayfield North on the last weekend of July. At their ground, obviously.’
We don’t have access to ours yet, which is another reason it’s been harder for me to get anything organised.
Dad fist-pumps the air. ‘That’s great news, Lily. It will be so good for the lads to get a real game under their belts.’
‘It’ll probably be tough– Mayfield finished fourth last season– but it will hopefully make the debut match of the season seem less daunting. I don’t know that we’ll persuade many fans to come and watch though, what with it being at the furthest club from Hamcott and on a Wednesday evening.’
‘We could set up a car-share scheme on our website,’ Marge suggests. ‘People could offer up their spare seats for a contribution towards petrol.’
‘That’s a great idea,’ Dad says. ‘Can you ask Adam to build something into the website for that? A kind of noticeboard-type thing, so they can organise it among themselves? We’ve got enough to do already without adding the coordination of that.’
‘Will we be able to get a team coach for it?’ Bob asks. ‘Because if so, let’s not forget there’ll be a few empty seats on there as well.’
‘Another excellent idea.’ Dad says, nodding. ‘And it won’t be a problem borrowing a coach on a Wednesday evening. It’s not a high-demand time slot. And we’ll only need, what, twenty-five seats for us and the players, so we can offer up the rest on a first-come, first-served basis. Hopefully there’ll be a few supporters who don’t mind getting to the game a couple of hours early if it means they get to travel with the team.’
I make a note to add an announcement to the website and follow it up with an email alert.
‘We could make that a regular offer,’ I point out. ‘And pick thirty people at random to get a free ride to each away game.’
‘Would that work for the journey home, though?’ Cassie asks. ‘We don’t want the players having to wait around for any stragglers after the matches, but if we drove off without someone we’d get slaughtered on social media.’
‘True,’ Dad says. ‘Maybe we should keep it a bit smaller on the real match days and make it more of a treat. The lucky five perhaps. Let’s use this friendly as a trial and see how it goes. We won’t mention the longer-term intention until we’ve seen how it pans out.’
‘So just to recap, that’s in a little over three weeks?’ Cassie checks.
I nod my head.
‘Then we’ll go straight into drills followed by match practice tomorrow,’ she says. ‘I want to make absolutely sure the lads are prepared for it.’
Before we all meet in the park the next day, I get a weekend bag ready. Ben is whisking me off for the romantic night away he promised me straight after Crawford’s not-so-social Saturday meet. All he’s told me is that it’s not at the vineyard, that it’s in fact two nights not one, and that I’ll need trainers and a jumper in case it’s cool in the evenings. I can’t wait to find out where we’re going.
I pack my bikini, just in case. As well as my sandals, three changes of clothes and enough underwear for half a week. It’s so unlike me to be this indecisive but I want to make sure I’ve covered all the bases. I’ll pop back after the football to collect it all while Ben goes home for a shower before I meet him at his.
‘I did tell you it was only for two nights?’ he teases when he sees the wheely bag I’ve ended up filling.
‘It’s hard to pack when you don’t know where you’re going.’ I think this justifies it.
He pretends to buckle under the weight as he hoists it into his boot. ‘Have you got bricks in there?’
I wince and shake my head. ‘It’s just shoes and toiletries. I did think I was better at travelling light.’
‘You’d have needed a shipping container for your European trip,’ he says, laughing. ‘At least you won’t have to carry this anywhere though. There might be a bit of uneven ground at the other end, but I think you’ll manage it.’
I’m even more intrigued now. I know we can’t be going too far away because he’s told me we’ll arrive in time for dinner. But somewhere with rough ground within a two- or three-hour radius? It could be anywhere. Camber Sands or Hastings or somewhere else by the sea? But he reckons it’s somewhere I won’t have been to before. Oxford or Cambridge perhaps? But I’m not sure I’ve ever mentioned that I haven’t visited either, and they don’t exactly scream rough terrain. Plus the warm jumper recommendation suggests it will be somewhere breezy– a boat trip maybe?
‘Have you chartered a yacht?’ I ask him, once we’re on the road.
‘I have not. I’d rather do that when we go away away, with nicer weather and a flatter sea.’
I can’t help smiling at the when, not if.
‘A barge then?’ I remember Phoebs doing a river cruise with her ex once and saying it was romantic.
‘Not that, either,’ Ben replies with a grin. ‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’
‘And you said the drive will take how long?’
‘I didn’t.’ He laughs. ‘But don’t worry, there are emergency snacks in the glove box, if you get hungry.’
I flip the catch and discover a multipack of Smarties inside, which makes my heart swell. He remembered! I reach across and give his thigh an appreciative squeeze. ‘Did you know the UK is the only place where the orange ones are flavoured? And that the blue ones are coloured with sea algae?’
‘I did not know either of those things, but I think I’ve just worked out what your Mastermind specialist subject would be.’
‘I can also tell you that when they were first invented the brown ones were coffee-flavoured and that the boxes used to have letters inside the lids. I think I’m done after that though. How about you, what would your specialist subject be?’
‘It should probably be something like Premier League goal scorers between 2018 and 2023, but realistically it would have to be something easier, like Oasis lyrics.’
‘Do you know them all? Let me test you...’
After three failed attempts, he admits it’s not so easy when you can’t hear the tune.
I can’t help laughing. ‘I hope you’re better at the general knowledge round.’
We decide to find out by searching for quizzes on my phone to entertain us for the rest of the journey. And by the time Ben pulls on to a dirt track at the end of a winding country lane in the heart of Dorset, we’ve concluded we know about as much as each other.
