BEN

Ben jolts awake when a shout of ‘Goal! Goal! Goal!’ in a Latin accent slices the night and sets his heart hammering. For a moment he doesn’t know where he is. Then he sees his phone lit up on the bedside table and realises it’s his alarm. Scrabbling to stop it, he knocks his phone to the floor while a roar of cheering and applause continues to echo through the bedroom. Jonica turns away and pulls the sheet over her head.

Alex must have been messing with the alarm tone. He’s turned into a prankster since he did his knee. Jonica says it’s boredom, that he’s going crazy because he can’t run out all his pent-up energy on the football field. Ben can sympathise—he had endless energy when he was young too, but tricks like this drive him insane.

He snaps on the lamp, finds his phone and silences it. The commentator’s manic voice is almost enough to make you fall out of love with football. But Ben will never leave the game completely behind. Football was his youth. Along with Shakespeare, it has taught him some useful lessons in life. All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; … one man in his time plays many parts.

He loves Shakespeare. Each year, he and Jonica take the twins to the Sydney Opera House to see a performance by Bell Shakespeare. The kids aren’t really into it yet, but he’s hoping repeated exposure will convert them. There’s much to learn from the great Bard. Understanding the power of drama can serve you well both on the football pitch and in the courtroom. That’s why he did acting lessons as part of his barrister training. People think court is about justice and right and wrong. But it’s nothing to do with honour and ethics—it’s a game, and winning is everything. Success comes from applying yourself. And football’s the same. You learn to work hard and get a taste of the satisfaction of winning. That’s why he wants the kids to play. Not necessarily as a career—it’s too easy to fall by the wayside. But it does give you a chance to see what you’re capable of. And surely there’s no harm in that?

He turns on his lamp, rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. Beside him, Jonica moans. ‘Do we really have to get up?’ she says.

It’s 5 am and the Champions League final starts soon. He reaches and pats her arm. ‘Come on. Let’s do it for the kids. It’ll inspire them.’

Her sigh is heavy enough to sink the Titanic. ‘More like put them off,’ she says. ‘Can’t you do it without me?’

‘No. This is a partnership.’

He kisses her on the shoulder, then slips, naked, out of bed, tugs on a T-shirt, shorts and jumper so he doesn’t frighten the kids. Flicks on the heater on his way down the hallway. He raps on Audrey’s door and turns on her light. ‘Wakey, wakey. Kick-off’s in five minutes.’

She squints at him and groans. Honey looks up too, blinking.

He feels a bit bad, dragging Audrey out so early in the morning, but she could use some light relief after all she’s been through this week. The night he found out what Katerina had been doing to her, the kids had come home early from training, washed out by rain. Audrey had locked herself in the bathroom and wouldn’t come out, so Jonica called and asked him to come home. The minute he’d walked in, Alex had pounced on him and told him about Katerina taking Audrey’s water bottle. Ben felt like exploding. Alex had been asking around and discovered that Katerina had also taken Audrey’s shin guards and football boot. Ben had to sit down to digest it all.

What a difficult evening that had been! It had taken hours to coax Audrey out of the bathroom and deal with her tears and Jonica’s rage, not to mention his own incendiary anger at Katerina. He’d been relieved that Audrey hadn’t actually been as hopeless about her things as she had seemed, but Jonica had berated him about all those times he’d gone off at Audrey for being irresponsible. He’d already apologised to Audrey. Even so, Jonica wouldn’t leave it alone: You assumed she was guilty until proven innocent! she’d fumed. A lawyer is supposed to assume innocence, or work hard to prove its existence, despite all evidence to the contrary. Why couldn’t you apply that basic principle to your own daughter?

Fortunately, things have settled. His ire was partly assuaged by Katerina’s apology on Saturday, but he’s still pissed off. The angst that girl has caused his family! He wants Audrey to have a bit of fun now—they could all use some fun, actually.

When he and Darren were kids, they used to grab any opportunity to watch a live World Cup, FA Cup or Champions League final. It was a sacred middle-of-the-night activity. They would sneak out of bed when their parents were sleeping, and watch in the living room, sound off, doors and curtains closed, the blue light of the TV flickering in the dark. The two of them would be transfixed, living every goal, every beautiful moment. It inspired them for weeks afterwards—they would practise for hours down at the oval. Ben hopes to re-create some of that same magic and enthusiasm in his own family. Do something special together.

Alex burrows under his covers, mumbling, ‘Can’t we just sleep?’

‘It’ll be fun,’ Ben says. ‘Grab a blanket and come. I’ll set up the screen.’

He pads into the home theatre, his favourite room in the house, his piece of self-indulgence when they renovated a few years ago. It’s his private den for watching sport and movies, with no windows, and special cinema seats: nice big brown leather chairs with extra-wide armrests and a special slot for a wine glass. He switches on the projector, turns up the surround sound and sinks into the cushiony upholstery.

Through the open door, he sees Jonica waft by in her aqua dressing-gown, hair floating around her shoulders like Aurora from Sleeping Beauty. It reminds him of how beautiful she was when she was young. Makes him feel tender. ‘Come and sit,’ he calls, pointing to her chair, adjacent to his.

‘In a minute,’ she says. ‘I’m going to make hot chocolate.’

Audrey shuffles in, dragging her doona behind her. She’s fluffy with sleep, cheeks rosy, hair tousled. She looks so soft and vulnerable it makes him feel protective. He reaches to pat the chair to his right. ‘Sit with me so we can analyse the play together.’

She slumps in her seat and folds her legs up, drapes the doona over her shoulders. ‘Can’t we watch the replay later?’ she says. ‘I’m so tired.’

‘It’s more fun live,’ he points out. ‘Where’s Alex?’

‘Still in bed.’

‘Alex!’ he shouts. Is he going to need a crowbar to get that kid moving?

On the screen, the teams are taking their positions on the field. Excitement bubbles in his chest. This is going to be great!

Alex limps in and droops onto his chair, injured leg stretched out in front of him. Honey trots in and jumps onto his lap, and he tucks her in beside him, caresses her head gently. He looks peaky and drained. Ben wonders if he’s worried about the upcoming knee reconstruction.

The whistle blows, the game starts, and despite the first five minutes of tussling and scrambling, you can tell straight away that Manchester City is sharper than Inter Milan. ‘See how high Man City is pressing?’ Ben points out. ‘It puts the Inter Milan defence under pressure. That’s why their goalie is doing those big-kick clearances from the back line. It turns the ball straight back to Man City but it also opens the possibility for Inter Milan to counterattack.’

Alex and Audrey seem more interested in their phones than the game. ‘Put your phones away,’ Ben grumbles. They sigh and roll their eyes, complying reluctantly. He can’t help being disappointed in them, but he’s determined to enjoy himself.

Five minutes later, he’s on the edge of his seat when the Inter Milan defence line crumbles and Manchester City almost scores. The Inter Milan goalkeeper pulls off a good save. Then Inter Milan has a chance, but the striker blasts the ball straight at the Man City goalie. Ben grasps his head in frustration.

‘Why’d he have to kick it to the goalie?’ Alex moans.

‘Because his eyes are drawn to him,’ Ben says. ‘That’s why a lot of goalies wear bright colours. To make themselves obvious. Where does the ball go? Straight to their hands.’

‘We know, Dad,’ Audrey mumbles. ‘You’ve told us a thousand times.’

‘So why do some goalies wear grey or black if it makes them less visible?’ Alex asks.

‘Depends how good you are.’

‘Some of the women goalies wear grey too,’ Audrey says.

‘They’re not much good,’ Alex says.

‘They’re better than you.’

‘That’s because I’m not a goalie and I’ve got a stuffed knee!’

Audrey casts him an anguished look and changes the subject. ‘I wish they were playing in France,’ she says.

‘Why?’ Ben asks.

‘Then they would show us bits of Paris.’ She arranges her doona around her knees. ‘I’d like to go to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa. My art teacher was talking about it.’

Ben can’t believe she’s talking about art when they’re watching the Champions League. Isn’t football meant to be her passion? ‘Look!’ he says, leaning forward. ‘See how Inter Milan keeps getting stuck down the back and can’t move the ball forward? Their midfield’s letting them down. Not enough creative running.’

The kids gaze blankly at the screen. What’s wrong with them? Are they too tired? He and Darren were never too tired to watch football.

Jonica enters with mugs of hot chocolate on a tray and hands them round. She sits between Ben and Alex. ‘This is nice,’ she says hopefully, ‘all of us here together.’

Just then Manchester City breaks through the midfield and their striker sprints down the left wing towards the goal. ‘Look at him go,’ Ben says, slapping the arm of his chair. ‘See how he’s always creating opportunities? That’s why he’s such a goal shark. It helps that the rest of the team has good vision.’

‘Griffin’s got vision,’ Audrey says.

‘Yes,’ Ben says. ‘But he’s a long way from playing at this level.’

‘He’s going to trial for the Liverpool youth academy, though.’

‘So might you.’

‘Unlikely,’ she mumbles. ‘The scouts didn’t even notice me.’

‘Look!’ Ben points at the screen. ‘See how Inter Milan’s trying to mark that striker? He’s so dangerous. Always finding space so his team can pass to him.’

‘When I run into space, no one passes to me,’ Audrey gripes.

‘That’s because you’re not a superstar,’ Alex says.

‘I try hard, though.’

‘Try to avoid the ball, you mean?’ Alex snickers.

Audrey scowls at him. ‘Why are you being so horrible when I’ve been nice to you lately?’

‘I’m not. It’s just a joke.’

‘It’s not very funny.’

‘Come on,’ Ben says. ‘We’re trying to learn something here.’

‘And it’s supposed to be fun,’ Jonica reminds him.

‘Fun?’ Alex says. ‘Sitting here, knowing I can’t play for ten months?’

‘It’s not fun at all!’ Audrey says, banging her mug on her armrest with a loud crack that makes Honey jump. ‘I don’t even know if I want to play football anymore.’

‘Of course you do!’ Ben says. Where the hell has this come from?

‘How do you know what I want?’ she retorts.

‘Because he knows how hard you try,’ Jonica says, giving Ben a look.

‘Be patient, Audrey,’ he says. ‘I know it’s been a tough week with the whole Katerina thing. But it can only get better now. You’re the key family member in the team. We’re all relying on you.’

