by Amy Daws
I spot Vince Sinclair amongst his teammates, his beady eyes darting away from mine as soon as he sees me. He’s been giving me a wide berth since the trash talking that happened in the tunnel at our last match. It seems uncharacteristic for him, but I imagine it’s because he’s angry he wasn’t invited to train.
“Is anyone else surprised that Sinclair wasn’t invited to this camp?” I ask, looking down at my brothers and Hobo.
“I’m not. That guy’s a fucking wanker,” Camden growls. “You saw that highlight where he tackled me from the backfield a couple weeks ago, right?”
“Yes,” I reply through clenched teeth. It was entirely fucked-up. The reporters remarked on how lucky Camden was to be able to walk off a hit like that.
“He was completely going for my bad knee. The prat should have been red-carded.” Camden rips up some grass and tosses it out in front of himself.
“Well, at least we won’t ever have to play on the same team as him,” I console.
“Thank fuck for that,” Camden grumbles.
I stare at Vince again and an odd feeling pricks the back of my neck. One that I can’t quite put my finger on.
The rest of camp goes incredibly. Tanner—whiny as he may be—picks up the pace and comes alive the last few days, especially when he and Camden break off into offensive work. They immediately click like no time has passed since Cam left Bethnal Green. And Booker is one of three keepers here. What he lacks in experience, he more than makes up for with his passion.
Eventually, Austin splits the group off into two teams for a closed friendly match, and I’m thrilled to see that he’s put my brothers, Hobo, and me all on the same side.
Playing alongside my family again is a thrill I never realised I was missing. It’s been years since we’ve all played together, but I guess all those years of going over match films with Dad has finally paid off. I know exactly what my brothers are going to do before they even do it. It’s instinctual. Blindfolded, we’d each probably know where the other is at out on the pitch.
It’s especially exciting to play with Booker. I was never able to play on a team with him since I signed with Man U before he started for Bethnal. But knowing I’m not only defending to keep my keeper safe, but also my brother, brings a whole new level of intensity to my game. Not that Booker needs my help. He stops three goal attempts from the other side with the ease of a seasoned athlete.
The rest of the team feeds off of our energy. In the end, our friendly match becomes a bit of a walloping as Tanner and Camden bounce the ball back and forth, scoring goals and sending the opposing keeper into fits. It’s a beautiful game of football. If we never make it to the World Cup tournament together, this day alone will be an experience I cherish for the rest of my life.
But when Austin calls us into his office and says he wants all four of us to be at the press conference room at Wembley Stadium tomorrow morning, we’re practically buzzing with anticipation. He won’t tell us what is going to be announced, but we have a good idea what to expect.
Camden, Tanner, Booker, and I are seated at a long table up on an elevated stage. There are microphones positioned between each of us, and Gary Austin stands at a podium beside me.
The room is filled to the brim with over one hundred reporters, cameramen, photographers, and various team staff members who are standing off to the sides. This is the first official announcement from England concerning their World Cup squad, and the people are excited for what’s about to be shared.
Austin clears his throat, and the chatter in the room mutes instantly as he begins speaking.
“Thank you all for being here today. I won’t be announcing the entire twenty-three-man squad for England today. That will be released at a future date so that those men get their quality time.
“What I’m about to tell you all is a bit unorthodox, and that is why I’ve called this special press conference.
“The Championship League clubs have been making insane headlines as of late. Games have been utter chaos in the best way possible. Honestly, football fans are losing their minds with highlights of this calibre.
“And when great things like this happen, it is a genuine fear that the World Cup tournament will be anticlimactic. I mean, historically, coaches keep their game plans very simple with national teams. You can’t expect these athletes to get together for a couple of camps and some friendlies and have the kind of chemistry that they do with their own teams they play with every day.
“But, I’m shaking up England’s team this year. I’m dipping into the Championship clubs for my squad because there is certainly the quality of playing that I’m seeking. And there’s a set of brothers whom I think can bring the spirit of football to an all new level for England and the World Cup.
