40
There is a message from Ben when I check in the morning, saying he’s gutted about Crawford’s loss and that he’s sorry he couldn’t get hold of me. I check when it was sent– 11p.m. I can’t help thinking that’s respectable.
When I call him back, I fill him in on the nightmare journey to Windham and he empathises– and laughs– at the appropriate parts of the story. He says he might take the train instead of driving when he comes down next weekend, to avoid a similar fate.
We discuss the game and I mention Bailey wasn’t on his usual form. ‘Is everything okay with him?’
‘He might be letting his new relationship affect his concentration,’ Ben speculates. ‘It’s the first time he’s been really serious about someone so it’s quite a big deal for him. I can have a word, if you like.’
‘It’s fine, I’ll handle it.’ I certainly understand how that feels after meeting Ben.
‘If you think it might be useful, I could have another word with all the players,’ he offers. ‘To remind them to keep looking forward and not dwell on any setbacks.’
‘I’m sure they’d appreciate a little morale booster in the team WhatsApp group,’ I tell him.
He admits he’s feeling a bit frustrated himself after watching Millford City lose yesterday. He’s got one more week on the bench after this and can’t wait to get back to playing. ‘I’m not saying I definitely would have made a difference, but I hate not even being able to try. On the flip side, it does have the advantage of making it easier to see you next weekend.’
We won’t be going to a hotel for this visit because there are a few bits he wants to pick up from the Whitehouse. But he should get away from Millford promptly on Saturday, seeing as he won’t have to warm down, so we’ll have a decent amount of time together. He promises to find somewhere nice for us to go for lunch on Sunday, so we don’t spend his entire visit in bed– although we’re both keen to make sure there’s plenty of that as well.
Not once in the conversation do I ask about how things went with Georgina, and he doesn’t bring her up either. But this doesn’t, as I worried it might, leave me with hundreds of possible scenarios running through my mind. On the contrary it helps me keep her out of my thoughts, and I end the call no longer feeling quite so bereft.
So that’s all I need to do for the time being, I tell myself, just focus on me and Ben. If I do slip and start thinking about her, I bring his Jake Gyllenhaal analogy to mind and force myself to think of her just as his new friend. Because friends do go out for dinner and have a laugh together, and that makes it easier to accept. And this strategy works, more or less, for the whole of the following week, by the end of which I’m beyond excited about being reunited with Ben.
I wake up at the crack of dawn on the day of our home match against Merribridge, feeling as elated as I was on the day Crawford United got its FA approval. Merribridge finished second from the bottom of the table last season, so we’ve got a really good chance of beating them. And then there’ll only be a matter of hours before Ben arrives, so it’s shaping up to be a very good day.
Dad’s already up too– I can hear him in the kitchen– and when I head downstairs, he asks if I want a cooked breakfast. ‘I feel like I’m going to need all the energy I can get today,’ he says.
I tell him to hold the hash browns for me, but to pile on everything else.
‘Coming right up.’ He beams, seemingly sharing my good mood.
Cassie wanders in through the back door a few minutes later. ‘Couldn’t sleep,’ she explains, sliding into the seat opposite me at the table, and shortly afterwards Marge and Bob turn up too, followed, to my surprise, by Thomas and Levi.
‘You’re very early,’ I observe.
‘Your dad said we could come,’ Thomas explains. ‘Because of not working and all that, I’m a bit skint, so Mike said about stopping by here and grabbing something, if I wanted. Then Levi got FOMO and asked if he could join me. I hope that’s okay, Mike.’
‘Of course,’ Dad says. He’s so in his element when he’s got a full kitchen table. ‘Grab another pack of sausages out of the freezer, would you?’
‘Yes, boss,’ Thomas replies.
‘I’ll dig you out some cheap nutritious recipes,’ Cassie says. ‘You need to eat properly all the time, not just today.’
‘I could come round and walk you through them if you don’t know what you’re doing,’ Marge offers. ‘Maybe I should offer all the team cooking lessons. We don’t want anyone getting malnourished.’
‘You’re such an angel,’ Dad says.
‘Well it’s not like we’re one of those fancy clubs where they get all their meals cooked for them,’ she points out.
‘Except for Craig– his dad’s got a chef,’ Levi says. Phoebs never told me this.
