Page 61 of Playing the Field
For a second Dad looks surprised at the interruption, but as Ben is now standing he tells him to go ahead.
‘I just wanted to add that I find humour to be a great reliever after days like today,’ he says, looking round at everybody. ‘It doesn’t mean you don’t take your games seriously. But when something awful happens, be that missing the penalty that costs your side a game, or hoofing a shot so far over the top of the goal that the ball nearly clears the stadium– both of which have happened to me– you really only have two options. You can either beat yourself up about it or choose to laugh it off, and you don’t need me to tell you which is easier to live with. And if your teammates start calling you Hoofs for a little while afterwards, which also happened to me, my best advice is to just take it on the chin.
‘You’ve got to be able to deal with it when things don’t go your way. Sometimes you’ll feel like you’ve played the game of your life and you still won’t get the result, but you can’t let it drag you down or you’ll stop enjoying it. Your motivation will go, your enthusiasm will dip and then you’ll find it really hard to play at your best again.
‘So I guess what I’m saying, in a slightly longwinded way, is just to always try and keep in mind that sometimes it’s your day and sometimes it’s theirs. The next time you meet it could be you who outplays them. Be hungry for the win, but don’t get eaten up by the losses. Because once you develop that mentality, that’s when it really is game over.’
It’s another heartfelt speech and for a moment I wonder if Dad’s going to think Ben was trying to steal his thunder, but Dad in fact breaks into a grin. Then he lightens the mood for everyone by saying, ‘Thanks for that, Hoofs. We really appreciate it.’
33
With nine days till my resits, I crank my revision up another gear. While I hate being less involved in the running of Crawford, I want to make sure I get this box ticked off so I can put my student days behind me and turn my attention to whatever lies ahead.
I do still make time to see Ben, but our evenings are much more low-key, spent mostly at his cooking dinner together before I reach for my textbooks while he watches Netflix. He sits on one end of the sofa wearing headphones so as not to disturb me– I sit with my feet in his lap, so he can massage them while I study.
When my eyes get too tired, the TV goes off and he turns his attention to the rest of my body. I can’t think of a better way to wind down after hours of poring over my notes. As soon as his lips find mine, all thoughts of social media strategy go out of my mind– temporarily, at least. I think we have sex on the sofa more than anywhere else during this period.
I miss him on the nights when I stay in my own bed, but at least it gives me a night off from Dad moaning that I’m throwing my education away. He doesn’t believe I do any work while I’m at Ben’s, but the truth is, I probably get more done there than I do at home. There’s something about wanting to make sure there’s time for our extracurricular activities that makes me very focused.
At mine I get distracted by text messages, trips to the fridge and occasional visits from Phoebs. She does come with the intention of testing me on some of the topics we think will come up in the resits, but inevitably we end up talking about Ben and Craig.
Phoebs is now seeing Craig a few times a week, but she still refuses to call it a relationship. ‘The moment we put a label on it, it won’t be the same any more. I’m happy as things are,’ she insists. ‘I like to call it my sixty-two-night stand.’
‘Has it really been that long?’
‘I’m going for a world record.’
‘You might just win it. But wouldn’t you prefer to know you’re exclusive? That he’s not seeing other people when you’re not with him?’
‘I’m using reverse psychology on him,’ she says, waving her hand dismissively. ‘By leaving it open, it makes him wonder ifI’mreally intohim. Then he has to try a little harder to make sure I am.’
I can’t help laughing. It’s not how I’d want to do things, but it does appear to be working.
‘So do you think Ben’s going to ask you to move in with him now you’re round there most nights?’ Phoebs asks.
‘If he didn’t have to leave soon I think he might.’ More and more of my clothes have ended up staying at his place and he hates it whenever we have to say goodbye. ‘But once he goes back to Millford he’ll only be there himself once or twice a month at most, so I’ll be back here for the most part with just the odd night at the Whitehouse.’
I’ll miss it, I realise. I feel so relaxed there and associate it with so many good times.
I admit as much to Ben on the last day before my exams. Having decided I can’t possibly take in any more information, we’re in the garden playing table tennis until he goes off to Crawford’s Thursday night training session and I go home for an early night.
‘Why don’t I give you a set of keys, then you can pop over whenever you want to,’ he offers. ‘My family use the pool a fair bit when I’m not here but they won’t mind. I get it if that would be a bit weird though.’
‘It’s hard to imagine doing lengths alongside your nan.’
‘I was actually going to ask how you felt about staying in a hotel on some of the weekends when we meet up after I head back to Millford. I thought we could maybe find a few places halfway between here and there, so we can meet up a bit earlier than we’d be able to if I was coming back to Hamcott. If you don’t mind a bit of a drive, that is.’
‘Of course I don’t.’ I’m keen on anything that will mean spending more time together.
‘I did have a quick look and Stratford Upon Avon is more or less in the middle,’ he says. ‘I think that’s meant to be pretty. Or there’s a really nice-looking spa hotel just outside Loughborough. We could make a list of all the places we like the look of then just work our way through it.’
‘You had me at spa hotel,’ I tell him, laughing.
We abandon the table tennis and head for the pool loungers to make a start on our list, cuddling up together so I can also see Ben’s phone as he hunts for interesting places to stay. Although it’s a reminder that he’s leaving, listening to him plan for our future does take some of the anguish away. We get so absorbed, it almost makes him late for Crawford’s training.
I head home for a long, relaxing bath as he races off to the academy. For me, there’ll just be a bit of telly then a good night’s sleep, and then, all too quickly, retake day is upon me.
As before, I’ve got one exam in the morning and one in the afternoon, but this time there are students from all the different courses in the hall with me, so I hardly recognise anyone. Our papers are laid out on preassigned desks, and once everyone’s seated we’ll all have three hours to complete our questions, be they on Shakespeare or nuclear physics.
