The turn-out for the match was gratifying, to put it mildly. When Kate arrived with Giles, Alec and Derek were just walking from the carpark. Most of the boys seemed to have at least one parent in support – both Marcus’s were there, with an asthma spray, she discovered. Paul arrived just as they were about to kick off; he too waved an asthma spray at Kate, who nodded gratefully – he couldn’t have known there’d be another one. A minute later he was followed by Colin, who gave her a highly public hug. ‘Thought you might need a beard,’ he whispered.
Kate made perfunctory introductions, and then gave her concentration to the game. The pitch wasn’t bad – on playing fields belonging to a college for blind people in Harborne. A strong wind cut across it. Her tracksuit, despite the layers underneath, wasn’t nearly up to the job. Clearly she would have to make time to go down to Croydon to retrieve the rest of her clothes. Not to mention the books and other personal things she’d crammed into the box-room. Her new lodger was paying a reduced rent until she’d got the whole house. It was to everyone’s advantage to get things sorted out as soon as possible. But dashing off to the Smoke would take time away from the more urgent matters that were filling her life. Maybe she could just manage the double journey after church tomorrow – especially if Colin were free and would co-drive. Fingers crossed there were no new developments at work and they both had the whole weekend free.
‘Sure,’ he said loudly and cheerfully. ‘We’ll go in my car – hatchbacks hold more and are easier to load.’
‘Mine’s a hatchback too!’ she said in a little-girl whiny voice. ‘OK, mine’d probably fit into your boot. But I pay for the petrol. Hell, that was a dreadful foul!’
Half-time, and Braysfield Baptists were trailing two nil. Kate handed out cut oranges and advice. She returned to the touchline smelling strongly of juice and even colder than she’d realised.
Paul, who’d kept a remarkably discreet distance, presumably decided it was time to muscle in. ‘Are you going to strip off and put yourself on as a sub?’ he asked.
She would not bite. ‘It’d be warmer than hanging round here. I’m going to have to get some Damart thermals if I’m going to do this every weekend. Come on, Marcus! It’s just the same as on the carpark! Shoot! Ye-e-es!’ She jumped up and down, hugging anyone handy – in this case Alec, who hugged her cheerfully back. ‘Another! Go on, you can do it!’
Braysfield surged back towards the opposition’s goal. A professional referee might have blown for off-side but the ref – an opposition parent – was either blind or determined to show his impartiality. One of their backs scrambled the ball into touch.
‘Remember what I said about corners!’ she yelled. ‘Stay cool! That’s it!’
Sam lofted the ball towards the goal-mouth. Marcus, looking startled at finding himself such an easy chance, nonetheless touched it into the goal. There was an eruption of Braysfield parents.
‘Hey, d’you suppose that’s a scout?’ Derek grabbed her arm and pointed. A thickly jacketed figure lurking under sunglasses was picking his way towards them. Alongside was another, stockier figure. No sunglasses. But she’d never seen him smile before.
‘Jesus, d’you see who I see?’ Colin asked.
Kate nodded. It was a good job Cope was with him or she might have run to Graham.
‘Hey, Gaffer – did you see that goal?’ she said to them both.
‘If you don’t shut up and turn round, you’ll miss the next,’ Cope observed, spitting. ‘Go on, kid. In the fucking net, man!’
Alec coughed: ‘This is a church team,’ he said.
‘Don’t care if it’s a team of bloody angels – get it in the fucking net!’
But the opposition hustled it clear. She could have wept. Only a game, Kate. It degenerated into a lot of rather pointless midfield passing.
She realised Graham was beside her. ‘You sure you should be out, Gaffer?’ she asked. Public question for a public occasion.
‘Course he should be bloody out. I told his wife he’d got to have some fresh air. Hey up, what’s going on now? What’s the matter with that kid?’
‘Paul – Marcus’s spray. Quick! No, you’re not allowed on the pitch. Give it here.’ Kate sprinted to the knot gathered round the gasping boy. ‘OK, love. Couple of deep breaths. Good lad. Now,’ she smiled at the referee, ‘can I have him on the sidelines for a couple of minutes and then he comes back on? Or would you need us to send on a sub straightaway?’
‘Time you read your rule book, sister. OK, you’re playing with just ten till he comes back on?’
Marcus’s parents were waiting on the touchline: ‘That’s it for today, then, old son. Home we go!’
‘Dad! No, Dad. I’ve got to stay.’
‘Can’t have you getting cold, lad. And you can see your mother’s perished with all this standing round.’
‘Dad –’
‘That was a nice goal, son.’ Cope had joined them. ‘But you’d better get back on that pitch or you’ll get bloody pneumonia. Go on, shift your arse.’
Marcus did as he was told. Cope stomped off. Kate and Marcus’s parents gaped.
