Page 38 of Playing the Field
She clearly thinks this is madness. ‘Surely it would be more interesting to be somewhere like Arsenal, where there’s more of a challenge. Bigger budgets, tougher decisions. Craig said he’d go back at the drop of a hat.’
She realises she probably shouldn’t have said this as soon as it’s out of her mouth. ‘Not that he isn’t loyal to Crawford,’ she adds hurriedly, seeing how unimpressed I am. ‘He’s really grateful to be playing for you. All I’m saying is, at some point some of your players will probably start thinking about career progression and earning potential– I just think you should keep that in mind for yourself as well.’
I don’t know why this hits such a nerve. Probably because Crawford is only just finding its feet so I don’t want to already be thinking about the possibility of our players using it as a stepping stone to get into a better squad.
‘Maybe let us at least get a season under our belts before you have all our players leaving and me managing a club a hundred times Crawford’s size,’ I suggest.
She cringes. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be offensive. I know Crawford means a lot to you– and to your dad. I was just... no, let’s talk about something else. Tell me more about your big night out with Ben this evening. You said it was somewhere fancy. Have you got an outfit planned?’
I admit I haven’t got a clue what to wear. Something tells me Ben would say I looked gorgeous even if I turned up in the hoodie and leggings I’m in now, but I want it to be something that makes me feel sexy. As we finish our drinks, Phoebs gives me her top three suggestions from what she’s seen in my wardrobe, then we say our goodbyes so I can head home and decide on my favourite.
What I end up in is a midnight blue Grecian-style minidress I bought a couple of years ago to wear to one of my cousin’s weddings, with gold hoop earrings and my trusty gold sandals for that extra bit of glamour. And Ben does shower me with compliments– sort of– when I climb into the taxi he picks me up in.
He kisses me and tells me he had no idea I could scrub up so well, but he’s laughing as he says it and I tell him, as I mock punch him on the arm, that he could have made more effort himself. In reality he looks gorgeous in a slim-fitting black shirt tucked into smart grey trousers with white trainers on his feet.
‘So where are we headed?’ I ask.
‘Chelsea,’ he replies, but he doesn’t elaborate. He takes my hand and asks how I got on with the exam today and I admit it didn’t go brilliantly. But I know he’s right when he says there’s nothing to be gained by worrying about it now. I can’t turn the clock back so I might as well forget about it and just enjoy myself.
It’s only when we pull up outside Gordon Ramsay that he tells me this is where we’ll be spending the evening. ‘So I hope you’re hungry,’ he says, his grin expanding.
‘Are you serious?’ My eyes are wide. First of all, I thought places like this usually have a three-month waiting list. But more than that I can’t believe he’s remembered from our frisbee game that this was my number-one request.
‘But you didn’t lose the triathlon,’ is all I can think of to say.
‘No matter. I quite fancied checking it out myself and I managed to get us in on a cancellation.’ He squeezes my hand. ‘I’m looking forward to it. I’ve read only good things.’
The dining area feels sophisticated without being stuffy– white tablecloths, simple table settings, low-key decor. It’s not as grand as I thought it might be, but perhaps that’s because they don’t want anything to outdo the food, which is exquisitely presented and filled with flavour. From the lobster ravioli in a perfect circle of foamy sauce and topped with edible petals to the neatly stacked tower of sweetness in the pecan praline parfait, every dish is delicious, not to mention photogenic.
I tell Ben I’m going to have to get Dad to up his game. While he often comes up with a tasty new creation, it invariably looks like it was just dropped onto the plate.
‘Maybe he needs a lady in his life– someone he wants to impress,’ Ben says.
‘Dad?’ I can’t imagine it. He’s been single since Mum left.
Unless he hasn’t, and I’m not the only one who’s been keeping my love life to myself. It is possible that on some of the nights when he said he was meeting his football buddies, he was actually on a date. But no, I can’t imagine it and I’m sure he would have told me. ‘I think the only long-term relationship he’s interested in right now is with Crawford United.’
Ben laughs. ‘No shame in that. As you know, it does require a lot of time and dedication.’
I tell him about my conversation with Phoebs earlier and her suggestion that I perhaps could do better. ‘She seemed to think I should be more ambitious.’
‘More ambitious than setting up your own football club from scratch?’
‘She was talking about me getting a job with a Premier League team– you know, where the pay might be better. But I really want to see it through with Crawford, even if it fails.’
He reaches across the table and threads his fingers through mine. ‘You only get so many chances to follow your dreams so I don’t think you should worry about what Phoebs said. And besides, Crawford’s not going to fail with you, Mike and Cassie behind it– because the three of you won’t let it.’
It warms my heart to know he has such faith in us.
‘Of course if you did ever decide you want to do something different, and I say this purely selfishly, I could always check if there were any vacancies at Millford City,’ he says.
‘So you can see me every day?’
I’m only half serious when I say it, but he grins and says, ‘I think I could get used to it.’
I’ve been trying not to think too much about what might happen when he goes back to Millford, whether this could work with him based up there and me down here. But I’m not ready to delve into that minefield just yet.
In the taxi home at the end of the night he confesses that while he loved every course of the meal, he still feels hungry. I guess that’s what happens when you burn through as many calories as he must do with the amount of training he still does every day.
