by Nigel Bird
My job’s to referee the girls.
Sheena comes over to the centre for the toss of the coin. Shakes hands with a girl who’s almost as tall as I am.
“Heads,” the big girl calls and heads it is. “We’ll kick off.”
Sheena goes back and gets the girls into a huddle. I wonder whether I chose her as captain because she’s the best for the job or because I’m sleeping with her mum.
Watching her pass on my instructions, I reckon I did the right thing.
My instructions were pretty simple. Everyone behind the ball. Defend, defend, defend. No way we can beat them, so we might as well keep the score down.
Thing is, when the game’s on, the Trinity girls can’t put the ball in between the posts. They hit them twice and scrape the bar. We’ve cleared three off the line and had a controversial penalty saved by Jasmine in nets. She’s useless, Jasmine, at kicking a ball, but she’s got enthusiasm by the lorry-load. Better still, she almost fills the space. Practically the perfect keeper.
Half time comes and it’s still nil-nil.
I’m not supposed to, but I walk past my team and whisper to them, “More of the same.”
Sheena winks. “More of the same, girls,” I hear her say, then they give a collective cheer.
I look around. See if Emma’s there.
If she is, she’s blending into the background.
Over in the corner Liz and Finn from our school hold their banner, ‘Go Undertakers,’ and do the odd bit of cheer-leading to raise morale.
We’re called the Undertakers because our team wears black. That’s on account of me finding a whole set of New Zealand Rugby kit for sale in a charity shop.
I blow the whistle and it carries on like before.
The Trinity girls are impatient. Throw their weight around more than they should. I let them off when I can – no point seeming biased to my own team – but even I have to draw the line when tiny Charlotte’s pushed over and skins her knees good and proper.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell ref,” one of the dads shouts. “Who’s payin’ your bribe.”
I’d go over, push the words down his throat until he choked on them if I wasn’t in charge. Instead, I pretend I didn’t hear and let Sheena take the free-kick.
The ball goes straight towards the keeper and my heart sinks, only the keeper’s not looking because the man who needs his mouth washing out with soap is bawling at her. “Keep your eye on the ball, girl,” he shouts and this time he’s right.
By the time she looks back, it’s way too late. She throws up a hand, but has no chance and the ball rolls into the back of the net. The whole of my team scream and huddle up. Even Jasmine’s found a sprint to get over.
One-nil Undertakers. I look at my watch and wonder if anyone will notice if I shave minute or two from the game.
When I blow the final whistle, a minute extra to make sure there are no accusations of bias, we’ve won.
We’ve actually won a match. First time this year.
They jump on Sheena like they’re trying to kill her, a twist of arms and legs and high-pitched shrieks.
Liz and Finn shake their pom-poms in the air and jump up and down singing. “2-4-6-8 who did we obliterate? Holy Trinity.”
I look over at Bill from their school, give my most apologetic smile and put my thumb up.
Shame that Bill’s not one for taking things in his stride. If he wasn’t working, I know it would be a two-fingered salute he’d give me in return.
The boys come over, their shoulders rounded by another defeat.
“Come on lads,” I tell them, “The girls just turned over HT. Give a clap at least.”
Maybe they heard it as give them the clap, because soon as they hear me they leap over onto the pile and roll on top of the girls like they can’t wait for their hormones to kick in.
At the top of the hill I spot Roger. Hands in the pocket of his leather jacket and a scowl on his face that would sour milk. He walks down to the tangle of pupils and stops when he gets there.
“Sheena, we’re on double-yellow lines, get a move on.”
I take my cue. Turn round and look for an excuse to get away. There’s a ball needs fetching from the other side of the netting.
“I’ll go,” I shout over.
By the time I throw it back in and look over, Sheena’s following her dad, turning round every so often to wave to the crowd of new fans who bubble and pop like champagne.
home-cooking
Last thing I expect when I get home is the smell of home cooking.
Wolf’s in my face soon as I open the door, taking my bag with his good hand and putting it by the stand.
“Sit down, man,” he says. “Fancy a brew?”
“Yeah.” It’s like he’s read my mind. He takes a can from the fridge, pulls the ring back and brings it over.
“Cheers,” he says, and we bang our tins together.
It’s like a blood transfusion, the booze, except for the bitterness and the icy cold chill.
Settles whatever it is in my stomach that’s made me want to puke since the end of the game.
Wolf and I breathe out our satisfied gasps at the same time. I need to get in first to say I’m making a call, but he beats me to it.
“Guess what’s for dinner.”
I sniff at the air again to check the flavours. There’s a kind of burned garlic smell with an overtone of baking bread.
“Pizza?” I try.
“Right country, wrong dish.”
“Spaghetti?”
“Right food, wrong type.”
“Pasta,” I tell him. “Cannelloni?”
“Bang on.”
There’s a bandage on Wolf’s hand about an inch thick. His hair’s falling over his eyes weighed down by grease. I can just about make the huge pupils of his that practically take over his iris.
“They give you any pills?”
He reaches into his pocket, pulls a couple of bottle out and shakes them like he’s the rhythm section. “One for the pain and one to help me sleep.”