“When you have four boys and a father who’ve lived, slept, and dreamt about football their entire lives, it’s something you notice.
“Are there Premier League players who are more qualified to be on my squad? Absolutely. Are there four people more dedicated to the sport of football who have cleaner records and higher statistics? I’m sure there are. Are there four brothers who have more heart, more passion, more love for their family and this game? No. There is not.
“That is why I’m calling up all four of the Harris Brothers for the World Cup team. After what I’ve seen this past week at a private camp I held, I’m convinced they will lead England in this tournament and bring home some new gold trophies for our country.”
Austin backs away from the podium and the press explode with questions, one after another, after another. My brothers and I look at each other. Our faces are composed on the outside, but anyone looking close enough can see that fire, that spark. That game time moment of adrenaline that shoots through an athlete’s entire body right before a big play.
With a small nod to my brothers, I turn my focus back to our manager.
“Coach Austin, what about Tanner Harris and his questionable judgement last season?”
Austin pins the reporter with a menacing glower. “I’m well aware of Tanner’s past, and I’m not concerned about it in the slightest.”
“Coach, don’t you think Booker Harris is a bit too young? A bit too inexperienced? He’s only played for his father’s team.”
Austin scoffs and shakes his head. “The Cup has had seventeen-year-olds play before. And have you seen the size of Booker Harris these days? He towers over his oldest brother, whose position on the squad is being doubted by none of you, I’m sure. Booker is fit and he’s a fine keeper. He’ll do the job well.”
“Coach, can you remark on the bad blood between Vaughn Harris and the Manchester United Football Club?”
“No, I cannot. Vaughn Harris has not been asked onto my team, so his history with Manchester United is of no relevance to me. The only thing I know about Harris is that he runs a top-notch club in Bethnal and he was a joy to watch in the 80s.”
“Coach! Coach! Gareth Harris’s home was burglarised three months ago. There are rumours that it was foul play within the league. Players angry at you for inviting four brothers over other more qualified players. What do you say to that?”
My brow furrows. I quickly slide forward to the mic, giving Austin a nod that I want to take this one. “I’ve been told the incident is still under investigation. Unfortunately, no one has been caught.”
Austin’s eyes are narrowed at the reporter as he adds, “And if there are rumours of foul play within the league, I hope they catch the bastards who committed that crime. Any athlete not man enough to see that this game is about a hell of a lot more than statistics isn’t a player I want to coach on my team.”
Austin sits down in the chair opposite the podium, his forehead covered in a sheen of sweat as he takes a drink from his glass. The team publicist comes out next, announcing that my brothers and I will take a few questions before concluding the conference.
A male reporter catches my attention in the front row. “Gareth, how was the secret camp you just c
ompleted with your brothers?”
I lean forward to the mic. “It was an experience that I will remember for the rest of my life. World Cup or not, I’m thankful that Austin gave me the opportunity to play alongside my brothers again.”
“Tanner, how does it feel to be playing with your twin brother again? Were you angry at him for signing on with Arsenal?”
Tanner laughs and shakes his head. Tucking his long hair behind his ears, he leans into the mic and says, “You’re bloody well right I was angry. He doesn’t call, he doesn’t write. I don’t even remember the last time he sent me flowers.”
The reporters erupt into laughter as Tanner winks at Camden, who just rolls his eyes.
Tanner returns to the mic and says, “No, I wasn’t angry. I was proud as hell. I’m proud of all my brothers every single day.”
“Booker Harris! When is the new baby arriving? Are there going to be wedding bells in your future?”
Booker smiles a shy smile and leans in. “The baby is arriving any day now, and we’re holding off on wedding plans until then. For now, we’re just excited to become parents.”
“Camden, any chance your wife will be on the medical staff for England?”
