JONICA

Jonica swings her black four-wheel-drive Mercedes into the car park beside the football field and checks the time. It’s the first trial for next season, and they’re late. She did her level best to hurry the twins out the door this afternoon, but they were slow. Who wouldn’t be, after a full day at school in this heat? And who in their right mind would hold trials on such a hot day? Only six weeks since last season finished, and here she is again, early November, the end of spring, dropping her kids off to exert themselves in 38-degree heat when they ought to be home in the pool. But football is their passion, as Ben calls it. And this is what you must do if your kids want to play in the Youth Premier League.

Too much soccer, she’d told Ben last night. And he’d laughed. It’s football, not soccer, he’d said. And there’s no such thing as too much, and you know it. You want them to succeed as much as I do. Normally she would agree—she’s fully invested in the twins and their interests. But holding a trial when it’s so hot? The coaches should have cancelled it. Someone might get heat stroke.

Hot air pours in through the doors as Alex and Audrey tip out onto the tarmac. ‘Got your water bottles?’ she calls after them. Audrey waves hers in the air, but Alex is already gone, silver Nike soccer boots flashing as he darts across the car park.

Audrey stops and looks back, face scrunched, shoulders up near her ears. This morning she was all fired up, talking to Ben about trials, but since she got home from school, she’s been quiet. After the Women’s World Cup, she became super-enthused about soccer. Ben had told her that she needed to play with boys to go the next step—that’s why she’s trying out for this team. As far as Jonica’s concerned, the presence of a bunch of adolescent boys simply adds extra pressure. She tried to raise this with Ben, but he’s from a family where it was just him and his brother and he has no idea what it’s like to be a teenage girl in a transforming body.

She lowers her window and summons a bright smile. ‘You’ll be fine,’ she calls. ‘How many other girls can do two thousand juggles? Only girls headed for the Matildas!’

A small grin from Audrey. She’s worked hard on her juggling; it sets her apart from other players.

‘Go on,’ Jonica says. ‘Remember everything Dad told you.’

Audrey hurries off.

Jonica reminds herself that it’s natural for her daughter to be anxious. She’ll be right once she’s out there. Ben says it works like that for him in front of a jury: a few nerves can enhance performance, get the neurons firing. He was the one who insisted that the twins play soccer. Apparently, all of life is to be had out there on the field. Jonica is yet to see anything in it other than stress and anxiety.

She performs a contortionist back-seat inspection to check for Alex’s water bottle. There it is, on the floor. She’ll have to take it to him—he’s going to need it in this heat. She grabs the bottle and swings out of the car, plodding across the car park under a cloudless sky. She can smell the baking tarmac, the tangy pine trees alongside the field. Maybe they’re in for a stinker of a summer. Maybe it’s climate change.

At the Minotaurs clubhouse, Dominik the coach, his assistant, Kyle, and a few of the parents, are helicopters hovering in the shade. They turn to look at her as she arrives. All the usual faces. It’s the same out on the field: the same kids trying out all over again. Most were in the team last year and they’ll probably get in again. But a few players have left, so there are vacancies. Even so, you have to wonder why the coaches have scheduled so many trials—five in a row from tonight, one each week from now into December. Jonica doesn’t understand it. Surely it will only take a couple of sessions to detect any new talent—it’s pretty obvious.

Alex has been with this team for three years now, ever since he and his mate Noah decided the school team wasn’t good enough. The school wasn’t happy, of course—private schools think they own you these days. But Ben had argued that the school couldn’t hold kids back unless they could provide the same level of coaching as an external club, so Alex and Noah were allowed to go. Ben chose the Minotaurs because it’s a highly ranked club with a good reputation and a program that goes from youth to adults. Most of the teams finish high on the ladder, which is important to Ben—he likes winning. For a Greek club, it’s more diverse than you’d think, with kids coming from suburbs up to an hour’s drive away, all over north-western Sydney.

Jonica would have preferred the twins to play at the little local club, closer to home, which is where they first started in the Mini Roos when they were five. But Ben said the local club wasn’t strong enough in the older age groups. And he wanted the twins to have the best. The Greeks are passionate, he’d said. And that’s a good thing. Passion can take you a long way in football. He also liked the fact that the club allowed girls to play on boys’ teams, if they were good enough to get in.

Jonica twists the water bottle in her hands and wonders how to deliver it to Alex. He’s out on the field, kicking a ball with Noah. The coaches are watching; she’ll have to wait.

Audrey is over near the pine trees, doing her stretches. Last year, in the Minotaurs girls’ team, she tore a ligament in her ankle and the physio gave her exercises as part of her regular warm-up routine. She’s doing them now. Jonica hopes the coaches will notice, but they’ve turned away and are yapping to each other in the shade, hands folded on top of their bellies.

As another girl strolls onto the field, Jonica stiffens. She’d recognise that flat-footed stride anywhere. The round shoulders. The jutting chin. The long dark hair in a high ponytail. It’s Katerina.

Katerina was in Audrey’s team last season. She had a habit of slamming into people at training—the sort of play that’s effective during a game, but out of line with your own team mates. Jonica and the other parents had been upset about it, murmuring among themselves every time Katerina knocked someone down. Nobody raised it with the coach, of course, because that’s not what you do, in case the coach takes it as criticism and then has it in for your kid.

Jonica had stayed quiet too, until Katerina had deliberately body-slammed Audrey during training, knocking her down and causing the ankle injury. Jonica took Audrey to the physio and he’d shaken his head. Told her he could patch up the ankle with tape and give Audrey strengthening exercises to get her back on the field as soon as possible, but she might need surgery later on. You have to talk to the coach and put a stop to this, he’d said to Jonica.

At the next training session, which Audrey was still expected to attend to show she was committed, Jonica and Ben had approached the coach after everyone had gone home. The coach was affronted at first and said that rough play was part of the game. But Ben had insisted that Katerina was over the top, and if the coach didn’t take action he would have to go to the committee. The coach hadn’t liked that, of course, but was forced to acknowledge that Katerina’s collisions were excessive. In the end, she’d agreed to talk to Katerina.

Katerina’s mother, Carmen, hadn’t taken it well. She’d confronted Jonica, declaring there was nothing wrong with Katerina’s game. It’s not my daughter’s fault that Audrey twisted an ankle, Carmen had said (Jonica remembers every word). If Audrey can’t hack it, she shouldn’t play at this level. Next time you have an issue with my daughter, come to me. Jonica had been glad of her legal training as she stared Carmen in the eye and informed her that she wasn’t the only one who was unhappy about Katerina.

But even after that, Katerina remained the coach’s favourite and queen bee of the team, always criticising and bossing the other players around. Every weekend, she was on for whole games while other girls spent half the game on the bench. For Jonica, the injustice of it still stings.

She twirls Alex’s water bottle in her hands. It’s such a shame Katerina is here. More competition for Audrey. Carmen must have got word about it, somehow, though God knows how she found out—Jonica didn’t tell anyone that Audrey was trialling. Then again, Carmen’s an expert at tapping into the club grapevine—always first to know what’s going on, hanging round the coaches as if she’s their best friend. There she is now, under the pine trees in all her dark-haired, pear-shaped glory. People say she was a soccer star in her time. Hard to believe when you look at her.

Audrey spots Katerina and casts a pained look at Jonica. But there’s nothing Jonica can do. Audrey will just have to deal with it.

One of the boys—Braedon—sneers at Audrey as she walks out and tacks herself onto the group. ‘Why are there girls here?’ he demands.

Jonica hopes Dominik will tell the boys to pull their heads in, that the club includes girls who are good enough to qualify. But he claps his hands above his head and shouts, ‘Okay, boys. Time for a warm-up. Four laps of the oval.’

Jonica’s blood fizzes. She sidles up to join Noah’s dad, Miles, who is standing nearby. They’ve talked on the sidelines before. Not that she’s much good at chatting when her kids are playing—she likes to watch. Miles is nicer than most of the other parents. Whenever they interact, he seems genuinely interested—something to do with his eye contact and ready smile. He’s a single dad, friendly and not too intense about football … unlike some of the other parents in this team. Viktor’s dad, Santos, for instance.

There’s Viktor now, at the front of the pack, leading the way, hair tied back in a man bun just like Erling Haaland from Manchester City.

‘Those poor kids,’ she murmurs to Miles, as the players stagger past. ‘The coaches should be warming up too. Then they could see what it’s like. Too hot for running.’

Miles chuckles. ‘I don’t reckon those two have jogged round an oval in years. Not in any weather.’

She hides a smile. When the kids run by again, red-faced and panting, she notices that Noah has fallen behind. Even though he’s not as good as some of the others, he’ll get selected because he’s been with the team for so long. That’s how it goes. Today, though, he’s much slower than usual. ‘Is Noah okay?’ she asks.

Miles scratches at his thumb with a fingernail. ‘It’s his knees. Osgood-Schlatter disease. He’s grown so fast his tendons can’t keep up with his bones. I had it when I was a kid too.’

Jonica is glad neither of the twins have issues like that. ‘Poor Noah. Anything you can do?’

‘Massage and stretches. The cure for everything at this age.’

