47
My heart pounds in my chest as I stand on his doorstep, finger on the buzzer. Memories of all the great times we had here tug at my heartstrings. Cake night, snuggling up on the sofa, that first kiss out in the swimming pool– I was so damn happy. Maybe agreeing to meet at his place was an error.
I tell myself it’s just breakfast, just the Whitehouse, just a guy I used to love. He might even feel like a stranger after not seeing him for so long.
But no matter how many times I repeat ‘it’s going to be fine’ in my head, I’m unprepared for the thunderbolt that shakes me to the core when he opens the door and I’m finally faced with that oh-so-familiar smile. I almost feel like turning and bolting as I realise I’m not even close to being over him. I shouldn’t have come. It’s too heart-wrenching.
He leans forward as if to kiss me, then checks himself and steps aside to let me in.
‘Come on through,’ he says. ‘Breakfast’s nearly ready.’
I take a deep breath, will myself to be strong and follow him into the kitchen.
Our first words to each other, while he’s making egg tortillas to wrap our breakfast burritos in, are polite and stilted– the traffic on my journey over, where his family are going for lunch later; we even talk about the weather, which has suddenly turned autumnal. He asks if I want him to turn the heating up at the same time as I admit I might not take my coat off yet. It makes us laugh, breaking the ice despite reminding me how often we used to share similar thoughts.
I think we’ve both relaxed a bit more by the time we’ve got plates of food in front of us, and while we’re eating he asks me about my dad’s party, the win at Ashbridge and whether Dad managed to keep his cool in front of his hero, Frowley.
‘He was fine once I’d talked him out of asking Alasdair to sign one of his books,’ I admit. ‘He even came round to thinking it should actually be him getting all the players to sign a Crawford shirt for Alasdair. So he’s going to sort that out this week and get it posted to him.’
‘What was Angela like?’ Ben asks.
‘Unexpectedly normal. I could imagine having a pint with her at The Fox. But at the same time there’s something enigmatic about her– you know that thing you can’t quite put your finger on that just makes everyone warm to her.’
A bit like you, I find myself thinking.
‘A bit like me,’ he says, grinning.
I wonder if he guesses why this makes my cheeks flush.
‘But what happened at your match yesterday?’ I ask, quickly changing the subject. ‘I saw on Top Goals that you came off at half-time. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?’
‘Not at all, it’s just a thing the new coach likes to do. I think it’s designed to stop me from getting too big for my boots.’
‘Is it working?’ I ask.
‘Of course not. I know my value. I tell you what though– your boys at Crawford don’t know how lucky they are having Cassie as their coach. This guy might be more experienced, but I reckon he must have had to deal with some tough love in his childhood and now the rest of us are getting a taste of it. But annoyingly we just have to suck it up because he’s getting the results, so Millford aren’t about to get rid of him.’
‘Well I’ll pass the compliment on to Cassie anyway. She’ll be happy to hear it.’
‘So what else is new at the club?’ Ben asks. ‘Does Barbour still bring Barbour Junior to watch you play?’
‘He does. But Nathan insists on supporting Millford as well as Crawford after you gave him that ball. He says he’ll only pick a favourite when Crawford reaches the Premier League– which he’s adamant should happen just in time for his fifteenth birthday, when he thinks he’ll be old enough to make the right decision. I don’t think he’s calculated this would mean us getting eight promotions in twelve years.’ I wince at the thought of it. ‘No one has the heart to tell him he might be nearer fifty.’
‘Nothing wrong with aiming high. It’s one of the things I really miss about Crawford– there’s something so refreshing about having everything to play for as opposed to just trying to cling on to what you’ve already achieved.’
‘I’ve never thought of it like that. But you’re right– the only way is up when you come from such humble beginnings.’
‘I miss seeing you there every week too,’ he says, and time seems to stand still as our eyes lock. I miss him too, my God do I miss him. But our circumstances haven’t changed. Even the thought of leaving here today makes me acutely aware of how hard it would be to have to say goodbye to him every Sunday.
‘We could try being friends,’ I suggest. ‘Maybe catch up over a drink when you’re down here, keep in touch with the occasional text.’
It’s heartbreaking seeing how this seems to deflate him. He shakes it off though. ‘If it’s friends or nothing, I’d rather take friends.’
Suddenly unsure what else to say to each other, I thank him for breakfast and tell him I should probably get going. ‘I’m meeting Phoebs after,’ I explain. I thought I might need the distraction after seeing Ben.
He smiles and says, ‘Yeah, and I’ve got my lunch to get ready for. Nan will give me grief if I turn up late or look too scruffy.’
‘Tell her I said hello.’ I thread my arms back into my jacket sleeves. ‘And to your parents.’
‘Of course, and likewise to Mike and Cassie.’ There’s a pause, then he adds, ‘It was really good to see you again, Lily.’
‘You too.’ I try not to sound as flustered as I feel as I turn towards the door.
He follows me to see me out, and when I fumble with the lock, he quickly comes to my rescue, his hand brushing against mine as he reaches across to release the catch for me. I freeze. I can hear him breathing right behind me. It would be so easy to turn round and step into his arms. But I don’t.
A tear threatens to escape as I stand there, wishing things could be different, then I pull myself together. ‘Good luck with the rest of the season,’ I tell him as I step out into the fresh air. I don’t look over my shoulder as I walk back down the driveway. I don’t want to see the look I know will be on his face.