by David Storey
‘Aye. That’ll be convenient,’ Wade said round the table. ‘Braithewaite works there as well. You’re in lodgings, then, in Fairfax Street?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are they all right?’ I nodded. ‘I mean, you can tell us. We can always fix you up with good accommodation. If you were married, for example, you’d be eligible for a club house. Do I make myself clear, Arthur?’
‘I’m settled,’ I said, and wondered how much they knew about me already.
‘And you’ve no legal ties with anyone—home or anything thing?’
‘No, I’ve nothing.’
‘Do you enjoy working at Weaver’s?’ Wade said this importantly, as if in this capacity he’d superseded Weaver himself. ‘You needn’t mind Mr Weaver if you’re not satisfied, you know. He’ll be only too glad to know if anything’s wrong.’ Weaver smiled to confirm it.
‘I get on fine.’
‘You’ve got the job you want? We could fix you up elsewhere if you’re not content.’
‘It suits me fine.’
‘He sounds a very happy man—easily pleased,’ Weaver said casually.
They all looked at me as though I was a very happy man—either that or thick.
‘I suppose you’ve decided in your mind’, Wade said, ‘whether you’d like to carry on playing at Primstone.’
‘Yes, I’d like to carry on.’
In the tearoom and bar somebody was laughing loud; shadows crossed on the frosted panels of the door.
‘You’d like to sign professional forms with us?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you prefer to sign amateur forms? I mean. …’
‘No.’
‘You’ve thought about it and you’re sure? You see, we don’t want to rush you into anything you’re not fully prepared for. That’s our concern, Arthur. The City’s a big club—any mistake here is a big one. I want to make that clear before anyone or anything is committed.’
‘Yes, I know.’
We all suddenly looked casual. Riley, the secretary, hunched his shoulders over the table and concealed the huge club emblem on his blazer. His face had sunk a deeper red, as if his skin had been turned inside out. His teeth were vivid. ‘Don’t mind my briskness, Arthur,’ he said as this red ball swung into action. ‘But the sooner settled the better. Had you any signing-on fee in mind?’
‘Five hundred pounds,’ I told him.
No one’s face had altered. As if to conceal any embarrassment the sound of money might cause, Wade played hard with it.
‘Five hundred. Five hundred. That’s decent.’ He hummed, and put a few looks round the table. He’d probably been thinking he was playing me along for a couple of hundred. ‘Five hundred.’
Riley stepped in briskly as soon as he saw Wade surprised by the weight on the line. ‘What about three hundred down, and one fifty for county honours and one fifty if you play for Britain?’
‘Great Britain,’ Weaver said to himself.
‘I’d want county and international honours on top of that,’ I said, seeing myself saving them three hundred quid by being just a good club player. ‘Five hundred down.’
‘You’d want’, Riley began, gathering up late surprise himself, ‘five hundred down, plus one hundred and fifty for county and international honours respectively?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that’s quite definite?’ he said.
When I nodded he turned to Wade who took over the lead weight again. ‘That’s a lot for somebody just coming into the game. Tha’s no experience at all of the professional code, you know.’
‘You saw me play last week.’
‘That’s one match, lad. And an “A” team one at that. There’s at least thirty-six matches a season—you see what I’m getting at? I’m not suggesting you didn’t play well last Sat’day.’
‘And impressed us all,’ Weaver said archly.
They were going strong. They’d all got a hold and were pulling. They seemed to take a big breath before Riley said, ‘Would you consider this? We pay you six hundred pounds—six hundred—three hundred now, three hundred after completing a full season with us, that’s this time next year, and one hundred pound bonuses for county and international honours respectively.’
‘Yes,’ Wade said, making a big fuss of his breathing. ‘By Christ, that’s very fair.’
Weaver was wondering whether he should smile at Wade’s faked enthusiasm.
‘I want five hundred down, and two bonuses of one fifty.’