‘Things will never get better,’ Audrey says. ‘Katerina hates me.’

‘No, she doesn’t,’ Ben says, peeved. ‘Dominik said he’d keep an eye on her from now on. And at least she won’t be taking your things anymore.’

Audrey’s face crumples. ‘Dominik doesn’t like me either.’

‘That’s because you’re always ball-watching,’ Alex quips, grinning.

‘Shut up!’ Audrey jerks her doona and knocks over her mug. Chocolatey milk goes everywhere: all over the chair, down the cracks, dripping onto the white carpet.

‘What a mess!’ Jonica jumps up. ‘I’ll get a cloth.’

‘Enough,’ Ben says in exasperation. ‘Why does this have to be such a drama?’

Audrey rushes from the room.

‘Where are you going?’ he calls. ‘You have to help clean up.’

‘I’m getting a tissue,’ she sobs from the kitchen.

Jonica returns with bucket and cloth and kneels beside the chair, lifts the seat cushions and puts them on the floor.

‘Why’s she always crying?’ Alex asks.

‘I’m going back to bed,’ yells Audrey from the kitchen.

‘No, you’re not!’ Ben says. ‘Come back here. We’re watching this game for you.’

‘Let her go, Ben,’ Jonica says, mouth flat. ‘I’ve got it under control.’

Long-faced, Audrey appears at the door. ‘But I want to go to bed,’ she says, lips quivering.

‘I’m going too.’ Alex levers himself out of his chair and hobbles to the door.

‘Well, that’s just great,’ Ben says sarcastically. ‘So much for a nice family time. We can’t even watch a game of football together.’

‘Too much pressure,’ Jonica says, picking up the bucket and reaching for Audrey’s doona. ‘I’ll just get some clean water.’

‘They’re spoilt rotten, is the problem,’ he says. And he glares at her as she exits with the doona bundled under her arm.

Later that morning, revving down the M2 in his Porsche on the way to work in the city, Ben calls Darren.

‘Hello, Your Honour,’ Darren says.

‘I’m not a judge,’ Ben reminds him.

Darren chuckles. ‘My Learned Friend, then … Or how about Your Worship?’

‘Neither,’ Ben says. ‘Let’s move on … Did you pick it?’

‘Manchester City for the win? Of course. That’s why I had money on it.’

‘You bet on it?’

‘Why not? It was a sure thing. Fast pathway to riches. A few more wins and I’ll be buying the house next to yours and moving in.’

‘That won’t happen,’ Ben says. ‘You need more than luck. You actually have to work hard.’

Darren sniggers. ‘How about a hundred bucks on the kids’ game this weekend? The Bears to win.’

‘I’m not betting on that!’

‘Why not? Scared you’ll lose? … unless you’ve paid off the ref like you did down at the coast tournament.’

‘What do you mean?’ Ben asks, edgy.

‘That penalty—the one Audrey scored—it shouldn’t have been given.’

‘Are you serious?’ Ben thrums with outrage. ‘Jonica said Braedon hacked Alex down right in front of goal. So therefore, it was a penalty.’

‘Bad news about Alex’s knee,’ Darren says. ‘But I still think it was a soft penalty.’

Hot words rise in Ben’s throat, but he swallows them.

‘Still there, bro?’ Darren asks.

‘Yep, still here.’

‘No bet for Saturday then?’

‘Nope.’

‘Guess we’ll have to wait and see how things go.’

‘Guess we will,’ Ben says.

He hangs up, irritated, wondering why he even bothered to call.

Saturday morning is cloudy and overcast. Ben parks under the pines at the Minotaurs home grounds and swivels to look at the twins in the back. ‘Here we are,’ he says, slapping the back of Jonica’s seat with the flat of his hand. Her head jolts but she says nothing. She’s been quiet all the way here. Frosty with him because of his pep talk with Audrey this morning. He was a bit strident—but she’s been so switched-off lately. How else is he going to get her to listen?

‘Go on, Audrey,’ he says. ‘Get out there and kick heads.’

Audrey slides out of the car and slinks across the car park. If only she would stand straight instead of rounding her shoulders. Doesn’t she know she needs to look the part, even if she’s not feeling it?

Alex stuffs his phone in his pocket and gets out more slowly. ‘I wish I could play.’

‘I know,’ Jonica says. ‘It must be hard for you.’

‘You’ll be right,’ Ben says. The kid needs bucking up. Commiserating just makes things worse.

Alex hobbles off. Jonica snatches her down jacket from the back of the car and Ben watches her strut away in her tight jeans and long black leather boots. He swings out, hooks his jacket over his shoulder and wanders over to the canteen.

Carmen is behind the counter—the last person he wanted to see. She’s laying out loaves of bread and bottles of tomato sauce, boobs bulging at the V-neck of her polo shirt. Ben sees the crucifix dangling in her cleavage—the trappings of religion without the morals. Surely she must have noticed Katerina harassing Audrey! But she’s a pushy one, isn’t she? She probably just kept pressuring her daughter and turned a blind eye. Bet she regrets it now, he thinks.

Carmen stares at him without smiling and Ben stares right back. He could have made things much harder for her, and she ought to be grateful that he didn’t. ‘Coffee, please,’ he says, jingling some coins in his pocket. ‘White with one.’ He drops a tenner on the counter and watches her set out a cup. ‘Make that two,’ he says. He’ll buy one for Jonica, even though he’s exasperated with her.

Carmen places a second cup beside the first and shoves a spoonful of Nescafe into each, then adds hot water from the urn and stirs it in.

‘Stuck in the canteen today?’ he asks, arching an eyebrow.

Carmen pushes the cups roughly towards him and coffee sloshes over the rims. ‘Kyle’s manager today,’ she says. ‘Canteen’s always busy, so I offered to help.’

Ben notes the empty canteen. Nobody lined up behind him. He gives her a wry smile, takes the coffees and strolls off looking for Jonica.

Around the side of the building, he sees Ilya bent over the barbecue, a sawn-in-half 44-gallon drum full of glowing coals with chunks of lamb suspended on an iron bar. Smoke rises as he bastes the meat with a brush. He swings the skewer from the coals and threads on more meat. Since last week, he’s shaved his hair off, right to the skin. It makes his shoulders and arm muscles look bigger, but Ben can’t help thinking how tired he looks. The whole thing with Katerina must have been hard for him. He feels a twinge of discomfort. Ilya seems like a decent guy, though he doesn’t mind seeing Carmen suffer.

He spots Jonica on the other side of the field, talking to Claire, so he heads over to join them. He likes Claire. She’s a good woman. You’ve got to admire her for putting up with Darren. ‘Hi, Claire,’ he says. ‘Where’s Freya?’

‘Gone to a movie with your parents.’

‘Lucky Freya!’ Jonica says. ‘I wish I was going to a movie.’

Ben hands a coffee to Jonica then glances at Claire. ‘Sorry, I should’ve bought you one too.’

Claire smiles. ‘Thanks, but I don’t need caffeine today. I’m pumped enough as it is.’ She nods towards Darren who’s further down the line, hands in pockets, watching the Bears warm up in their red jerseys and white shorts. From the firm set of his mouth and the way his shoulders are hiked up near his ears, Ben can see how tense he is.

‘That’s it, fella,’ Darren calls to Tommy. ‘Keep your head up and watch your touch … Ah, no! What was that, mate? You need to lift your game.’

‘Oh dear,’ Jonica murmurs.

‘He does put on a lot of pressure, doesn’t he?’ Ben says.

Jonica’s eyes flicker at him ironically, and he feels a hint of annoyance. He’s nothing like his brother.

‘He never gets off Tommy’s back,’ Claire says. ‘Tommy used to love it, but I’m having trouble getting him to training. He tries so hard for Darren, but it’s never enough. Breaks my heart.’

‘That sounds familiar,’ Jonica says.

‘He looks good on the field, though,’ Ben says. ‘He’s very competent.’

Darren calls to Tommy again. ‘That’s better, fella. Good pass. Keep it up.’

‘I wish he’d shut up,’ Claire says, pressing a hand to her forehead. ‘I can’t stand it.’ Then to Jonica. ‘Take me away. I think I need a cuppa after all.’

They hook arms and walk off.

Ben watches them go, then looks around for the Minotaurs, but they haven’t come out yet, so there’s nothing to do other than watch the Bears. Their coach, Luka, is working them hard, making them do sprints and shuttle runs. While the kids dash back and forth, he punctuates the air with his hands and shrieks at them in his thick accent. ‘Come on, you lot! What you think you do? Why do you waste my time? Get to work or I go home.’

Ben hates the way the old Croat speaks to the kids. Back when Ben was a kid, he played with Luka’s son in the NSW schoolboys at the national comp. Luka was the same then as he is now. Constant run-ins with the refs, swearing and abuse from the sidelines. Ben can’t believe Darren wants Tommy in that team. Their reputation precedes them—they always have difficulties getting refs.

Braedon butts up against the other Bears players, swearing and arguing with everyone. It must be a pain for the rest of the team, but Luka doesn’t even check him—he likes aggressive play and doesn’t want to discourage it. What that kid really needs is a strong father to pull him into line. But Cody’s missing, as usual. Ben looks around and spots him off to one side in a heated discussion with Santos. It looks like he’s set up his chair right in front of Santos. Typical Cody. Always looking for trouble.

‘You can’t sit there,’ Santos is saying. He gestures along the line. ‘My mother can’t see. She’s been here an hour already.’ His arm is looped around the shoulders of a crinkly old woman in a long black skirt with a grey scarf tied over her shoulders.

‘Not moving, mate,’ Cody says. ‘You don’t like it, you move. I’m staying.’ His churlish contempt digs under Ben’s skin. He looks like he’s just climbed out of bed: scruffy hair, torn-off denim shorts, stained T-shirt.

‘Don’t think so, mate,’ Santos says. ‘These are our grounds and we were here first.’

Ben shifts closer. ‘Can I help?’ he asks. ‘What’s going on?’

Cody lifts his chin. ‘Nothing, mate.’