‘This is it,’ he announces, even though we appear to be in the middle of nowhere. The last farmhouse we passed was a good mile or two back. There’s a little wooden signpost pointing into the trees though, with Shepherd’s Hut etched into the bark, so I finally know where we’ll be spending the next two nights.
Ben parks up and carries my case the rest of the way down the track, with his own bag slung over his shoulder, and on the other side of the trees we find a stilted wooden hut in a fenced well-kept garden with uninterrupted views of the lush countryside. There’s an outdoor hot tub, an ornate bistro set and a firepit surrounded by a curved bench, with a glowing pile of logs filling the air with the sweet smell of wood smoke.
‘Nice touch,’ Ben says approvingly. ‘And it’s actually bigger than I expected from the pictures online.’
I’m already heading for the steps, eager to see the inside. Behind the wide double doors that can be opened right out is a kitchenette brightly painted in cream and oxford blue, with a matching sleeping area at one end of the hut and a shower room at the other. On the counter there’s a welcome basket filled with breakfast essentials and a bottle of red wine. A decent one, which Ben admits he preordered before we arrived.
‘And if I’m not mistaken...’ He reaches down to open the fridge and there’s champagne and a platter of nibbles inside– cold meat, cheese, olives, focaccia, sundried tomatoes, hummus and nuts. ‘Yep, I think that’s everything we need for tonight.’
He turns back to face me and I slide my arms round his waist. ‘Thank you for this, Ben. I love it.’
He grins. ‘So what do you reckon, quick bite to eat first or straight into the hot tub, before it gets dark?’
‘We should eat.’ If I can feel my stomach rumbling then I know he must be ravenous. ‘We can stargaze in the hot tub later.’
‘Excellent choice,’ he says, grinning. ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
We carry the platter to the outside table so we can dine al fresco. With no noise from the road and not another soul around, I don’t think there could be a more tranquil setting.
Ben pours the champagne and holds his glass up to mine. ‘To fun times in the wilderness,’ he says. And I repeat it back to him because I’m pretty sure I know what kind of fun we’re going to be having.
The temperature gradually drops while we’re eating and chatting, so we’re more than ready to climb into the hot tub by the time the champagne is finished. Ben grabs the fluffy white towels from inside the hut while I slide the cover off the tub, releasing pillows of steam.
‘I’m glad I brought my bikini with me for once. I think it’s going to get plenty of use.’
‘I was hoping you might have forgotten it,’ Ben replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
All thoughts of changing into it vanish instantly.
We undress quickly, shivering slightly in the crisp night air before we swing our legs over the side of the tub and lower ourselves into the soft bubbles. Ben draws me close, kissing me as the steam swirls around us and playing with my nipples, which have hardened in the breeze.
It’s only by accident that we discover the bubbles can be made more ferocious, when his arm brushes against a sensor neither of us had noticed. We laugh as the first splashes of water hit our faces, but with it getting in our ears and going up our noses, it becomes a lot harder to kiss. We concentrate on touching each other instead and by the time the cycle has finished and the bubbles have mellowed again, my body is aching for more than just his hands against my skin.
As if he can read my mind, he lifts me out on to the side of the tub, pushes my knees to the sides and moves his head between my legs. Then all I can think about is the feel of his tongue on that sweet, sweet spot and it’s no longer the cool air that’s making me shiver. I arch my back and sigh as he pushes a finger inside me, the tremors quickly intensifying.
I don’t know if it’s because it’s so relaxing here in our own little bubble or because I’m feeling really loved up this evening, but quite suddenly I start to climax, my mouth falling open and my stomach muscles tensing as I’m overcome with the pleasure.
Ben quickly replaces his tongue with his other hand so he can look up and watch me, pulsing his fingers against my clit till I’m gasping. It’s only when it starts feeling so ticklish that it makes me want to giggle that I grip his wrist, meet his eye and shake my head.
‘You want me to stop?’
I nod. ‘Just for a minute. I think I need to come back up for air.’
Smiling, he draws me back into the water. ‘That was a quick one,’ he says, kissing my lips, my cheeks, my neck.
‘That’s the effect you have on me,’ I murmur as I reach for him under the water. Then it’s his turn to perch on the side of the tub and have his breathing made ragged.
Afterwards, we sit in the bubbles with our bodies entwined as the sky darkens above us.
‘We probably should have saved the champagne,’ he says, stroking my back absently.
‘Is it weird that I’m more in the mood for a beer? I know it’s not as romantic, but I could quite happily sip a pale ale right now while we look at the stars.’
‘A girl after my own heart, and your wish is my command.’ A quick dash to the hut and he returns with two freshly cracked-open bottles.
We shift positions so I’m sitting between his legs with my back against his chest, his free arm loosely round my waist. Then we put the bubbles back on maximum speed and stare up at the night sky– both admitting the plough is the only constellation we recognise– until our drinks are empty and our skin has started to prickle from the chlorine.
‘I guess it’s bedtime,’ Ben says after we’ve showered off, because there’s nowhere to sit inside the hut except the snug sleeping area. But of course with us both being naked and in such romantic surroundings, it’s not long before our bodies are intertwined beneath the sheets.
This time there’s a tantalisingly slow build-up to my orgasm that makes it even more consuming, and Ben admits after he’s climaxed that it was one of his strongest ever. I think we’re both still wearing satisfied smiles as we cuddle up together and drift off to sleep.