Camden laughs and shakes his head. “I’m afraid that’s not up to me, but I’m certain my wife would do the job well. My knee has never felt better.”
“Gareth, what do you think your father will say when he hears the news?”
I inhale a deep breath and exhale slowly before replying, “I think he’ll say that our mum would have loved to be here for this.”
AFTER THE WORLD CUP PRESS announcement, Gareth’s team played against Camden’s in London and lost. Talk about a whirlwind of emotions for the family. But they apparently don’t hold a grudge because Gareth is heading to Sunday dinner at their dad’s house like he does nearly every Sunday.
The difference this time is that I’m joining him.
It was just going to be me because this is Callum’s week with Sophia, but Margaret called to say she isn’t feeling well and asked if I can keep Sophia. I have a feeling she is in bad shape because when I asked if she wanted me to bring Sophia out for a quick visit, she ardently said no.
Margaret is never one to show weakness.
Now, Sophia and I are on a train heading to London to attend our first infamous Harris Sunday dinner.
Sophia sits across the train car table, her feet dangling off the ground as she stares out the window to watch the English countryside whiz by us. “So, Mummy, do I call the little girl Rocky or Adrienne?”
“You can call her whatever you’d like,” I reply, taking a sip of the coffee I just bought off the snack cart.
Sophia nods, her bushy brows furrowing as she gives it some seriously deep thought. “Maybe I’ll come up with my own nickname for her.”
I smile behind my cup. “That would be just fine.”
Sophia’s thoughts are clearly rolling on top of one another when she asks, “So all these men play football?”
I nod. “Yes, they do.”
“And you said two of the ladies are doctors?”
My smile is growing. “That’s right.”
“And there’s a teacher?” Sophia’s eyes are wide as she smiles brightly. “This family sounds so cool. I’m glad you are in love with Gareth.”
I nearly choke on my coffee. “Who said I am in love with Gareth?”
“Oh, please, Mummy. It’s so obvious.” She rolls her eyes in that “seven going on seventeen” way.
I hold back a laugh. “How is it obvious?”
She pins me with a look before staring up at the ceiling and listing all the ways. “Like, how you check yourself in the mirror before he comes over. And you make sure the house is always clean. And you never walk around naked anymore.”
The naked comment has my eyes narrowing. “Well, those could just be normal things. They don’t necessarily mean I’m in love with him.”
Sophia is completely undeterred. “Well, you smile now, too.”
My brow furrows. “I smiled before.”
“Yes, but it was a sad smile,” Sophia replies, widening her big brown eyes on me. “It was a smile that looked like you were pretending.”
My heart skips a beat inside my chest. “Sophia, I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way. I was never pretending with you.”
“Maybe a little bit you were,” she corrects and crosses her arms on the table to rest her chin in her hands. “It’s okay, Mummy. I know why.”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious to hear what her answer will be.
“Because you didn’t love Daddy the way you love Gareth.” She shrugs and turns her gaze out the window again, leaving that little truth bomb behind like it’s no big deal.
This girl—this incredibly smart, impressive little girl—has been through so much, yet she still sees everything going on around her.
“When did you get so perceptive, Sopapilla?”
She frowns and looks back at me. “What’s perceptive?”
I smile. “It’s when you notice things that some people don’t.”
She nods and replies, “Probably when I turned seven.”
Her answer is so matter-of-fact, I can’t help but giggle and move over to sit beside her so I can hold her the rest of the train ride. She is seven, but she is still my baby, and the smile on my face right now is completely real.
Gareth sends a car to pick me and Sophia up at the train station. A short drive later, we’re outside the gate of the Harris family house. Well, mansion is more like it, though it’s not old and dilapidated like the Coleridge Estate. It’s slightly more modern with giant pillars in the front. My mind reels at the memories Gareth has in this home growing up without a mother, or a father for that matter. Although, it seems like things with his dad have been very good since the wake in Cape Verde, so I’m hopeful their reconciliation is long-term.