‘But you’d get the same amount this way, exactly the same,’ Riley said. ‘Either way it’s eight hundred pounds. Our way you’d actually get your money quicker. You’d have six hundred in hand. You can see that? As a safeguard three hundred of it is retained for a year—it’s purely as a safeguard.’
‘But more of a safeguard to you than to me.’
‘Now Arthur,’ Wade said, ‘you’re putting us in the position of a gambler. If we accepted your way we’d have no guarantee that we’d see adequate returns for our investment. I’m not saying it isn’t a good gamble, and that, but on principle alone we try and avoid circumstances like that. You see, you’re not dealing with us as individuals. Personally we might think you’re worth every penny of what you’re asking. But it’s not our money we’d be paying you. You see—that’s the point,’ he added after discovering it. ‘This is a company. We’ve responsibilities stretching beyond this football ground. By Mr Riley’s suggestion we have a safeguard that covers both our interests—yours and ours.’
‘It’s still a gamble, whichever way you look at it,’ I said. He watched me rub my head as I tried to keep awake in the mellow light. ‘I might be injured and not play again this season, or ever. I wouldn’t be able to put in a full season’s play and I’d lose my three hundred.’
‘Oh, we’d cover that. We’d have a clause to cover that,’ Wade said with a return of confidence. ‘Available to play, would be the actual phrase used.’
‘I wouldn’t be available if I was injured.’
‘We’d waive injury incurred while playing football: that’s always understood. We’re not providing a comprehensive insurance, tha knows.’ He tapped his fingers on the table; his hand pranced on the polished surface like a nervous horse. He waited for me to give way, his head slightly on one side, his eyes fixed on me.
‘I can’t change my mind,’ I told him.’ I feel I’m worth it.’
He sighed, maybe rudely. ‘We’re not trying to put anything over on you, Arthur,’ he said. ‘I wish you’d try and get that into your head. It’s in our interests to satisfy you with the conditions of employment here. But we’re representing other people. We’re responsible for investing their money soundly. What will they say when I tell them I’ve handed over five hundred of their money to somebody who, as far as we know, has played one good “A” team game in his life? I mean, all the arguing we’re doing is only over how the money’s to be paid. We’ve agreed on the sum: six hundred pounds and bonuses.’
‘Five hundred.’
‘How d’you feel?’ he said. ‘You keep rubbing your head. Did you get it knocked today?’
‘It aches a bit. I got it banged.’
‘Do you want a drink?’ I shook my head. ‘Well, what do you say?’
‘Five hundred down,’ I told him mechanically.
He looked cold. ‘If you’re certain on that,’ he said, ‘can you wait outside a minute?’
Riley was already holding the door. I went out into the bar and came up for air.
‘How goes it, Arthur?’ A paunchy character, in a raincoat and trilby get-up, came across to the counter. ‘Have they made up their minds?’
‘About what?’
‘Whether there’s gonna be a war—you know, fixing you up with a lining.’ He laughed a bit to show he’d got humour.
�
��They’re talking about it now.’
‘Do you want a drink? Let me get you one.’ He ordered a beer. ‘They drive you hard, I imagine,’ he said, with no imagination, and clenched his fist to show what he meant. ‘They’re tight-fisted.’
‘I’ll soon know.’
At the other end of the bar Dicky and a few of the committee were drinking, waiting for the result, looking to see how I looked.
‘By the way, I’m Philips, from the City Guardian. You might tell me about yourself. You know—if the need arises.’
The beer numbed my head, comfortable. Philips looked into my face and said, ‘You needn’t take it seriously.’
I didn’t know whether this was advice or criticism.
‘Why shouldn’t I take it seriously?’
‘It’s only a game, old sport.’ He caught hold of my sleeve in a confidential way. ‘It’s all a game,’ he said. ‘For Weaver’s benefit.’
‘They act like that just for Weaver?’
‘It’s his cash they’re dishing out. He likes to see them behave properly. I see you’ve got a bruise coming. They wouldn’t have you up here just to say ta-ta.’ He examined my bruise again.
‘We’d quite a fight this afternoon,’ I told him.