‘Don’t worry, Ben,’ says Santos. ‘Don’t want to be anywhere near this rude bastard, anyway.’ He reaches for his mother’s chair but she bats him away and reprimands him in a strong accent. ‘No, Santos. I want to stay here.’ Santos hisses something at her in Greek but she stands firm. He rolls up his sleeves and glares at Cody. ‘Okay, buddy. My mother doesn’t want to move, so I’m asking you to cut her some slack and shift yourself along. Are you seriously going to spoil a seventy-year-old woman’s morning?’

Cody folds his arms and Ben inches forward, a jet of adrenaline shooting through him. He can feel the tension in the air. He’s pissed off with Cody for being an arsehole, but nervous about intervening—he’s dealt with thugs like him in court and knows how quickly they can detonate. ‘Hold on, there,’ he says, raising a placatory hand. ‘I’m sure we can sort this out. There’s plenty of room for everyone.’

‘Fuck off, mate!’ Cody flings him a stare.

Darren looms behind Cody and lays a hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘Hey,’ he says to Cody, grinning. ‘All us Bears parents are over there.’ He points to a group of noisy adults in red T-shirts. ‘You coming to join us?’

Cody glances at Santos and Ben, then back at Darren. ‘Dunno, mate. The view’s pretty good here.’

‘Why would you want to hang out with this lot?’ Darren says, nodding at Santos but ignoring Ben.

Cody’s upper lip curls. ‘You’re right, mate. Smells pretty bad around here.’

Darren claps Cody on the back. ‘Come with me then. It’s all roses over at the Bears camp.’

They laugh and walk off, Cody loudly asserting that the Bears are going to wipe the Minotaurs off the field.

‘Fucken dickhead,’ Santos murmurs to Ben, making sure his mother doesn’t hear as he pulls her chair closer to the line.

When the whistle blows, Ben runs along the sideline, following the ball as the play moves back and forth. He’s running the line because they were down a linesman today, and when they asked for a volunteer, no one else put up their hand. It’s so bloody typical. Always the same parents doing the same jobs while the others pretend not to hear when the call goes out. He resents having to do it. He’s already done his fair share this season, training the goalies. He wants to watch Audrey and make suggestions when she needs it. But he won’t be able to do that now—you’re not supposed to give advice when you’re a linesman.

The centre ref is a weedy blond kid who seems a bit weak. There’s a lines ref too, also a teenager. Ben doesn’t know either of them, but hopes they’re good. It won’t be an easy game; he’s the only parent out here, and whenever he makes a call, it’s going to piss someone off.

He’s also annoyed because Darren and Cody are standing too close to the line, and every time he tries to run past them, they get in his way, leaning in to yell at the players. When he asks them to stand back, they retreat a little, but when he returns, there they are again. ‘Come on, fellas,’ he says, turning to them. ‘I can’t do my job if you don’t give me space.’

‘Space for your ego, you mean?’ Darren smirks.

Cody’s laugh sends a dart of heat flashing down Ben’s spine. Next time, he deliberately knocks Darren with his shoulder as he charges through.

‘Steady on!’ Darren calls after him.

‘I warned you,’ Ben calls back.

When he runs towards them again, Darren takes an exaggerated step back, saying loudly to Cody, ‘Don’t you love the way he makes everything a competition?’

‘It’s not me who’s making this an issue,’ Ben mutters, suppressing an urge to whack his brother with the flag.

He shouldn’t let Darren ruin the game for him. It should be a good day. Audrey is on the left wing, and Katerina’s on the bench where she deserves to be. His main disappointment is that Alex is on the bench too, with a brace on his knee.

He tries to ignore Darren and keep his mind on the game, but the shouting gets to him—all the bullshit pouring forth from people’s mouths: Darren, Cody, Santos, the constant commentary from both of the coaches. Why can’t they shut up and let the kids get on with it?

It’s just as bad on the field: players from both teams arriving late to tackles, jabbing with their elbows, grabbing shirts, kicking shins. He itches to lift his flag and stop the rough play, because he knows how it goes—if the ref doesn’t take control, things will deteriorate.

The Bears are worst, egged on by Braedon. And yet if Ben goes heavy-handed on them, he might look biased, so he holds back. He wishes the young ref wasn’t so timid.

Murmurs of support flow between the Minotaurs as they pass each other on the field. Small hand-taps and high-fives. We’ve got this. Don’t let them get at you. Do it for Alex.

Ben flinches when Braedon slams into Griffin. He doesn’t want Griffin to get hurt. They need him today—he’s their best chance to win. The ref should intervene—it’s his job to protect players, especially good ones like Griffin who get targeted. But the play moves on.

Then Braedon slides into Noah in a clumsy tackle with his boot studs facing up. Noah doesn’t get up, so the ref stops play and Ben goes to assist him. The kid’s face is pinched with pain as Ben offers a hand and pulls him up.

‘Corked thigh,’ Noah grunts. ‘I need to go off.’

Ben slings an arm around the boy’s waist and helps him back to the bench. Carmen is waiting with a bag of ice. You’ve got to admit that she’s organised.

In a stunning lack of judgement, Dominik sends Katerina on. Ben’s even more surprised when she teams up with Audrey and the two girls start passing to each other.

Braedon boots the ball long and it lands between Audrey and Tommy. Ben wills Audrey to win the ball. Tommy shoves her, and, for once, she pushes back, but this is what the ref sees, and she gets penalised when it ought to be Tommy. Fuming, Ben slashes the flag against his leg.

Tommy lines up for the free kick.

‘Good work, Tommy,’ Darren yells. ‘Go, go. Big kick. Braedon’s there.’

Tommy smashes the ball to Braedon who traps it with his chest in a nice show of skills. But Griffin tackles the ball away and passes to Viktor. The field opens up. Audrey is in position on the left wing.

Ben can’t help himself. ‘Run!’ he calls to her, dashing alongside and pointing.

Her eyes flash into his and she takes off. But Viktor keeps dribbling with his head down. He’s too far out to score—anyone can see it—and there’s a wall of Bears in front of him, but he keeps trying, even though it’s impossible.

‘Come on. Pass!’ Ben hisses.

Griffin races through the centre, yelling, ‘Over here.’

Viktor zigzags with the ball, trying to get the goal for himself.

‘Go, Viktor!’ Santos shouts. ‘Shoot! Shoot!’

Tommy barges in and deliberately boots the ball out of play over the sideline. A lost opportunity for the Minotaurs because of bloody Viktor. Ben peers down the field and sees Santos slam a fist into his hand and turn away.

‘Why didn’t you pass?’ Griffin growls at Viktor. ‘I was there!’

‘Couldn’t see you.’

‘Yes, you could. Pass next time.’

Ben stands on the line, so close he can see the sweat on the boy’s brow, smell the sour tang of it. Griffin takes the throw-in and tosses the ball to Audrey. She takes off with it down the line, but Tommy intervenes and races straight for her. Usually she’s good at one-on-one, but he steals the ball off her and keeps going. ‘Come on, Audrey,’ Ben says beneath his breath.

She scrambles after Tommy, but he breaks clear. Minotaurs swarm everywhere. ‘Don’t let him shoot!’ bellows Dominik from the technical area.

Tommy takes two touches and boots the ball over the goalie’s head and into the net.

Ben has to watch the Bears erupt and hug each other. Cody tips his head back and roars ‘You little beauty!’ to the heavens, pumping a fist like Lleyton Hewitt on a tennis court. But Darren’s triumphant cheer is worst of all. It echoes across the grounds and gouges Ben’s stomach like a blade.

After that, it’s a Minotaurs kick-off, and the players go out hard, trying to build momentum. But where’s Audrey? Why is she hanging back? Didn’t she listen to his pep talk this morning?

His pulse accelerates as Griffin dashes towards the goal with the ball. But behind him, there’s a sickening thud.

He spins to see Audrey in a face plant with Braedon sprawled on top of her. How did she let that happen? She wasn’t even on the ball so she shouldn’t have been anywhere near Braedon.

The ref blows his whistle to stop play then shows Braedon the yellow card—so maybe it wasn’t Audrey’s fault after all.

She lies there so long Ben’s hands start to sweat. He glances at Jonica who’s over with Claire. She’s holding a hand over her mouth, Claire’s arm around her shoulders.

He’s relieved when Audrey rolls over and Griffin helps her up. But there’s something wrong. Has she done an ankle?

She limps over to the technical area.

‘Stop time-wasting,’ Cody shouts. ‘Come on, ref. Get the game going.’

He glares at Cody. ‘She only needs a moment.’

‘She’s already had it.’

Furious, Ben moves away. He can understand how someone might deck Cody—the man sure knows how to press your buttons.

He notices players gathering in restless groups, muttering among themselves while the coaches inspect Audrey’s ankle. At last, they decide to let her stay on. But everyone is edgy after so much waiting, especially Braedon and Viktor who tug at each other’s shirts and hiss insults.

The ref pips his whistle.

Audrey takes the free kick and knocks a cross to Griffin who pivots and takes aim. Ben hears the sound of boot connecting with ball and knows it’s good. The ball arcs into the net. Top right corner. And it’s one-all. Exactly what was needed.

He curls a fist and bounces it in front of his chest while the Minotaurs dash in to rejoice, piling on top of Griffin who grins bashfully. But among the cheering, Ben hears a rough voice shouting: ‘Offside, ref! That was offside.’ He spins to see Cody gesticulating.

‘Hey, ref!’ Cody bellows. ‘That was offside. I could see it with my own eyes. Where’d you get your qualifications? Out of a Weet-Bix packet?’

Darren starts shouting too. Then Luka struts, pigeon-chested, across the field to confront the ref, even though he’s not supposed to. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Luka barks, waving his hands in the air. ‘We need a proper ref. You’re not old enough for this job.’

Ben casts around for the ref’s coordinator, but can’t see him anywhere. He catches the flash of panic in the ref’s eyes and hurries over to support him. ‘Come on, Luka,’ he says. ‘Let it go.’

‘It was a bad decision. He shouldn’t be reffing at this level. I’ll put in a report.’

‘You do that, Luka, but it’s time to get on with the game. The players are waiting.’

Luka storms back to the technical area and Ben returns to the sideline. But as he waits for the ref to start play, he’s churning inside. No matter what happens now, someone is going to dispute it.

The whistle blasts and the Bears charge forward. Braedon lobs the ball to Tommy who sprints into space, all alone, and slams the ball into the net. But it’s clear he ran out way too early and was miles offside. Ben thrusts his flag in the air. The ref calls, ‘Offside!’