‘Look how hot they are,’ she mutters. ‘It’s appalling to make them run in this weather. I wish Dominik would let them go home.’

‘He won’t push them too hard,’ Miles says. ‘And, anyway, kids don’t feel it like we do. They love playing so much nothing can stop them. Weren’t you addicted to sport as a kid?’

‘I’ve never really been into team sport, other than a bit of netball at school …’ she says. But she feels like a fraud, because that was years ago, and she wasn’t much good. ‘I play tennis every week with a few girlfriends, but we get out early, before it warms up. The rest of the time I’m the family taxi service. It’s full-on with twins … That was a surprise I didn’t sign up for.’

He eyes her with respect. ‘Must’ve been tough when they were little. One at a time was enough for me.’

Jonica remembers lying on the padded bench for her ten-week ultrasound. The cold, wet probe on her belly. The sonographer pausing before telling her she was carrying two babies.

And didn’t that change her life! Nearly killed her. Six weeks maternity leave morphed into extra time off because it was so overwhelming. No sleep. Endless feeding and nappy changing. Both babies screaming at once. Sometimes she’d fed them simultaneously: Alex slung under one arm, Audrey under the other. She wanted to be a good mother, but sometimes it seemed they were eating her alive.

She wipes the sweat from her forehead. When the twins were small, she’d thought she would go straight back to work. But when it was time to return, Ben had asked if it was really necessary. They could afford a nanny, of course, he’d said. But didn’t she want to breastfeed them as long as possible, to give them the best start in life? Maybe she should stay home a while longer and look after the kids. He couldn’t do it, obviously, and felt bad about the long hours he worked. But he would be happy to support her for a few years. Just look at the poor little things, he’d said, when the twins were asleep and perfectly angelic. How could she argue? In the end, the guilt won out.

At first, she hadn’t minded it—her mother had given up a career for kids, and Ben’s mother had been a stay-at-home mum too. When the twins were small, it was easy not to think about what she’d given up because she was eternally exhausted and consumed by their needs. She immersed herself in their lives, and before she knew it, they were at school. She helped where she could, providing support, basking in their smiles when they won races, smoothing things over when they lost, applying Band-Aids to scuffed knees.

Recently, though, there’s been a worm turning in her belly. There’s only so much satisfaction to be had from helping at athletics and swimming carnivals, covering books for the school library, driving to soccer training, organising playdates, parties, family holidays, doctor and physio appointments, visits to the dentist or hairdresser, cooking meals, helping with homework.

For the past few months, she’s felt the twins begin to pull away. And that’s a good thing, because she’s keen to use her brain again. To be someone other than a mother. The twins don’t need her so much anymore, and she could go back to work, except that Ben likes having her home.

She looks at Miles and pastes on a smile. ‘Having twins is very busy.’

‘Good on you,’ he says. ‘You’re a better person than me.’

Jonica wishes Ben was more like Miles. Ben takes her for granted, ignores her worries about Audrey and the team, makes her feel insignificant. She can’t imagine Miles doing that. He seems too kind. He’s good-looking too. She can’t understand why his wife left him. Word is she took up with another man. Jonica wonders if she regrets it.

Out on the field, the kids have finally finished their laps and now they pull up in front of Dominik. Jonica sees those crimson sweaty faces and wishes she’d brought Powerade. Audrey will have a headache tonight and Alex will be grumpy. When they get home, they’ll slump in front of the TV instead of doing their homework, and then she’ll worry that their schoolwork is suffering.

She wonders if now might be the moment to deliver Alex’s water bottle, but Dominik tells the players to pair up for a drill. The boys instantly gravitate towards each other, leaving the girls isolated. Jonica is proud when Audrey steps forward and invites Katerina to join her. Katerina hesitates, inspecting Audrey as if she’s being offered a cane toad as a partner, but there’s no one else to play with so she has to say yes.

The players form parallel lines and start firing balls at each other. Alex looks loose and relaxed, whereas Audrey is being careful—maybe too careful. Jonica sees the tension in her daughter’s thin frame, the frown of concentration on her face, and can’t bear to watch. She turns to Miles. ‘Have you ever played soccer?’ she asks.

‘No. I prefer running.’

He does look fit, she thinks. But she can’t imagine running for fun, it looks like too much hard work. ‘I never run, except on a tennis court.’

‘You should try it,’ he says. ‘Works for me. The endorphins keep me sane. All you need is some good shoes and a Couch to 5K app to get started.’

On the field, Audrey has loosened up, and she and Katerina are passing to each other with elegant touches and far more finesse than most of the boys.

‘Audrey’s a good player,’ Miles says. ‘She moves like a real athlete.’

It’s true that Audrey has an easy loping gait. She’s strong too, and fast. She can’t match the boys with their pumped-up teenage testosterone, but she beats them on skills every time.

Katerina boots the ball to Audrey. It flies up into her face and she drops to the ground, covering her nose with her hands.

Get up, Jonica thinks, clutching Alex’s water bottle. The coaches might see you.

Audrey stands slowly then trots after the ball.

‘Good on you,’ Jonica murmurs. ‘Good on you, sweetheart.’

Next, Dominik hands out coloured bibs and divides the players into two teams. Audrey and Alex are together, which is good—hopefully Alex will pass to his sister.

The kids spread out across the field. When Dominik gives the signal to start, Alex races forward with the ball, looking for Audrey, but she’s too wide, so he passes to Katerina.

Katerina takes off, head-down, dribbling. The coaches nod like bobble-head toys. So that’s how it’s going to be, Jonica thinks, swiping her hair from her hot neck. Showing off and ball-hogging will be rewarded, even though it’s the opposite of what’s required in a game.

Eventually Katerina passes to Braedon, and Audrey dashes along the line, calling. But Braedon won’t pass. And neither will any of the other boys. Finally, Alex kicks a pass to her. She controls the ball beautifully and passes back, her face alight with a smile. Jonica smiles too. Surely the coaches will notice her daughter now. But they’re looking the other way.

Audrey’s smile fades. And so does Jonica’s. She tugs her dress away from her body because, somehow, the fabric has turned into cling wrap.

‘Are you okay?’ Miles asks.

‘I can’t bear the heat,’ she says. In truth, she’s aching at the disheartened look on Audrey’s face. The disappointed kink of her mouth. The discouraged slump of her shoulders.

‘Maybe you need a cool drink,’ Miles suggests.

‘Yes, I think I’ll go and sit in the car for a while with the air conditioner.’

She heads for the car park.

When she gets to the car, she realises she’s still holding Alex’s water bottle. She can’t go back now. Not with the tight feeling that’s lodged itself in her throat.

She’ll go to the shops and buy Powerade.

After dishing up lasagne and salad for the twins’ dinner, Jonica leans against the kitchen bench. It’s a relief to be away from the heat. Outside, through the sliding doors, she can see the evening light shimmering on the surface of the swimming pool. She’d love to go for a swim, but there are too many chores to do, and she needs to make sure Audrey eats properly—she often loses her appetite around training and games.

They try to eat as a family when they can—Ben likes it that way. It’s hard, though, when he’s often home so late. The kids needed feeding early tonight—they were exhausted after all that running around in the heat. They’re carbon copies of her, she notes. High foreheads, blond hair, curved smiles. Audrey has Ben’s dimples and curls, and they both have his height, which is lucky. Jonica hates being short. It makes it easier for people to stand over her.

She fills two glasses with water and places them on the table, then turns to feed the dog. Honey has been getting under her feet since they arrived home, begging for food. ‘Kids first and then dogs,’ she tells the little orange Cavoodle. Bright-eyed, Honey leaps at her legs. Jonica pours kibble into the bowl and watches the dog dive on it. If only Audrey would eat with the same gusto.

She tosses dirty socks in the laundry, lines up soccer boots on the mat by the back door, then pours herself a wine and sits at the table with the kids. Alex shovels in forkfuls of food while Audrey pokes at hers listlessly. ‘Come on, Audrey, eat up,’ Jonica prods. ‘I cooked lasagne because it’s your favourite.’

Audrey is pale with grey smudges under her eyes. She was quiet in the car on the way home. Maybe she has heat stroke. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she says, fiddling with her fork. She carves off a small corner of pasta and pops it in her mouth, slowly chewing.

Honey, having already finished her dinner, appears under the table and sits with tail swishing, gazing hopefully at Audrey.

‘Someone’s jealous of your dinner,’ Jonica says.

Usually, Audrey melts when she sees the dog. Tonight, though, she pushes Honey away with her foot.

‘I thought you did well today,’ Jonica says. ‘You and Katerina did a good job in those drills.’

Audrey shrugs. ‘It was all right, I suppose.’

Alex glances up from gobbling food. ‘Except for that ball Katerina kicked in your face.’

‘It was an accident,’ Audrey says.

‘No, it wasn’t. She did it on purpose. She lined up and took aim. I saw it.’

‘I’m sure she didn’t mean it,’ Jonica says, not wanting to fuel friction between the two girls. Last season, it wasn’t only the body-slamming that was a problem; there was also the relentless niggling and derogatory comments from Katerina. Sly kicks at Audrey’s ankles when the coach wasn’t looking. The way Katerina would stumble on top of Audrey during stretches. It was all so underhand and devious you could never pin anything on her. And Jonica knew all about Carmen’s tactics, having the coach over to dinner and offering to do odd jobs and team admin.

