Page 70 of Playing the Field
‘And presumably you can’t correct them because Ben needs it to look realistic?’
I nod. ‘I know I shouldn’t worry about what they think, but it is going to be humiliating.’
‘Do you want me to come with you this evening, for moral support? I was going to head to Craig’s afterwards anyway– now he can give me a lift.’
I nod gratefully. ‘I’d really like that, thank you. This all just feels so rubbish after such a summer of highs. I hate feeling like this.’
‘Talk to Ben again,’ she says firmly. ‘He’s the cause of all these emotions so he needs to find a way to fix things.’
And I do, over the next couple of days, because I can’t stop doing my own head in.
I admit I can’t help fretting that he isn’t telling Georgina the truth about their set-up because he wants to keep his options open, or wondering if the real reason he isn’t coming down on Sunday is so he can stay up there with her. When he promises me neither of these things could be further from the truth, I move on to what Georgina’s going to think when he drops her home after their dinner dates and there isn’t so much as a goodnight kiss.
She’s twenty years old and beautiful, adored by viewers of her show and in demand for interviews and advertising. It probably seems perfectly natural to her that she’d be courted by a Premier League footballer– but she’ll be expecting more than just a few decent meals out of it.
‘I’ll just tell her I’m being a gentleman,’ Ben insists. ‘Try to look at it this way: if Jake Gyllenhaal turned up on your doorstep, wouldn’t you happily go for dinner with him?’
I mumble a reluctant yes.
‘But would you sleep with him?’
‘Of course not... But then he doesn’t think he’s my boyfriend.’
He sighs. ‘I don’t know what else I can say, Lily. I just need you to trust me. I don’t want this to drive us apart.’
And I stop then, because I don’t want that either. I hate that I’ve started feeling so insecure so quickly and I don’t want it to result in me pushing him away.
‘Maybe we should just agree not to talk about it any more,’ I suggest.
‘If that’s what it takes to prevent us arguing.’
We agree not to discuss it again until Ben is back down in Hamcott and can properly show me how much I mean to him.
Thankfully I’ve got Crawford United’s first away game tomorrow to stop me brooding about his dinner date with Georgina. I’ve got all the arrangements to oversee as we head south to play Windham Park, who usually finish in the bottom half of the table and so will hopefully give us less trouble than Oakhampton did. I vow to put Georgina out of my mind for the time being and focus all my energy on the team.
39
This time when Cassie and I stand beside the coach waiting for the players to board, there is much less amateurish lettering spelling out Crawford Utd in the windows. I’ve poured a good few hours into upgrading our previous hand-drawn efforts, producing computer-generated graphics and even going so far as to get them laminated. And this time there’s a purple phoenix at the beginning and a purple team shirt at the end.
‘It looks great, sis,’ Cassie says, arms folded in front of her as she nods her head approvingly.
Dad pokes his head out of the door of the coach. ‘Are you two coming? We’re all set in here; we should get going.’
We follow him on to the bus and I instantly feel lifted by the sparky banter toing and froing between the players. They seem just as energised as they were before our debut match and I think that’s going to grow and grow as the season progresses.
Dad’s driving today, having decided hiring someone else to do it every time is an unnecessary cost. ‘Let’s do this,’ he calls out as he pulls away from the kerb.
But within minutes of turning onto the Aroad that will take us most of the way to the Windham Park ground, we find ourselves caught up in a traffic jam that stretches as far ahead as the eye can see. There are so many cars in front of us that we can’t tell what’s causing the hold-up, and we can’t reverse back out of it– the cars behind us have already hemmed us in.
‘Someone look it up on your mobile, will you?’ Dad requests. ‘See if there are any news reports. Make sure we’re not going to be stuck here all day.’
Cassie shows me the screen on her phone before breaking the worrying news to him: a three car pile-up on the southbound to Winchester is causing tailbacks around junction thirty. Drivers should expect delays of up to three hours. And there we were thinking we’d factored in plenty of time for any complications. Now we’re in danger of missing the starting whistle.
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ Cassie mutters.
‘I’ll get on the phone to them.’ I scroll to the Windham Park number and hit dial.
‘I’ll check if walking’s feasible,’ Marge says. ‘Looks like it would take an hour and forty– but that would mostly involve walking along the side of this dual carriageway.’