‘What?’ Luka screams. ‘That was a goal.’

Parents jeer and boo. Cody raises a threatening fist. Darren is yelling too.

Ben feels the heat of their anger rising from the sideline. Tommy and Braedon rush up to him, yelling, ‘That wasn’t offside!’

Bears players surround him, feeding off the parents, shouting, Come on, take it back, it wasn’t offside. He sees the dark hollows of their mouths as they lean into their conviction, rage so potent he can almost taste it. He’s like a policeman under siege. The boys are behaving like animals. He holds firm. A cockatoo screeches over.

‘Minotaurs to take the kick,’ the ref calls.

Ben points his flag to the spot where the kick is to be taken on the other side of the field. There’s a moment of silence in which the back of his neck prickles. He can smell dirt and damp grass, a hint of lamb on the breeze.

Viktor sets the ball on the ground, backs up and prepares for his run-up.

There’s a flash of movement. Ben turns to see Braedon stampeding towards Viktor. ‘Watch out, Viktor!’ someone yells.

Viktor whirls around as Braedon slams into him. He staggers, then shoves back, screaming ‘Fuck off!’, murder in his eyes.

‘That’s enough!’ Ben shouts, striding onto the field.

The two boys don’t hear him. They grab each other’s jerseys and ram each other’s chests with the flats of their hands. Kids run towards them. The ref shrills his whistle but no one takes any notice. Parents on the sideline shout and holler.

Braedon raises a fist at Viktor and swings. Viktor hits back, the sound of fists smacking skin.

Ben rushes towards them, but Cody gets there first and grabs Viktor by the throat.

‘Don’t you dare touch my son,’ bellows Santos, close behind.

The two men face off like wild boars.

‘Stop!’ Ben yells.

Cody punches Santos, and Santos strikes back, face contorted. Players crowd around, hands in the air, screaming at them to stop.

Cody swings again, and there’s a dull thud like an axe chopping wet wood.

Someone goes down. Among the mass of kids and adults, Ben can’t see who it is. ‘Audrey!’ he yells. Frantic, he shoves his way through.

Parents shriek. Kids scream.

Now he can see through the crazy tangle of bodies. And there, crumpled on the ground: a crown of curls, two long skinny legs.

Heat floods him and his knees go weak. He presses a hand to his chest. It’s not Audrey. But, oh God, poor Griffin!

The boy is unconscious, face so white the freckles stand out on his cheeks. Ben wishes he knew what to do, but he’s out of his depth, useless. ‘Where are the first aiders?’ he yells, scanning the shocked faces around him. ‘Can anyone help?’

‘I can,’ says Jonica calmly. ‘I’m qualified.’ She moves forward and kneels beside Griffin, her face sharp with focus as she assesses him.

Ben takes it all in as she places a hand on Griffin’s forehead then carefully checks his pulse, measured and calm. How did he not know his wife could do this?

‘Is he okay?’ Lang rasps beside her, urgency in his bunched shoulders.

‘I don’t know. His face looks wrong and he’s out to it. We’d better call an ambulance.’

‘I’m onto it,’ someone says.

Red-faced and hard-jawed, Lang whirls around and charges at Cody, tackles him to the ground, cinching his meaty hands around his neck.

‘Stop, stop! You’re killing him,’ Luka shouts.

Ilya grabs one of Lang’s arms to pull him away, but Lang is strong and Ilya needs assistance. Ben grasps Lang’s other arm to help haul him off. It’s thick and lumpy, like a tree trunk.

Cody leaps up and lurches towards Lang. But Ben steps between them and holds up his hands. He can smell the rank stench of the man’s sweat, hear his own ragged breathing. ‘Stop right there,’ he commands with more authority than he feels. ‘That’s enough.’

‘Keep that fucker away from me!’ Cody hisses, fists curled, eyes fixed on Lang.

‘Back off right now,’ Ben says. ‘That was assault.’

‘What about them?’ Cody slavers, jabbing a finger at Santos and Lang.

‘There are plenty of witnesses who saw you throw that first punch.’

‘You’re talking bullshit,’ Cody sneers. ‘You got a lawyer?’

‘I am a lawyer. Now step aside while we call the police.’ Ben pulls his phone from his pocket, hands shaking.

Cody spits on the ground. ‘I’m not waiting for that. C’mon Brae. We’re out of here.’ He fires a belligerent stare at everyone and gives them all the finger, then marches off across the field. Good bloody riddance, Ben thinks. But the metallic taste of fear floods his mouth. What about Griffin?

All toughness seems to have drained out of Lang’s body. He sags to the ground beside his son.

Jonica’s voice is clear in the stillness. ‘I think he’ll be okay, Lang. His breathing’s regular, even if it doesn’t sound very good.’ Her down jacket dangles on the grass, and there’s a small frown on her forehead as she pats Lang’s arm gently.

Ben scans the crowd for the twins. Alex is with Tommy, arm looped around his shoulders. Ilya and Carmen are wrapped around Katerina. Darren’s with Claire. But where’s Audrey?

At last, he sees her, all on her own, hands clutched together, face haggard.

He waves her over and she runs to him and burrows under his wing, leans against him, cheeks wet with tears, slight body trembling. He folds his arms around her and holds her tight. Presses his lips to her warm head. The smell of her shampoo.

‘What’s going to happen to Griffin?’ she asks.

‘He’ll be fine,’ he says, without any real sense of confidence. ‘The ambulance will be here soon.’

Her face looks so peeled back. Utterly raw. And so does Alex’s. It’s frightening for them. Ben feels sick with fear too. He wishes he could turn back the clock and prevent this whole thing from happening.

‘Can we do anything?’ Santos asks Jonica. ‘Roll him over or something?’

‘No,’ she says, still on her knees on the ground. ‘We can’t move him in case it’s spinal. But we need to keep him warm. Anyone got a blanket?’

Someone fetches a blanket and she lays it over Griffin so delicately she might be covering a butterfly. Audrey sobs. Griffin groans and shifts a little. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?

At last, the sound of a siren in the distance. The ambulance appears, lights flashing, slowing to turn into the car park. Someone opens the gate and waves the ambulance through.

In the middle of the field, the referee’s coordinator raises an arm and beckons to the ambulance. Where the hell was he before, when he was needed?

As the ambulance bobs across the field, players and parents on other pitches stop to watch. Ben can’t believe it when a bloke starts videoing on his phone. What’s wrong with people? They wouldn’t be doing that if it was their kid who was hurt.

The ref’s coordinator hurries towards them in his fluoro-orange vest, yelling at everyone to stand clear. The ambulance pulls up. Ben smells exhaust, an oil leak maybe.

Two people in dark blue uniforms leap out: a tanned middle-aged man with square shoulders and a reassuring air of authority, and a woman—the driver—who looks far too young to be a paramedic.

Lugging boxes of gear, they move straight to Griffin who is lying very still under the blanket. Jonica shuffles aside and leaves it to the professionals. They work over Griffin quickly, taking his pulse, checking his eyes and mouth, listening to his chest with a stethoscope, taking his blood pressure, moving his limbs carefully.

As they place a supportive collar around his neck, he shifts slightly and moans.

The male paramedic murmurs soothingly to him, then looks up. ‘What went on here?’ he asks, sternly. ‘Looks like we’re dealing with a severely fractured jaw and a serious head injury, not your usual football injury.’

Ben glances at Santos and the other parents, their restless feet and downcast eyes. No one is going to speak. It will have to be him. The truth is best. ‘Things got out of hand,’ he says. ‘There was a brawl.’

A guarded look passes between the paramedics. They’re no fools. They already know. Ben sees the incredulity in their eyes, and his mouth goes dry—it must take a lot to shock an ambo.

‘You’re the father?’ the male ambo asks Lang. ‘Do you want to come with us to Westmead or drive your car and meet him in Emergency?’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Lang says.

‘Can someone tell me about the patient before we arrived?’ the female paramedic asks. ‘Did he lose consciousness? And, if so, for how long?’

‘I can help.’ Jonica raises a hand. ‘I’m a first aider. And yes, he did lose consciousness for a couple of minutes.’

Ben hears the quiver in her voice and recognises, for the first time, just how much pressure she’s been under. He realises he’s proud of her. He could never do what she’s just done—holding it together and reassuring a stressed and anxious parent like Lang. He also realises how lucky he’s been. Alex was safe on the bench, but it could have been Audrey. It could be his child being lifted onto the stretcher and transferred into the ambulance. It could be him, full of dread, wondering if his kid will be okay.

Instead, he’s struck by a guilty feeling of good fortune for somehow having escaped. A sense of gratitude and bone-melting relief.

By the time the paramedics slide Griffin into the back of the ambulance, he’s regained consciousness but still looks blurry and bewildered. Ben feels bewildered too. He can’t comprehend what’s happened. He’s heard about brawls at football games, seen stories on the news, but never witnessed such a thing. He would never have imagined it could happen at a kids’ game, especially not in the twins’ own team at their own home grounds.

He holds Audrey close and watches the ambulance drive away. She leans into his shoulder and cries. What now, he wonders? Where do they go from here?

For a moment, it seems Luka might insist on the game continuing. But Matteo, the club president, overrules him, and announces that it’s over and everyone should go home. He looks worried, and so he ought; the club will be in serious trouble over this.

The twins gather their things and head across the grounds with Jonica. Ben watches them go, Jonica with an arm around Audrey’s waist and a hand on Alex’s shoulder. She’s a tiny rock, the glue that holds them together. He feels left out, separate. He wishes he could leave with them too, but he has to stay and talk to the police when they arrive. Later, he’ll get a lift home with someone else, or take an Uber.

Ben makes himself a double shot espresso and sits at the kitchen bench. He can’t stop thinking about the whole bloody mess this morning. Images keep flashing through his mind: Cody and Santos fighting; Griffin slumped on the ground in a heap; his pale misshapen face; Jonica quietly taking control; the alarm and distress in Audrey’s eyes. Lang looking shrivelled and small.

He wonders what he could have done to avert the situation. He couldn’t have known how things would spiral, but he’d sensed the tension before the game, slowly simmering. Should he have said something? Warned the ref? Talked to Matteo?

