Page 59 of Playing the Field
He’s done some research on our opponents and, while Cassie passes round Lucozades and waters, he tells us Mayfield North have progressed to the Isthmian league on three separate occasions since they formed in 2002. ‘But they’ve always gone straight back down again, so no matter how good they look on paper, they’re not infallible,’ he tells the team.
Which is when Elliot spots the confectionery bag that matches Ben’s on the counter and says, ‘Hey, aren’t those the same chocolates Prycey had?’ I can almost see the light bulb go on in his mind as he works out the connection. ‘So that girl in the hot tub picture... Aaron was right when he said it looked like Lily?’
It feels like the whole room comes to a standstill as everyone turns their eyes in my direction. I glance at Ben and he nods, letting me know he’s happy for me to spill the beans.
‘It doesn’t change anything,’ I tell the players quickly. ‘Our first priority will always be Crawford United.’
‘Get in.’ Scott cackles. ‘No wonder she wouldn’t look twice at you, Craig mate.’
Craig rolls his eyes. ‘I’m very happy with Phoebs, thank you very much. But maybe ifyouput yourself out there from time to time, you wouldn’t have to spend all your nights home alone in your bedroom.’
He winks at Scott, who laughs and concedes it’s a fair point, then apologises to me and Dad for being inappropriate in the first place.
Bringing the focus back to the football, Dad highlights where he thinks Mayfield’s main weaknesses are, based on the few videos he’s found on their fan site, then runs through how Crawford can best take advantage of them. And at the end, he reminds everyone of the kind of behaviour he expects from them on the pitch.
‘I don’t want to see anyone diving, pretending you’re injured if you’re not or challenging the ref’s decisions. I want you to be proud of your performance, and I want it to stand up to scrutiny.’
He looks round the room to make sure everyone’s listening. ‘So no dirty tricks and no throwing your toys out of the pram. It’s not what we want Crawford to be known for. And that stands for all future matches, not just any friendlies.’
‘What if our opponents are doing all that shit?’ Scott asks.
‘Rise above it,’ Dad says. ‘Keep your cool and know you’re the better man. With the right attitude on Wednesday, I believe we stand a really good chance of winning.’
‘I second that,’ Ben says, which sparks a murmur of agreement.
Dad wraps things up then, and thanks everyone for this extra bit of their time. ‘Get plenty of rest between training sessions over this next week,’ he advises. ‘And if you haven’t already done so, remember to arrange it with your work so you can be here promptly at four next Wednesday for the drive down to Mayfield. I don’t want anyone finding out on the day that their boss won’t let them leave before six.’
He shakes everyone’s hand at the door on their way out, then when it’s just Ben and me left he heads up to his room to give us some privacy– although not before reminding me my textbooks are upstairs waiting. As if I could forget.
‘So we’re fully official,’ Ben says when we’re alone.
‘It looks that way,’ I agree, smiling up at him.
‘Then you won’t mind if I do this.’ He leans forward to kiss me. Like I’ve ever wanted to stop him.
It’s the first time it’s happened in my own house though, and I’m so glad we no longer have to be sneaky. But we do say goodnight eventually– I think it’ll still be a while before Dad’s comfortable with a cosy breakfast à trois.
32
On the day of the Mayfield match, I manage to concentrate on my exam prep up until just after lunchtime, when Dad pulls up outside our house in the coach he’s brought home from work for the evening. It looks huge and out of place on our residential street.
He’s not behind the wheel, I should point out. He does have a coach licence so he can move parts of the fleet around at the company HQ when required, but as a special treat for our first game, we’ve splashed out on a driver, so Dad can focus on prepping the team rather than road safety.
‘Er, where are you going to park it?’ I ask from the doorstep as he jumps down from the doorway and turns back to give the driver a thumbs up.
‘At the Marks and Spencer,’ Dad says with a smile. ‘I called them from the office and they’ve agreed to let us borrow their loading bay. They’re not expecting another delivery till after seven and we’ll be long gone by then.’
‘Should I contact the players and get them to meet us there instead?’
‘They can still come here, then anyone who’s early can wait indoors. We’ll bring the coach back to load up just before we set off. It won’t block the road for long. It’s probably too risky changing the location anyway– half the fans who are joining us would probably not see the message and end up missing out on their free ride.’
This means there’s quite a crowd assembled on our driveway and flowing out on to the street by the time the coach returns, and a few of our neighbours come out of their houses to see what’s going on, drawn to the sound of our excited chattering. While Cassie, who’s rushed to get here straight from her last lesson at school, does a headcount and ushers everyone on board, I apologise to the neighbours for the disruption, and to the two cars stuck behind us. I promise them it won’t be long before we’re loaded up and moving.
‘Just Craig and Phoebs still to come,’ Cassie tells me when I rejoin her. She checks her watch. ‘Come on, Craig,’ she mutters, drumming her fingers together anxiously. ‘Don’t let me down today of all days.’
‘They’ll be here,’ I reassure her, although I’ll be having a strong word with my poor timekeeper of a friend, who was adamant she wouldn’t be late. If Crawford was one of the top flight clubs, Craig would almost certainly be getting fined for this.
Cassie and I stand side by side staring at the coach while we wait. I think we’re both having a bit of a hard time believing it’s real.
