Chapter Three
Maya
Caught off-guard, the others in the room looked at Maya, waiting for her to say something. But everything she wanted to say died in her throat.
She wished she could tell Jamie to get out of her seat on the sofa. To wipe that stupid smile off her face and get the hell out of her house. But all she could do was look Jamie Mellor in her freakishly blue eyes.
Something hot and volcanic spread low in her stomach.
Jamie Mellor. In my house.
It felt like an age before her mum broke the silence. She shuffled in awkwardly behind Maya, placing her black handbag beside the shoe rack. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you’d be here so soon.” She shot an apologetic look at Jamie’s parents. “I’ll just get changed out of my work clothes, and then I’ll start on dinner.”
“Oh, no, don’t worry. We’re just having a little tea break from packing. Jeanette was kind enough to invite us in.” The red-haired woman craned her neck towards Grandma, as if we didn’t know who Jeanette was.
“Oh.” Mum relaxed beside Maya, letting out a breath. “Good. I’ve still got time to have a quick soak then. Scrub that airplane smell off me.” She laughed, a little too loudly for the room, and disappeared into the kitchen.
Maya glanced down at herself, cursing her stupid face for reddening. “I’m gonna get a shower too,” she said. She didn’t even want to think about what her hair looked like.
Not that I care about what she thinks.
She headed for the stairs, but on the third step, her grandma’s voice called her back. She turned, meeting her gaze.
“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” Grandma widened her eyes, encouraging her with a nod towards the Mellors. If only she knew that they would never be friends. The very idea almost made Maya snort—but if she wanted to stay on Grandma’s good chocolate-biscuit-eating side, she had to play nice.
She sighed and took a step backwards, briefly scanning the group. Her spine clicked audibly as she straightened up. “Hi,” she said, addressing Jamie’s parents, her voice scratchy in her throat. “I’m Maya. Nice to meet you.”
Jamie’s dad looked between her and Jamie. “Do you two know each other?”
“No—”
“Yes.”
Maya’s attention snapped to Jamie. A smug smile rested on her lips, the corners turned upwards. Her short blonde hair was shaved at the sides, wavy curls styled on top, which she probably spent hours in the mirror achieving.
“Oh?” Jamie’s dad scratched uncertainly at his beard. He had one of those faces that looked familiar—or maybe it was the way his hairstyle and neatly trimmed facial hair seemed to mirror most men’s his age. Maya couldn’t place him.
There was an uncomfortable silence while they watched each other. Jamie was leaning with one arm over the back of the sofa, dressed in a simple oversized black hoodie. Her nonchalance was insulting, as though this were her house and Maya the guest.
Typical Harrier.
“I’d say we’re pretty good friends,” Jamie said.
“Oh, lovely,” Grandma cooed, clapping her hands together.
“No.” Maya cleared her throat and unclenched her jaw. “You must have me confused with someone else.”
Jamie’s eyebrows quirked together, the smile on her lips growing bigger. “I don’t think so, I wouldn’t forget. We go way back.”
What did she even mean by that? Maya didn’t know if she should be offended or not. Jamie’s comment had made her angrier, regardless. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She needed a shower to cool off and wash the sweat and dirt off her skin.
She gestured to the stairs, her words lost somewhere in her throat. She looked at Grandma instead. “Well. I’m going to go and—”
“Do you want a Starburst?”
Maya glared back at Jamie, eyeing the outstretched bag of sweets. Where did she even pull those from?
Mum re-entered the room, having missed the entire interaction. “Ooh, don’t mind if I do!” She dashed over to dip her hand into the bag, and Maya took her chance to leave.
She headed up the stairs, feeling the heat of Jamie’s stare burn her back. What the hell just happened?
She opened and closed her door with a creak and crept back along the landing to eavesdrop. Unfortunately—and fortunately—the Mellors were already leaving. Jamie’s mum thanked Grandma for the tea and insisted they had lots of unpacking to do before they returned at five o’clock .
Maya pulled her phone from her jacket pocket and lit up the screen. Three hours. That would give her plenty of time to mentally prepare herself.
For dinner. With Jamie.
She wanted to scream.
When the last Mellor had left, she ran downstairs and into the kitchen. Grandma and her mum glanced at her in surprise.
“I thought you were in the shower,” her mum said, eyeing her dirt-stained legs.
Maya ignored her comment and gritted her teeth, feeling anger spill out of her. This would never have happened if her mum paid more attention to her life. Frustration had been building for months, and today had amplified that feeling tenfold.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Grandma asked, setting down the empty mugs in her hand.
Maya let out a haggard breath. “Do you know who Jamie is?”
They both looked at her, faces blank and unmoving.
“She’s a Harrier. Like the Harrier that stopped us from winning last season. The most arrogant and frustrating person I’ve ever played against.” Mum’s continued empty expression made her press on. Anger bubbled in her gut. “She’s their top striker. The one I always get stuck with? Our arch rivals?”
Mum rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Maya, the way you talk about football, it’s like a soap opera. Why does it matter? ”
Her stomach twisted, the rage erupting over the surface. “Forget it. I don’t know why I’d expect you to care.”