Dad laughs. ‘We’ll all invite ourselves round there for brekkie next weekend then.’
The rest of the team arrive throughout the morning until we’ve got a full house. Craig and Scott head out to the garden to practise keepy-uppies. Aaron and Jacob watch videos with Dad and talk tactics. Cassie gives Jamie’s calves a sports massage and Marge talks food with Thomas. Everyone looks relaxed and happy, just how we want them to be before each game.
Advance ticket sales have been strong again this week, close to three thousand, perhaps owing to the reports of people missing out on our first home game. I feel a bit sorry for the Merribridge fans– there are only a hundred of them. It’s a small club with a small ground and a small following. Coming up against such a huge crowd will be quite daunting for them– especially as the rest of our tickets sell out throughout the morning.
As it’s a home game and Merribridge has a less than perfect track record, I think we’re all expecting a win today, so we arrive at the ground full of eager anticipation. And once the match gets underway, I spend much of the first half on the edge of my seat, drumming my feet on the floor with nervous energy as our lads run rings around the visiting team– with the possible exception of Bailey, who still seems a bit off the pace. Dad’s just as restless beside me and even resorts to chewing gum again.
I’m amazed we don’t score given that we must have at least two-thirds of the possession, but this is still looking hopeful for Crawford. It’s the first time we go into the second half without being several goals down. I make a point of congratulating Elliot on his clean sheet during the break. I know it’s been tough on him losing our previous three games, and this will hopefully restore his confidence.
‘Come on, Crawford,’ I call out, as the second half gets off to a flying start with a quick attempt at goal from Craig. The ball clatters against the post and is hastily booted away by a Merribridge defender. Denied again.
Our fans bang their drums and sing their hearts out, but sadly no amount of encouragement seems able to power our boys onto the score sheet. I can almost taste their frustration when the final whistle blows, but Dad gathers everyone round and reminds them today is still something to be celebrated. We might have been held to a nil–nil draw, but that means Crawford United has its first ever league point– we’ve finally got a foot on the ladder.
‘All we need to do now is keep climbing,’ he tells them.
I suddenly wish Ben were here to share this moment. I feel like I’ve just watched my baby taking its first steps, but without its other parent there. At least I can show him some of the highlights on my phone when he gets here later.
I check the Millford City score and see their game also ended in a draw. It feels fated somehow, like our days are in sync with each other. He’ll be heading to the station soon and will text me his ETA once he knows which train he’s getting. I’ll hang out with the team at The Fox while I’m waiting, counting down the minutes till he arrives.
It’s another packed-out evening at the pub and the bar area is swamped.
‘My new staff haven’t quite got used to match days yet,’ Olly apologises.
I volunteer to jump behind the bar and help out until the initial rush dies down– partly so I can organise pints for the team and partly so I can thank some of the fans I’ll serve for their support– and Olly doesn’t complain. But with this, then getting caught up in conversations with both the players and the fans afterwards, it’s gone seven before I finally have a chance to look at my phone. Ben should be halfway to Hamcott by now, and from the three missed calls and two voice notes listed on my screen, I’m guessing he’s already bored of the journey and impatient to get here.
But when I head outside so I can hear them properly, my heart sinks as soon as I click on the first message. ‘Lily, it’s Ben. Give me a buzz back when you get this, will you?’
It’s not the sound of someone who’s about to deliver good news– his voice is loaded with stress.
‘No, no, no,’ I mutter, holding my breath as I start the second message.
‘It’s me again. I didn’t want to do this on VoiceNote but I can’t get hold of you and I don’t want to leave you hanging. I can’t come down tonight. I’m really sorry. We’ve been ordered to attend a special team meeting tomorrow morning after Millford’s mediocre result today and there’s no way I can get out of it. It’s the new coach they’ve brought in. He’s got some different ideas about what he thinks commitment should look like. I’m so, so sorry. I was really looking forward to this; I know you were too.
‘I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Next weekend we’re playing down in London so we can sort something out for then. Maybe you can come and join me in the hotel the night before the game? Give me a call back when you get this anyway and we’ll figure it out. I hope you’re not answering because you’re busy celebrating Crawford’s first point. I’m made up for you guys and so bummed I’m not there. I miss you. Call me. I’ll speak to you later.’
