Rise

by C. J. Lau

  Chapter 16

  July 2002, six weeks later.

  Some of them call me Maggie. Although they’re careful to keep it out of earshot if it’s behind my back. Think I can’t hear them or I’m not listening. But I am, always have.

  Mostly the girls come and tell me what my listening already taught me. It’s great they’re trusting me.

  A lot of the parents were unhappy about how sore and sorry their girls had been after Wagga. I called every concerned parent personally. Putting Kathy’s lessons into practice in this game within a game. No more hiding behind Carol.

  A fax waits for me in the staff room. News from our next match, and it makes my eyes narrow with fury.

  I’m already dialling the Convenor before I finish reading.

  “Darrell Sloan.”

  “What gives you the right to take away one of our home games on a whim?” I shout.

  Darrell answers with a maddening calmness that only makes me angrier. “This must be Margaret Conrad from Goulburn.”

  Francis had been right in his fax. We were playing Bathurst at home, but our opponents had appealed the venue.

  “Answer the question, Darrell! What I submitted should have been enough.” My argument being this would only be our second home game this season. “It always has been in the past,” I let fly.

  Kathy guiding me through the process of a written reply. Had told me this always happened. That the system isn’t always fair.

  “Well, Margaret, let me remind you. I am the appointed Convenor and my decisions are final,” Darrell counters. “The match is to be played in Bathurst. They’re yet to play at home this season,” then asserts, “I thought it fair they get one.”

  I need this game at home. My new Captains need the support of as many people as possible. Now it’s been taken away.

  “You would never have done this to Kathy,” I shout still more. “This is ridiculous!”

  Her voice, authoritative without being loud, is one of an experienced teacher. “Shouting is not going to change my mind, so please stop. Kathy would not have won this one either.”

  I picture Kathy back in Manchester. More relaxed now Cat is home. Darrell snaps me out of it. “Your submission did have all the hallmarks of a Kathy Parker document. I’m not surprised she helped you. Say hello for me when you speak to her next.”

  I promised to keep Kathy updated on Cat’s recovery. “Trust me, she’ll get an update.”

  Darrell ignores my jab. “I believe Bathurst sent you three game time options. Please get back to me with which one you’ll be taking.”

  Accepting my loss, I look at the options Bathurst have presented. Grip the phone and try at compromise. Wednesday morning, Thursday midday, or Saturday midday. No choice but to pick one.

  “I choose Saturday. Let them know we’ll be there and we’re going to be angry,” I reply, without the shouting this time, but with plenty of rage all the same.

  Saturday’s the best chance of getting any parents there. Gives me the rest of the week to prepare.

  I can almost hear Darrell nodding over the line. “I will let them know.”

  “At least tell me our next game will be at home,” I demand. Mind switching to task ahead and not on the old, greying woman I’ve only ever emailed or spoken to on the phone.

  Team meeting this afternoon. Break the news then.

  “Can’t promise that. But I can tell you the far west withdrew. So the winner of this match will also win round seven—”

  I finish the thought for her, “And be one win away from the State Finals.”

  I process this new information. Rage gone, analysis on. Another six-week break until our next match, provided we win this one. I can afford to tell the girls to go in aggressively. Will match their mood perfectly, even if I risk more explaining to their parents afterwards.

  “Okay.” I have no more time for the cardigan wearing relic I picture at the other end. “Bye.”

  We both hang up.

  There have been two team meetings since my return. One a routine debrief of the Wagga match, complete with injury report. The other involving the resignation of Sam and Anna.

  This is our third meeting, and I don’t waste any time before breaking Darrell’s news to the girls.

  “So, is everyone okay to travel on Saturday?” It matters that I not bring the frustrations with Darrell into this, so I stick to logistics.

  Martina’s hand goes up. “I can’t go. School holidays start Friday and I’m going to the Whitsundays with my parents. I fly out Saturday.”

  “Don’t worry, Martina,” Nancy, my new Captain, speaks up. “We won in Wagga without Sam, Vivienne, and Christina, we’ll win in Bathurst too. Enjoy your holiday.”

  All around, the girls sit nodding, “Me too.” “Let’s show ‘em!” And I would explode, if it were possible to burst with pride.

  The school term ends four days later. With logistics complete, home or away, we’re ready for the challenge.

