by Rob Stevens
Owen Ritchie continued, ‘Rosie told me you’ve had a rough year and that you’d done a good deed, handing in a wallet full of cash. She thought you deserved a reward … Perhaps you’d like to come to a training session and meet the team some time?’
I couldn’t believe Owen Ritchie was inviting me to watch the Panthers train and meet the players. All I could think about was how Lenny would have been freaking out right now if he’d been here. I couldn’t speak because of the lump in my throat so I kept grinning inanely.
Then Arnold said, ‘And can you get us into the match today?’
‘Arnold!’ I said, sounding like a parent reprimanding a cheeky child.
‘What?’ Arnold retorted. Owen Ritchie smiled. ‘As it happens I have five tickets in my wallet, just for you.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Absolutely.’ Owen Ritchie nodded. ‘Rosie mentioned that the match today has a special significance to you. She asked me if there was any way I could get you in. I’m happy to help.’
‘I don’t know what to say. Thank you.’ I gave Sergeant McIntosh a grateful smile.
‘Och, don’t mention it, laddie,’ she said. ‘I may look scary on the outside but I’ve got a soft centre. Talking of “soft,” I’d better go and speak to Constable Saunders. I hope you all enjoy the match.’
Owen Ritchie checked his watch. ‘Listen, boys, we’d better hurry – it’s nearly kick-off time. Do you need a lift to the stadium?’
This was too surreal. Not only was my favourite rugby player in the whole world giving us tickets to the biggest match of the season, he was offering us a lift to the match as well. Lenny would seriously have been doing back flips at this point.
‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘But is there any chance you could drop us in the Square?’
It was nearly three o’clock so the crowds that gather before matches had made their way inside the stadium, leaving the Square almost deserted. I saw my family immediately. They were standing near each other but weren’t exactly together. My mum was on her phone – presumably calling Councillor Thomas to apologise for missing their meeting. Dad was awkwardly leaning against a railing, arms folded, and Olivia looked like she was making herself as small as possible. I got this strong feeling that this whole thing was a mistake. Ambushing my parents with my idea of starting afresh by doing the one thing that defined Lenny suddenly seemed like a crazy plan.
‘Anywhere here is fine,’ I said to Owen Ritchie.
He swung his Range Rover across to the curb and stopped.
‘It was really nice to meet you,’ I said, opening the passenger door.
‘You too,’ he said. ‘And I’m serious about coming to meet the boys. Just call me.’
He had given me his number on the way over. We’d talked about his injury and he’d encouraged me to get back into rugby. (Arnold had given him a full rundown of my family’s predicament, including Lenny’s accident, my mum’s overprotectiveness and my plan to get everyone together at the match today.)
‘Nice to meet you, Mr Ritchie,’ said Arnold, sliding out of the car.
The best rugby player in the whole world smiled kindly at me. ‘Good luck – with everything today.’
‘Thanks.’ I smiled back then swung the car door closed.
I watched the Range Rover drive away until it was out of sight – partly because I couldn’t quite believe that I’d actually met my favourite player. But also because I was dreading the reaction from my parents when I turned to face them.
When I couldn’t delay it any longer I took a deep breath, spun round and smiled.
‘Hi, everyone,’ I said brightly.
All three of them were already looking at me as if they’d been watching since we’d pulled up. Olivia’s expression was sympathetic – like she felt sorry for the wealth of trouble I’d got myself into. Mum looked furious and Dad’s mouth was hanging slightly open.
‘Leon Copeman,’ Mum said sternly. ‘You have no idea how much trouble you are in, young man.’
‘I can explain,’ I said.
‘Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get an appointment to see a town councillor? How dare you trick me into missing that meeting.’
‘I can explain, Mum. This is really important.’
‘Important!’ Mum sneered. ‘What do you think is more important than road safety?’
I looked at the three people facing me and had to resist the urge to run over and hug them (it was pretty obvious Mum wasn’t in the hugging mood.) ‘Us,’ I said.
Mum threw her hands up. ‘Us, he says. Us! I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous.’ Turning to my dad, she snapped, ‘Haven’t you got anything to say to your son?’