Sophia and I walk up the gravel driveway. Just as we reach the front step, the doors burst open. Out comes Booker with his arms wrapped around Poppy, who’s holding on to her pregnant belly for dear life. Her cheeks puff out as she exhales and inhales quickly.
“Booker, I forgot my handbag!” she exclaims and moves to turn around.
“Vi, grab Poppy’s bag!” Booker yells over his shoulder, then returns Poppy to forward motion. “It’s going to be okay, Sunshine. We got you.”
“Someone needs to call my parents,” Poppy cries as Tanner, Belle, Camden, and Indie hustle out the doors next.
Camden and Tanner seem to be in the middle of some sort of argument, so Belle frantically shouts at Tanner to call Poppy’s parents.
“I don’t have Poppy’s parents’ number.”
“Then just run over there. Fast!” Belle exclaims. “They only live around the corner for God’s sake.”
“Wife, we’re having a baby. I don’t have time to go for a jog right now!”
“Dad! Call Poppy’s parents!” Camden shouts back into the house and looks over to Belle. “Dad has the number.”
This brings a collective sigh to the two shouting couples as they attempt to make their way toward a vehicle.
Poppy is the first to notice me and Sophia standing here with our jaws dropped. Her eyes fly wide as she plasters on a pained-looking smile. “Sloan, is this your daughter?” she cries out much too loudly as she continues panting against what I can only assume are contractions.
“Yes, this is Sophia,” I reluctantly reply, wrapping my arm around her.
“Oh my God, I’ve been dying to meet her!” she squeals and makes a move toward us instead of the truck that Booker is trying to lift her into.
“I’m sorry but, Poppy, are you in labour?” I ask because surely she can meet Sophia another time.
“Yes, I am!” she bellows out with a crazed sort of laugh. “We can talk after, right?”
“After you have a baby?” I ask, my brow puzzled. Then I realise that rationalising with a woman in labour is not wise. “Yes, Poppy. After
is good.”
Booker finally wrangles Poppy into the truck and closes the door. He glances over at me apologetically. “I’m so sorry, Sloan. We were all really looking forward to meeting your Little Minnow. Gareth won’t stop talking about her.”
My attention is diverted from Booker when Tanner and Camden collide into me and Sophia with big, squeezing hugs.
“Is this Little Minnow?” Camden asks, squatting down and giving Sophia’s shoulder a playful punch.
“This is Sophia,” I reply, my eyes swerving everywhere as everyone rushes all around us. “Are you all going to the hospital?”
“You bet we are!” Camden retorts. “Nice to meet you, kid.”
Tanner suddenly drops down and clutches Sophia’s arms. He shakes her excitedly while shouting, “Little Minnow, we’re having a baby!”
Sophia giggles at the insane look on Tanner’s bearded face.
“Tanner!” I glance up to see Vi hustling over to us, but she’s gazing down at Sophia. “Sweetie, don’t laugh at him. It only encourages him. Just think of him as a naughty puppy that won’t stop licking himself.”
Sophia giggles again and replies, “Okay.”
“Also,” Vi says, kneeling down with Rocky in her arms, who has food mushed all over her adorable face. “Little Minnow, I’d like you to meet Rocky. She’s very excited to play with you when we’re not hurrying off to the hospital, okay?”
Vi looks up at me with a big smile as Hayden comes over and shoots Sophia a wink. The three of them load up into their minivan as Sophia jerks my arm and asks, “Why do they keep calling me Little Minnow, Mum?”
Before I can answer, Belle appears in front of us next. “Because Gareth says you have great footy skills and you’re a stellar little minnow out on the pitch. Hiya, Minnow. I’m Belle and that redhead in the glasses is Indie. We’re married to those crazy brothers who bothered you a moment ago, but don’t be scared. We’ll keep a tight lead on them from now on. We have to run to the hospital now, so we’ll talk more later, okay?”