  An unmarked envelope sits in my letterbox when I arrive home. Opening it as I walk inside, I barely flinch reading it.

  YOU WILL LOSE. I PROMISE YOU.

  Screw you!

  Resisting the urge to scrunch up the offending paper and toss it with my junk mail, I slide it into the folder with the others.

  “This joke is getting tiresome,” I say to no one. My house empty.

  Three notes since the break-in. A seemingly targeted robbery of Principal Ripley’s office. Cashbox stolen, along with five employee files starting from A to C. Being at Conrad, mine, as well as Francis Cole’s, were taken. Perhaps they were aiming for the hockey personnel?

  Someone has Cole’s and my address, phone number, medical information, and employment details. The Police were called, providing some security for a few weeks. Then the notes started.

  The folder stays on the table when I return to the whiteboard mounted on an easel. Tomorrow’s task at hand: Bathurst. Away.

  When I started planning yesterday, the first thing I wrote was the forecast maximum of six degrees. Goulburn regularly presents such cold days too, but how would my girls react?

  Nancy will probably wear her thermal under suit, hampering her mobility slightly. Sarah, the tough as nails farmer’s daughter, has no issues with cold.

  YOU ARE DOOMED UNDER NANCY AND SARAH. Creeps into my head. The first note, a few days after I appointed my new Captains.

  “Go away!” I urge myself to focus harder on the problem of Bathurst. An earlier call to parents netting a dozen blankets and a batch of hand warmers.

  I push the notes further away, nodding at the next line.

  A solid match will win it. Bathurst are champions of a region where hardiness to weather extremes and long journeys matter more than outright flair. Girl for girl we beat them, provided we travelled well and played without distraction.

  YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO WIN. My brain can’t help but bring up the second note. I shake my head with tomorrow forgotten, the thoughts refusing to leave easily.

  Who could do this? I trust Cat and Carol with everything, and Francis is hundreds of kilometres away by now. Did one of the girls hand deliver this note? Was the break in an inside job?

  I scan down my team list, trying for positional variations, but instead clearing each of them of any reason to destabilise me. I know I’m not really looking at my other points when my eyes go back to the board.

  “Dammit!” I hurl a marker, angry I’ve let them rattle me, watch it hit the board with a crack.

  The phone rings, making me grab it in a smooth motion.

  “Hello,” I answer. Having trusted the leadership group with this number, expecting a pre-game-day call from Nancy or Sarah, maybe Sam.

  Instead, Solo’s voice comes over the line. “Maggie?”

  All the healing wounds threaten to rip open again. Go away. I try to start, too late. Hearing him say my name. I crumble.

  “I just wanted you to know…” he begins, and for some reason, I know before h
e says it. “I just called to say I’ve found someone else.”

  “Then why’d you call?” Scratching for whatever defiance I can find. Not enough.

  “I hope you’re happy for me,” Solo’s voice teases. Damn him. He’s toying with me. Why in the world would he do this? “She’s from Wollongong, and just as fun as you, just as driven as you.”

  He’s moved on, calling to rub it in. Not only have I lost him, I’ve turned him against me.

  “YOU BASTARD, SOLOMON!” I scream into the phone.

  But he keeps on. “I can go a lot further with her than I could ever get with you.”

  I hang up.

  Feeling better for the release, I get on with my night. Until the phone rings again.

  I snatch at it. “WHAT?”

  A pause, and then Cat’s surprised voice. “Err. Maggie? Everything alright?”

  A rushed, choked sound escapes. My heart breaking all over again.

  “S-Sorry.” All I manage before I start crying.

  “Maggie, what’s going on?” Cat demands. Voice urgent. “You okay?”

  “No… Solo just—” Everything else forgotten. I tell Cat what he just did. “Sorry for screaming… I thought he was calling back.”

  I feel myself let go, begin to cry again before Cat’s voice stops me. “Don’t be sorry, Maggie. Get angry. That Bastard. Take it out on Bathurst tomorrow.”

  Her encouragement brings a nod she can’t see. I’ll heal, and tomorrow I have an opponent to take my anger out on. “Thanks, Cat. I’ll come get you at seven.”

  “You got it, Maggie. Now forget about everything, and get on with your night.”

  I say goodbye. Try to do what she says.

