Page 12 of Hotshot

Sloane leaned in. “You have her eyes. And her big hair.”

“I know.” Everyone told Ella that.

“What about your dad, is he still alive?”

Ella shook her head. “Never in the picture.”

Sloane nodded, then studied the photo of her mum again. “I like her silver necklace, too.”

“It was a favourite of mine as well. The pendant had a compass engraved on it. Mum was a big believer in destiny, in following your life course. That represented it. I had her necklace, but I lost it when I sold her house and we cleared everything. No idea how. It upsets me to this day.” She still harboured a vague hope it might turn up one day.

Sloane turned her head, her gaze intense and full of sympathy. Ella normally shunned those looks. But with Sloane, she didn’t want to.

“That has to hurt. But you still have the memory of it, and the photo. Memories are the most important thing.” Sloane paused. “I had a ring I lost in my move, too. I still miss it.” She gave Ella a sad smile. “You must miss your mum.”

“Every day. Apparently, it gets easier. I’m not sure that’s true.” Ella squeezed her eyes to ward off threatening tears, then put the pasta away. She grabbed the salmon and yoghurt and put those in the fridge. She didn’t want to talk about this now. Luckily, Sloane moved the conversation on. Ella was grateful.

“Family is one of the reasons I came to the UK. One of a few. I want to find out more about my roots. My great-grandparents met and fell in love here. He played for a local non-league team, Kilminster United, about ten miles from here. I want to find out more because my parents know nothing, and they’re not that interested. But I think it’s important to know where you come from. It makes you who you are.”

Ella nodded. “I wouldn’t be who I am without my mum’s support and love. I’m sure the same can be said for you. Whatever worked for your grandparents was probably passed down through the generations.”

Sloane held her gaze, then walked over to the lounge area, water in hand. Then she turned to Ella. “Actually, I was hoping to get along to watch my great-grandfather’s old team this weekend for a special game they’re having. A pre-season fundraiser.” She paused. “If you’re free, would you like to come with me?” Her face spelt hesitation. “I’d rather not go alone, and it would help to have a driver as I’m still not comfortable on the wrong side of the road. I’ll pay for gas, and I can buy you coffee and cake. Or a half-time pie because I’m told that’s a thing at English stadiums.” Vulnerability streaked across Sloane’s face.

Ella wanted to reach out a hand and tell her it was all going to be okay. Instead, she said, “A chicken balti pie?”

Sloane’s body relaxed. “If that’s a thing, then yes.”

“It’s a thing. A disgusting thing that your nutritionist would probably advise against, but it’s a thing.” Ella tilted her head. “You don’t want to go with Layla? You’re friends with her.”

Sloane put her water on the coffee table and shook her head. “She wants to spend as much time with her wife and son before the season gets underway. Whereas we’re both new here, and there’s nothing in the rulebook that says we can’t be buddies.”

Ella shook her head. “Very much not. Plus, I’m free and in need of mates. Kilminster, you said?”

Sloane’s smile lit up her face. “Thank you. The game starts at 3pm, so shall I pick you up around 1.30pm?”

Something fluttered in Ella’s chest. She ignored it.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

CHAPTER7

“Is this what you were expecting?”

Sloane scratched the back of her neck and gave a small shrug. “I don’t know, but it’s what I grew up with. I like their kit, too: old-school, with no sponsors. Very retro. Just the smell of the grass, the choppy white lines. You’re so close you can see the grazes on the players’ knees. I love going to flash stadiums and watching massive games, but I also love this type of soccer, too.” She stared at the couple of hundred or so spectators gathered for the fundraiser. “I promised you a pie, too, but there’s not even a pie stand.”

Ella pulled a Wispa from her bag. “Shameful lack of pies, I agree. But I can offer you this to share if you’d like?”

A grin twisted onto Sloane’s face. “Sharing your Wispas, I know what they mean to you. I would love that, thank you.” The wind whipped up and Ella’s thick hair enveloped her face. She fought it off. It would drive Sloane mad, but it suited Ella.

It hadn’t escaped Sloane’s notice how easy it was to be around Ella. At least, when she was away from the training ground. There, Ella was part of the staff: sent to evaluate as well as help. That’s why Sloane hadn’t given much away in their first meeting. She shielded her feelings in exactly the same way she liked to shield the ball. She hadn’t known Ella during their first session, but she knew her a little better now. Now, here they were, sharing a Saturday. They’d driven here, sharing nuggets from their lives. Spending time with Ella outside of work was like opening her diary.

Maybe Sloane needed to chat to someone about Jess. She couldn’t call her family. Her brother was still away with the navy. Her parents were disinterested. Plus, all her other friends were involved in soccer. They knew Jess. They might talk to Jess. Even her good buddy, Alex, was Jess’s midfield partner in North Carolina. All her usual avenues were cut off. Ella would be the obvious candidate.

The ball flying high in the air close by snapped her from her thoughts. A defender for the away side and a midfield player from the home team went up for the ball and their heads smacked in the air with a sickening thud as the ball clattered into the advertising boards nearby and rebounded onto the field.

Sloane winced and clutched the iron railing that came up to her waist in the ramshackle ground. She’d been on the end of a few of those incidents herself, and at best they gave you a deafening headache, at worst, concussion. She hoped it wasn’t the latter.

When the whistle blew for full-time 15 minutes later, Sloane clapped and cheered the team’s 2-1 win. Meanwhile, one of the head-clash players rubbed his head as he walked from the field.

---