Page 88 of Playing the Field

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‘But what happened at your match yesterday?’ I ask, quickly changing the subject. ‘I saw onTop Goalsthat you came off at half-time. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?’

‘Not at all, it’s just a thing the new coach likes to do. I think it’s designed to stop me from getting too big for my boots.’

‘Is it working?’ I ask.

‘Of course not. I know my value. I tell you what though– your boys at Crawford don’t know how lucky they are having Cassie as their coach. This guy might be more experienced, but I reckon he must have had to deal with some tough love in his childhood and now the rest of us are getting a taste of it. But annoyingly we just have to suck it up because he’s getting the results, so Millford aren’t about to get rid of him.’

‘Well I’ll pass the compliment on to Cassie anyway. She’ll be happy to hear it.’

‘So what else is new at the club?’ Ben asks. ‘Does Barbour still bring Barbour Junior to watch you play?’

‘He does. But Nathan insists on supporting Millford as well as Crawford after you gave him that ball. He says he’ll only pick a favourite when Crawford reaches the Premier League– which he’s adamant should happen just in time for his fifteenth birthday, when he thinks he’ll be old enough to make the right decision. I don’t think he’s calculated this would mean us getting eight promotions in twelve years.’ I wince at the thought of it. ‘No one has the heart to tell him he might be nearer fifty.’

‘Nothing wrong with aiming high. It’s one of the things I really miss about Crawford– there’s something so refreshing about having everything to play for as opposed to just trying to cling on to what you’ve already achieved.’

‘I’ve never thought of it like that. But you’re right– the only way is up when you come from such humble beginnings.’

‘I miss seeing you there every week too,’ he says, and time seems to stand still as our eyes lock. I miss him too, my God do I miss him. But our circumstances haven’t changed. Even the thought of leaving here today makes me acutely aware of how hard it would be to have to say goodbye to him every Sunday.

‘We could try being friends,’ I suggest. ‘Maybe catch up over a drink when you’re down here, keep in touch with the occasional text.’

It’s heartbreaking seeing how this seems to deflate him. He shakes it off though. ‘If it’s friends or nothing, I’d rather take friends.’

Suddenly unsure what else to say to each other, I thank him for breakfast and tell him I should probably get going. ‘I’m meeting Phoebs after,’ I explain. I thought I might need the distraction after seeing Ben.

He smiles and says, ‘Yeah, and I’ve got my lunch to get ready for. Nan will give me grief if I turn up late or look too scruffy.’

‘Tell her I said hello.’ I thread my arms back into my jacket sleeves. ‘And to your parents.’

‘Of course, and likewise to Mike and Cassie.’ There’s a pause, then he adds, ‘It was really good to see you again, Lily.’

‘You too.’ I try not to sound as flustered as I feel as I turn towards the door.

He follows me to see me out, and when I fumble with the lock, he quickly comes to my rescue, his hand brushing against mine as he reaches across to release the catch for me. I freeze. I can hear him breathing right behind me. It would be so easy to turn round and step into his arms. But I don’t.

A tear threatens to escape as I stand there, wishing things could be different, then I pull myself together. ‘Good luck with the rest of the season,’ I tell him as I step out into the fresh air. I don’t look over my shoulder as I walk back down the driveway. I don’t want to see the look I know will be on his face.

48

We exchange a few texts over the following week and although it comes with a bit of heartache I do find myself looking forward to hearing from him. I know the pain will fade eventually and until then I’ve got Crawford United to keep me from really dwelling on it.

He wishes me luck on the morning of our next away game. Kidstow came twelfth in last year’s table, so they should be easier to beat than Ashbridge, and we’ll just gloss over the fact that we lost games to teams lower down in the league before that. That was when we were still finding our feet– today there’s a new-found confidence on the coach journey to the match.

There’s an inevitable rise in pressure too– not quite an expectation for the lads to repeat last week’s success, but now we’ve had a taste of triumph I think everyone is aware it will feel doubly disappointing if we don’t win.

We won’t have the home advantage this week, but Kidstow is only half an hour away, so we’re still expecting a lot of fan support. I wish that included Alasdair and Angela. While it might have been the yoga or the new payroll plan that lifted team morale last Saturday, I still believe their presence helped spur the team on. This time, we’re on our own.

Or so I think. Unbeknown to Dad, Cassie and I, Barbour has ordered fifty cardboard masks of Angela’s face from Amazon and handed them out to everyone sitting around him, with the result that there are now somewhere in the region of fifty Angelas cheering on the team at today’s game. I’m moved by the effort he’s gone to and it gives me some more great photos for our website, especially when I capture a shot of them all throwing their arms up in unison as, for the first time in our very short history, Crawford scores a goal within the first twenty minutes.

This time it’s Jamie who slips the ball past the keeper, although it’s more by accident than design– it bounces off his head without him knowing too much about it. But it’s still a goal and that’s all that matters.

When we score again just fifteen minutes later, the Angelas are on their feet. Remarkably, they do seem to be having an effect. Going into the locker room two–nil up at half-time is such an invigorating feeling, not that Cassie is about to let the team get complacent. After she’s praised them, she reminds them we’re not out of the woods yet. ‘There’s still a lot of time left on that clock so your concentration and commitment are more critical than ever.’

Having decided to stick to her calming yoga plan, she leads them through the warrior poses and their variations, then makes sure everyone is properly hydrated before they return to battle.

At fifty-nine minutes Kidstow pull a goal back and I try to convince myself it’s just a setback. But our rivals take full advantage of the resulting dip in mood and fire in an equaliser with just eight minutes remaining. Just like that, our lead slips away.

Our fans double down on their efforts to galvanise our players, belting out the Crawford team song over and over. And with mere seconds to go, Craig finally breaks through the Kidstow defenders, which has all of us on our feet, screaming at him to go all the way.