Her mum’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”
Maybe coming back home was a mistake. Maya had thought she was doing the right thing for her grandparents, but all she and her mum did was clash heads.
“Why does it matter? It’s important to me. I’ve worked so hard to earn my place as captain. Winning this championship is what we’ve dreamed about for years. It’d give the players the chance to play professionally, open up doors for after graduation, and above all, make us fucking happy. Not that you care about any of that.”
“Maya,” Grandma warned.
She wanted to get out of there. To run and just push all of these thoughts and feelings aside. If only she could drive, she’d be at the Globe in ten minutes with a cold pint in her hand.
Tears pricked her eyes. She looked away from her mum, seeing hers glisten, too. But she wasn’t asking for much. Just some interest, to feel like her mum cared, even just a tiny bit. Not for her mum to insist that Maya was wasting her student loan on a dead-end career, or inviting her arch rival into her house for tea and biscuits.
Like what the actual fuck?
Grandma took a step closer. Maya towered over her, though at 5’6 she wasn’t exactly a giant herself.
“Please, don’t fight,” Grandma said, taking Maya’s hand. “I can’t stand it.”
Her hand felt cool in Maya’s. Grounding. The anger in Maya’s gut slowly trickled away, replaced by sadness.
She didn’t want to make her family sad. The whole point of sacrificing her last year living at uni was to help them. Not to add more to their plate. She just hadn’t expected to see Jamie Mellor in her living room. In her space. There was something about her that made Maya’s insides boil.
That aggravating smirk. Those calculating blue eyes.
She squeezed her own eyes shut, and Grandma squeezed her hand tighter. “How about a cup of tea, love?”
* * *
Maya and her mum were barely speaking to each other, other than to pass the various bits of cutlery as they set the dining table. A tension hung in the air, like a storm cloud had billowed into their house, smothering them with a heavy sadness.
Is this what the rest of the year is going to be like?
The thought of missing out on Hannah and Maddie’s Pot Noodle Night on Thursdays made Maya’s heart squeeze. The three of them were always in and out of their accommodation last year—Maya with football commitments, Hannah with netball, and Maddie with Alex—but they’d always made time on Thursdays for Pot Noodle sandwiches and a Netflix binge. She didn’t want to think about whoever their new roommate would be. It hurt too much to consider someone else taking her place.
After changing her mind four times, she pulled on a lavender puffed-sleeve blouse, knowing her mum would approve. She tucked the excess material into her high-rise jeans, twisting and inspecting herself in the mirror. She felt bad about their argument earlier. Not that she was wrong. But she still felt bad about it. Hopefully, her mum would see the purple blouse as somewhat of a truce. She was always pleading with her to dress up.
The Mellors arrived, all smiles and freshly dressed. The mum, Joanne, brought an expensive bottle of white wine, the dad, Bob, a six-pack of beers. Jamie wore the same skinny jeans as earlier, but the black hoodie was gone, replaced with a red-and-green flannel shirt. She gave Maya a casual nod of acknowledgement that fanned anger in her belly, then placed her brand-new-edition Nikes next to her dad’s matching black ones.
Even the woman’s shoes scream show-off.
Maya played the part of devoted daughter, taking the Mellors’ drinks to put in the fridge and returning with the glasses to begin the evening ‘celebrations’. Bob popped the cheap prosecco that Mum had picked up from Sainsbury’s and poured the glasses.
The Mellors squeezed onto the white three-seater, and Grandma and Maya took the two chairs by the fireplace. Jamie’s attention drifted around the room, and Maya wondered if she was judging her grandparents’ choice of design. She couldn’t blame her. The large Qashqai rug was worn and dog-eared, and mismatched frames covered the mantelpiece—one of her grandparents on their wedding day, and the rest the many embarrassing pictures of Maya as a child, including one of her with her mum at the seaside. Six-year-old Maya taunted her from the photo, pulling a face with chocolate cake smeared about her mouth.
Maya just hoped they wouldn’t mention Grandpa. She hated the idea of someone like Jamie knowing something so personal; no doubt she’d use it against her in any way she could. The fact they were sharing the same air now was bad enough.
The large copper clock ticked away loudly above the fireplace, a subtle soundtrack to her nightmare as she caught Jamie watching her. She held her stare, and amusement crinkled around Jamie’s eyelids. She’s loving this. The memory of their last match flashed in Maya’s mind—Jamie’s sneering face after scoring the winning goal, the taunts that echoed in her ears long after the game ended. Jamie broke contact first, turning to answer Grandma’s question, and Maya took comfort in the small victory.
She gulped her prosecco, hoping to take the edge off things. The urge to bite her nails was overwhelming, but that was all her mum would need to start the next round of Mother vs Daughter verbal wars .
“Dinner’s ready,” her mum announced, breaking the silence, and they all filed into the kitchen.
Maya tailed at the back, allowing herself time to breathe before she forced the fake smile back onto her face.
“It smells wonderful, Katherine,” Joanne cooed, peering into the steaming dish of lasagne that rested atop the stove.