‘I hate Katerina,’ Audrey mutters, stabbing at the lasagne with her fork. ‘She’s such a bitch. Why couldn’t she stay with the girls’ team? I thought I was getting away from her.’

Jonica had thought so too. That was the main reason she’d agreed to Audrey trying out for the boys’ team. And yet, here they are, stuck with Katerina again.

‘You just have to get on with her,’ Alex says, setting down his fork and smoothing his fringe to one side.

Audrey glares at him. ‘It’s all right for you. You know everyone and they all like you. Get down, Honey!’ She gives the dog a small shove.

‘Alex, maybe you could introduce Audrey to some of the boys,’ Jonica suggests.

‘No way,’ he snorts, kicking at the legs of his chair. ‘I don’t even want her in my team. No one else has to play with their sister. It was better last year when there were no girls. What am I supposed to tell my friends when they ask why she’s trying out?’

Jonica doesn’t like his tone, but she understands his frustration. Ben was the one who wanted Audrey on this team. She could have stayed with the girls’ team or applied to one of the girls-only academies that feed into the Women’s A-League. But Ben had insisted that if Audrey was serious about wanting to go to the top, she needed to play with boys to improve her speed and aggression. You can’t learn those skills anywhere else, he’d said. Jonica hadn’t argued—she knows nothing about football, other than what she’s learned watching from the sidelines. But Ben’s an ex-footballer who played in rep teams and at Nationals until he went to university.

Still, she has doubts about the twins being on the same team. Especially if they’re going to argue all the time.

‘Who can I talk to?’ Audrey whines, sounding just like the dog when she’s outside on the back deck and wants to come in. ‘Viktor’s a wanker. And so are his friends.’

She’s right about Viktor, man bun and all. He’s Dominik’s favourite, the team’s key striker, brash and overconfident. And yet that confidence helps him reach beyond his ability on the soccer field. It’s a shame Jonica can’t transplant some of that same self-belief into her daughter. She recognises the irony that perhaps her failing as a mother has been trying to teach her children to be decent. Perhaps she should have brought them up to be arseholes. It certainly seems to deliver success. Just ask Ben. Knowing how and when to be an arsehole has definitely helped him win cases.

She hears the garage door opening. ‘Sounds like your father’s home,’ she says, with a look that warns them not to let him find them squabbling. ‘Give him a break. He’ll be tired.’ She gets up and walks into the kitchen while the dog skitters around the table, yapping to announce Ben’s arrival.

He strides in as if entering a courtroom: square-shouldered, narrow-eyed, firm-lipped. At the head of the table, he pauses to loosen his tie, kick off his shoes and drape his jacket over a chair. After a long day in court he often loses the ability to transition to family life, and home becomes an extension of his work environment, until Jonica or a glass of wine can defuse his residual tension.

‘How’s things?’ he asks, pulling out his chair and sitting down, hands folded in front of him on the table.

‘We had trials, and it was so hot we nearly died,’ Alex says.

‘Lucky you survived. Have you had a swim?’

‘Not yet,’ Jonica says.

‘Why not? What’s the point of having a pool if the kids never use it?’

‘We only just got home,’ she explains, wiping the bench even though it’s already clean. ‘And they were hungry. They’ll have a dip to cool off before bed.’ She pours him some wine and doles food onto plates, digging among the spinach for feta and avocado, but Alex seems to have pilfered the lot. She sets their plates on the table and sits down. The dog licks her feet under the table. ‘Pepper?’ she asks, offering Ben the grinder.

He waves her away and grabs his utensils. ‘How did you go?’ he asks, glancing at the twins.

Audrey keeps her head down and peers sideways at Alex.

‘We did all right,’ he says. ‘We got the ball and I passed to Audrey, but none of the others would pass to her.’

Ben frowns at Audrey’s bowed head and hacks off a piece of lasagne, skewering it with his fork. ‘Did you get in there like I told you? No prizes for princesses.’

‘I tried,’ Audrey says. ‘I ran everywhere.’

‘I can vouch for that,’ Jonica adds. ‘I watched most of it.’

‘Did you get into position?’ he asks.

‘We did,’ Alex says. ‘Both of us.’

‘And call loudly enough for the ball?’

‘Yes,’ Jonica says. ‘Especially Audrey. She was shouting and waving her arms like a maniac.’

Ben cuts off another chunk of lasagne. ‘I’m sure the coaches would have noticed you trying to do the right thing, Audrey.’

Audrey stares at her plate and pushes her food around.

‘Leave it till tomorrow, Ben,’ Jonica says quietly. ‘The kids are exhausted.’

He ignores this, of course, leans back in his chair and lectures them all about how important it is to analyse your performance so you can work out how to improve.

The kids listen with blank faces while Jonica eats her food as fast as she can and starts stacking the dishwasher. When Ben finally draws breath, Alex asks if he can go and do his homework. Clever kid. Ben can’t argue with that. But it leaves Audrey exposed.

‘Eat,’ Ben tells her. ‘You’re not a sparrow.’

Glowering, Audrey cuts off the tiniest piece of lasagne and pops it in her mouth.

‘Stop messing around,’ he says, irritation in his face.

She takes an even smaller mouthful, then leans down to pat Honey. All the distraction tactics.

‘Leave the dog alone until after dinner,’ Ben says. ‘You know how I feel about dogs begging at the table.’

‘She’s not begging.’

‘Looks like begging to me. Now get on with your dinner.’

This could drag on all night, the two of them locked in battle. He never surrenders and Audrey will match his stubbornness.

It frustrates Jonica that Ben is so clueless about the kids. At work, he bosses people all day, but he still hasn’t learned that it doesn’t work at home where no one’s paid to listen. For the time being, she swallows her words, clears plates, slots them in the dishwasher, and clangs pots in the kitchen. She’ll tackle it later, when they’ve had a few glasses of wine.

After the twins’ obligatory swim to please Ben, they retreat to their bedrooms and that’s it for the day. Almost. Jonica still has to toss their dirty clothes in the wash, hang their swimmers on the drying-rack, and close the door to their end of the house.

Now that it’s time to talk to Ben, her arguments have shrunk into a tight ball in her stomach. She knows she needs to address it, but she’s tired. She feels like a child again, trying to navigate her way through the storm that was her parents’ relationship. Back then, she worked to smooth their rocky surfaces and avert unexpected explosions. She did it by being kind and nice and well behaved, a strategy she often uses with Ben, her own Mount Vesuvius.

He’s still tetchy and pumped up from work, and the thought of confronting him weighs on her like concrete. She never quite knows how he’ll react. Not only does she have to get the timing right, she also has to find the right tone. If she gets it wrong, he won’t hear; or worse, he’ll take it out on her or the twins by being grumpy. It’s as if every interaction is a competition to be won.

Sometimes she wonders if she chose her father when she fell for Ben. Her father is dead now, but he was smart, eloquent and intelligent. A high-profile District Court judge, he was always in demand, always busy, which meant he was almost never home. He was well regarded in the community. There were articles about his decisions in the newspapers. Drawings on the TV news, of him presiding over court cases. People regarded her with awe when they discovered he was her father. It was lucky she did well at school and completed a law degree, because that meant she passed his intelligence test. But at home, he was strident and difficult. Success and achievement were important to him. He wanted her to work hard to succeed, just as he had succeeded, but had no softness or sensitivity to what imperfection felt like.

She pulls her shoulders back before entering the bedroom. Ben is in the en suite, drying off after a shower. She watches as he whisks the towel across his back and chest, taking his time. She turns back the bed covers, waiting to speak to him.

He saunters out, towel tucked around his waist, leans towards her and gives her a kiss, lips lingering on hers.

Oh God, she thinks, crumpling internally. Is he really feeling sexy tonight? She’ll have to find a way to divert him. She places a hand on his chest to hold him back. ‘Hey, can we talk?’

‘What about?’ He flicks at her hair with a finger.

She draws breath—it’s not as if they haven’t had this conversation before. ‘I think you need to ease up on the kids about football.’

He frowns. ‘What do you mean? I was fine tonight, wasn’t I? I was showing interest like you always tell me to.’

‘You didn’t need to cross-examine them.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘Yes, you did. It’s unnecessary. They both try hard to please you.’

‘You’re making them soft,’ he says. ‘Audrey needs to be tough if she’s going to play with boys. Sugar-coating won’t help.’

Jonica’s chest burns. He always blames her for the twins’ shortcomings. She’d like to remind him that they share half his genes too, and that’s he’s far from perfect. But she knows that won’t get her what she wants. She massages his shoulders from the front, looking into his eyes to hold his attention.

‘I’ve been thinking about how we can get Audrey into this team,’ she says. ‘Katerina was trialling today too, and Carmen was there, doing her usual thing, trying to win the coaches over. I heard Santos say he’s going to fix Dominik’s guttering for him. And I couldn’t help wondering if there’s something we can do too, to get on Dominik’s good side.’

Ben contemplates while she works on his shoulders. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘Any ideas?’

