The papers were still on the floor when the bell rang. Rukhsana came into the living room and stopped at the door. She took off her brown leather gloves and red woolly hat and placed them on the sofa.
‘Oooh, that’s better,’ she said, rubbing the back of her hair. ‘What are you doing with those papers?’
‘Did you not see the game?’
‘No,’ she said, walking over to the computer, ‘but I know that you scored.’
Well, thanks for small mercies. I mean, even people in Malaysia, Thailand and China knew about my exploits. I got a card from one fan in Beijing saying I were the king of Album Town who wipes floor with balls. I didn’t reply.
‘Do you want a cuppa?’ I asked.
‘No, I’m fine,’ she said, pressing the spacebar on the computer and then sitting down. ‘Were you busy or something? Looks like you were playing poker.’
‘Oh, yeah just a little,’ I said, walking towards her. ‘You can do whatever you want.’
She clicked on the mouse and then typed something quickly. ‘I had to get out of the house,’ she said. ‘Mama’s going mental. She blames you for Yousuf disappearing. She wants to go over there to find him.’
I walked away and picked up the papers from the carpet. ‘I can’t do much about her mental state…’
‘I got a letter from him.’
‘What?’
‘A letter…come here, I’ll show you.’
I put the newspapers on the dining table and walked back towards Rukhsana. She handed us a small piece of paper. I looked at her and unfolded it.
To Ruki and Bahu
First, let me tell you that I am safe, well and happy – three things I never felt I was in Briar Street. The weather here is consistent and I am with friends laughing and joking as though I am a different person.
You did many things for me, but in the end, I couldn’t cope with the things you asked of me, and therefore, I had to take the action I did. It was nothing to do with you individually but more to do with me not being able to cope with the isolation and alienation I felt.
Sometimes a man has to take a stand. His dignity and honour are always at stake and I felt, at times, you did not do enough to protect me from outside forces. Because of this, I felt backed into a corner and forced to take action.
A man cannot expect to come to a new country, which may not want him, and adjust with a click of the fingers. He needs more respect than that. He cannot be expected to get into the pattern of sleeping and working and have no other release. A man should have more control over affairs. I didn’t get it, so this is why we have the situation we do.
I have sent my immediate family a note to tell them I am fine and that they don’t need to worry about me. I urge you to do the same. I know things are different over there. Sometimes, there are search parties, news headlines and police action. But I don’t want any of this. It would be pointless anyway.
As I’ve said, I’m happy here and this obviously means I won’t be coming back. Yes, I do feel a bit of shame if I’ve caused any problems in terms of our marriage and the community but it really wasn’t my idea in the first place, so I can’t take responsibility for it.
I’m sure from the postmark you’ve worked out that I am in Pakistan but apart from that, I think you should forget trying to find me. I’ve told you the reason I left, and there would be nothing left to say.
This is my home and that wasn’t. Please forgive me if I have caused trouble, but when a man is suffocating he needs to take action. I have done that and I hope you can find it in your hearts to move on with your lives.
Yousuf
I folded up the letter and handed it back to Rukhsana.
‘I didn’t think his English were that good,’ I said.
‘He probably got someone else to write it,’ said Rukhsana, continuing to type. ‘My favourite line is ‘a man should have more control over affairs’. I thought that was hilarious. I didn’t think he did irony.’
I walked back towards the dining table to revel in the back pages again.
‘Hey, where are you going, I haven’t finished yet.’
I looked at her and tutted. ‘Do we have to talk about him again, it’s boring.’
She didn’t answer and turned to look at us. She stared curiously at us for a few seconds and then turned back to look at the computer screen.
‘My father wanted me to sacrifice my happiness for him,’ she said. ‘I did, but Yousuf hasn’t kept his side of the bargain, so fuck him. Mama can keep looking for him.’
I picked up one of the papers again and zoomed in on the biggest photo of us on the back page: it were the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.
‘Anyway, there’s something else I wanted to show you,’ she said. ‘Look at this.’
I walked back and looked over her shoulder at the screen.
‘The Ruki, what’s that?’ I asked.
‘It’s my new website. I’ve decided to try and make short films rather than go for broke in the acting world. These are going to be my first three projects…’
‘Paying the Premier League Price…is that the Sialkot football thing?’
‘Yes, I’ve already shot some scenes outside Starcot Lane. I’ll probably have to go over to Sialkot to shoot the rest.’
‘And the others…’
‘Crash Test Dummies,’ she said, turning to look at us. ‘I can shoot this one while I’m over there too. It’s about bus crashes and why there are so many over there.’
She clicked on a link and up came a page showing a huge mangled bus lying on its side with hundreds of people surrounding it. Suddenly, I felt dizzy and had to walk away from the computer.
‘Oi, I haven’t finished yet.’
‘I have,’ I said, going to sit down on the sofa.
‘The third one’s about the growth of the veil.’
What growth? I thought Stoke were the better team in the Potteries; Port Vale had been struggling for ages.
She got up and walked towards us. I rested back on the sofa as the dizziness subsided. She kneeled down and looked into my eyes.
‘I’d feel dizzy with all these headlines to read,’ she said, ‘or was it the bus that got to you?’
