“Who are you?”
Matthew was taken by surprise when a slim woman opened the front door of Josh’s house. He had rather expected Josh to come bursting out. Brad’s father was giving them both a lift to the tournament.
“Er, I’m M..Matt,” he faltered. “Josh’s m..mate at school.”
“Look, Josh won’t be comin’,” she said. “He’s got a cold startin’ and I’m keepin’ him inside.”
Matthew hardly knew what to say. “B..but we’re p..playing in the Sevens...”
“Well, you might be, but not my Josh. He’s stayin’ right here in the warm.”
“Ma!” came a cry. “Is that Matt?”
Matthew looked past her to see Josh come dashing down the stairs, wearing blue pyjamas instead of the school’s black and white stripes.
“Ma! I’ve got to go,” he pleaded. “They need me.”
“Well, they’ll just have to do without you today,” she told him and then turned back to Matthew. “I’m sorry, but like I said, he can’t go. Goodbye!”
The door closed and Matthew was left standing on the path, listening to Josh’s howls of protest and the woman telling him to go back to bed.
He trudged back up the garden path to where the car was parked and reported what had happened.
“Oh, great!” Brad muttered. “Without Josh, we’ve got no chance.”
“C’mon, then,” said Brad’s father. “Let’s get to the school and report the bad news to your teacher.”
By the time the team arrived at the venue for the Sevens, they were running late because of roadworks, and they found that their first group match was due to start. The players did not even have a chance to warm up properly.
The captain, however, was secretly relieved about Josh’s absence. Rajesh hadn’t really fancied having to face up to him after what had happened last night. “Don’t matter that Josh ain’t here,” Rajesh sneered. “We don’t need him.”
Most of the others did not share that opinion and they soon found themselves in trouble. Another lad, Jay, took Josh’s place in midfield, but it was his stray pass that led to Westgate falling behind after only two minutes.
“Sort it out!” roared Rajesh, angrily kicking the ball back upfield for the re-start. “Where was the marking?”
No one dared point out to the goalkeeper that he might have made a better effort to save the shot after the ball had slithered beneath his body into the net.
Things went from bad to worse after that and the team slumped to a 3-0 defeat, barely managing a shot at goal. Their opponents, Cranfield Juniors, were simply too strong and looked to be favourites to win the tournament, especially when they beat the other school in the group by an even bigger margin.
“There’s still a chance for us to make the semi-finals,” said Mr Blyton. “If we don’t lose the next game, we can qualify on goal-difference. A draw would be enough.”
Even that was going to be difficult after Westgate again conceded an early goal. They were still losing, despite an equalizer from Leela before half-time, when a man came up to speak to Mr Blyton.
“What’s the score?”
“Two-one to them,” said the teacher glumly. “Looks like we might be going home early.”
“I’ve only just got here,” the man replied. “Where’s my Josh?”
“Josh? Are you his father?”
He nodded. “Sure am. He don’t know his da come all the way from Wales to see him play.”
“Well, I’m afraid your journey might have been wasted, Mr Williams.”
Mr Blyton explained the situation and the man’s face creased up in annoyance.
“That woman!” he grumbled. “My boy should be here.”
“We’re certainly missing him,” admitted Mr Blyton, who then almost missed something himself. He turned his attention back to the game just in time to see Matthew stab home a pass from Leela to bring the scores back level.
“Well done!” he called out. “Concentrate. Don’t let them score again.”
When Mr Blyton looked round to continue his conversation, he found that he was now standing by himself. Mr Williams was striding away across the playing field towards the car park.
Oh, dear! the teacher sighed. I do hope I haven’t gone and put my foot in it.
There was nothing he could do about that now – and nor could he do much about what was happening on the pitch. They had a chance to win the game, which Matthew wasted by ballooning the ball over the bar, and then they almost lost it when a slip by Anil allowed his opponent a clear sight of goal. Only Rajesh’s acrobatic leap saved them as he turned the ball around a post for a corner.
The referee’s whistle sounded before the kick could even be taken, leaving the scores level at 2-2.
“We’re through!” screamed Panna.
“Don’t get too excited,” growled Rajesh. “It’s only the semis next, not the Final – and we ain’t gonna win that, the way you lot are playing.”
There was a short break before the semi-final matches and Mr Blyton told the children to put their coats on, have a drink of water and try to keep warm.
“Who are we playing in the semis?” asked Brad’s father.
“The team that won the other group,” said Mr Blyton. “And they look pretty good from what I’ve seen of them.”
“Pity Josh isn’t here.”
Mr Blyton nodded. “It certainly is,” he murmured, wondering whether the boy might yet appear.
As Westgate kicked off their semi-final, however, Mr Williams was still arguing with his ex-wife and demanding that Josh get his kit on. Only with the greatest reluctance did she agree to let their son play – and then only on the condition that he was brought straight back home afterwards.
By the time Mr Williams had bundled Josh into the car and managed to get through the roadworks again, the match was already over. Josh dashed from the car park towards where he spotted his teammates grouped around Mr Blyton.
“Look! It’s Josh!” cried Leela.
“Sorry!” he shouted. “Hope I’m not too late.”
Rajesh ran forward to meet him. “What for?” the captain demanded.
“To play,” said Josh. “We’re still in it, aren’t we?”
“Less of the we, kid,” Rajesh sneered. “You can’t even bother to turn up.”
“Well, we both know why I’ve got this cold, don’t we?” retorted Josh. “After what you did last night.”
“Have you told anybody?”
“Course not.”
“Good job too,” Rajesh retorted. “Or you’d be dead!”
Josh ignored the threat. “My da said we were struggling.”
“Did he, now? Well you can tell him we’re in the Final – no thanks to you.”
The rest of the team surrounded them, bubbling with excitement.
“We won one-nil...”
“Raj was brill...”
“Brad got the winner...”
“First goal I’ve scored all season...”
“Glad to see you, Joshua,” Mr Blyton smiled. “Are you fit enough to play?”
“Sure am!” Josh grinned, opening his coat to reveal his kit. “Can’t wait.”
“You won’t have to,” the teacher told him. “We’re on again soon.”
