133. Plans

In which the dearly departed are remembered, and plans for the future are made.


Knowing Mum was coming made me relax slightly. Mum always knew what to do, always took charge. And I had a job now. I dialled nine nine nine, but the ambulance people wouldn’t just take my word for it. They made me check she wasn’t breathing, they made me check for a pulse, they made me shake her shoulder and say her name, and it was all seriously freaky, and by the time Mum arrived, I was sitting on the hall floor trying to think of anything else but how I’d just been touching her, and …

‘Oh sweetheart. Is the ambulance on its way?’

‘Yeah, but I don’t expect they’ll hurry.’

I stood up and let Mum give me a hug. I clung on a bit tighter than I would normally, and felt tears well up in my eyes.

‘Dad’s in your car with Dec. I didn’t want to leave either of you alone, so I brought him along.’

‘I bet he’s loving that.’

‘He’ll get over it.’

‘Is she in here?’

Mum went into the living room, on her own because I couldn’t go in there again. She came out after a while, wiping her eyes, and looked at me. It was my turn to give the comforting hug; Mum cried more than I’d ever seen her cry before, and I just held her while she sniffed into my sweatshirt. Then she stopped, stood back and wiped her eyes with a tissue.

‘How did you know?’

‘She called me.’

‘You? What did she say?’

‘Nothing, at least nothing I could understand.’

Mum nodded and patted my cheek.

‘Let’s go and check on Dec. There’s nothing we can do here until the ambulance turns up.’

I followed Mum out to my car. Dad had turned the reading light on, and he and Dec were illuminated in the front seats. Dec was staring ahead and Dad looked like he was trying to talk to him, but not having much success in starting a conversation.

Mum tapped on the driver’s side window, and Dad rolled the window down.

‘Hey you two. Hi Dec.’

Dec didn’t answer, just carried on staring ahead.

‘James, has he said anything?’

‘No, he’s been like this since we got here. I’m a bit out of my depth, Beth. Maybe you should try.’

Mum nodded, and she and Dad swapped places. Dad and I stood away from the car a bit while Mum tried to – well I don’t know what she was trying to do, get Dec to talk to her, look at her, something.

I looked at Dad, who seemed about a thousand miles outside his comfort zone. He gave me a weak smile.

‘Sorry to disturb your sleep.’

‘Yeah, well, wouldn’t have been my choice of early morning entertainment, but I guess you haven’t been having much of a laugh, either.’

He nodded in the direction of Rose’s flat.

‘No. Ah shit, Dad, it was fucking awful. She was just sitting there, with this look on her face … you could just tell right away she was … wasn’t there, you know?’

Dad slung an arm round my shoulder, as an ambulance pulled up behind Dec’s car. I took a deep breath and went to meet it, glancing over at my car, where Mum was still talking to Dec. I was going to have to do this on my own, or with Dad, which was just about the same thing.

I led the paramedics into the flat and pointed out the living room. I didn’t go in at first, but they kept asking me questions, and it felt weird just shouting to them from the hall, so in the end I went in, but stood by the door, not looking in the direction of the chair. I was feeling seriously weirded out by the whole thing.

When my phone jangled with Chrissie’s text tone, I jumped a mile, but used it as an excuse to not be in the room where people were doing things to other people that I really didn’t want to see.

Where ru? Thought u were downstairs.

Chrissie had been asleep when I left, and I’d thought I’d be back before long. I hadn’t even thought about letting her know where I was. I had to think hard before knowing how to explain it in a text, then realised I wasn’t going to be able to. I called her instead.

‘Hey babe.’

‘Where are you?’

‘At Rose’s. I thought Dec might need a hand.’

‘What with?’

‘Well I didn’t know, but I just had a feeling.’

‘And you’re still there?’

‘Yeah. It was … er … she’s, er, died.’

‘Oh Cal. Did you find her?’

‘Dec did. He’s really freaked, gone all catatonic or something. Mum’s trying to get him to talk. The ambulance is here, taking Rose away. Shit, Chrissie, it’s fucking horrendous. I’ll be home as soon as I can.’