‘So I’ve been hearing from Dicky. It’s always the same out there in the wild provinces. U-uh, it’s that man again.’ We both looked round to see Weaver standing at the committee room door. ‘Careful how you tread on his toes,’ Philips added.
‘Could you come in now?’ Weaver said as conversation in the bar stopped.
I didn’t sit down; they didn’t seem to expect it.
‘What d’you aim to do, Arthur, if we don’t sign you?’ Wade said. His dog was awake now, as if it’d just been consulted, and it watched me with red upturned eyes.
‘I don’t know. Carry on as I am. I hadn’t thought.’
‘You mean you’d planned on signing with the City?’
I nodded, wondering if I’d done the right thing in sticking.
‘Would you be very disappointed if we said we couldn’t accept your offer?’
‘Are you turning me down?’
‘Can’t you change your mind about splitting the payment? It’s only a matter of procedure when all’s said and done.’
I almost said ‘Yes’. But I shook my head, and before I could say ‘No’, Wade stretched out his hands hopelessly saying, ‘Well—I’m afraid there’s nothing for it, Arthur, then.’
Weaver was still smiling, narrowly, as though he might be astonished with himself.
‘You’re not signing me,’ I said.
‘That’s it.’ Wade breathed in heavily. ‘We’ll have to.’ He swung his hand across the table, the dog lead attached to his wrist, and smiled cheekily. ‘Congratulations, Arthur.’
They broke out with confirmations. Weaver shook my hand softly and looked right into my eye with a kid’s delight at a new toy.
‘Who put you up to it?’ Wade said.
‘To what?’
‘To asking so much and not talking about it.’
‘Maurice.’
‘Braithewaite? I thought so.’ He slapped his thigh. ‘I thought I could see his stubborn attitude behind everything you said—or rather didn’t say.’
It was a game then.
I listened to Wade go on about, ‘If you play football as hard as you’ve played us you’ll be collecting your international cap by next year. I mean that.’
Riley was silent, slightly purple, staring concernedly at Weaver. After a while he said, ‘If you’ll just read and sign these forms, Arthur, then that’s all there is to do.’
We finished the forms and went into the bar. Wade stamped beside me with his stick, pulling the dog after him. I began to wonder when I was going to see the money. Perhaps they wanted me to ask for it. I didn’t like playing their sort of crap game.
‘A round on the club,’ Wade said to the barman with cauliflower lugs, and when we were served he brought out the toast, ‘Here’s to the future and every success, Arthur.’
They drank, Dicky and Philips drank, a small crowd drank, I drank, and Wade put his glass down.
‘And here’s that piece of damned paper we argued over. I might as well tell you, Riley here signed it while you were out of the room. We were that sure.’ He clenched my right hand in his and we both got a grip on the paper. ‘Hold it,’ he whispered with an urgency he hadn’t mustered till now. ‘Hold it a second while he gets in his flash.’ His teeth almost shot out, stayed there for the time it took Philips’s photographer to take a picture, then disappeared once more as his figure melted.
I wasn’t sure which pocket I should put the cheque in. It was like the pre-title weigh-in, with all the fans and backers milling round. They watched me switch the cheque about, then Weaver said, ‘Aren’t you going to read it?’
‘Oh yes,’ I told him, and glanced at the words and numbers, and put it in my inside pocket. I could see Dicky asking Thorpe how much it was, and when the committee man whispered the answer, the little ‘A’ team trainer’s face broke out in angry surprise. Weaver wasn’t rubbing his hands, but he was smiling as if that fragile skin might crack. ‘Don’t spend it all at once,’ he said, and laughed. For a minute I hated the stinking money. It burnt a hole in my pocket. Then I remembered it was mine, and I was smiling.
‘About that gentleman there,’ Wade said, taking the dog’s lead off his wrist and pointing at Philips. ‘You say nothing to Ed Philips. I’ll tell him all he needs to know. It’s on his contract, Ed. No statements to the press.’
‘What’s he got to state?’ Ed said.