‘Pity he doesn’t have any legal work I can do for him,’ she says with a smile. ‘I don’t have any other skills that’d be useful for a soccer team.’

‘I do—is that what you’re getting at?’

Ben was a very good goalie in his time. He often tells the story of how lucky he was to realise early that he wasn’t going to be a real star. He wasn’t tall enough and his hands weren’t big enough. You only have to look at big-time international goalies to see I wasn’t the right genetic material, he’s forever telling the kids. He was also sufficiently clever to recognise that professional football was an uncertain career. That’s when he gave up football and started studying law. Being a barrister appealed to his competitive spirit and the income was attractive. Jonica knows the rest of that story.

He lowers himself onto the bed and shifts his head from side to side, stretching his neck. ‘It’s hard to take time off work,’ he says. ‘But maybe I could coach the goalies once a fortnight. That way, we’d be helping the team and hopefully Dominik will show his appreciation. What do you think?’

Jonica’s skin tingles and she can’t help smiling. ‘That’d be wonderful. Do you really think you can manage it?’

He shrugs. ‘I can try. I won’t be able to do it if I’m in court. But otherwise, I might be able to. Maybe on a Thursday. I’ll aim to get back for training at five.’ He pauses, eyes twinkling. ‘Imagine Darren’s face if both the kids get into the team.’

Ben and his brother have a long history of rivalry going back to childhood. Ben, the eldest, was always the high achiever, both academically and in sport. Darren was the underdog who never quite reached the same heights, a boring accountant compared to Ben, the stellar lawyer. And now the competition, with its predictable results, has extended to their children’s achievements—which both Jonica and Darren’s wife, Claire, disapprove of. She touches a finger to his nose and shakes her head. ‘This is not about your brother.’

‘I know, I know. But wouldn’t it be good? He takes it all so seriously.’

And so do we, Jonica thinks. Maybe that’s okay when they only want the best for their children. And yet, she’s still unsure if this team is the best choice for Audrey.

Ben’s eyes intensify and he slides his hands around her waist, undoes the ties at the back of her dress, gathers the fabric and lifts it over her head, kisses her belly.

She bows her head and buries her nose in his hair, inhales the shampoo and the damp male scent of him. As he tugs down her knickers and runs the back of his fingers over her pubic area, her skin contracts. She’s too tired for sex.

This is for the kids, she reminds herself.

Jonica remembers when she and Ben first met. She’d been assigned to a team for a big corporate case at the firm where she worked, and Ben was the barrister who had been appointed to the case as it was likely to end up in court. As a junior solicitor, it was Jonica’s job to gather relevant information and brief Ben. She’d heard his name previously, in relation to other cases, but he seemed unreachable: a Senior Counsel on his way to the top, whereas she was a long way down the corporate ladder.

When she and her male colleague arrived at Ben’s chambers for the initial briefing, a secretary showed them through to his office. He was seated at a large wooden desk, and when he saw them, he stood up, straightening his tie and tugging at his well-cut jacket. He had dark curly hair, an erect confident posture, and bright discerning eyes that locked with Jonica’s as he shook her hand.

‘Let’s get on with it,’ he said, directing them to sit down. ‘We’ve lots of work to do.’

Jonica spoke first, outlining everything she knew about the case and providing relevant details. She was nervous. As she talked, Ben studied her with an unflinching gaze, frowning slightly. When she finished, he gave a nod. ‘Good work.’

Then her colleague took over. But he hadn’t been speaking for long when Ben pulled him up with an impatient grunt. ‘Is this the best you can do? Or is it all crap like this? If so, I’ll be asking for another solicitor.’

Jonica felt sorry for her colleague. He shrank under Ben’s piercing glare, stammering an apology and promising to revise the brief immediately.

Ben waved him away. ‘I’ve got meetings all day so you’ll have to email it. Make sure it’s up to standard or I’m done with you.’

Keen to avoid a similar humiliation, Jonica had worked hard to impress. Over the following weeks, she and Ben had several meetings, and she discovered that she worked well with him. She respected his vision and experience, and, even though at one level he frightened her, she was challenged and excited by him. She liked the way his eyes were keen on her face when she spoke; the way he really listened to her, despite her lowly status as a junior lawyer. When she delivered well-researched advice and received his praise, it made her glow.

After they won the case, everyone went out to celebrate: a night of spirits and cocktails, all on the firm. The swanky rooftop bar where they gathered had a divine view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House. Jonica gazed out over the water and felt like a high-flyer, sipping cocktails and holding her own with the best.

As the evening progressed, she was drawn to Ben’s group. Away from the office, he was looser and more approachable, and held the floor with fiery wit and enthusiasm.

By then, she’d consumed more Cosmopolitans than her small frame could absorb, and was unsteady on her high heels. As she leaned towards Ben in a show of appreciation for one of his jokes, she’d lost balance and been forced to reach for his arm.

He startled slightly, then touched a hand to her waist to support her, eyes igniting with new warmth. His hand had settled there, and it felt comfortable, even chivalrous. Later, when he’d offered to escort her to a taxi, she’d accepted. Then she’d invited him home.

It had been a fast and exhilarating courtship. Eyes locking during meetings in his chambers; discussions and repartee over rushed lunches. Visits to courtrooms to watch his performance. And he was a grand performer, a real stage artist with a broad range of persuasive theatrical skills that he used to coax juries towards the ‘correct’ conclusions, swaying them with the timbre of his voice, expressive hand gestures and clever, eloquent words.

Within a year, they were engaged. Married within two. And she was pregnant the year after that, just short of her twenty-eighth birthday. The twins were born by Caesarean section two weeks before their due date.

And here she is now: Ben still working at the bar and achieving great things, while she manages the domestics.

Back when the twins were small, there hadn’t been space for a prominent barrister and a senior solicitor in their family. But she’s sure that there is now.

After the second trial, Jonica feeds the family, helps the kids with their homework, then she and Ben take the dog for a walk around the block. They do this often after training and games—it’s essential for decompression, helps Jonica sleep at night. Who’d have thought there could be so much drama in kids’ football?

‘This afternoon was ridiculous,’ Ben says. ‘I can’t believe I gave up three hours of work to watch chaos.’

Usually, it’s Jonica doing the griping because she’s the one who takes the kids everywhere while Ben’s at work. Tonight, though, he’d come to trials too; he’d just won a court case and was in a good mood. That soon changed.

The trials were a shambles. Word must have got out that the team had a few vacancies and a whole horde of prospective new players turned up. Sixty kids on a pitch the size of a postage stamp. Only loud pushy show-offs were visible, like Viktor, Braedon and Katerina. And confident players like Alex. Audrey had rocketed through the field, calling for the ball, but it was the same as last week; at first, no one except Alex would pass to her.

‘You get a fairer trial in a courtroom,’ Ben says.

Jonica laughs. He always tells her that court is about manipulation and persuasion, not fairness. Maybe soccer’s the same.

‘How the hell did you miss that email?’ he grumbles, stomping up the hill. ‘Isn’t it your job to keep on top of these things?’

Yesterday, Jonica had somehow overlooked a message from Dominik asking for volunteers to help assess the kids. As a consequence, neither she nor Ben were on his list. It had driven her wild, watching those puffed-up, self-important fathers swagger around the field with their clipboards, marking their sheets every time a player did something good with the ball.

‘Did you see Santos?’ Jonica says. ‘He ticked his sheet every time Viktor got the ball. Do you think he was actually marking his own son?’

‘Looked like it,’ Ben says. ‘He wouldn’t have been at all biased, of course!’

They both laugh cynically.

‘Katerina didn’t do much, other than showing off,’ Jonica says. ‘But she’ll get in the team because Carmen’s so good at greasing the wheel … God, I wish that woman would wear something other than tracksuits! Can’t she afford proper clothes?’

‘Probably not. Ilya’s a builder, isn’t he? And what does she do? Secretary?’

‘Something like that.’

They’re striding fast now, puffing up the next steep hill. The momentum is therapeutic, but Honey decides she wants to stop and sniff a tree and then wee.

‘Can’t you keep that dog moving?’ Ben complains.

‘It’s her walk too,’ Jonica says. Funny how she feels the need to defend the dog the same way she defends the kids.

Waiting for Honey to be done, Ben roams up and down the footpath, just as he paced along the line this afternoon while the clipboard parents were doing their thing.

‘Thank God I was there,’ he says, when they get going again. ‘At least I got it sorted so Audrey had a chance.’

When he couldn’t bear it anymore, Ben had stalked onto the field and convinced Dominik to split the kids into two groups. This had certainly suited Audrey. As soon as the field was less congested, she’d shone: dribbling around the boys and out-manoeuvring them, controlling the ball and passing to players. It had been beautiful to watch; she was balanced and precise, her face luminous. She had emerged from the fog; surely the coaches hadn’t failed to notice her.

‘Those coaches!’ Jonica says. ‘You’d think they were selecting for the Olympics, not just a kids’ team.’

‘It’s not just a kids’ team, Jonica. It’s a pathway.’

‘Yes, I know. But do you think Dominik’s the right coach for Audrey? He doesn’t seem very interested in her.’

‘He’s been good for Alex. Maybe she has to work harder.’