I slump back against the wall, eyes closed, the high I’ve been on all day evaporating like a puff of smoke. I’ve been building up to seeing him all week, living for it really, and now there’s at least six more days before there’s even the possibility of being with him again.
I slam my palm against the bricks in exasperation. I can’t believe this new coach has spoilt our plans. Who holds a team meeting on a Sunday? And what does it mean going forward? Is he going to spring meetings on them at short notice like this every weekend?
For a moment I’m tempted to jump on a train up to Millford. If I left now I’d just make the last one. But it would be close to midnight by the time I got there, and if Ben’s busy tomorrow anyway...
I rage against the unfairness of it all. I was so looking forward to having him back. It was going to be the cherry on the cake after what I’d hoped would be a brilliant day. A tear trickles down my cheek as my body aches with the disappointment. I don’t brush it away. I need a few moments to wallow before I go back inside wearing my best poker face.
But before I’ve got a grip on my emotions, Bailey walks out into the garden, looking all around him as he pulls out a vape. He freezes when he sees me. ‘Lily!’ It’s hastily stuffed back into his pocket as he comes closer. ‘Are you okay?’
He sounds so much like his brother it threatens to set me off all over again.
‘I’m fine,’ I tell him.
‘You’re clearly not,’ he says gently. ‘Is it Ben?’
I nod. ‘I miss him. I wish he was still here.’
‘It must be tricky, especially with the Georgina thing.’
Of all people, I’m not sure it’s Ben’s brother I should vent about it to, but it all comes spilling out anyway. ‘I hate it. I hate that she’s the one who’s getting to spend time with him and I hate that everyone believes they’re genuinely together. It makes me angry because it feels like I’m the one being punished for Ben’s behaviour. I wish I could just turn the clock back and make that incident with the fan go away.’
‘Don’t we all.’ Bailey sighs. ‘But if it’s any consolation, I know he’s just trying to make the best of a bad situation. He’s under pressure to play the PR game, but he’d much rather be with you than with Georgina. He’s actually pretty miserable that the two of you can’t spend as much time together.’
‘Thank you, Bailey.’ It’s what I needed to hear. ‘And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be offloading my frustration on you.’
He waves my apology away. ‘Sometimes you just need to get it off your chest. But honestly, it’ll work itself out in the end. You guys are so perfect for each other.’
I inhale deeply, feeling calmer, then switch back into work mode, pointing at the vape poking out of his pocket. ‘Meanwhile, you know we’re going to have to talk about that.’
‘I don’t use it often. I’ve just been a bit stressed lately.’
‘Anything you want to share with me?’
‘Something I need to work through on my own. But thank you, I appreciate it.’
‘Well I’m here if you need me, but you’ve got to knock it on the head if you’re serious about playing for Crawford.’
‘Honestly, I can stop,’ he assures me. ‘It’s just temporary.’
‘Then I’m willing to pretend I didn’t see it on this occasion.’
We agree that when we go back inside, we’ll both forget this conversation.
I end up staying until closing time, to keep myself from moping about Ben, so I’m somewhat the worst for wear when I eventually stumble into my bedroom just after midnight. It’s only then that I start feeling bad for not even texting him back. He must be wondering what’s going on.
He’s usually in bed by now, but I decide to chance a call anyway. When he answers I can tell from the bewilderment in his voice that he wasn’t awake.
‘Hey, babe, everything okay? You get my message?’
‘I’m drunk,’ I confess. ‘I drank a lot. I really missed you this evening.’
‘I missed you too. Did you have a good night at The Fox?’
‘I did. But now I’m... I’m quite drunk. My head’s in a spin.’
‘You probably need some sleep,’ he says drowsily. ‘It’s late.’
‘I know. I just didn’t want you to think...’
‘Why don’t we talk in the morning?’ he suggests. ‘When we’re both more with it.’
Because I want to talk now,I think, even if tomorrow’s more sensible. But what I actually say is, ‘Sure. I’m sorry I woke you.’
‘Night, babe, love you,’ he says quietly, ending the call before I have a chance to say it back.
My heart sinks as I stare at my phone in my hand. I know it’s the middle of the night, but I thought he might sound happier to hear from me. Instead, after not seeing each other for ten days, and now with another whole week to wait, it feels like we’re starting to drift apart.