‘We’re on a coach every week and I love it,’ I said, ‘but that picture were a bit freaky. I don’t know why.’
She got up and walked over to the dining table. She picked up a paper and looked at the back page. ‘I’m still tracking that ball you know, I haven’t given up.’
I put my head in my hands. ‘Not that again.’
‘Yes, that again. We need to find it.’
‘Fuckin’ hell, why didn’t your father just tell you what’s inside it?’
She gave us a stern look and her eyes flickered. She looked away but I could tell the sadness were creeping up on her.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,’ I said.
She looked at us again and took a deep breath. ‘He was too weak and too ashamed to confront the problem. He said it had gone too far and if he was to say anything now, it would bring too much pain.’ She glanced down at the tabloid and then held up the back page by her face. She looked at me and smiled. ‘Okay? Satisfied now?’
I got up off the sofa and felt the car keys in my jeans. ‘Wanna take a ride in my Audi R8? It’s got a DVD player.’
She rolled her eyes, threw the paper onto the table and walked back to the computer.
Bowker were so happy with our Cup win that he organised an ice-skating trip for the team. He thought it would improve fitness and movement but it backfired when Rico did his cruciate ligament while trying to do a triple salko. We were all clapping because he were the best skater by far but he got carried away when a couple of birds egged him on. He blamed them for his injury and said he would sue them. But they didn’t care and still chased him all the way to the hospital for an autograph.
So Rico’s bad luck meant that Blister were back in, but it didn�
��t matter as I were back in favour too. The next teamsheet for the game against Arsenal had my name on it and I were so excited about my first trip to the Emirates Stadium, that I even sat through some DVDs from the 70s and 80s in which all I could hear was ‘Boring, boring Arsenal.’ I never got through them all, they sent us to sleep.
But Arsenal’s football at the Emirates sent us crazy rather than putting us to sleep. They ran rings around us and Kraney were so fed up with saving shot after shot that he disappeared at half-time. As we were about to go out for the second half, Rico spotted that we were down to ten men and Molly frantically went round the inside of the stadium to find him. Eventually, Kraney appeared in the tunnel munching a hot dog and reading Philosophy Now magazine. Molly did finally win him round and got him out for the second half. He had virtually nothing to do, but we were already 4-0 down at that stage.
Bowker weren’t too harsh on us after the game and even let Jimmy travel back with us on the coach. There were about 25 Town fans waving to us as we pulled away. Jimmy were sat next to us and I felt too tired to raise my hand. He were wearing a dark suit with a white shirt and striped tie: this were a surprise as I’d never seen him wear smart dress at a game before.
‘Did you put that piece in the paper?’ I asked. ‘I didn’t see it.’
‘About that missing fella?’ he said, turning to look at us.
‘Hmm…’
‘Oh aye, the editor thought it were boring. He said if we couldn’t get your quotes, it were just a nib.’
‘Nib?’
‘News in brief.’
As far as I’m concerned, all newspaper stuff’s news in brief. Unless, my mug’s anywhere near it, I only read the first few lines and that’s it. I need a Nurofen soluble if I go too far.
‘I think it’s fitting how it’s ended,’ he said, lowering his head slightly and relaxing back in his seat. ‘It’s my last journey with Albion Town, Sid. I’ve resigned from my job and it’s the end of the road.’
I shifted in my seat slightly so I were facing him. ‘What are you talking about? You’ve packed in the job?’
‘Aye son, it was the right time.’
‘Why? I mean…you’ve still got loads of years in you. This is the most exciting period in the club’s history and you’re…packing it in?’
He undid the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie. He put his hand into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and then pulled it out again.
‘I feel diminished here,’ he said, putting his hand on his left breast. ‘There’s no notebook anymore.’
‘Have you had a tipple?’ I asked, absorbing the slight whiff of alcohol coming from Jimmy’s clothes and mouth.
‘If I can’t go out in style down at the Arsenal, then where can I?’ he replied, with a smile. ‘Look, I didn’t cover this game from the press box, Tom Berger did. I came down on the train with fans. I thought that was the best way to go out.’
With the fans to the end, that’s Jimmy. At one Fans Forum last year, a row erupted when a furious fan approached Jimmy about a piece he’d written citing the lack of atmosphere at Starcot. The fan were so irate and loud that the two players present – Rico and Larry – were sure a fight were about to take place. But Jimmy calmly dealt with the situation and then told the fan he could take over his job for a week to see if he could find better stories. So while Jimmy put his feet up at home, the fan went into the newsroom and tried to do a ‘better job’. Sadly, for him the phone rang constantly, he got names and dates wrong and the best story he could find – apart from a preview of the next match – were about a new toilet cleaner being hired at Starcot Lane.
‘The story counts and cutting of expenses were already annoying me,’ said Jimmy, peering down the aisle as the coach stopped at traffic lights. ‘But giving Berger a big game like Arsenal away was the last straw. They even asked us to chip in and do admin jobs. It was just too much.’
‘What are you going to do now?’
‘I’m looking forward to having a bit of a rest. Emily might need some help at the shop. I know your sister’s trying to get this new venture off the ground, so another set of hands might be needed.’