Dad’s eyes flicked to my mum then back to me. He frowned and pointed at the curb behind me. ‘Was that … Owen Ritchie?’
I smiled and nodded. ‘He was so cool. He said I can go and meet the team some time. Can you imagine what Lenny would have said? He’d have been psyched.’
That might have been the first time my family had heard me say my brother’s name since his death. It was like I’d let off a landmine or something – the bombshell was followed by stunned silence all round.
Eventually Olivia broke the silence – her voice was calm and kind.
‘Leon – why don’t you tell Mum and Dad why you’ve asked us all to come here?’
‘I’ve got us tickets,’ I said. ‘We’re all going to the match. Just like last year.’ I realised that hadn’t come out right. ‘I mean not just like last year. I just thought that we might remember Lenny …’ I paused, struggling for the words to explain what I was trying to achieve.
Mum took the opportunity to launch. ‘Remember? Remember!’ Her voice was really quiet but full of anger and disbelief and maybe even blame. ‘Do you think we need to go to a stupid rugby match to remember your brother? There isn’t a minute of the day that goes by that I don’t remember your brother.’
‘I know, Mum.’
‘So what is this about?’
She was upset – on the verge of tears. I had to explain myself clearly this time or it was over. ‘Last year’s match against the Kestrels was the last thing we did as a family – with Lenny. I thought this would be a good place for us to start … over.’
‘Start over?’ Mum rolled her eyes and laughed one of those laughs that means people think something is the opposite of funny. ‘Just like that? You want to wipe the slate clean and forget the pain we’re all feeling?’
Olivia tried to speak, ‘I don’t think that’s what Leon’s tryi—’
‘Don’t you stand up for him, Olivia,’ Mum snapped. ‘I can’t think of anything more painful than going to that match today. Repeating the last happy memory we have of your brother as though we can just erase his memory.’
‘Mum – please …’
My mum shook her head defiantly. ‘I’m not going to that match. End of story. We’re going home and when we get there you are going straight to your room, Leon Copeman. I can’t even look at you right now.’
‘Mum,’ Olivia protested. ‘Leon’s trying to help.’
Mum sniffed and dabbed her eyes.
I hung my head and thought about the mess I’d made of this. It had seemed like the perfect way to get everyone together. All weekend I’d felt stupidly hopeful that this was the answer and now I’d made everything worse. If I could only find the words to express what I’d been trying to say. The thing was, every time I opened my mouth I made the situation ten times worse.
‘It’s not about the rugby.’
I turned to look at Arnold who I’d forgotten about completely. He’d stepped forward to stand by my side and placed a hand on my shoulder as he spoke.
‘Leon isn’t trying to forget about Lenny. He wants to remember him. He wants to talk about him and do stuff Lenny enjoyed. He wants you all to feel comfortable talking about Lenny. He wants to celebrate everything Lenny was about. He wants you to stop avoiding each other and to start facing up to being a
family of four.’
There was a moment of quiet. Mum, Dad and Olivia seemed to be processing Arnold’s words. My sister was the first to speak.
‘Hi,’ she said, giving Arnold a welcoming smile. ‘We sort of met earlier. Arnold, isn’t it?’
Arnold nodded. ‘I’m Leon’s friend. I’ve been staying at your house this weekend.’
‘Oh man,’ I muttered. Having waited all weekend for the right time to break the news to my parents that Arnold was staying with us, I felt he could have picked his moment better.
Mum looked horrified. ‘Our house?’ she gasped.
Arnold nodded keenly. ‘Your cassoulet was delicious, Mrs Copeman. It’s nice to meet you again, Mr Copeman. And it’s nice to meet you properly, Olivia. By the way I disagree with Leon – I don’t think you look like you’ve been in an explosion at a hairspray factory at all.’
Olivia planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at me.
‘Wow,’ I said with a nervous laugh. ‘And there I was thinking this couldn’t get any more awkward, Arnold.’
‘So,’ Dad said, clapping his hands, ‘if this isn’t about the rugby, what is it about?’
‘You never do anything together,’ Arnold stated plainly.