‘Be a ball-hog, you mean. Like Katerina.’

‘That’s what you have to do at trials.’

‘But it doesn’t reflect a player’s true skills,’ Jonica says, exasperated. ‘It’s not only about dribbling and looking fancy. It’s also meant to be about teamwork.’

Ben shrugs. ‘The flashy stuff attracts the coaches’ attention.’

‘Well, it’s a useless process then, if that’s all they look for.’ Jonica can’t keep the frustration out of her voice. ‘I don’t understand why the coaches even do it. What’s in it for them? It’s such a huge time commitment.’

She recalls Miles telling her about coaching Noah’s team in Under 8s. How he’d taken it on because no one else wanted to do it, and training had been only once a week for an hour. But it had been a nightmare—all crowd control. The kids had hopped around like fleas and couldn’t focus for more than two minutes. He’d been relieved when the season was over.

‘They’re in love with the game,’ Ben says. ‘It’s their passion.’

‘Surely there’s something more than passion driving them,’ Jonica says. ‘I think they’re in love with being the centre of attention, and having all the parents and kids look up to them.’

‘It’s a selfless job,’ Ben says. ‘They don’t get paid much.’

‘Must be all about feeding their egos then,’ Jonica says.

She lurches off the path as Honey dives sideways to inspect a clump of grass.

‘Not again,’ Ben groans. ‘If her brain was bigger, she wouldn’t do that. It’s so annoying.’

‘She’s smarter than you think,’ Jonica says. ‘Don’t underestimate her.’

And she’s more tuned in to the kids than you are, she thinks. Or those biased, small-minded coaches.

On Saturday morning, Jonica plumps cushions in the lounge room and straightens the pile of magazines on the coffee table: Vanity Fair, The Monthly, The New Yorker, her favourite reading. It’s a nice room, a comfortable place to curl up on a couch with a coffee and contemplate life and the universe. Right now, the twins are in their rooms: Audrey on her phone, Alex gaming online with Noah. All soccer season, they moan about not having time to do things with friends on the weekend. Then, when their schedule finally opens up, they spend entire days in their rooms, staring at screens.

Jonica wishes they would do something more social. Like go to the movies. Or go for a walk. Or explore the bush reserve behind the back fence like they used to when they were little. She wouldn’t even mind if they hung out at the mall with their friends. But all they want to do is sit in their rooms on their phones and computers. She sinks onto the couch. The digital world makes her tired. She can’t see where it’s all heading.

She notices the tree ferns scratching at the windows and remembers they need watering. The windows need cleaning too—she’ll have to call someone next week. But now she’s stopped, she can’t move. She could read one of her magazines but hasn’t the energy. Is she depressed? She certainly feels sad and under-stimulated. If only Ben would let her go back to work. Why is he stopping her?

Before kids, legal work filled most of her time, and she and Ben often used to go out to dinner and the movies or the theatre. Now it seems there are too many hours in a day. What she wants, needs, is the intellectual stimulus of her old life before motherhood. A good complex corporate contract to draw up, perhaps. And, once she built up her client list, she could be out meeting with high-flying businessmen and women who value her advice. There might be dinners with community leaders who are interested in real issues. Wouldn’t that be good?

And yet, when she tries to imagine herself back in the office, a surge of discomfort flushes through her. It’s been a while since her solicitor days, competing for clients and contracts. Would she still be any good at it?

Maybe it wouldn’t be so easy going back. And perhaps there’s some truth in Ben’s mantra that she should be here for the twins. Everyone says teenagers need you as much as toddlers do, but in different ways.

If only she wasn’t so bored at home …

Dejected, she reaches for The New Yorker and flicks through the pages, but can’t find anything of interest. She tosses it back on the coffee table and listens to the sounds of the house. Electronic pings and music coming from Alex’s room, a stifled giggle from Audrey. The gravelly sound of men’s voices from the kitchen where Ben is chatting to Darren.

She can hear the two of them bleating on about football. Every second Saturday, this is what they do, even when the season is over. You’d think they’d get tired of it—Jonica certainly does. But it’s the same every time: they sit at the kitchen bench, drinking coffee, and go on and on about the English Premier League results, La Liga, whether it’s time for Ronaldo and Messi to retire. They get especially pumped when they talk about the kids: whose coach is better, which child can juggle the most or has scored the most goals, which child has the best chance of playing for Australia. It drives Jonica mad.

Listening to them, her lethargy transforms to impatience. She can’t stand their awful guffawing. She needs to get out of the house, away from all this time-wasting. Maybe she needs some of those endorphins Miles was talking about.

On a whim, she changes into shorts and a T-shirt, pulls on her sneakers, and downloads the Couch to 5K app on her phone, filling out her details. Age: 41. Weight: 56 kg. How far can you run today? Who knows, just a little? The first workout is a one-minute run and ninety second walk, six times over. Surely, she can manage that.

In the bathroom, she scrapes her hair into a high ponytail and inspects herself in the mirror: not bad for a mother of twins. Her complexion is still good, and her hair is passable, thanks to three-hour visits to the hairdresser every six weeks for foils and a touch up. But what about the finer details? She runs a finger across her forehead and down the number 11 crease between her eyebrows. Should she get Botox like some of the other mothers she knows? She pulls her brow tight and then sighs. Botox is only window-dressing. She ties her laces and heads to the kitchen for her sunglasses.

The men are elbow-propped at the benchtop, eating toast and drinking coffee, Darren with a scattering of crumbs in front of him—clearly, it’s too hard to contain himself to a plate. Jonica pities Claire, who is always cleaning up after him as if she has three kids, not two.

Darren is telling Ben about some bloke who used to play soccer with them when they were kids. The guy is in real estate now and has two boys in their late teens. One plays in the men’s State league and is a bit of a star. The dad’s so proud, he bankrolls everything: bought him a car, covers the rego and insurance, pays for his accommodation. The other son lives with the ex-wife, and the father has nothing to do with him. He didn’t make it in football. No car for him.

Ben shakes his head as if he doesn’t believe it, yet he’s the favourite son too. Doesn’t he see the irony? Now he takes over with a tale about a Serbian bloke who paid eight thousand dollars for his son to trial for a team in Spain.

‘Eight grand just to trial!’ Darren exclaims. ‘Imagine how much it’ll cost if he gets in! And he’s a marginal player. He won’t last over there. He’ll be home in less than four months. Waste of money, if you ask me.’

Ben nods, but Jonica knows he’d pay eight thousand dollars in a flash if it created an opportunity for one of the twins. She hunts for her sunglasses, finds them behind the loaf of bread.

Ben raises his eyebrows at her. ‘Going somewhere?’

‘For a run.’

He laughs. ‘You don’t run.’

‘I do now, as from today.’

Darren’s chin concertinas like a piano-accordion. ‘Maybe you could take Claire with you. A run would be good for her.’

Might be good for you too, Jonica thinks. ‘You should have brought her with you instead of leaving her at home,’ she says. ‘You’re not making her do all the jobs, are you?’

He grins. ‘She doesn’t mind. I’ll do the lawns when I get home.’

Don’t overdo it, she thinks. You might pull a muscle.

Claire and Darren live forty minutes away in southwest Sydney, where real estate is cheaper by a couple of million and the blocks are smaller, without pools or tennis courts. Jonica doesn’t like the area, but she drives there once a week to meet up with Claire. They’re good friends, bonded by being married to brothers and the challenge of dealing with a difficult mother-in-law. It’s a relief to have someone to unload to, someone she trusts who won’t judge her. Jonica feels closer to Claire than to any of the school mums she catches up with. They have other things in common too—books and reading, kids, concerns about the men’s blind passion for football.

Out on the front porch, she pauses and takes a deep breath. The day is warm and bright, not too hot, a light breeze, good for running. She grabs the hose and sprays water over the ferns, notices the new fiddleheads growing and unfurling. Already she feels herself expanding and loosening, just like those fronds.

She dumps the hose, walks down the hill, crosses the busy road and strides onto the oval. The grass is damp after rain last night, spongy under her feet.

She sets off at a fast walk to warm up. The sun on her skin. The rich scent of lush grass. The breeze on her cheeks.

After walking for a couple of minutes, she starts her first one-minute jog. Not too fast—she doesn’t want to strain anything on the first day.

Halfway around the oval, she realises she feels better. Lighter. As if she’s shedding a skin. She thinks of Miles. Wonders if he’s out running too.

Trials end the same week that school finishes for the twins, and then it’s a case of waiting around until the team is announced. Jonica is pleased when they both receive glowing school reports—to her, school’s more important than getting into football teams. It amazes her that Alex never seems to do any work but still gets good marks, whereas Audrey studies hard for her results. Either way it will stand them in good stead for the future. Ben will be happy too—he likes them to be successful in everything.

After both of the school award nights are over, Jonica drags the twins out of bed and they hit the mall to do Christmas shopping before the public schools break up and everything goes manic. Then holiday inertia sets in. The twins stay up late and sleep in. They eat at irregular times. They lie around the swimming pool. They also avoid the chores Jonica asks them to do—like walking the dog or tidying their rooms or going through their cupboards or emptying the grass and muesli-bar wrappers out of their soccer bags.