He rinses his mug and pops it in the dishwasher just as Jonica walks in with a basket of dry washing. ‘Can you make one for me?’ she asks.

‘I was just about to clean up, but yes, I can make you one.’

Ever since he got home, she’s been stomping around the house as if to let her feet do the talking. He wishes she would just come out with it.

She dumps the washing on the couch in the lounge room while he goes through the ritual of making the coffee.

She slides onto a bench stool and he places a mug in front of her. ‘Thanks,’ she says. ‘What a day!’

Understatement of the century. ‘You were amazing with Griffin,’ he says. ‘I didn’t know you were qualified in first aid.’

She gives him a withering look. ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’

What’s she on about? He knows her pretty well after fifteen years. ‘I’m grateful it wasn’t one of the twins,’ he says.

‘Me too. But poor Griffin and poor Lang. I really feel for them.’

‘I didn’t see it coming,’ he says. ‘Otherwise, I would have stopped it.’

She regards him for a long moment, something brewing in her eyes. ‘You played your role,’ she says eventually.

‘What the hell do you mean? It was all Cody and Santos.’

‘For God’s sake, Ben!’ she says. ‘Take a look at yourself. You and Darren weren’t much better than those two idiots. I saw the way you were carrying on with each other. Swishing that bloody flag at him. All the petty arguing. The two of you probably fed the whole thing. Claire thinks so too.’

Ben stares at her. ‘Hang on a minute,’ he says, with an incredulous snort. ‘That’s a big accusation. What happened out there today had nothing to do with Darren and me. Yes, we had a bit of beef with each other, but that’s normal.’

‘Well, maybe it isn’t normal. Maybe you need to have a think about it and have a look at yourself. I certainly don’t want to see any more of it. And neither do the kids. It was embarrassing.’

Ben can’t believe she’s turning this onto him. ‘I’m not going to talk about this now,’ he says, trying to remain civil.

‘Why not? You always say there’s no time like the present.’

Sparks ignite inside him, but he holds tight and goes outside. Crosses the yard to the back fence. Opens the creaky Colorbond gate. Peers down into the bush reserve. Stands there, taking deep breaths, proud of himself for walking away, for not engaging in an argument. It took strength, but he was able to do it.

On a whim, he descends the concrete steps into the gully where it’s fragrant with moist soil and eucalyptus. He stops, looks around. He hasn’t been down here in years. Hasn’t had time.

It’s surprisingly calm. The sound of water trickling among rocks. The sigh of wind in the leaves. The sense of the bush waiting, patiently, for time to pass.

He leans against the trunk of a tall gum tree and peers into the canopy. Up high, beyond the tree crowns, there are patches of blue sky, this morning’s clouds slowly dissolving.

When he re-enters the house, Jonica is nowhere to be seen. She’s probably gone for a run at the oval, which is a good thing—she’s always easier to deal with when she’s been out on her own.

Alex is in the kitchen devouring a banana.

‘What’s Audrey up to?’ Ben asks.

‘Nothing much. She’s in her room with Honey.’

‘Doing what?’

‘I don’t know. Texting friends and watching princess movies.’

‘Princess movies?’ Ben can’t conceal his surprise. ‘Hasn’t she outgrown them?’

‘It’s like me watching Fast & Furious, Dad. Takes your mind off things.’

Ben is astounded by his son’s insight. ‘What about you?’ he asks. ‘Are you all right after this morning?’

Alex shrugs and looks away. ‘I saw Griffin cop that punch. His head flicked right back. I hope he’s okay.’

‘It was bad, wasn’t it?’ Ben says.

‘Audrey’s pretty devastated,’ Alex says.

‘Yes. We’re all upset.’ Ben pats Alex’s shoulder, trying to be reassuring.

‘It’s worse for her, though, being his girlfriend and all.’

‘Girlfriend?’ Ben is floored. ‘When did that happen?’

‘At the tournament. She told me afterwards.’

‘Does your mother know?’

Alex shrugs. ‘Probably. Audrey might have told her. But she knows pretty much everything anyway, doesn’t she?’ He tosses his banana skin in the bin. ‘Chat later, Dad. I have to do some homework.’

Ben can’t stop thinking about Audrey and Griffin. He had no idea. Did he miss something? Clearly the signs were all there to be read. Audrey starry-eyed when Griffin joined the team; Griffin always passing her the ball, encouraging her, helping her up after falls. It would all be pretty innocent at their age, wouldn’t it? Holding hands?

‘Do you think they’ve kissed?’ he asks Jonica when she comes in, shiny-faced after her run.

‘Probably,’ she says, raising her eyebrows at him. ‘They did spend a lot of time together down at the tournament.’

‘What about sex?’ he asks, appalled. ‘Have you talked to her about contraception?’

She gives him a cynical smile. ‘Have you?’

‘She’s too young for all that.’

‘How old were you when you lost your virginity?’

‘Older than fourteen.’ He can’t believe Jonica is being so breezy about this. Isn’t she bothered by it?

‘I don’t think they’ve had sex,’ she says. ‘When I talked to her about contraception she nearly died of embarrassment.’

Ben’s relieved but there’s an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. Maybe his little girl isn’t so little anymore.

Monday at work, Ben is flat out trying to complete preparations for a rape case defence scheduled for court next week. He knows Jonica hates him taking these cases, but this one was a challenge and he couldn’t pass up a good fight.

‘Why do you have to do it?’ she’d asked the other day. ‘I’m trying to teach the kids about consent and respect for women, while you’re clearing guilty men of rape charges.’

‘You don’t know if he’s guilty,’ he’d reminded her. ‘And, anyway, it’s the nature of the game. Part of being a barrister.’

‘It doesn’t have to be,’ she snapped. ‘Let someone else do it. And it’s not a game, Ben. These are women’s ruined lives we’re talking about here. They don’t press charges lightly. That’s what all the evidence says.’

He presses a hand to his forehead, trying to decide what angle to take. It’s complicated, as these things always are. And it doesn’t help that he hasn’t been sleeping well. He can’t stop thinking about the sound of Cody’s punch connecting with Griffin’s head; the dull thud of fist on skin. Last night, he was jangly and hyper-alert for hours. He must have slept, though, because he dreamed of a vast flat beach, raked by wild waves, the sand dotted with limp, dead earthworms.

That’s how he feels now—as dead as those worms. He can’t keep his brain moving so it’s a welcome distraction when Jonica calls. He can hear wind crackling across the mouthpiece, the sound of shouting in the background. ‘What’s up?’ he asks.

‘I’m at training with Alex. I wanted to let you know that Audrey didn’t come. She’s got a headache, so I let her stay home.’

He feels a twinge of irritation. Alex has an excuse with his knee, but he still managed to go when all he can do is stand and watch. So surely Audrey could have gone; it might have helped get her mind off things. ‘You should have given her some Panadol and made her go,’ he says.

‘Look, Ben. Everyone’s completely unmotivated, so she’s not missing anything anyway. And it doesn’t hurt to have a night off every now and then—a few others are away too.’

‘So why did you call when you knew it would annoy me?’

‘To ask you not to go off at her when you get home.’

‘All right,’ he says, grudgingly.

‘Thank you.’

That night, Audrey makes a remarkable recovery and joins the family at the dinner table. Part way through the meal, her phone buzzes. Ben frowns when she checks it. She’s not supposed to have her phone at the table, but Jonica’s indulging her in case a message comes through from Griffin.

‘Oh my God!’ Audrey says. ‘I can’t believe it.’

‘What is it?’ Alex leans forward to look.

‘Katerina’s put up a photo of her and Viktor visiting Griffin in hospital.’

She shows her phone around, and, despite himself, Ben takes a look. There’s Griffin, puffy and bruised, holding a Socceroos jersey against his chest while Katerina and Viktor drape themselves around him, Carmen and Santos smiling in the background. The caption says the jersey is a gift from all the team and that it’s signed by the Socceroos.

‘Griffin looks pretty bad,’ Alex says.

And it’s true, he certainly does. ‘Did we make a donation?’ Ben asks. ‘That jersey wouldn’t have been cheap.’

‘Not yet,’ Jonica says. ‘But I’m sure Carmen will ask everyone to contribute.’

‘I’m amazed the hospital let them in,’ he says. ‘Didn’t you say he was having surgery today?’

‘Yes. It was this morning,’ Audrey says. ‘He said it was awful. They cut his cheek open and stuck a plate on his jawbone, and then they wired his mouth shut. He texted me a couple of hours ago.’

‘No wonder he looks a mess,’ Jonica says.

Audrey sighs. ‘I wish I could go and see him. It should have been all of us, giving him that jersey, not just a few people. How can they say it was from everyone when we didn’t even know about it? I’m going to text Katerina and ask why she didn’t invite me.’

‘So you and her are talking now?’ Alex asks, clearly baffled.

Ben’s surprised too.

Audrey flushes. ‘She’s trying to be nice to me.’

‘That’s a first,’ Ben grunts. ‘Don’t make it too easy for her.’

Audrey looks down at her hands and Jonica gives him a look. She seems to expect something of him, though God knows what it is!

Eventually, an idea comes. ‘How about I take you guys to see Griffin tomorrow after school?’ he suggests. The twins goggle at him. Then Audrey lights up with a smile.

Jonica raises her eyebrows as if in disbelief, and Ben smarts. Why is she so shocked by his offer? He’s not that much of a bastard, is he?

The next day, Ben leaves work early to take the twins to Westmead. There’s an accident on the M2 and he battles with traffic all the way home, then again on the way to the hospital. By the time they arrive, his patience has worn thin and there’s no parking anywhere. It takes three laps of the parking tower before he finally finds a space between two four-wheel-drives parked haphazardly. He squeezes the car into the narrow space, barking at the kids not to bump the doors when they get out.

In the trauma wing, a young nurse in dark blue scrubs leads them to a room with two beds that have blue curtains drawn around them. It’s quiet except for the beeping of a machine. The nurse peers behind the curtain of the nearest bed. ‘Hello, Griffin,’ she says. ‘You have guests. Is that okay?’

There’s a pause, then a croaky voice that sounds nothing like Griffin. It gives Ben a bad feeling. Audrey’s hand slips into his and grips tightly.