‘I can’t see you with an apron,’ I laughed.
‘Maybe not, but I need to do something; I can’t sit at home.’
A few seats ahead of us, I saw Pearly get up and walk down the aisle. He approached us and stopped. He shook Jimmy’s hand and smiled.
‘I’ll be sad to see you go,’ he said. ‘You’ve covered the club brilliantly.’
‘Thanks Mark, it’s a pity not everybody thinks so. The editor said two of us was one too many to cover Albion’s games. He offered me a part-time subbing job to go with a bit of writing – but I didn’t want that. I didn’t think it was fair after 40 odd years of service.’
‘Is Berger up to it?’ asked Pearly. ‘As long he doesn’t mention my drugs stuff, I’ll be happy.’
‘He can’t write, interview, copy take or do shorthand,’ laughed Jimmy. ‘But apart from that he’ll do a good job.’
I laughed and Jimmy slumped further back in his seat. ‘Oh, I need a drink, I really do.’
‘I think you’ve had enough,’ I said.
‘It’s never enough,’ he sighed. ‘…At least mine goes into my gut and not down my trousers.’
I looked up at Pearly and shook my head in disbelief. ‘He didn’t tell you about that did he?’
‘It wasn’t me,’ said Pearly, raising his hands. ‘It wasn’t my fault you pissed your pants.’
Pearly and Jimmy both laughed. ‘I’ll be over here,’ said Pearly, pointing to his seat. ‘We’ve got a long way to go, Jim, so I hope you can come over for a while.’
‘I’ll be over in a minute,’ said Jimmy. ‘Let me just finish talking to Sid.’
Pearly walked back to his seat looking back with a huge grin.
‘So did your father think you’d been drinking?’ asked Jimmy.
‘I told him what happened, but I’m not sure he believed us.’
Jimmy ran his fingers through the back of his hair. ‘Well, he might not have said that if you’d have seen him more often.’
‘Oh please Jim, that’s for another day.’
He took off his tie, felt his neck and scrunched it up into his pocket. ‘Another day, it’s always another day…and then, there aren’t any other days left.’
Rukhsana had gone to Pakistan with her mother for three weeks and Amejee were preparing a big meal for them when they came back. She said I had to come too but the only thing on my mind were the Premier League and the FA Cup. Thankfully the transfer window had closed and, although, Jamil kept ribbing us that ‘Italian agents’ were in the crowd or Barca’s chief scout were in the tunnel, none of it transpired.
The fourth round of the Cup pitted us against Rochdale – and I’d nearly booted the ball against my plasma because I were so happy with the draw. But the trip to Spotland were a nightmare. First, Lino got lost and ended up taking us to Bacup instead. Then, when he did go the right way, some urchin lobbed a stone at the coach and broke the driver’s side window. When we eventually got to the ground – 45 minutes late – the ref had already called the match off because the pitch were waterlogged. Mr Starmer and Bowker were furious for not being consulted, and said they’d never come to Rochdale again. Anyhow, it looked like the match would never be played, but then the MPs, mayors and police chiefs of both towns came together and pledged eternal friendship to each other and eventually the match were on. The papers said free sex were offered as leverage to keep both towns’ relationships cordial but Mr Starmer denied this. Anyhow, the match were on and this time, as it were already getting dark, we managed to sneak through to the ground without any fuss. Premier League class told in the end and we won comfortably; on penalties after a replay.
Partington phoned us up and congratulated us on the way I struck the penalty past the keeper. He said I was on his mind because, ‘England are shit at
penalties’ and we needed someone with balls. When I asked him if he’d definitely pick us for the friendly in March, he said I’d still have to score more goals.
So I tried to in the next few games: I shot from 20 yards, 30 yards and 40 yards. Lassie weren’t happy about not getting a pass, but an England future were at stake and I weren’t going to give that up for no man. We had 27 points in the Premier League anyway, so we could take a few risks. One of the shots at Portsmouth, however, did miss the goal by so much that it ended up out of the ground. It eventually appeared in the local paper a few days later with an OAP clutching it as though it were a crown jewel. He said he thought about ‘getting a great price for it’ on eBay as ‘Sid’s shit shot’ but thought better of it and were going to use it as an alternative pillow for his chronic neck pain.
I did manage a couple of goals at Starcot against Wolves but one of these were taken off us by the dubious goals panel. They said the defender bundled it in but I’ll always claim it: my hand’s still tingling from palming it in.
So all this left us in good spirits when Rukhsana came back from Pakistan. I hadn’t planned on going back to Simpkiss Street anytime soon but Amejee persuaded us to turn up for her homecoming meal. When I got there, however, there were only Abujee spread across the settee watching Al-Jazeera. The living room were about as misty as Starcot on a winter night: the smell of garlic and sizzle of meat swirled across the four walls.
‘These Wahabbis are going to be the death of us,’ said Abujee, resting his left arm on top of the radiator, which had the full weight of the settee against it.
‘Waabis?’ I said, standing in the centre of the living-room with my arms folded.
He looked at us with disdain, peering over the top of his steel-rimmed glasses, which were so low they were surely about to slip off.
Season of Sid Page 20