If it wasn’t so annoying it would almost be laughable! All this lounging around is such a contrast to how they were when they were little. Everyone raved about how lucky she was to have a pigeon pair. Pink and blue. Girl and boy. And yet, when they were babies, they’d been nothing like pigeons. No gentle cooing and cuddling. Nothing so tame. Instead, it was thrown toys and food, rebellion and chaos. With Ben at work, it was as if Jonica was the sole fireman in a big city, careering from one emergency to the next, sirens blazing. She discovered she was crushable, and that love doesn’t carry you through. It’s there, deep beneath the surface, but sometimes you have to dive for it, and it’s hard to get there without oxygen.

That’s how she feels as she watches Audrey mooching around on the couch. She tries to draw her into the kitchen, but Audrey won’t be enticed, not even to make a gingerbread house or yo-yo biscuits for Christmas.

‘Why don’t you take Honey for a walk?’ she suggests.

‘It’s going to rain and I don’t want to get wet.’

‘Then have a friend over and watch a movie together or do some art and craft.’

Audrey barely looks up from her phone. ‘I don’t have any friends.’

‘That’s not true. What about your schoolfriends? You can have them all over here. They can come and swim in the pool.’

‘Like I said, it’s going to rain. And Georgia already has a pool anyway.’

‘Maybe you could meet them at the mall and go shopping.’

‘They like fast fashion and I only like football clothes.’

‘Buy a jersey then.’ Jonica’s exasperation builds like the storm brewing outside.

‘They won’t come to Rebel Sport. They only like Sportsgirl and H&M.’

‘What about a movie?’

‘There’s nothing on.’

Jonica’s head aches. Why does Audrey have to make things so difficult?

Fed up, she changes into her running clothes. Lately, she’s been rising early to run before the weather heats up. She comes home looser, happier, better able to cope with Alex’s inaction and Audrey’s moods. She’s been feeling more confident too. Even started looking to see what sort of jobs are around.

Those endorphins Miles promised are certainly working. She should thank him for it.

She grabs the lead and calls the dog—at least one family member is willing to get off the couch and run a few laps with her.

Christmas Eve, Jonica scurries through last-minute preparations for the traditional family dinner, which is always held at their house. Tomorrow they’ll be packing up to go to the beach. She’s looking forward to getting away, but she can’t think about it yet because she has a million things to do before the guests arrive.

She checks the meat in the oven—a sizzling leg of lamb spiked with garlic and rosemary. She recruits the twins to assist, but it’s hardly worth the angst. They argue while peeling vegies, dropping shreds on the floor. They snipe at each other while setting the table. They even clash while wrapping presents for their cousins, bickering over whose turn it is for the scissors and sticky tape.

Usually they get along fairly well, but lately they’ve been constantly at each other. Jonica would like to attribute this to adolescence, but has to admit that most of the friction is coming from Audrey. She’s uptight about the team. Waiting for the announcement is driving Jonica mad too. How long can it take those coaches to make a decision?

When she’s run out of jobs, she sends the twins to change into their Christmas clothes, and at last the kitchen is quiet. She sinks into blissful silence and gets on with the rest of her tasks: removing the prawns from the fridge and arranging them on a plate, whipping up dipping sauces, uncovering the antipasto platter and adding a few sprigs of basil, extracting the champagne flutes from the cupboard and setting them on the bench.

She’s gone over the top this year, given that it’s only Darren’s family tonight. Ben’s parents are visiting relatives in England, and she never sees her own family at Christmas—it’s too stressful. She’s not very close to her mother—too much criticism and too many instructions. She’s determined not to have a relationship like that with her own children.

Oh well, she thinks, pouring a glass of wine. Cold lamb will be fine for a few days—it goes well in sandwiches, and the dog will certainly appreciate it.

She’s just strapped on her stilettos to match her clingy red Christmas dress when Ben strolls in with a smile on his face and an armful of bags from late Christmas shopping. It’s good to see him winding down at last. Lately he’s been busy tying things up before the District Court enters summer recess. It’s always the same at this time of year. He’s been snappy with her. Impatient with the kids. Withdrawn and preoccupied.

Just then a notification comes through on her phone. An email from Dominik. Surely not!

‘What’s up?’ Ben asks.

‘Looks like the list’s out.’ She scrolls through the email. Alex, Viktor, Braedon, Noah, Katerina. But not Audrey. Miles will be pleased and Carmen will be gloating.

Ben peers over her shoulder. ‘Is she there?’

‘No. She’s missed out.’ Jonica drops her phone on the bench and reaches for her wine with a trembling hand. She knew it was a bad idea for Audrey to try out for this team.

‘Let me look,’ Ben says, checking his phone. ‘There she is. She’s listed as a train-on player, so they’re still considering her for the team.’

Jonica knows that’s no consolation. She swallows wine and pours more, missing her glass and spilling some on the bench.

‘I reckon she’ll get in,’ Ben says. ‘There are always drop-outs or injuries. And kids often switch clubs at the last minute. I’ve seen it happen before.’

Jonica can sense that old familiar sinking feeling coming on—the one that swamps her whenever she suffers a major disappointment. Like the time she lost her first legal placement to her best friend, and then lost the friendship. And when she was overlooked for promotion in favour of a younger man. And the fact she’s never had a chance to go for partnership because Ben won’t let her go back to work.

She gulps more wine and feels it spread through her body. ‘Audrey can’t wait till March to find out if she’s in,’ she says. ‘It’s too far away and too demoralising. She deserves to be in. She just doesn’t need this right now.’

‘What don’t I need?’ Audrey sashays into the kitchen in the new maroon dress Ben bought for her on a recent work trip to Hawaii. She’s as elegant as a deer, curly blonde hair dangling onto her shoulders.

Jonica’s heart aches. ‘Nothing, darling. You look beautiful.’

Audrey sees Ben holding his phone and her mouth tightens. ‘It’s the list, isn’t it? I bet I’m not on it.’

‘You’re a train-on player,’ Ben says.

Jonica glares at him. Couldn’t he have waited until after Christmas?

Audrey clutches her hands together tight. ‘Did Alex get in?’

‘Yes, but that’s no surprise. He’s been in the team for three years.’

‘Who else got in?’ Audrey’s voice is high. ‘What about Katerina?’

Jonica leaves it to Ben to break the news, given that he’s the one who opened his mouth. But he remains silent.

‘She’s in, isn’t she?’ Audrey wails, face contorting. ‘And I’m not. How could this happen? You both said I was better than her!’

‘You are, sweetie.’

Audrey’s eyes go watery. ‘What am I going to do? I’m useless.’

‘Bullshit!’ Ben says briskly.

‘You’re not useless, darling,’ Jonica soothes. ‘You’ll have plenty of time to show the coaches what you can do. Training will be better than trials.’

‘No, it won’t. Nobody will pass to me. They never do.’

‘Maybe you should call louder for the ball,’ Ben says, unhelpful as always.

‘What if I don’t get in?’

‘We’ll find another team,’ says Jonica.

‘But I don’t want another team. I want this team.’

‘Of course you do.’

‘Stick with it then,’ Ben says.

‘But Dad, what if I stay with this team and I train and train and still don’t get in? Or if I’m always watching and I never get to play?’

‘Is it too late for one of the girls’ academies?’ Jonica asks, putting it out there.

‘They would have had their trials ages ago,’ Ben says, dismissive.

‘Well, if the boys’ team doesn’t work out, maybe you could go back to the girls’ team from last year,’ Jonica suggests.

‘But everyone knows I was trying for the boys’ team,’ Audrey says. ‘And if I don’t get in, they’ll talk shit about me.’

‘We can’t have that, can we?’ Ben says, drily.

‘You don’t understand, Dad. You don’t care what people say, but I do! And I can’t go back, anyway. Don’t you remember what the coach said when I told her I wanted to try out for the boys’ team? She told me I might as well piss off straight away because there was no point me even being there. She wouldn’t even let me finish training.’

‘What about playing for school?’ Jonica says. ‘They’d love to have you. The PE teacher would be rapt. He’s always raving about how good you are. You’d be a star.’

‘No way! Those girls are useless. They’re scared of the ball and they don’t even know how to kick properly. It’d be awful.’

‘But they do seem to have fun,’ Jonica says. Several times, collecting Audrey after school, she’s seen those girls on the field, arms linked, faces full of smiles, and she’s felt a prickle of doubt, wondered if Audrey might be missing out on important friendships.

‘I’m not doing that,’ Audrey says with a sour expression as if she’s been offered a smelly oyster. ‘So that means I’m staying with the boys,’ she adds, overly bright. ‘And I’ll just have to work hard and get really good so they let me play.’ She finishes with a smile, but Jonica senses her desperation. Poor thing, trying so hard to hold it together.

‘Excellent,’ Ben says. ‘That sounds like a decision. We can practise down at the oval tomorrow, if you like.’

‘Tomorrow’s Christmas and we’re going to the beach,’ Jonica reminds them. Surely, not every day has to be devoted to soccer.

