Page 3 of The Cut
‘Get off me.’ Orange juice dribbles down his chin. Cat pulls back, a little startled, and then winces at the rebuttal. ‘How long was I out?’ He turns and clambers on to his knees, still woozy, eyes flicking to the circle of lads. ‘I did it! Everyone look, I did it … I fainted!’
Cat props him up, keeping the juice straw in his mouth like she’s administering fluids in ICU. ‘Just sit still for a while.’ She places a hand on his forehead and he shrinks back from her touch, slightly embarrassed, his eyes still searching for validation from the other boys. He did win the game, after all. If hyperventilating to unconsciousness was some kind of new Olympic sport, he just took gold. But the wall of black-blazered backs tells him nobody’s bothered. Something far more important is happening. Top Dog has arrived.
Ben slings his red leather Nottingham Forest football bag to the front of the line and sweeps a hand through his mop of golden hair. Annie is up on her feet and moving towards him, her body gliding without consciousness like metal to a magnet. There’s a huddle of chatter as his mates gather round the Gary Barlow lookalike. Cat and Mark watch on from the sidelines, not old enough or cool enough to be part of the gang.
‘All right, listen up. I know we have GCSEs and all that, but this is the last year that we’re all going to be together.’ He glances at Annie. ‘So, I have a plan. I want us to build an amazing den down at the mill.’ Ben juts his chin towards the church, in the direction of The Cut that leads to Cheney End.
Blackstone Mill is legendary around these parts. A colossal, smoke-blackened stone structure built by the Victorians in the16mid-1800s, it was originally a weaving shed powered by a water wheel. Over the years, it has been a printing house, a school, an air-raid shelter and even a garage where the local dads would get their cars MOT’d. But a fire put an end to that, and it’s been wrapped in barbed wire and declared out of bounds ever since. To Ben, it’s a forbidden fortress, a challenge waiting to be accepted.
‘I want us to get to the top of the chimney stack and make a lookout post. We’ll call it the Crow’s Nest. We’ll need all hands on deck. Everyone in?’
Mark and Cat watch as backs are slapped and fives are highed. Ben finally glances over at Annie and smiles as the sun breaks through the clouds.
A burgundy and cream coach pulls around the corner by the phone box, creating a sudden flurry of boisterous energy. A riot begins as bags are snatched from the kerb queue and the boys shove and jostle to be first on the bus, as the girls hang back, rolling their eyes and chewing gum.
‘Oi, Marcello, get out the way, you big poof.’
Mark is elbowed and pushed as he tries to get in line, hugging his cello like it’s a small child, protecting the bridge from being crushed. Annie is last to board. She looks up to the back seat as Ben watches her, drawing a heart on the steamed-up window with an arrow through it and patting the seat next to him. Annabel smiles, shakes her head and begins to parade slowly up the centre aisle of the coach. She looks over to Mark and her sister, who are deep in conversation, fixes her chestnut hair into a ponytail and turns over the waistband of her skirt to shorten it an extra inch above the knee. She slides in next to Ben and turns to him with serious eyes.
‘No distractions this term, Ben. My mocks were a disaster and Dad says I need to knuckle down.’17
Ben glances down to the inch of skin between her short skirt and thigh-high socks.
‘No distractions.’ He swallows and slides his arm over her shoulder, slumping deep into the seat.
As the coach pulls away, headed for the sports complex, across the aisle a pair of eyes spy on them through the reflection of the glass. Watching Annie’s every move as she nestles her head into the crook of Ben’s arm, scrutinising every detail.
Ben smiles at Annie. ‘Your dad’s right, better knuckle down and buckle up.’18
19
3
SEPTEMBER 2023
Lily Knot tore down the right wing, boot studs flicking up mud and grass as she dodged defender after defender, the ball glued to her feet. She’d been wearing down the team from Heston Lacy since the very start of the game. A blocked penalty, following a handball in the second half, had their striker hitting the bar again. Barton Mallet were still pushing, but the excellent Kate White from Heston had capitalised on a gap in Barton’s defence. Lily Knot was hot on her heels, deftly taking the ball from between her feet, thwarting their chances of a goal yet again.
‘GO ON, LILY! DRIVE IT FORWARD!’ Dani screamed from the sidelines, trying to keep her brand-new white trainers out of the mud. Her phone, held high overhead, filmed every second of the game, while the Heston Lacy dads watched from the other side of the field in a grumpy gaggle of folded arms.
Lily was a few feet away from the penalty box when Heston’s Charlotte Roach was suddenly on the ground, rolling around in agony. A whistle sounded and everyone checked their watches in expectation of a fair whack of injury time.
Dani leant into her friend Margaret Carson, waiting for the referee to stand from his crouched position and deliver a verdict.
‘Roach clearly dived. COME ON, REF …’ She tapped her watch. ‘GET THE BALL BACK IN PLAY!’
Margaret smiled politely and winced as Dani’s talons dug into her arm. ‘She does appear to have blood on her face. Let’s hope there’s no concussion.’20
Ignoring the polite diplomacy, Dani focused on the verdict through the iPhone movie she’d be posting on TikTok in about twenty minutes, zooming into a tight frame on the injured girl. The referee’s hand reached into his top pocket and his arm shot up, clasping a yellow card.
‘IT WAS AN ACCIDENTAL KNEE!’ Dani exploded.
Margaret intercepted her before she burst on to the field and accosted the referee. ‘Doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s just a friendly, after all.’
‘Friendly? It’s about as friendly as cystitis. Of course it bloody matters.’ Dani’s head whipped back sharply as Charlotte miraculously staggered to her feet and the ball was back in play. A goal kick from Heston was intercepted by Lily once again.
‘GO ON, KNOT!’ Dani blasted like a foghorn. For such a small person, the lungs on her were impressive. Lily took an audacious shot from the halfway line that went high and wide, provoking a big groan from the Barton Mallet supporters. Then, on a second wind, Lily propelled the ball forward and drove it straight into the bottom corner of the net.
‘GOAL!’