The nurse tugs the curtain back and the kids shuffle forward, stopping with stifled gasps when they see Griffin. Ben draws breath too. The poor kid is almost unrecognisable. Cheeks swollen and bruised. Deep red shadows under his eyes. A line of bristling black stitches along his jaw.

The nurse smiles brightly. ‘Okay,’ she says. ‘I’ll leave you to it now. But don’t stay too long, please. He gets tired quickly, don’t you Griffin?’

When she’s gone, Audrey and Alex ogle Griffin and won’t speak, so it’s up to Ben. ‘Hi, Griffin,’ he says, stretching his lips into a smile. ‘How are you going, mate? Looks like you’ve been in the wars.’

Griffin grimaces and utters incoherent words, and Ben feels his smile hollowing out. What do you say to someone who can’t talk? He glances at the twins. Alex gapes while Audrey hides behind him. Is she crying?

‘How did the operation go yesterday?’ Ben asks. ‘Must be good to have it over. And how long before the fracture mends? About six weeks? That’s the usual time, isn’t it? I’m sure it’ll go quickly, then you’ll be back out there kicking balls.’ He’s gabbling and asking too many questions, so he stops, feeling awkward. Everything he said felt like lies anyway. He hopes Griffin couldn’t tell.

The boy struggles to respond, face contorting, speech so slurred you can’t understand a thing.

Ben’s trying to work out what to say next when Lang looms in the doorway in an old VB singlet and Stubbies. He reeks of cigarettes and looks like he hasn’t slept for a week. His face is so pale the scars stand out even more than usual, the faded tatts bleeding into each other. He nods at Ben then strides to the bed and places a hand on Griffin’s shoulder.

‘He can’t talk much coz his mouth’s wired shut,’ Lang explains. ‘The doc said it’ll take a few days before the swelling comes down and he can speak proper English again.’ He grins at Griffin.

The anguish on the kid’s face is palpable. Audrey makes a small choking sound and her hand twists in Ben’s. He musters a weak smile. ‘You look pretty good, Griffin, considering …’

Lang guffaws. ‘He won’t be winning any beauty contests for a while, but it won’t be long before he’s back out breaking hearts, hey, Griff?’

Ben nudges Audrey who holds out a large bulging paper bag containing the present Jonica bought this afternoon. ‘We got something for you,’ she says. ‘I hope it makes you feel better.’

Griffin takes the bag and clutches it to his chest.

‘Help him open it, Alex,’ Ben prompts.

Alex steps forward and reaches into the bag to pull out a Women’s World Cup ball. Griffin holds the ball in both hands and an animal grunt issues from his throat.

‘Doesn’t he like it?’ Alex asks, horror on his face. ‘We would have got a men’s one, but they didn’t have any.’

‘He’s fuckin’ rapt,’ Lang says, giving Griffin a pat. ‘Tomorrow he’s going home, and in a few weeks the wire will come out of his jaw, and then he’ll be back out there, wearing this ball out, won’t you, kid?’

Griffin nods, winces, touches a careful hand to his face.

‘Good on you, buddy,’ Lang says. Then to Ben, ‘Let’s get out of here for a sec so the kids can have a chat.’

Ben follows him into the corridor where Lang leans against the wall, the fake bravado draining away, weariness settling over him like a shadow. ‘How bad is the concussion?’ Ben asks.

Lang digs his hands in his pockets and dodges his eyes away, face creased with worry. ‘Glad you didn’t ask in there, mate, but yeah, not good. The doc says it’ll take him time to get back to normal. His memory’s shot. Short-term, anyway. Doesn’t even know what happened at the game. Can’t remember a thing.’

‘It’ll come back soon enough,’ Ben says.

‘Hope so.’ Lang rubs the livid scar on his cheek. ‘I feel sorry for the poor kid. He was s’posed to be trying for the Liverpool youth academy in December. Hope he’s better by then. If not, he’s going to be so disappointed. It’s been his dream for years. Tough for him to lose it like this, and not even get a chance.’

Ben feels for the man. He thinks of the all the media reports he’s read about head injuries, the clients with brain trauma he’s represented over the years. Some recovered, with time, but others were left with long-term problems: learning difficulties, social dislocation, mood changes, brain fog, troubles completing set tasks. He mentioned all this to the police when he gave his statement, hopes Griffin doesn’t become one of those statistics. ‘Anything we can do to help at home?’ he asks.

Lang scratches at the scar on his cheek again. ‘Nah, we’ll be right. Griff and me are used to bumbling along on our own, just the two of us.’

‘Jonica would be happy to cook a few meals,’ Ben offers. ‘Where do you live? I can get her to drop something round.’

Lang’s smile tightens. ‘Thanks, mate, but nah. We can just get takeaway. Griff won’t be eating anything solid for a while, anyway.’

Ben casts around for conversation. He and Lang have never talked much, and it’s awkward to know what to say. Then he remembers that Lang used to play rugby league, so he asks about some of the current players. Lang quickly gains momentum, commenting on a few recent games, how soft league has become since they fiddled the rules. ‘Wasn’t like that back when I played,’ he grunts. ‘Used to be a man’s game. Now it’s tame.’

Ben smiles at the irony. From what he’s heard, Lang might have had a long career at a professional level if the rules had protected him. But it wouldn’t do to think like that, would it? Might do a man’s head in to consider the money he could have made if he hadn’t been dropped because of injuries from bad tackles.

They’re still talking about league when Alex comes out, long faced, and asks if he can go back to the car.

‘Can you wait just a bit longer?’ Ben suggests. ‘I’m not sure I want you to walk over there on your own in the dark.’ He notes the smudges under his son’s eyes. It’s been a tough few weeks for Alex, and there’s more to come yet, with the operation to reconstruct his ACL booked soon.

‘I’ll take him,’ Lang offers. ‘I’m heading out for a smoke anyway, so I can walk him to the car park.’

Ben hands the keys to Alex and watches them head off, Lang like a wrestler beside long skinny Alex. He turns towards the ward, and now he can hear the murmur of voices coming from Griffin’s room. He peers through the doorway, telling himself he’s not really eavesdropping.

There’s Audrey, perched on the edge of the bed, holding Griffin’s hand, her face a mix of angst, hope and tenderness. It takes Ben back. He remembers his first girlfriend in high school, the awkwardness of it. Lust and longing entangled with fear.

‘Are you really okay?’ Audrey asks, tilting her head. Griffin mumbles something and her brow puckers. ‘You’re not, are you? It must be awful with your mouth wired shut. How do you eat?’

He points to a plastic cup with a straw poking out of it on the roll-away tray by his bed. ‘Baby food,’ he slurs. ‘It’s disgusting.’

‘How long do you have to eat that stuff?’ she asks.

‘Till I die.’

‘Don’t die,’ she says, dipping her head.

Colour flares on the boy’s cheeks and an intense look lights his eyes: hurt, love and regret, all mashed together.

‘You must be looking forward to going home,’ she says with a hopeful smile. ‘When you’re better we could meet at the oval again. Remember?’

Griffin shakes his head and Audrey’s face falls. ‘You must remember,’ she says. ‘You came on your bike and you were late and I was a bit pissed off and we kicked a ball for ages and then we lay down on the grass and looked at the clouds.’

So that’s how it started, Ben thinks.

Griffin gives her a coy look. ‘I held your hand,’ he mumbles.

‘I knew you remembered.’ Her glowing smile carves a gash in Ben’s heart.

‘I don’t ’member the game,’ Griffin croaks.

‘Everyone was trying to stop the fighting and you accidentally got in the way.’

The kid looks bewildered. ‘I must’ve been stupid.’

‘No, you were only trying to help. It was bad luck.’

Griffin’s face clouds. ‘I want to get back to training.’

Audrey tightens. ‘Won’t it be a while before you can play? If you get hurt again it might make things worse.’

‘Worse ’n this?’ Griffin’s voice cracks and he scowls at her.

Audrey glances away, fidgets with her hands. Then she looks at him, her face soft again. ‘Your lips are dry,’ she says. ‘Can I put some lip chap on for you?’

Griffin’s cheeks redden, but he nods.

She takes a chap stick from her pocket, leans close, dabs the stick to his lips, stretching her mouth like Jonica does when applying make-up. It hurts to watch, but Ben can’t look away.

There’s a long silence as Audrey and Griffin stare at each other. She lifts a finger and gently touches his wound, jolts when he flinches.

‘Have you seen it?’ she asks.

The boy shakes his head.

‘Want me to show you?’

Griffin nods and Ben’s heart stops. The boy won’t want to see how bad he looks right now—gaunt and pale, bruised and lopsided, lips thick and scaly.

Audrey takes a photo then leans forward to show Griffin. Ben holds his breath.

There’s a moment of silence, then a flash of something hard on Griffin’s face. He pushes the phone away, refusing to look at Audrey.

‘Please, Griffin,’ she says, voice trembling. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘Not upset,’ he slurs. ‘Just tired. Need rest.’

She barrels from the room straight into Ben’s arms. He holds her close, pressing her head to his shoulder while she sobs silently.

They start down the corridor, hand in hand, and haven’t gone far when they see Katerina and Carmen at the nurses’ station. Audrey stiffens. Ben releases her hand and loops a protective arm around her shoulders. Why are they here? he wonders. Didn’t they visit yesterday?

A nurse passes something across the counter to Katerina who glances their way, face brightening when she notices them. ‘Hey, Mama. There’s Audrey!’

There’s no way of avoiding them so Ben and Audrey keep walking.

When they’re close, Katerina rushes forward and grasps Audrey by the elbow. ‘Are you okay?’ she asks. ‘Have you seen him? How is he?’

Audrey recoils at Katerina’s touch. ‘He looks bad. Are you here to see him again?’

‘No. I left my hoodie behind yesterday, so we came to pick it up.’ She holds up a blue club hoodie to show Audrey, then her face clouds. ‘I felt awful when I got your message yesterday. You’re right, I should have come with you instead of Viktor. He doesn’t even care about Griffin.’

‘That’s okay. Did he like the Socceroos jersey? We gave him a new ball.’

‘Yeah, he loved the jersey. Hey, let’s go down to the cafe and get an ice cream.’