‘No, don’t worry, I just didn’t know where you were, and I thought if you were up with Conor I’d come and keep you company, then I couldn’t find you, so … but be there, if they need you.’

‘Thanks, babe. I expect Mum’s got it, but I don’t know how much longer things will go on here.’

‘I’ll see you when you get home.’

‘Yeah, I’m going to need a big smushy cuddle with you and Conor.’

‘On it. Cal, I’m really sorry about Rose.’

‘Yeah, me too. See you later. Love you.’

‘Love you.’

As I disconnected, the paramedics emerged from the living room carrying a stretcher with a black body bag on it. Dad, who had retreated to the end of the hallway, was staring at it with wide eyes. I opened the front door for them, and followed them out. Dad came behind, and I shut the door behind him.

As they loaded the stretcher onto the ambulance, I glanced over to my car. Dec had turned his head to look, and Mum had put her hand on his arm. I saw him shake his head, and could see the word ‘no’ form on his mouth. Then the car door opened, and he ran along the pavement to the ambulance, just as they shut the back doors.

‘Let me in, I want to go with her.’

‘And you are?’

‘Her … she’s like my mum.’

Is she your mum?’

‘Not officially.’

‘Sorry, then, mate, you can follow us if you like, but, well, maybe you’d best leave it for now, eh?’

‘She shouldn’t be on her own in there.’

‘She won’t be, we’ll be with her.’

They weren’t kidding or being disrespectful, they were trying to reassure him. I’m sure it wasn’t the first time they’d had to try to placate someone who had freaked out.

‘Dec …’

Mum had followed him out of the car, and now put her arm round his waist, drawing him away, talking quietly to him. I could hear snatches of what she was saying,

‘ … for the best … arrangements … tell Amy … come on sweetheart …’

and eventually Dec nodded and allowed himself to be pulled away, as Mum nodded at the paramedics, and they got in the front of the ambulance and drove away.

Dec stood, looking after the disappearing vehicle, eyes wide and haunted.

‘What am I going to do? Without her?’

‘Dec, we’re all here to help you through it.’

‘No … I can’t do this again … I just can’t …’

And while Mum desperately tried to cling on to him, Dec sank to his knees and started sobbing, the sounds echoing around the empty street. Mum crouched down next to him, and gestured to me and Dad to help her. Neither of us were sure what we were supposed to be doing, but Mum had put her arms round Dec, and I crouched by him and put a hand on his shoulder while Dad hovered behind, looking uncomfortable.

‘For God’s sake, James. He needs us to hold him.’

Dad reluctantly got to his knees and put his hand on a shoulder as well. None of it seemed to make a difference to Dec, who continued wailing.

After a few minutes, when a few lights went on in the nearby flats, and people started to look out of their windows, Mum decided a change of plan was necessary.

‘You two are going to have to get him in one of the cars. Maybe ours, James. Get him in the back, if you can. Dec, stand up for us sweetheart, we’re going to take you home.’

Dec didn’t move. Dad, seizing an opportunity to do something that didn’t involve having to talk or be emotional in any way, stood up, then bent down and hauled Dec to his feet by his armpits. Dec’s legs looked like they might give way, and he was still making the godawful racket, so I pitched in and supported him from one side, Dad going the other. We made our way to Dad’s car like this, dragging Dec with us. He wasn’t resisting, but he wasn’t actively moving either. Mum opened the back door, and Dad and I bundled him in, putting his seat belt on like he was five. Mum sat next to him in the back, and Dad got in the driver’s seat.

‘Cal, can you drive Dec’s car? We’ll bring you back afterwards.’

‘I need the keys.’

Mum patted Dec’s pockets and found the keys in his hoody. She gave them to me, and I followed them across the city to Dec and Amy’s house.

It was starting to get light by the time we got there, the dawn glow making everything seem even more surreal.

The porch light was on at Dec’s house, and I assumed Mum would have called Amy while we were on our way. As soon as we pulled up, the front door opened, and Amy came out, in her dressing gown.