‘Don’t be silly,’ Mum countered but without conviction. ‘Of course we do.’
Arnold shook his head. ‘Leon says you don’t even have meals together. He thinks you’re afraid to do anything all together because that will highlight that Lenny is gone.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Dad laughed. ‘We do lots of stuff together.’
‘Such as?’ Arnold asked. I’d never have had the nerve to challenge my parents like this and I wanted to cheer.
Dad rolled his eyes up to the sky for a moment. ‘The thing is I’m very busy at work,’ he said at last.
‘You’re not at work now,’ Arnold observed.
‘Now?’ Dad repeated.
‘Yup. Why not give the rugby a try?’
Dad looked at Mum.
‘What do you say?’
Mum shrugged and pursed her lips. ‘I don’t see how going to a rugby match is supposed to suddenly fix everything.’
‘It’s not going to suddenly fix it,’ I said quietly. ‘But it might start to.’
Mum scowled and crossed her arms.
‘Please,’ I urged. ‘Can we at least try?’
‘Well,’ she said. ‘I suppose I’ve already missed my meeting, haven’t I?’
‘Is that a yes?’
‘It’s a I’m not happy about this at all,’ she said. ‘But what have we got to lose?’
The first half was awful. An utter disaster. It started badly because we arrived at the stadium late and everyone huffed and puffed when they had to stand up to let us get to our seats. The Panthers played terribly and were losing by three tries inside the first fifteen minutes. But most of all it was awful because Lenny wasn’t there. My notion that it was going to be a fitting way of commemorating him couldn’t have been further from the truth. Every pass, every tackle, every song made me wish more than ever that my twin brother was still alive. It felt like his absence was bigger than ever and I hated every one of the forty minutes of the first half.
Owen Ritchie had given us corporate tickets – the posh ones businessmen use when they want to impress important clients. They included access to a private room at half-time with a sign on the door saying ‘complimentary bar’.
‘Does that mean everyone will tell us how nice we look?’ Arnold asked as we filed in.
‘It just means the drinks are free,’ Olivia explained.
We found a table by a big window overlooking the pitch and sat down. Olivia stood and said, ‘I’m just going to the loo. Back in a minute.’
When she left no one spoke.
A woman in a white blouse and black skirt approached the table.
‘Hi guys, welcome to The Black Cats Suite. I’m Rachel – I’ll be your waitress today,’ she recited in a sing-songy voice. ‘Are you ready to order drinks?’ As she spoke she perched on the seat next to me.
‘That seat’s taken,’ Arnold said.
The waitress giggled.
‘Seriously,’ Arnold said. ‘She’ll be back in sixty seconds so you can’t sit there.’
‘I’m only …’ the waitress’s mumbled explanation tailed off and she stood up, blushing.
Dad smiled kindly and said, ‘I’ll have a bottle of mineral water. Sparkling.’
‘Ice and lemon?’
‘Go on then. Let’s push the boat out.’
Arnold and I ordered Coke and Mum said she and Olivia would share Dad’s water. The waitress returned a few minutes later with our drinks.
Everyone sipped. Silence settled heavily upon us. I wondered what Mum was most cross about – me cancelling her appointment with Councillor Thomas or me dragging her to the rugby match. My only consolation was that the first half of the match had been so uncomfortable, Mum had probably forgotten all about me smuggling Arnold into the house.
‘Didn’t you have any idea Leon had smuggled me into his room, Mrs Copeman?’ Arnold piped up.
‘I did think Leon was acting a bit strange,’ Mum said. She sounded weary. ‘That’s why I was checking up on him so much.’
‘You’re always checking up on me,’ I mumbled.
‘Isn’t that what mums are meant to do?’
I shook my head. ‘Mums are supposed to spend time with their kids. Do fun stuff with them. Encourage them to have adventures, not act like the fun police.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘You’re always telling me what I can’t do. Who I can’t invite round. Don’t play rugby, no cricket in the garden, wear your helmet, don’t cycle on the road. It’s all you ever say to me.’
‘Is it?’ Mum asked quietly.