Ben watches the whole goddamned show, disbelieving. He’s astounded when Katerina hooks Audrey’s arm and leads her towards the lift. Audrey glances back, slightly alarmed, but goes with Katerina anyway.

And there he is: stranded with Carmen, who looks at him with a mixture of mirth and discomfort in her eyes.

‘Right,’ he says, in a vague attempt to disperse the awkwardness. ‘I suppose we should follow them.’

The girls have already stepped inside one of the lifts, and by the time Ben and Carmen arrive, it’s too late: the doors have closed. Ben presses the button and hopes another lift comes quickly.

A strained silence stretches between them … until he rallies his acting skills and initiates a polite conversation he doesn’t want to have. ‘Griffin’s a bit of a mess,’ he says. ‘It’s going to take him months to recover. A blow like that can be serious. I guess they’ll have to wait and see how he goes …’

He’s relieved when a bell dings and the doors of the second lift open. It’s empty inside and they step in and retreat to opposite corners, which is still too close for Ben. He pushes the button for the ground floor.

Silence yawns once more, and Ben shifts uncomfortably. Surely it’s Carmen’s turn now. Why should he be the one to make all the effort?

The lift lurches as they begin to descend.

‘Katerina’s not a bad kid, you know,’ Carmen says, glancing at him with a defensive gleam in her eyes. ‘What she did was wrong, and she knows it. But underneath, she’s actually decent. She’s doing confirmation later this year.’

Ben regards her with cynicism. Does she truly believe that going to church buys forgiveness? ‘Good for her,’ he says, in a neutral tone. He notices Carmen fiddling with her crucifix, realises she’s nervous. Good, he thinks, so she ought to be.

The lift stops and they exit. Carmen leads the way to the cafe where the girls are at the counter, waiting to pay for their ice creams. Katerina is doing most of the talking. Audrey looks overwhelmed.

‘We can’t stay long,’ Ben says to Carmen. ‘Alex is in the car.’

‘I can drop Audrey home if you like,’ she offers. ‘Or we can squeeze in a quick coffee while the girls finish.’

Ben stares at her, battling to hide his incredulity. ‘Thanks, but Audrey will have to come home with me. She’s got lots of homework.’

Carmen raises an eyebrow, and he’s sure she knows he’s lying, but he doesn’t care. Audrey might be ready for some sort of reconciliation with Katerina, but Ben’s light-years from having a coffee with Carmen.

Next evening, Ben scrambles to finish reading some documents then leaves work early to take Audrey to training. Alex went home with Noah, which is perfect; Miles will take him to training, and that means Ben can focus on Audrey.

After the usual afternoon tussle with traffic, he makes it home just in time. He stumps into the house from the garage and calls out, ‘Grab your things, Audrey. I’ll just change my clothes then we’ll go.’

In the kitchen, Jonica is stirring a pot on the stove. She looks up, lips tight, shadows under her eyes.

‘Everything okay?’ he asks.

‘She didn’t go to school.’

‘Why not?’

‘She wasn’t feeling well.’

Ben dumps his keys on the bench. ‘Well, that’s ridiculous. I know she’s upset, but this is getting out of hand. I thought she was okay. She seemed to get on all right with Katerina yesterday. Where is she?’

‘In her room.’

‘Is she ready for training?’

‘I don’t think so … but Ben, please don’t go too hard on her. She’s doing it tough.’

Ben tries to suppress irritation. He’s done backflips to get home from work, and now Audrey’s not even ready. He marches down the hall to her room and opens the door. She’s on the bed, legs crossed, phone in hand, eyes wide and startled. She’s still in her pyjamas, and Honey’s beside her, looking equally astonished. ‘Why aren’t you ready?’ he asks.

Audrey holds his gaze steadily. ‘I’m not going.’

He struggles to calm himself. ‘You have a commitment. And I’ve busted a gut to get here to take you, so you’re going whether you like it or not.’

‘I’m not going, Dad. I’m still too upset about Griffin.’

His hand tightens on the door handle. ‘I understand you’re upset. But sitting here won’t help. You’ve already missed one session, so you have to go tonight or you’ll be letting the team down.’

She gazes at him, looking infinitely weary.

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘Let’s go.’

She stares right through him, and that does it—something inside him snaps and the lawyer takes over. ‘Not talking?’ he says, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. ‘Well, that’s fine. Because I have plenty to say. And I’ll start by reminding you that I bankroll everything around here. Your football, your gear, clothes, phone, Spotify, Netflix, food.’ He counts things off on his fingers. ‘I also give my time to support you. I coach your goalies. I run the line at your games. I stand up for you when Katerina steals your stuff. Not to mention all the things your mother does for you. Cooking, cleaning, washing, running you around …’

He pauses to see if this elicits any reaction. He’s a little breathless—maybe he’s taking it too far. Audrey simply gazes at him with sad eyes. The dog, who has been cowering beside her throughout his tirade, jumps off the bed and scurries out through the door.

‘I know all that, Dad,’ Audrey says quietly. ‘And I appreciate it. But I just can’t go tonight. I promise I’ll go next time.’

He can’t believe she’s refusing him. What’s gotten into her? ‘Just get your stuff and we’ll go,’ he says. ‘I’m sure Katerina will be there.’

‘I don’t care whether she’s there or not, Dad. I’m staying here.’

‘I asked you to get ready. Where’s your bag?’

‘In the laundry.’

Her wounded eyes bore into him, but he won’t back down. ‘Go and get it,’ he says. ‘You’ll feel better once you’re there.’

He grasps her arm to encourage her, and she jerks away then goes limp as if all the fight has drained out of her. The electricity sparking in him fades. It feels like he’s won and lost at the same time.

‘I need to go to the bathroom,’ she says, dull.

‘All right,’ he says, releasing her. ‘I’ll be waiting in the kitchen.’

The bathroom door closes with a clunk.

In the kitchen, Jonica is a hurricane behind the bench, wiping circles with a cloth. ‘You need to get off her back,’ she hisses.

‘You’re the one who asked me to take her to training,’ he protests. ‘I could have left it to you. I had plenty to do at work.’

‘You always have plenty of work.’

‘That’s the nature of the job. You know how it is. You’re a lawyer too.’

‘Used to be,’ she spits.

Audrey emerges from the bathroom, still in her pyjamas, and retreats to her room, slamming the door behind her.

‘Now you’ve done it,’ Jonica says.

‘Done what?’

‘Upset her even more with all your yelling.’

‘It was you who was yelling.’

‘I think you should let her stay home.’

‘What?’ Heat fizzes through him.

‘Forcing her to go isn’t the right thing tonight.’

Exasperation forces a groan from him. ‘What do you want from me? I can’t win!’

‘She said she’d go next time. Let’s leave it at that.’

‘So I came home early for nothing?’

‘It appears so, yes.’ She heads towards Audrey’s room.

Ben yanks open a cupboard and pulls out a wine glass, fills it from a bottle of white in the fridge and goes outside, throws himself in a chair at the picnic table with his back to the kitchen. He can hear Jonica talking to Audrey, the murmur of their voices. Eventually, their voices fade and there’s a clatter in the kitchen: Jonica emptying the dishwasher, banging drawers and cupboards.

Another door slams as Audrey shuts herself in the bathroom again.

‘Are you going to help with dinner, given that you’re home?’ Jonica calls to him.

‘Audrey can do it,’ he replies without turning around. ‘She’s got plenty of time now that she’s not going to training.’ He drains his wine—rather too quickly—then waltzes back inside and down the hallway, raps loudly on the bathroom door. ‘Come and give your mother a hand,’ he barks.

‘In a minute.’

Her voice sounds strange, secretive. It makes the back of his neck prickle. His heart misses a beat. He waits. Listens. ‘Everything all right in there?’ he asks, trying to sound casual.

‘Yes, fine.’

Her answer doesn’t ring true. He turns the door handle. It’s locked. ‘Let me in,’ he says.

‘I’ll be out in a minute. Go away.’

He doesn’t like it. Something guarded in her voice. He slips back to the kitchen and snatches a skewer from the drawer to pop the bathroom lock.

‘What are you doing?’ Jonica asks.

He presses a finger to his lips. ‘Shhh.’

Back down the hallway he sneaks. Inserts the skewer tip into the lock, which clicks and releases. Turns the knob, swings the door open.

There’s Audrey bent over the bath, a pair of scissors in her hand, blood dripping slowly from her hip. She gasps when she hears him, drops the scissors into the bath with a clatter, quickly hunches into herself.

Ben’s chest tightens: heat and chill intertwined. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘Nothing.’ She grabs a face washer and presses it to her side, glares at him, steely. ‘Go away.’

Ben sees vivid splashes of blood in the bath. The rusty smell makes his head spin. ‘Jonica,’ he calls, working to keep his voice steady. ‘Can you come here?’

She arrives in a microsecond. Her eyes flick into his, then dart to Audrey. ‘Oh God, sweetie. What have you done?’ She moves swiftly to Audrey’s side and clasps her tight.

Ben sees his daughter’s face crumple. Her knees buckle and she buries her face in Jonica’s shoulder. They both sob, broken open with emotion.

‘I didn’t mean it, Mum,’ Audrey blurts, high and sharp, tight with tears. ‘It was an accident.’

Ben feels light-headed. He’s never been good with blood. He leans against the doorjamb, sucking in air.

Audrey weeps uncontrollably, shaking so much it’s hard for Jonica to inspect the wound. Ben peers over her shoulder to have a look. A gaping ragged hole, oozing blood. Who’d have thought you could do so much damage with nail scissors?

Jonica turns to him, wobbly and hoarse. ‘Can you get the first-aid kit from the laundry cupboard?’

Her face is haggard. Ben wonders if he looks the same.

In the laundry, he searches the cupboard. He has no idea which shelf the kit will be on, or what the thing even looks like. He only ever goes into the laundry to dump his washing in the wicker clothes basket. Eventually he locates it at the back of the second shelf behind bottles of cleaning products all lined up in neat rows with their labels facing out. It’s a grey plastic box with a green cross on it. He lifts it out, his hands trembling as he carries the kit back to Jonica.

She switches to first-aid mode, ferreting through the box for iodine swabs and an adhesive bandage. Then she changes her mind and decides they need to go to hospital. It’s going to need stitches. She covers it with gauze and a bandage and tells Audrey to apply pressure to it.