  My hands shake so hard the next morning, I fear I’ll pull my steering wheel off before making it to Cat’s. Another freezing cold Goulburn winter morning, and the nerves of game day have combined. The shivers hitting so hard I’m glad for the seat belt to keep me still.

  I pull into her driveway, blowing into frozen hands to stop the shivering. My car thermometer having no sympathy.

  Minus four. Perfect!

  The front door opens. Cat looking bulky under her big jacket, scarf, and beanie. Hockey stick and backpack in her arms. Shuffling quickly to the warmth of my car, her movement a result of six weeks of physio, with more to come.

  Full blooded sprints or changes of direction are still a long way off. But I know that under her layers, a set of core muscles are quickly returning to their peak. Her rehabilitation gives me hope for her. And sadness. As soon as she can, she’ll leave for Perth to resume her life. In a few months, at most, I lose another loved one to distance.

  I smile at her, keep my fears to myself. “Got everything you need?”

  “Stick, book, gold medal. I’m ready,” she laughs, then sobers. “How are you feeling?”

  Talk of Solo, can I do this? I know she means well. But we’ll never win today if my heart’s destroyed before we even board the bus.

  I look to Cat as we idle. My eyes begging her not to push. “I’m fine.”

  She gives a little nod. “Hang in there, kiddo.”

  I laugh at Cat’s nickname for me when she knows I’m hurting. Seems she remembers more than she realises.

  “Do you know who else is coming?” Cat asks, and I know she’s using the match to take me away from my worries. The wonderful friend she is.

  So I focus on what’s ahead. “Francis is visiting relatives down the coast, so Carol’s coming to umpire.” We hit the road. “I think Anna’s mum said she’d make the trip, and Nancy’s mum too. That’s all I know.”

  For the next 30 minutes at the school, I’m greeting my girls, talking to every parent as they arrive, trying to find suspects. But even with all my body language senses honed, I board our bus with a blank. Three hours of country roads awaiting us.

  “By round five and beyond, expect three-hour minimum journeys.” I remember Kathy’s advice. The start of another master class. How to keep the girls relaxed, and the need to keep from delivering any final words until just before we arrive.

  At least the dreaded overnight trip is off the cards this season.

  I take my seat at the front, feel Cat’s comforting weight drop beside me.

  “Remember how many trips we used to make like this?” Carol asks Cat as we pull away, heading north. Access to luxury transport making journeys so much easier.

  “Yep,” Cat jokes back, “well, Maggie might not remember, she was a sleeper.”

  “Only because I could never agree on what movie to watch,” I protest. “Easier to put on headphones and sleep.”

  Should I pull Carol aside and ask about any parental resentment? I ponder.

  “I raided Sam’s DVD collection,” Carol keeps on. “Do you have any game footage you want to show or should I put one on?”

  Game footage. Kathy suggested that too. I have none to show, happy to keep the girls relaxed on their journeys for now.

  “A movie’s fine. Let me know when we’re 30 minutes out,” I say. Finally starting to relax and get into match day mode.

  Screw taunts and letters. I’ve got a match to win.

  My friends laugh, walking up the bus aisle to pick a movie, as oblivious as I want them to be.

  I don’t stand up again until the driver calls, “We’re 20 minutes out.”

  “Okay, girls, listen up please!” I call out. More comfortable with having their eyes on me.

  “First. Thank you for being so well behaved. We are almost there so I need you all to get your minds and bodies ready. Bathurst are a strong team and Regional champions just like we are.” I take a look out the window, keep talking, “Be ready to warm up as soon as we get out on the ground.” The grass we’re passing still covered with ice. That’s all we need. “It’s cold, so make sure we’re ready for action.”

  A few eyes drift out the window, and I clap loudly to bring them back. “The game plan today is simple. Smother. Counter-attack. And be aggressive. Shut down everything. Break their spirits.” I move aside as Nancy stands shakily. My hand doing its best to settle her. “I want them to be unsure moving forward. If we can get them into that mindset then we plant ourselves in their attacking half and the goals will come. Over to you, Nancy, then Cat wants to say a few words, too.”

  I think back quickly to the selection process. Running a secret ballot to get the girls opinions, but making it clear the final call was mine. All the votes went to Nancy. Vindicating the direction I leaned anyway.