I watch him unscrew the lid and finger out a couple. He passes one over and takes one for himself. We wash them down with the Special Brew and he starts up again.
It’s not that I don’t care, I do, but I need to know what’s happening with Emma.
“Any calls,” I ask him.
“Nah.”
“Then hang on a sec,” I tell him, and go to make one.
Soon as the first three numbers are dialled I remember that I can’t. Not allowed. There’s nothing to be done. Except maybe get Wolf to make the call for me.
He’s in the kitchen stirring the sauce.
“Spinach and pine-nuts it is. All I need to do now is put this on and we’re away.”
The place is a tip. The sink’s full of pans and plates with stuff coming from them that looks alien to the planet.
On the work-surface all manner of vegetable bits are swimming in a greenish liquid and I can’t see the table for the recipe book, the weighing scales, empty bags and a couple of cans of brew. Gives me a headache just to see it.
“Could you do me a favour?” I ask.
He turns round and puts his arms around me. He squeezes like a python, lifting my feet from the floor. My spine clicks. Feels good. “For you, anything.”
“Sure?”
“Anything.”
“Can you phone Emma? Check she’s OK.”
A big grin spreads across his face as he puts me down.
“You nobbing her?” he asks.
I wonder how to answer. Think about denying the whole thing then decide better of it and nod.
“Lucky bastard,” he says with a dirty grin and a quick rub of his crotch. “You’ll be needing your dinner then. Keep up your strength.” He dips the wooden spoon into the pan. Scoops out some tomato sauce. Pulls it out and lifts it over to me, drops of the stuff falling onto the floor.
Practically shoves it into my mouth, he does. First taste I get is of the wood, then I get
the sweetness of the tomatoes quickly followed by the acidity of the burned garlic.
“Mmm,” is the noise I make. Seems better than words to describe it with diplomacy.
“Knew you’d like it.” I wonder where this new bright, energetic bloke came from. Maybe the hospital’s changed my mate into someone else. “So you finally got your turn with Emma, huh?”
“Turn?” What the hell’s he talking about. “She’s married, remember.”
“Course,” he says.
“There have been others?”
“Chill mate,” he tells me. I guess I must look agitated. Realise that I’m invading his personal space, that distance between face and elbow I’m always telling the kids about. “What does it matter where she’s been? Live in the now, take what you can get.”
Something sinks inside me. Feels like a stone’s been dropped down my throat and it’s gone straight to my groin. If I had a pond to jump into, I’d do it, let the weight take me to the bottom and keep me there. I think about that first time, how easily she succumbed. But he’s right. None of it stops me needing to hear from her.
“Go and phone then.”
And he does.
He sits on the bed and I take the floor by his feet. They smell of my cheese-box when there’s something French in there.
“Hi Roger, it’s Wolf.” So far so good. “Is Emma there?” I’m surprised there’s no small talk, even though I know the two of them don’t get on. I hear Roger on the other end raising his voice. Rants on for a while. “Course not mate. Just need to ask her advice on toothache is all.” More ranting. “Tell her to give me a ring. Yeah, see you.”
He puts the phone down then starts massaging the top of my shoulders. He’s got hands that could crush a rock and I feel this good one doing me some good once I get over the initial pain.
“He knows what you’re up to,” Wolf tells me. “He’s been there enough times now to smell an admirer.”
I let him keep on rubbing. Then the phone rings.
I’m up and have the phone in my hand before the second ring’s over.
Surprise
It’s Jenny.
“Don’t sound too thrilled to hear from me, will you?”
“No I am thrilled,” I lie, “I was expecting someone else, that’s all.”
“Oh?”
“News from work.” I don’t want Wolf to hear me lower myself like this. Wave him off the bed and he bounces off and closes the door behind him.
“Have you got someone there?”
“The Wolf’s come to stay for a while. Things aren’t working out.”
“Always the kind soul, eh Joe?”
“So how’s the weather?”
“Ninety per cent chance of precipitation on the outside, one hundred per cent in my heart.”
“Good old Buddy.”
“God rest his soul. I think it’ll be sunny on the 30th.”
“Didn’t think you could predict that far on.”
“You are coming aren’t you?”
I remember the wedding invitation. Crap. Who knows what mess life will be in by then. “Yeah, sure,” I say.
“And you’re still staying here?”
I’m not quick enough. Can’t think for a reason not to. “Course.” The room suddenly seems smaller than it did when I came in.
“Like I said then,” she says, and I can tell she’s smiling, “Sunny on the 30th.”
“I’ll bring my shades.”
“You know how to cheer a lady. Listen,” as if I was going to do anything else, “I’d better let you go. In case you miss your call.”
“Call?” My head’s starting to feel fuzzy, like it’s full of helium. “Yeah, the call.”
“You should take it easy with Wolf, you know,” she says. “He’ll drink you under the table and then some.”
“I’ll call,” I tell her.
“Sure you will,” she says and blows a kiss down the line.
Monday
Sure have got the Monday morning blues.
Not a word from Emma all weekend.