“Just Kathy, please, love.” Mum dished out a sizable chunk of the veggie lasagne onto a clean white plate, along with a handful of steamed vegetables. She turned to Maya. “Do you mind taking this in to Grandpa?”
Maya practically snatched the plate from her hands, grateful to have an excuse to get away for a moment. She ducked out of the kitchen, climbed the ugly blue stairs to her grandparents’ bedroom, and knocked softly on the door.
“Aye.”
She pushed the door open with her hip, shifting the plate in her hands. “You hungry?”
Grandpa straightened up in his green chair. A smile pained his face like the very action hurt. Which she imagined it often did. “Thanks, kid. You wa’ always me favourite grandchild.”
She laughed. “That’s ’cos I’m your only grandchild.”
“Quite possibly.”
His white hair was longer than what suited him, thinning in the middle and receding at the sides. She set the plate down on the table and started cutting up his food. She couldn’t bear to look at him for long. She’d notice the way his hands shook, or how his skin seemed to just hang from his body. Since the stroke three months ago, he seemed to shrink more every day. She still wasn’t used to it.
She glanced at the telly. “ Only Fools and Horses again? You must have seen every episode a hundred times.”
“They don’t make ’em like this anymore. All rubbish now.” His hand shook as it grabbed the fork, slowly stabbing into the melted cheese.
“It’s hot, Grandpa. And a bit messy. You know Mum overdoes it with the cheese. Where’s your…” Her eyes darted around the room. With the curtains drawn, it was difficult to make anything out in the darkness. She spotted his plastic bib hanging off the radiator and slipped it over his head. He let her, even though she knew he hated it.
His yellowing eyes watched her as she finished cutting his food into more manageable pieces. She handed the cutlery back to him, and he poked at the lasagne again.
“Go have your dinner,” Grandpa said. “It’ll be goin’ cold.”
She lingered a moment, feeling torn.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry ’bout me.”
She leaned in and placed a kiss on his forehead. The familiar musky scent of biscuits and fabric softener tickled her nose. Then she ducked out of the room, and the sound of Del and Rodney arguing grew quiet as she closed the door .
Back in the stifling air of the kitchen, everyone looked up as she took the seat next to Jamie. The twinge of sadness rolling in her mind overpowered the frustration of having to sit next to her. Instead, thoughts of Grandpa swirled around her head. How one thing could completely alter the course of life. That iron-hot prod from the winds of change, declaring that everything be different forever.
The clatter and scrape of cutlery circled the table, and she was grateful she didn’t have to think about where to look or where to put her hands. She could just eat.
All credit to Mum; the lasagne was delicious. Maya had already eaten half of it, the shining example of someone eating their feelings, when Bob decided to jump feet first back into pointless small talk.
He dabbed his beard with a napkin. “So, Maya,” he began, resting his knife and fork at the edge of his clean plate. It seemed the lasagne was a hit for the Mellors, too. Mum would be pleased. “You go to Millton University, right?”
She nodded, chewing a mouthful of creamy lasagne. Seriously, this has been blessed by the cheese gods. She heaped in another heavenly forkful, hoping he wouldn’t ask her anything else. The last thing she wanted was a rehash of every time they’d lost to the bloody Harriers. Sadly, he didn’t take the hint.
“Jamie will be starting there on Monday,” Bob continued, taking a sip of his beer now the prosecco bottle was empty and upside down in the sink. “Won’t you, Jaim? ”
That’s odd. Maya looked at her for the first time since sitting down. Jamie swirled a chunk of pasta with her fork, mopping up the sauce. Why would she move university in her last year? Especially when hers was only an hour from here?
A lump rose in Maya’s throat, dread trickling down her spine.
If Jamie moved university, that meant she couldn’t play for the Harriers.
The penny dropped, sinking hard and fast in her stomach. Oh god. Is she going to try and join the team at Millton? Surely, she wouldn’t be so na?ve to think she could jump ship like that?
Bob continued, “Jamie was captain the last two years, and I bet you’ll make a fight for it this year too, eh, Jaim?”
Jamie wanted to take her role of captain? Not a chance.
Maya seethed, tightening the grip on her cutlery. She had some nerve. Coming into her house, eating with the family, and casually letting this news slip? Maya wouldn’t let Jamie ruin her last year at Millton University—whether she was with the Harriers or not.
“Changing unis in your last year?” her mum asked, oblivious to Maya’s inner turmoil. “How come?”
“Millton is closer now we’ve moved,” Jamie’s mum answered for her. Bob nodded in agreement before having another swig of beer. Jamie glared at her dad before turning her attention back to her plate.
Interesting .
For the first time since Maya had known her, Jamie Mellor was uncomfortable. All her own years of avoiding awkward conversations were finally becoming of use. She’d know the signs anywhere: avoiding eye contact; fiddling with the cuff of her shirt; the purposefully tight mouth, afraid to give anything away. It was only a few seconds, but she saw it. Jamie’s eyes snapped up and met hers, and she knew it too.
Jamie Mellor was hiding something—and Maya had to find out what. Her final year depended on it.