‘Can you get her dressing-gown and slippers, Ben?’

He fetches the gown from the hook behind Audrey’s door, the slippers from the floor, then ushers the two of them into the car. Jonica sits in the back with Audrey, who hasn’t stopped sobbing. The sound of it cuts through Ben’s chest into his heart.

The traffic is bad, of course. And the journey is slow, when he just wants to be there so someone can fix his daughter.

At the hospital, he drops Jonica and Audrey at the entrance to emergency then drives off to find parking. The parking tower is strangely empty. Either he’s lucky, or the crowds simply haven’t turned up yet. He parks the car and hurries back to emergency just in time to see a nurse take Audrey and Jonica through to triage. He could ask to be let through too, but can’t bring himself to go in and face his wife and daughter, especially given that he’s probably responsible for some of their pain. Instead he sits in the waiting room with a bunch of weary-looking parents and a gaggle of sick kids.

Half an hour passes. The door to emergency opens and closes, disgorging doctors and patients, but no Audrey and no Jonica. He can barely sit still. He paces the waiting room. Tries to call Jonica. But there’s no answer. And now there’s a long queue at the receptionist’s desk.

Agitated, he goes out for fresh air. The light is fading from the sky, and to the west, clouds muscle over the mountains. It’s surprisingly humid. Air so thick you could tear a hole in it and wade through. Heaviness weighs him down. He’s not used to feeling anxious and out of control like this, and he doesn’t like it. This afternoon has turned slippery on him.

He walks a few laps between emergency and the parking tower, but it doesn’t help. Then at last his phone rings. But it’s Alex. What the hell is he going to tell him?

‘Hey, Dad. Why aren’t you here to pick me up? And where’s Audrey?’ Alex’s resonant voice doesn’t match his skinny teenage body.

Ben hesitates. ‘We’re at the hospital, mate. Audrey’s hurt herself. She’s okay, though.’

‘What happened?’

‘Accident in the bathroom.’

‘Did she slip? She always splashes water everywhere.’

‘Something like that.’ Ben’s tongue feels dry. He winces at the hole he’s digging by not telling Alex the whole truth, and hopes Jonica has a rope long enough to haul him out. ‘Can you go home with Noah and I’ll pick you up later? I’d like to stay here with Mum and Audrey.’

‘Are you sure she’s okay? You sound worried.’

‘I’m fine. And she’ll be all right. She’s a bit shaken up, though. She and Mum are with the doctor now. I’m outside.’

‘Can you let me know how things go?’

‘Of course I will.’

When Jonica finally calls him to the ward, Ben hurries through the maze of curtained-off beds, down a long fluoro-lit corridor, past flashing machines and endless clanging alarms until he finds Audrey.

When he sees her, the breath catches in his throat. She’s curled up asleep on a narrow hospital bed with a noisy machine attached to one of her fingers. She looks so frail and vulnerable, pale and thin. He can’t believe she’s sleeping in the midst of such a racket.

‘Is she okay?’ he asks Jonica.

‘Yes,’ she whispers. ‘It’s good she’s getting some rest.’

‘And the wound?’

‘They said it’s too ragged to stitch, but they’ve taped it and there should only be a small scar.’

He lowers himself onto a chair by the bed and studies Audrey’s face, the grey shadows under her eyes, the hollow cheeks, the eggshell fragility of her. It breaks him to see her like this. ‘Why would she do something like this?’ he asks Jonica. ‘Where do kids get these ideas?’

‘Lots of kids do it, especially girls. She’s not the only one.’

‘But why?’

‘To express pain, maybe. To make us listen.’

She looks shattered. Ben feels in tatters too. ‘Was it because I tried to make her go to training?’ he asks tentatively.

She looks at him and shakes her head. ‘It’s not just tonight, Ben. It’s the pressure we’ve … you’ve been applying for weeks, months, years.’

‘I thought I was supporting her,’ he says, dismayed.

‘Carmen would say she was supporting her daughter too, and look how that ended up!’

This stuns him. Is it true? Is he really as bad as Carmen?

Jonica holds his gaze for a moment, then sighs and looks at Audrey, a weary softness about her. ‘Ben, she’s done it before. This wasn’t the first time. She has scars and wounds on her other hip too.’

Ben’s glad he’s sitting down. ‘When can we take her home?’ he asks.

‘We have to wait for the doctor to sign her off,’ Jonica says.

‘That could take hours. She needs to be home in her own bed. We should take her now.’

‘No, Ben. Let her rest. The doctor has to get clearance from the psychiatrist.’

‘Psychiatrist?’

‘Yes, she had a psych assessment … to check she’s not suicidal.’

He feels winded. Can’t speak.

‘It’s all right. She’s okay,’ Jonica murmurs. ‘But she hasn’t slept for two whole days. Not since the night before you took her to see Griffin. That’s what she told the doctor.’

‘I was only trying to help,’ he says, gutted. ‘She was so keen to go.’

‘I know.’

Stricken, he examines Audrey again. The fine purple veins in her pale eyelids. Her slender hands, the nails chewed short, small blood spots around her quicks. ‘Look what she’s done to her fingers,’ he whispers to Jonica.

‘Stress.’

‘I don’t get it. We give them everything.’

‘Except space and downtime.’

‘What did she say to the doctor?’

‘That she’s been feeling numb for weeks.’

Audrey moans and her eyelids quiver.

‘Let’s move away,’ Jonica whispers. ‘I don’t want to wake her.’

They head down the corridor, past gaunt grey kids stretched out on beds, bustling nurses, doctors conferring about X-rays on a computer screen, more jangling machines.

Just outside the toilet, still in sight of Audrey’s bed, Jonica turns to face him, stronger now, her lips compressed.

‘You’re angry with me,’ he says, stunned. ‘Do you think this is my fault?’

‘It’s not about you, Ben. Stop trying to make yourself the centre of the universe.’

He sees bitterness in her eyes, as if she doesn’t like him very much—as if she might, in fact, despise him right now. ‘I’m not,’ he protests. ‘I’m as shocked and upset as you are. It’s horrible seeing Audrey like this. But I’m not entirely clear where it’s come from.’

Jonica squares up to him, all five angry feet of her, eyes sparking. ‘This is a cry for help, Ben. She’s been trying to tell us she’s not coping, and we haven’t been listening.’

‘I’ve been trying to help her live her dreams,’ he says, stung.

‘Football is supposed to be fun, Ben! Not a goddamned trial. And I’ve let myself get caught up in it too. I can’t believe I didn’t have more sense. All that shit with Katerina. The fight at the game. Seeing Griffin in hospital. It’s all been too much. She needs help.’

Ben recalls Audrey’s anguished face this evening in the bathroom. The desperation in her eyes. The frightened animal look of her, pressing a bloodied face washer to her hip. The dark pain in her eyes. So exposed. Guilt floods him like a wave. His throat contracts, and he feels something cracking inside him. ‘Tell me what to do,’ he says.

Jonica reaches a hand and grips his arm. He sees himself standing there, looking down at his tiny wife. And all these years he’d thought he was the strong one.

‘You can’t help her, Ben,’ she says, releasing his arm. ‘And neither can I. She needs to see a psychologist. A mental health professional who’s trained in these things. We don’t have the skill set.’

He exhales slowly, lets this sink in. ‘So, all our support isn’t enough?’

‘Of course it’s enough, but she also needs a psychologist.’

‘Don’t they just blame the parents?’

‘We have to accept that we’re both part of this, Ben. And we have to accept that Audrey’s issues run deep and won’t be resolved in five minutes. It’s going to take time.’

He rubs his temples where an ache has sprung up. Maybe Jonica is right. And maybe he’s more like Carmen than he thought. Maybe he has been over the top. But he did it with the best intentions. ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘How do we find a psychologist? A good one.’

‘I’ll make sure it’s someone good. The hospital’s preparing a referral for her.’ Jonica studies him for a moment. ‘The doctor talked about support for us too,’ she adds quietly.

He baulks. ‘I don’t need psychoanalysis.’

She regards him seriously. ‘Maybe you do, Ben. All this overachievement and excessive competitiveness isn’t healthy. You need a reality check, and some tips on communicating with teenagers. Empathy lessons wouldn’t go astray either. It’s time for you to get your shit together. I’ve put up with it for years. You can ask them how to cope with a working wife too, because I’m going back. I’ve got a few interviews coming up.’

He stares at her, gobsmacked.

‘A psychotherapist can also teach us how to support Audrey,’ she says, softer. ‘I think it would be helpful for both of us.’

He hesitates. ‘Okay, then. If it’s for her …’

She takes his hand. ‘There’s something else you need to do too.’

He pulls back a little. ‘What?’

‘You need to talk to Darren and sort out your issues with each other. The two of you were ridiculous at that game. Carrying on like a pair of pumped-up silverback gorillas. Claire and I are over it. You need to fix it.’

‘Okay,’ he concedes. ‘I’ll call him.’

She exhales, her face drawn and weary, then peers towards Audrey. ‘She’s awake. Let’s go.’

From her starchy white bed, Audrey looks up at them with hollow eyes. Jonica perches beside her and slips an arm around her shoulders, scoops her close while Ben holds back to watch them: the two women in his life. Softness billows between them, intimacy and connection. He waits, an astronaut floating in space without gravity or oxygen.

Jonica beckons to him. ‘Come and sit with us,’ she says, patting the bed.

His pulse beats in his throat as he moves forward. His daughter is gaunt and pale, an ocean of pain in her eyes. Her gaze is like mist off the sea, but within them there’s a gentle invitation.

She reaches a hand to him and, for a moment, he feels strangely shy. He doesn’t know what to do. Then his body takes over and he moves into new territory. In a couple of strides, he’s by her bed, and he folds that fragile hand into his, presses it to his chest.

‘Sorry, Dad,’ she murmurs. ‘I didn’t mean to end up in here.’ She lowers her eyes and glances away, a flush colouring her cheeks.

Emotions well in his chest and threaten to choke him. ‘No,’ he says. ‘I’m the one who’s sorry.’

He sits and draws her close, wraps his arms around her slight frame—the delicate, thin-boned feel of her. Leaning his cheek against the warmth of her head, he senses his core crumbling. Then he gives in to the tears he hasn’t shed since he was a boy.