“No news is good news,” Wolf kept on at me. He’s been bouncing like Tigger since he got out of the hospital. Driving me mad about the way he’s going to get his life into gear and how he needs a woman.
Should be glad I’m in school, but I’m missing Wolf’s inane, medicated grin.
At least I’ll see her. Be able to check that she’s OK.
Sal comes in carefully carrying a full cup of tea. I carry on photocopying my sound of the day sheets, the Hungry Caterpillar maths and the days of the week cards.
“Good weekend?” she asks, sitting down and crossing her legs. She wears her handbag over her shoulder every time she leaves her room, like she’s got state secrets in there.
“Not bad. You?”
She pulls over the ashtray and lights up. Pauses for a moment as she takes a lungful. “Just me and the dog.”
I pull out a packet of Camel, one of the soft packs I favour. Sal looks over and nods at them, asking her question without words.
“The bloke who’s staying with me bought them as a thank you. Got them over the Holloway Road from the Turkish guys round the back.”
“You’ll have to take me.” Sal’s never done anything crooked in her life. Can’t imagine her buying illegal tobacco.
“Yeah.”
It’s one of those days when I can’t sit down. Even standing up’s not enough. I need to move. Start pacing like a deranged animal in a zoo.
“Busy day?” she asks.
“Usual,” I say. “You?”
“We’re revising angles. Remember the activity I did last year with the compasses...” I remember and then switch off. I remember all right. We’ve discussed it fifty times. I just go on pacing, listening to the photocopier drone and flick out the pages.
Sal goes on and on and I let her, like I used to do talking to my mum on the phone. I can ‘uhu’ and ‘oh’ and ‘no’ in all the right places without listening to a word she says. Or at least I think I can.
“Uhu,” I say to Sal and look up at the first of the parents arriving for the day. Soon they’ll all be gathering. I’ll think of a reason to go over to the junior building, time it just right and maybe corner Emma without making it obvious.
ten to nine
Ten to nine, bang on.
I wander over carrying some books for the library.
She’s not there.
Something flutters inside my chest. Can’t be butterflies, they’re far too brightly coloured.
A few kids say hi. Some of the mums too. I need to hang around. Pick up on the friendliest face out there and go over.
“Hey, Joe,” Pat says, “How’s things with the ankle biters?”
She’s always been good to me, Pat. She carries the wisdom of age.
“Man, it’s crazy over there.” Pat smiles like she knows I’m enjoying it. “There’s not a minute that they don’t need me.”
“It’s good to be wanted,” she says, matter of fact.
Emma appears at the top of the drive. Stops by the last of the speed humps and puts her arm round Sheena and gives her a kiss.
Before I can wave, she’s turned around and left.
I feel Pat’s hand on my arm.
“Is everything OK?” she asks.
I don’t answer. My legs give. I let myself sit on the bench, not caring how odd it might seem.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
And I wish I had.
organised chaos
Couldn’t even be described as organised chaos what’s happening in my room.
I’m trying to hear readers. Get them out of the way. Emily points to the only word on the page. She’s got cute ponytails and little flower clips holding her fringe back. “Help,” she says, her voice timid and soft.
“Why do they need help?”
It’s my third in a row. I doubt I’m sounding interested any more. “Because of the fire.”
I turn the page fo
r her. She points to the word. “Help.”
“Why does the lady need help?”
“She’s fell off her bike.”
I think my head’s going to explode with the boredom and the noise. God only knows what they’re doing in the home corner.
She finds the word on the next page. “Help,” she says. About time we got a new reading scheme, I reckon. I’ll bring it up at the next meeting.
Emily turns the page.
David runs over to me. Tugs at my arm.
There’s a gap where his two front teeth used to be. He looks ever so cute.
“Joe,” he says. “Joe. The water’s overflowing.”
“I’ll be there in a second,” I tell him. He waits and tugs my arm again. I leave Emily and her book, stand up and let David take my hand and drag me around into the main room.
Holy Jesus.
There’s water everywhere.
Don, Aurora and Max are trying hard to turn off the tap, but they’re not getting anywhere.
The hose leading to the water tray has fallen to the floor and spews onto the floor like some natural disaster.
Zlatan and Zulfi look like they’re having the time of their lives, paddling in the new lake with their shoes and socks off.
Despair fills my body until there’s no room left. I stand and look for a moment waiting for it all to go away. Close my eyes for a few seconds. When I open them it’s all still there.
“See,” David says, like he needed to be right.
“Good work,” I tell him.
His voice seems to have brought me round.
I stride over like the responsible adult I’m supposed to be, take the tap and turn. It’s stiff as hell. I need to get in closer and change my grip.
David’s still at my side, like he’s my new pet. He looks up to me like it’s the moment of truth, like failure will ruin me in his eyes.
I twist for all I’m worth, lean my weight into it and it shifts.
There’s a cheer. Like I’ve saved them all. Like I’m their super-hero. For the first time today I feel like I’m human.
There’s still work to be done.
If I can get the kids and the floor dry quickly, nobody will know. Last thing I need is Mildred looking down her nose at me this morning.