Dec had quieted somewhat, but was still crying, and still shuddering with huge sobs. Amy came down the path as Dad and I were pulling Dec out of the car, and as he saw her, it was as if she was the first thing he’d truly noticed since the ambulance had driven away. He practically fell into her arms, and let her lead him into the house.

I looked at Mum, waiting to be told what to do. There didn’t seem any point going in; Amy was what Dec needed, not us fussing about him. Mum sometimes saw things differently, though, so I wasn’t going to do anything until I was told to.

‘Beth, just let them get on with it.’

‘I know, James. I just … after all this time, I thought he might be over it.’

‘I guess losing your parents isn’t something you get over.’

‘He’s had Rose longer than he ever had his mum and dad.’

‘Yeah, so it’s going to hurt even more. You know he’ll ask if he needs us.’

‘I know. I just want to fix it.’

‘You can’t.’

‘I know. Are you OK Cal?’

‘No, I don’t think so. But I will be when I get home and give Conor a bloody good cuddle.’

‘Come here, sweetheart, give your mum a bloody good cuddle first.’

Mum held me tight and I felt her shudder. She was always this capable person who knew what to do in any crisis, but everyone often forgot that she felt things too, cared about everyone more than was strictly necessary.

‘Thank you, sweetheart. Come on, let’s get you back to your car.’

That night, and the weeks that followed, were hard for all of us. Dec was really cut up. In fact, cut up doesn’t even begin to describe it. He didn’t leave the house at all, until the day of Rose’s funeral. He wouldn’t see anyone, didn’t reply to texts or answer calls. Mum had long conversations with everyone about it, trying to decide the best thing to do. Matty wanted to do the ‘shouldn’t be alone when you’re feeling this shit’ thing, but was talked out of it in the end by Amy, who felt it wasn’t the same, and that Dec needed time to do things his way. There was talk of doctors and mental health teams and psychologists, but Dec refused it all, and just sat staring at the TV all day.

Matty wasn’t up to much at the time, either, having had a serious chest infection and a flare-up of MS that had knocked him off his feet. With Matty out of action and Dec incommunicado, their business was suffering, and it was only because Tom knew about the techy side, and had his dad’s chilled manner with people, that the whole thing didn’t fold.

Rose’s funeral was sad, but it got Dec out of the house, and I think it started him on the road to being normal again. He was like a ghost in the crematorium – pale, lifeless, and he’d lost loads of weight. Amy and his children held him up, emotionally and physically, and the crem was full of people who Rose had meant a lot to. She was a friendly person who made connections and helped out a lot in this city, and Dec seemed surprised and gratified that so many had come to see her off.

Dec didn’t say much, to any of us, but he read a speech he’d written, talking about what she’d meant to him and his family, and how she’d always said she couldn’t replace his mum, but how she’d come to mean something else, something there are no words for, something as irreplaceable. He made it almost all the way through the speech, before just stopping in the middle of a sentence and looking out of the window. Amy had to finish it off for him, while Charlie and Tom helped Dec back to his seat.

I thought that might have sent Dec back to his morose introspection, but it seemed to have had the opposite effect, and at the wake, which Mum had naturally organised, it was good to see him talking to people, even smiling a couple of times, and looking like he was actually taking notice of things again.

After a while, things got better for Dec. I don’t know if he got some help from somewhere, he’d seen a psychologist in the past to help sort his life out, but whatever it was, he slowly got his spark back.


We had terrible days, like the day Rose died and Dec was inconsolable, and they nearly lost their business because Matt couldn’t get out to meet the clients and Dec was in no fit state to be meeting and greeting people. Tom came to our rescue that time, using his way with technology, his inside knowledge of the rugby world and his easy manner with people to smooth things over and persuade people to wait until Dec had recovered, and handling some of the simpler meetings himself.

All the children were growing up, moving away, or staying close by. Tom had a practical way with computers, and had become part of Dec and Matt’s business. Charlie had been away to Uni, given up her course in History, and come home to look for a career, which hadn’t been forthcoming and had led to lots of waitressing jobs. Gracie was half way through her Physiotherapy training in Manchester, where she shared a tiny flat with Iz, who was working for a language school, and Iz’s boyfriend Ben. Rosa had just left school and was working in a local jewellery shop while she got her own jewellery design business underway.