Working on ball skills with the kids is one of Ben’s main ways of connecting with them. It was their favourite thing when they were little. He made it such fun: chasing them around, faking falls, diving and rolling on the grass. The twins had adored him and Jonica had loved going to watch. Occasionally she joined in, making a mess of it while they all laughed. She didn’t mind, though; it made her happy just being part of it. For Ben, however, there was an underlying current of seriousness and he constantly pushed the twins to improve.

Why do they have to be good at it? Jonica had asked.

Because it’s social currency, he’d said. Being good at sport buys friends and popularity.

Things have changed, though, since the twins have become teenagers. They don’t go down to the oval with him very often anymore. And he’s found it particularly difficult dealing with Audrey’s moodiness.

Now Alex walks in, tucking his shirt into his jeans. Audrey’s face crumples when she sees him. She pushes past him and rushes to her room, slamming the door behind her.

‘What’s up?’ he asks.

‘You’re in the team and she’s not,’ Ben says.

Alex’s face lights up, then his eyes dart to Jonica; she can see him compressing all that excitement, wiping it from his eyes. ‘Do you think it’s because she’s a girl? I mean, it is a boys’ team. It’s not meant for girls.’

‘Katerina got in,’ Jonica says.

‘Oh.’ His face clouds, a shadow of guilt in his eyes. ‘But Audrey’s better than her. And she’s better than half of the boys too. Should I go talk to her?’

‘No,’ Jonica says. ‘Your father will go.’

‘Don’t know what you expect me to do,’ Ben grumbles.

‘Humour her. Make her feel better about herself.’

‘Won’t that just encourage more of these royal command performances?’

‘She’s hurt, Ben.’

‘All right, all right, I’ll go.’

As Alex disappears again and Ben heads down the hall to Audrey’s room, the doorbell chimes.

Excellent timing, Jonica thinks. She tops up her wine and rubs at her forehead: the beginning of a headache. Everyone always leaves the dirty work to her. Except Honey, of course, who gallops from the lounge room and launches at the door, barking.

Jonica arranges a smile on her face and opens the front door.

Darren and his family roll in, smiling and shouting: Claire in a low-cut, green dress with her boobs bulging over the neckline, Freya dolled up as a Disney princess in pink tulle with a crooked smear of pink lipstick, Darren in knee-length shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, and Tommy, all smiles, in a brand-new Argentina jersey with Messi and number 10 on the back. Alex will be jealous.

‘Hello, Honey,’ Darren says, bending to pat the dog. Then to Jonica, ‘Where is everybody?’

‘Right here.’ Ben emerges with Audrey who is sporting a lopsided smile. My brave girl, Jonica thinks.

Alex materialises too, hands in pockets. Claire tries to hug him and he slips awkwardly from her embrace and slouches over to Tommy. ‘Guess what!’ he announces loudly. ‘I got into my team.’

Jonica could hit him. She flashes a look at Audrey, sees her shoulders slump.

‘I’m in my team too,’ Tommy says, giving Alex a high-five.

‘How about you, Audrey?’ Darren asks.

There’s a loaded silence in which Audrey stares at the floor. Jonica feels for her. Luckily, Honey yips as if to ease the tension.

‘She’s a train-on player,’ Alex says, with a panicked glance at Jonica. ‘I reckon she’ll get in.’

Audrey flings him a dagger-stare.

‘That’s bad luck, Audrey,’ Darren says. ‘You must be disappointed.’ His eyes dart to Ben, and Audrey’s mouth quivers as if she might cry again.

Jonica could kill Ben. He could have held off until tomorrow to tell Audrey, but now it’s going to feature this evening as part of the whole ridiculous competitive brother thing. ‘How about drinks on the deck?’ she suggests, exchanging knowing glances with Claire.

‘Great idea,’ Claire says. ‘I’m thirsty.’

They all go outside and Ben pours champagne while the girls and Honey head to Audrey’s room and the boys adjourn to the lawn to kick a ball. Jonica brings out the antipasto platter and offers it around.

‘Audrey shouldn’t be ashamed about not getting in,’ Darren says, fingers wrapped delicately around the stem of his champagne flute. ‘I mean, this is the age that girls get left behind.’

‘Not Audrey,’ Ben says. ‘She’s good. And she’s got the height for it. Lots of boys haven’t even started growing yet. You must be hoping Tommy will shoot up soon.’

Jonica sighs as Darren’s face sours. ‘Kids are all over the place at this age.’

‘Yes, but he’s head and shoulders behind Alex. Maybe you should take him to a doctor. He might need hormones.’

‘That’s fine by me,’ Darren says. ‘If they were good enough for Messi, then they’re good enough for Tommy.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with Tommy,’ Claire frowns. ‘My brother shot up late.’

‘Ah yes, but Darren and I grew early.’ Ben flashes a snaky smile. ‘And Tommy does have Darren’s Y-chromosome … God help him!’

‘Maybe we should talk about something else,’ Jonica says, exasperated.

‘Yes, let’s,’ Claire says. ‘The price of tea in China, perhaps? Or politics?’

‘Family politics, you mean?’ Ben says. ‘And the challenges of birth order?’ He casts a look at Darren with that same snaky smile.

‘Cut the crap,’ Darren snaps.

Jonica’s relieved when Audrey and Freya appear through the bifold doors, holding hands, because now the men have to shut up. Audrey’s eyes are still puffy, but she’s chatting away to Freya, Honey trotting beside them.

‘What are you two up to?’ Darren asks.

‘We’re going to play football with the boys,’ Freya says.

‘Is that a good idea?’ Jonica asks.

Freya peers up at Audrey with bright eyes. ‘I want to be a soccer star like Audrey.’

‘Shhh,’ Audrey whispers, glancing at the adults. ‘I’m not a star.’

Alex and Tommy pause and frown when Freya and Audrey join them on the lawn. This will be interesting, Jonica thinks.

‘We want to play too,’ Freya says.

‘Do you have to?’ Tommy groans.

‘Come on, Tommy,’ Darren calls. ‘Make room for the girls.’

Tommy scowls, and when Freya runs to the ball he dribbles around her and passes to Alex, shouting, ‘Keep it away from Freya.’

‘That’s not fair!’ Freya yells, arms stiff by her sides.

‘I’ll pass to you, Freya,’ Audrey says. ‘Here, Alex, give me the ball.’

‘Can’t you get another ball and play somewhere else?’ Alex says. ‘I’m playing with Tommy.’

‘No, we want to play with you guys.’

Alex glowers at her then belts the ball at her hard. It hits her in the chest. She gasps, stares at him for an outraged moment, then goes at him like a feral cat, slapping and scratching. He grabs her wrists, but she breaks free and slaps his face. He whacks her back. Honey cringes away from them and scoots inside, tail tucked under her belly.

‘Ben!’ Jonica yells. ‘Stop them!’ She can’t believe this is happening.

Ben strides over, wraps an arm around Audrey’s waist and hauls her, red-faced and sobbing, away. When he releases her, she charges off to her room.

Jonica stands up, wired tight.

‘Where are you off to?’ Ben asks. ‘You’re not going to pander to her, are you? That was appalling behaviour.’

‘No. I’m going to check the roast. Alex was out of line too—you should have a word to him.’ Then to Claire and Darren. ‘Trust kids to save their best for Christmas.’

She heads inside and Ben calls after her, ‘Can you grab another bottle of champers while you’re there? We’re nearly out.’

Sure, why not, Jonica thinks. Let’s drink ourselves into oblivion.

In the kitchen, she leans against the bench and takes a few ragged breaths. Are everyone’s Christmases like this, she wonders? She wishes she was down at the oval, running a lap. Forgetting everything.

She thinks of Miles. Wonders whether he’s with his kids or on his own. The festive season might be fraught for her, but it’s probably even worse for a single parent.

Honey trots by, toenails clicking on the floorboards. Jonica picks her up and tiptoes down the hall to Audrey’s room, taps on the door and peeks in.

Audrey is hunched on the bed, face damp with tears. Jonica carries Honey in and sets her on Audrey’s lap. The dog does her work straight away, trying to lick Audrey’s tears while Audrey snuggles her face into Honey’s soft fur.

‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’ Jonica asks.

‘I hate him!’ Audrey weeps. ‘Why did he get in and not me?’

Jonica sits on the bed beside her. ‘Because those stupid coaches are blind.’ She smooths Audrey’s hair while Audrey strokes the dog’s ears. ‘We should talk about this later, don’t you think? After the others have gone home. Maybe you could have a swim with Freya now, instead of playing with the boys. It’s hot out there, and Freya would love it.’

Audrey nods and hugs Honey to her chest. ‘Okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes.’

Jonica kisses her on the head. ‘Good on you, darling.’

Back in the kitchen, she slips on her Christmas mitts, opens the oven door and drags out the trays, gouges the spatula under the crusty roasting vegetables. Some of the sweet potato falls apart, and she almost bursts into tears. Damn! Why is Christmas so difficult? She wanted everything to be perfect tonight. Better than when she was a kid. But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t make it work.

She shoves the trays back in the oven and collects another bottle of champagne from the fridge. Outside, she tears off the silver foil, twists open the wire restrainer and pops the cork.

Bubbly spurts all over the antipasto platter.

Ben curses, and the muscles behind Jonica’s eyes tighten. But her sister-in-law’s jolly laughter saves her.