Wade didn’t hear him. He was nodding at me. ‘That’s the procedure, you see, Arthur.’
Then he saw me looking hard at Philips and taking me by the elbow walked me away. ‘You won’t be playing next Sat’day,’ he said. ‘But the week after that we’ve two First team games on the Sat’day and the Monday. You’ll be playing in both. Two games close together like—that’ll give you a chance of settling into the second row more quickly. I’ll tell you now, Arthur, we’ve got two or three good second row forwards —’ and he goes off into how it’s essential I play better than anybody else, good faith and a lot of other bull. I don’t wake up till he says, ‘You’ll find one or two bonuses cropping up. A week Monday night it’ll be worth twenty quid for a win, unless Weaver or Slomer or somebody are extra satisfied and put up a personal bonus. Over Christmas and the New Year week-ends you should collect fifty quid for each if it’s a winning run. So you see we treat you fair from our end. It’s up to you to give your very best—and remember with me it’s good football that counts, not big fists. You know what I mean?’
I saw by the way he was talking that he wasn’t at all sure he’d picked a winner. He was worried. ‘Come to the first team changing room Tuesday, of course,’ he finished, gave a round of good-nights, and went off home with the dog.
I left soon after. I’d reached the bottom of the steps behind the stand when a figure shouted from the bar-room door, ‘You going already, lad? Hang on minute and I’ll be with you.’
I waited by the players’ entrance wondering what else Weaver could want now. ‘That friend of yours was here an hour or so back,’ he said. ‘Johnson. We told him some blind and he went away. We didn’t want him hanging around at a time like this. You don’t mind, do you? How are you feeling now?’
‘Pretty tired. I was just going home.’
‘That’s why I came after you. I thought you were. Come on, I’ll give you a lift. You’ve got that cheque to look after. We’d better see you home safe with it.’
He said this as though he was talking to about fifty of me, to a load of tree trunks, to a long brick wall, and all the time he was looking at one or two things in the air or down at his feet, and feeling in his trouser pocket.
Standing under the l
amp was the Bentley. It had a blue gleam. I could smell it twenty yards away. I walked round the other side and waited for him to open the door. A pale hand reached out to release the catch. ‘Jump in, lad,’ he invited. ‘I’ve got the heater on.’ It was warm, soft, and scented: a cinema armchair.
We slid down the lane and turned into the road. ‘Fairfax Street, you said?’
It sounded a new place, maybe a dirtier, scruffier place, now that it was coated with his voice. ‘Yes,’ I replied.
I didn’t say anything for a while, then I told him, ‘I thought I saw you at the “A” team match this afternoon.’ I looked at his rubber outline and felt hat. It seemed he was concentrating on the road.
‘This afternoon,’ he said with faint interest. ‘Yes, I came to watch.’ He smiled with quiet reproval. ‘You didn’t play too well.’
‘Did anybody?’
‘That’s a point.’
He moved the wheel a bit, flashed a few lights, changed a gear, switched the dashboard glow on a second, squinted at the dials: everything as if I wasn’t there. He knew the town well. Cutting out the city centre he took the road round the park and came out opposite Highfield estate.
‘What do you think of Wade’s bargaining powers?’ he asked. ‘Did you find him “tough opposition”?’
‘I don’t think I found him anything. I just kept saying five hundred and hoping the result’d turn out right.’
He shot round a couple of cars, dimmed his lights, and said, ‘And has it?’
‘Turned out right? I think so. I hadn’t expected it to be done so quickly.’ He must have thought, with the five hundred now in my pocket, I was trying to be naïve. He glanced across. ‘I don’t really know what I think,’ I said.
‘What’s it feel like to be five hundred up in one day?’
How much of me did he want? I could feel him polishing me and putting me on the shelf as his latest exhibit. He came and breathed over me and gave me a gentle rub of his cuff.
‘I don’t feel anything yet.’
‘It’s all a bit quick,’ he suggested vaguely.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m afraid that’s my fault. I like to get these things settled. I don’t suppose you mind an awful lot.’