  “I need to be honest with you,” Nancy starts, grabbing the seat tightly for balance. “I’m nervous, so be nice. Play hard, but play fair. Look confident out there, even if you don’t feel it. I can’t wait to rip into them.”

  Cat’s about to start with some seated warm up exercises when Sarah pipes up, “I just want to say thank you to everyone who voted for me. Thank you for trusting the youngest person on the team. I promise I won’t let you down.”

  One day I’ll need to tell her the truth about those votes. I trust my judgement. Sarah’s spark reminds me so much of playing with Cat all those years ago. And I’m confident leadership won’t weigh her down.

  The sun’s burned off the last of the morning fog as we pull in. A look out the window to a perfectly manicured grass field, next to a community festival. Nerves hitting again at the many curious eyes following our bus. A rock star entrance just as distracting as an angry mob.

  Cat also sees the crowd, reaches for her make-up to work at covering her scar. “Wow. That’s a lot of people.”

  “Hang in there, Cat,” I pat her shoulder. My nickname for her the same through good and bad. To the others I shout. “Okay. Sit tight and let me sort out the formalities.”

  A man approaches me as I step down off the bus. My boots stamping down on the Bathurst ground. He introduces himself as Steven, pointing to the little area set up for us, expressing hope that the festival will bring a good crowd.

  I nod. Holding my tongue, calling the others out.<
br />
  “Oh my goodness, are you Catherine McConnell, the Hockeyroo?” Steven asks while we mill about, waiting for our gear to be unloaded.

  He continues without a confirmation. “Thank you so much for bringing a star with you, Margaret. The girls are going to be so thrilled.”

  Go to hell. I think to myself. This game should be in Goulburn! Needing to bite my tongue, this time to stop myself.

  Cat looks at me. Scar concealed, but fear showing.

  “Cat is here as a personal friend. So there won’t be demonstrations or running around,” I say like a protective parent. “She is recovering from an injury, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t broadcast the fact she is here.”

  “Understood, but can you at least come and see the girls?” Steven asks Cat directly.

  “Let me see how I feel,” Cat replies.

  We quickly make our way towards the field. Cat in my ear, sounding frightened. “People are staring at me.”

  “Sorry,” I whisper back. “Had no idea this was on. I’ll check regional events before agreeing to any more away match times.” I pause, think of something encouraging. “I’m sure the crowds will be bigger than this once you get back to playing.”

  “You’re right, Maggie,” Cat shrugs. “I’m sure they only want to say hello. Watch,” Cat gestures subtly to our opponents, “I can use this to our advantage. Let me set up a distraction so you can get the girls ready to roll.”

  I have no idea what she means until Cat grabs Carol, moving towards the Bathurst team. Smiling and waving at people around the field. Our opponent’s warm-up interrupted with her walking over, escorted by the excited Steven and shadowed by Carol. All the watching eyes, on us with critical stares, now gaze at Cat in admiration.

  You legend, Cat. You’ve done it. My smile follows her around before I turn to my girls. “Right! Gear up and get on the field, right now.”

  Cat buys me the luxury of an uninterrupted, structured warm-up. Girls getting familiar with the turf, reprising combinations rusty from the long break between matches. My friend still busy signing autographs when I call the team together in a huddle.

  “See what Cat’s doing there? That’s the last thing she wanted to face. But she’s doing it for us. She’s taking the crowd out of the equation.” I look at each girl in turn. “Don’t let her down. Take the crowd out, score goals! We need to play aggressive!” I’m pumping my fists. “Get angry, we should not be here. But keep it clean. Over to you, Nancy.”

  I smile at the enthusiasm Nancy shows. Nerves gone with show time approaching. “Sam and Anna, I really need you both to be at your best. Everyone else, listen to each other and don’t forget, run for everything.” A little fist pump, mirroring mine. “Run where you’re needed, even to the back line. Let’s go!”

  “I need to find a way to not be so self-conscious.” Cat’s back, looking flustered as she and Carol sit beside me. “I might hide for a while. They were all so nice though.”

  “You did great Cat,” Carol encourages, discarding her jacket and preparing to take the field to umpire.

  Our eyes both follow her. Running style identical to Sam’s. “Were you able to get a warm up in?” Cat asks.

  “Yes.” I put my arm around her. “Thank you so much.”

  Carol blows time on.