‘Even when you ask me how school has been it’s like you’re trying to find out if I’ve done anything risky so you can ban it.’
‘I’m not that bad, am I?’ Mum looked up at Dad, who raised his eyebrows apologetically.
‘All I’m saying,’ I continued, ‘is that it would be brilliant if once in a while, instead of warning me about stuff not to do, you could suggest something we could do together.’
There was a long silence – like there is at church when the priest has said something meaningful. Mum pursed her lips and nodded. Her chin puckered up and her eyes were shiny. Olivia came back and slipped into her seat without a word.
‘Maybe we should go,’ Dad suggested eventually. ‘We could get some ice cream on the way home. Do you like Ben and Jerry’s, Arnold?’
‘I don’t know anyone called Ben or Jerry.’
‘Well, do you like ice cream?’
‘Who doesn’t?’ Arnold beamed.
‘Then you’re in for a treat. Ben and Jerry’s ice cream is crazily tasty.’ Dad pulled a zany face, twisting his mouth and going cross-eyed.
Arnold lurched forward, laughing and clutching a hand over his mouth as Coke frothed out of his nose.
‘Jesus,’ Olivia said. ‘I don’t know how you kept him hidden for two days, Leon. You could hear a laugh like that from the other side of town.’
I glanced nervously at my mum. I didn’t want to upset her more by returning to the thorny issue of her checking up on me. But she smiled and said, ‘I expect they just turned up the volume on the Xbox to drown out their laughter?’
‘Something like that,’ I replied gratefully.
Olivia broke the silence by recounting how she’d come home and found Arnold in the kitchen making toast.
‘What did you think he was up to?’ asked Dad.
‘Well, obviously I thought he was a burglar,’ my sister laughed.
‘Sure,’ Dad nodded. ‘Those dreaded toast-stealing burglars are the worst, aren’t they? Mind you, I have always wondered where all the good jam goes.’
‘Don’t joke,’ Mum said. ‘For all Olivia knew he was armed and dangerous.’
‘Exactly,’ Olivia
exclaimed. ‘It’s funny now but at the time I was terrified. I really thought we were being robbed.’
‘What did you do?’ I asked.
‘I ducked back out of the kitchen without him seeing me and called the police from the hall. I was whispering down the phone so Arnold couldn’t hear me. The operator kept asking me to speak up and I was like, I can’t speak up because the burglar is in the next room.’
‘How long did the police take to come?’ Dad asked, with more concern this time.
‘Not long. About five minutes but after about three I started to worry that Arnold was going to escape. I decided the best thing would be to keep him where he was. So I quietly opened the front door and left it open for the police. Then I sneaked into the kitchen, grabbed the closest thing to a weapon I could find and told him to freeze.’
‘What weapon did you choose?’ asked Dad. ‘A kitchen knife? A rolling pin?’
Olivia glanced at me, blushing slightly. ‘Neither of those,’ she said sheepishly. ‘Actually it was a stick of French bread.’
‘Nice choice,’ Dad laughed. ‘Who wouldn’t be deterred from attacking you by the idea of being walloped with a crusty loaf?’
‘So you saw all this happen, Leon?’ Mum asked.
‘I’d been upstairs for most of it,’ I explained. ‘I was listening to music with my headphones on so I didn’t hear Olivia come home. I happened to come downstairs just as the policeman was trying to disarm Olivia.’
‘The cheek!’ Olivia continued, ‘He looked all of about fifteen. The first thing he did was tell me to put down my weapon. I was like, He’s armed too.’
‘Arnold was holding a butter knife with menace,’ I explained.
‘Exactly,’ Olivia agreed. ‘But the policeman was all like, Step away from the baguette.’
‘Guess what Olivia said to that?’ I chipped in. ‘It’s a ficelle actually.’
Dad groaned, rolling his eyes theatrically.
‘Quite right too,’ Mum said, smiling for the first time that day. ‘A baguette is a completely different kettle of fish.’
‘Why would you put fish in your kettle?’ wondered Arnold and everyone laughed. Even Mum. She really laughed. Eventually she dabbed the corners of her eyes with a tissue, shaking her head.