‘If only we could have won,’ Kate said, waving off the last of the parents’ cars. ‘It would have meant so much to them all.’
‘And to you,’ Colin said quietly. ‘But to turn round – how many defeats in a row?’
‘Fourteen or fifteen,’ Paul said.
‘OK, to turn round a run of defeats that long to a score-draw isn’t bad. Only a couple of weeks’ coaching. Imagine what a whole season’s work will achieve.’
Kate imagined. Committed to all those evenings, all those mornings. Still, she had a lot to be pleased with.
‘Fancy Cope coming along,’ she said.
Colin finished her thought, out loud, but for her ears only. ‘And fancy him bringing Graham. Nowt so queer as folk, Kate. I’d never have imagined him even visiting Graham, let alone persuading him to come out to something like this. Perhaps he didn’t take a lot of persuading. Mind you, Mrs H might have done.’
Kate thought back to the good-looking, neat woman. ‘Wonder what made her like that?’
Colin shrugged. ‘What’s made Cope the way he is? Look, I’d best be off – someone’s trying to catch your eye, in case you hadn’t noticed. See you at your place tomorrow?’
‘Better make it the Manse. About one. We’ll get something on the motorway, shall we?’
‘Or better still, before we get on it. Plenty of pubs off the Alcester Road. Lots of them’ll do a Sunday lunch fairly cheap. See you, our kid.’
The one trying to catch her eye was Derek. He looked at his watch ostentatiously.
‘Time we were moving,’ he said. ‘Especially if you want to change.’
She looked more closely: under his sheepskin coat, he was certainly smarter than she was. She’d have given anything to call off: all she wanted was a hot bath. ‘I haven’t got all that many warm clothes,’ she began.
‘No problem,’ he said.
Would he peel off his coat and wrap it round her?
‘After all, we shall be indoors all afternoon.’
‘So there I was in a hospitality box, amongst all the nobs,’ Kate told Cassie that evening. ‘Buffet lunch, wine, coffee, chocs. Even a brandy or liqueur with the coffee. And then you move from the back of the box to the front, and watch it all happen in comfort. There’s even a TV screen so if you’re too busy talking business to see a goal then you see it again in slow motion.’
‘Did you enjoy it?’ Cassie asked. ‘And while you’re deciding, you could freshen up my gin.’
Kate shook a couple more ice cubes from the flask, sliced in some lemon, and was lavish with the gin. No point in being lavish with the tonic – Cassie was drinking it almost neat tonight. On the other hand, she herself was so tired she was drinking almost undiluted tonic. She walked back to the bed, and sat down. ‘Enjoy it? Yes, of course I did. I’m not so sure about the company – Derek and Alec’s contacts were a bit pompous for me.’
‘You mean rich. You young people and your inverted snobbery. There’s nothing wrong in working hard for your money and then enjoying it. You mark my words, these Labour people will be putting up taxes, for all their promises.’
Kate chose not to hear. ‘But it was funny seeing the game at one remove from reality. All these people outside roaring and yelling – and inside we could hardly hear them.’ Yes, she’d missed that. Whenever she’d been to matches in the past, there’d always been that huge roar; even if you were still outside it was thrilling. Paul had got the same sort of excitement when that orchestra had tuned up. ‘And it wasn’t as exciting as this morning. We deserved to win, we really did. If I can only build up their stamina … They were just run off their legs by the last ten minutes – did ever so well to keep the opposition out.’
Cassie yawned, openly.
‘And such a lot of people turned up. All the parents. And some of my people from work.’
‘Was that handsome young man there? Paul?’
‘Yes.’ But she didn’t want to talk about him. She wanted to talk about Cope bringing Graham. No. About Graham being there. About Graham’s departure, with his unobtrusive touch on her arm. About Graham’s wife and the telephone subterfuges Graham had asked for. About the phone ringing as soon as their call was over. But then she found she didn’t want to talk about Graham at all. ‘I had a coffee with Zenia Mackenzie last night,’ she said.
‘Who?’
‘Zenia Mackenzie – your next-door neighbour.’
‘That Jamaican!’
Kate ignored the disdain. ‘That’s right. She sends her regards. She’s been very kind to me since I moved in. But I think she’s worrying about that lad of hers. Royston.’
‘Royston; Zenia. Where do these people get their names from?’
‘Zenia got hers because her parents wanted to call her after the flower. She’s just bought herself a new outfit – she looks really lovely. Which reminds me, I’m off to get my clothes tomorrow. From London. I’m whizzing down with a friend of mine.’
‘Paul?’
‘Colin. My colleague.’
‘But he’s the one that’s queer.’
‘Gay.’ Was it too late to teach Cassie a bit of political correctness? Perhaps she should have picked her up on her attitude to African-Caribbeans. Was it too late? Or was it simply too late in the evening?