Claire takes the bottle and fills everyone’s glasses. ‘To Christmas,’ she says. ‘And to family, and all our glorious imperfections.’

Ben and Darren behave themselves for a while, and Jonica begins to relax. But when the dinner-table chat swings to football, and the men start rabbiting on about the Women’s World Cup and how this is the golden age for women’s football and how there are lots of scholarships and improved facilities for girls and women, the doubts she’s been harbouring all evening swirl to the surface and she can’t hold back any longer.

‘If there are so many good opportunities for girls, do you really think this boys’ team is a good choice for Audrey?’ She places the question generally but, in truth, she’s aiming it at Ben. ‘I mean, there are so many great girls’ academies. Does she really have to play with boys? Surely it’s not too late for a girls’ academy.’

‘My sentiments exactly,’ Darren says.

Jonica knows she shouldn’t fuel this brotherly competition, but perhaps she can use it to her advantage.

Ben flings her a dirty look. ‘We’ve been through this before, Jonica. It’s the best way for her to improve.’

‘Well, I think sport’s too serious these days,’ Claire weighs in. ‘It wasn’t like that when we were kids. There used to be an off-season. Now it’s football all the time. I don’t think it’s healthy.’

Jonica agrees. She’d like the twins to have other interests, but with football three nights a week and on Saturday, from March to September, there’s no time. They’re too tired for anything else.

‘You can’t stop kids from doing what they love,’ Darren says.

‘But all year round?’ Claire says. ‘No wonder they get so many injuries. Physio appointments every week. It’s expensive.’

‘It’s only once or twice a year, Claire,’ Darren says.

‘No, Dad,’ says Tommy. ‘We went five times this year.’

Ah, the wonderful way children have of telling the truth when you’re trying to conceal it. Jonica hides her smile behind her napkin.

‘Guess I’ll have to keep working to pay the bills,’ Darren says. ‘No rest for the wicked.’

‘You’re not wicked, Daddy,’ Freya declares, bouncing on her chair.

Darren shoots a glance at Claire. ‘Depends who you ask.’

‘I vote for wicked,’ Ben says.

Jonica aims a kick at him under the table and accidentally gets the dog who gives a yelp.

‘Football’s over-the-top these days,’ Claire says. ‘Everyone’s got false hopes. I mean, no one we know is going to play for Australia.’

‘Audrey might,’ Ben says. And Audrey smiles—a real smile that sparks in her eyes.

‘Is that what you want, Audrey?’ Claire asks. ‘All that pressure and commitment?’

Jonica is glad Claire has taken the running on this, because it’s something she’s been wondering for a while—whether it’s really worth it, especially with all the trials, and Audrey missing out on selection tonight. She and Claire often talk about things like this during their weekly catch-up: the pressure of the modern world and the unrealistic expectations of parents, namely Ben and Darren.

Audrey’s cheeks flush. She glances at Jonica then turns, clear-eyed, to her aunt. ‘I really love playing and I want to be good at it. I want to play for the Matildas.’

‘How about you, Alex?’ Claire asks.

‘I don’t want to play for the Matildas! I’m not a girl!’ Alex scoffs, scanning for a reaction and beaming when Darren and Tommy chuckle. ‘I’d like to play for the Socceroos, though. Qatar was so cool. Messi’s World Cup. Russia before that. Brazil.’ He knows all the dates and results from World Cups extending back for decades.

‘They need to make football more fun,’ Claire says.

Jonica agrees. She’s supportive of the twins and their interests, she really is. But what about all the positives that team sport is supposed to be? Isn’t that why Ben wanted the kids to do it? Camaraderie. Belonging. Self-esteem and confidence. Making new friends and long-term memories. Learning respect, discipline, patience. Sometimes Jonica feels hard-pressed to see any of this. It certainly hasn’t been much fun for Audrey lately.

‘I mean, do any of you kids actually enjoy it?’ Claire goes on.

‘It’s not meant to be fun,’ Darren says. ‘It’s toughen up or get out. These kids can handle it.’

‘Rubbish,’ says Claire. ‘It puts kids off sport. Coaches should try nurture instead of using punishment. It’s basic child psychology. They could learn a lot from schoolteachers.’ Claire teaches high-school English and literature, and she’s always talking about the lack of pedagogical principles in sport.

‘I have fun,’ says Alex. ‘It’s really cool when you do it right and score a goal.’

‘What do you mean, do it right?’ Claire asks.

‘When you do it the way your coach tells you to,’ Alex explains.

Claire turns to Tommy. ‘And what do you think of your coach, Tommy?’

Darren cuts in without giving Tommy a chance. ‘Luka gets excited, but he’s a good coach.’

‘He hasn’t grown up yet,’ Claire scoffs. ‘He’s got a twenty-year-old brain in a sixty-year-old body.’

Ben laughs. ‘Aren’t all coaches like that?’

‘Maybe they shouldn’t be,’ Claire says. ‘What about all the abuse Luka heaps on the kids, Darren? And that time there was no ref and he insisted on doing it himself and made biased line calls for our team. Is that okay too? Cheating?’

Jonica could add to this. Audrey’s last coach used to blame the kids if they lost a game, rather than acknowledging there might be a deficiency in her coaching. And she always said it wasn’t about winning, while her behaviour showed it was all about winning. But she sees the scowl on Ben’s face and holds back.

‘He doesn’t do it all the time,’ Darren says. ‘He’s just passionate.’

Now Claire focuses on Audrey. ‘You know, Audrey, it might not be such a bad thing that you didn’t get into this team. It gives you a chance to rethink things. Some of my Year 8 boys and girls play for a local club and it’s very social. They don’t care about winning or losing, they just have fun together. Something like that might suit you better. Forget Premier League.’

Audrey goggles at her but says nothing.

‘I’ve been reading a lot in the media lately about concussion,’ Jonica says quietly, avoiding Ben’s eyes.

He casts her a look. ‘That’s AFL and rugby,’ he says, dismissively.

‘It’s soccer too. What about that seventeen-year-old girl last year who had to give up playing because of a brain injury from heading the ball too much?’

‘Sample size of one, dear,’ Ben says with an arch smile.

‘There is some truth in it, Ben,’ Darren says. ‘You should watch that movie Concussion with Will Smith in it. And they say Jeff Astle from West Bromwich Albion had chronic brain trauma from heading balls. In the end, he couldn’t even remember he was famous, and didn’t even know his own kids. The English Premier League was going to do all this research into it, but they swept it under the carpet.’

‘Just call it the EPL, Dad,’ Tommy butts in.

‘I was spelling it out for Jonica’s benefit.’

‘I know what the EPL is,’ Jonica says. Don’t they think she understands anything? ‘I do worry about head trauma, though,’ she adds. ‘Like those big balls Dominik boots down the field, expecting the kids to head them. Girls are particularly susceptible.’

‘I don’t want to get brain damage,’ Audrey says.

‘You’re already brain-damaged,’ Alex quips with a grin.

Audrey reaches to swipe at him, but Ben imprisons her arm in his grasp. ‘Settle,’ he says. ‘That’s enough football talk for one night.’ He stands up to collect the plates.

And just like that it’s over. No proper resolution, of course.

‘What’s for dessert?’ Freya asks.

‘Eton mess,’ Jonica says, topping up her wine. ‘Audrey and Alex can take care of it. Audrey, can you get the bowl out of the fridge? Alex, you know where the ice cream is.’ The twins scatter so quickly, it almost leaves her breathless. Amazing how fast they can recover when dessert is on the menu.

‘Eton mess is my favourite,’ Freya squeals. She leaps up to carry her plate to the kitchen and knocks her glass of lemonade all over the tablecloth.

‘Oh dear,’ Claire says. ‘Sit down, Freya.’ Then to Jonica, ‘I think we need a cloth so I can wipe up.’

From the kitchen, Ben tosses a damp dishcloth, which misses and slaps soggily onto Claire’s chest. ‘Oops, sorry,’ he winces. ‘No wonder I dropped out of cricket. I’ll get a towel.’

He lurches across the kitchen and stumbles over Audrey who’s carrying the bowl of Eton mess. She yelps as the bowl crashes to the floor and shatters. Meringue, berries and cream splatter everywhere.

Freya dashes into the kitchen and starts scooping handfuls of dessert into her mouth. The dog joins in, lapping the cream.

‘Get away, Honey!’ Jonica shouts.

‘Watch for broken glass!’ Claire yells.

Scrambling to stop Freya, Darren shoves away from the table, crashing his chair backwards.

Ben is already there, trying to swipe cream out of Freya’s mouth. She bites his hand. Reflexively, he tugs his hand away and slaps her on the back. She screams.

Darren shouts, ‘Don’t hit my kid!’

‘She bit me.’

‘You stuck your hand in her mouth.’

‘To stop her from eating glass.’

‘I didn’t eat glass,’ Freya pouts, more upset about the spilt dessert than the slap. ‘I’m not stupid.’

‘Of course you’re not stupid,’ Darren says.

Jonica watches the madness. Everyone yelling at each other. Dessert all over the floor. A trail of Honey’s creamy footprints. An afternoon of work. It’s an Eton mess, all right.