Amy and I often compared notes on the emptiness or otherwise of our houses; with Ella off on the other side of the world after finishing her Law degree, and Josh still living with us but usually at Raiders either training or attending a players’ function of some sort, I often felt like I had an empty nest. Although when Josh brought his mates back for a noisy session, it felt like the complete opposite.


We all missed Rose. She had been around almost as long as I could remember, and we all used to tease her about how much she talked, and how she and Mum had this, like, competition going to see who knew Dec the best, and who could feed us the best, almost as if they were trying to be the best mother figure. In truth, I don’t know that Dec really saw either of them as his mum. He often said Rose was like his mum, but I think that was only because he couldn’t find another word for it. He never made the same comparison with Mum, almost as if with his age and her age, he fell in the too-young-to-be-a-brother but too-old-to-be-a-son category, and it was just something else that was never defined.

I know Mum missed Rose, had missed for some time her being there and comparing notes about Dec and his family, having a gossip about the kids, tutting at the state of their house, all of that, because Rose hadn’t really been up to any of that for a good couple of years at least.

Rose had always tried her best to organise Dec, and Amy to some extent, but most of it had gone over his head. So she’d try with the rest of us, sometimes with some success. I remember visiting Gran, and interrupting one of their afternoon tea sessions. Lau’s mum, April, was there too, and I’d rocked up expecting to get going on taking some garden waste to the tip. I got distracted with tea and cake, and let the three witches brew their schemes as I munched and sipped. When I was little, I used to keep quiet in the hope that people would forget I was there and say something juicy. I used the same technique, and it worked for a while.

‘Isobel’s got into Manchester.’

This was Gran. She always used people’s full names.

‘Oh love, that’s so far away. Such a long journey, that is.’

This was Rose. Never really travelled, except to Wales to visit her sister and across the city to see Dec, Mum or Gran.

‘I lived in Manchester when I was younger. It’s a very cultured city.’

April had lived nearly everywhere. At least five different countries, and she knew someone in any city you talked about. I’m not quite sure how she’d crammed it all in, because Lau had always lived in the city and hardly left the county, so April must have travelled a lot before she had Lau.

‘I’ve got a friend who lives near the Arndale Centre. Maybe I could put them in touch.’

I smiled into my teacup at this (Gran always liked people to have proper cups and saucers, even though you didn’t get as much and the handles were fiddly). April was very religious, and her friends mostly seemed to be too. The thought of Iz scandalising April’s church mates with tales of her free-from-home exploits was quite amusing. Not that they wouldn’t get on – Iz got on with most people, of any age, any anything – and she might like knowing someone close to such a major shopping centre.

‘I’ll mention it to her, dear. Now Rose, tell me more about Charlie and her teacher. What exactly did she do to get detention?’

Charlie was the only person Gran called by her shortened name. Probably because although she was Charlotte, she had been Charlie since the minute she was born and the name had slipped under Gran’s radar.

‘Oh Carol, she was so cheeky. It’s been coming for a while with that one. Amy’s been to the school, but I don’t know, it doesn’t seem to do much good …’

Rose launched into a lengthy retelling of Charlie’s misbehaviour, with accompanying tuts from Gran and April. I drifted off a bit, having heard it all before from Mum, having discussed it with Iz (she and I being the oldest and therefore most sensible of the cousins, and also liking a good gossip) and knowing that Charlie Summers was always going to do exactly what she wanted regardless of detentions, tuts or anything anybody told her.

Half way through a second slice of Rose’s delicious ginger cake, I became aware that I was being discussed. Almost as if I wasn’t there.

‘… a good boy, always pops round and wheels the bin out. Although I think Ayesha wishes he’d do it for her a bit more often.’

‘Hey! Ayesh never has to wheel the bin out.’

‘No, love, because you always say you’re going to, and then it’s too late by the time she realises you haven’t and the bin lorry’s arrived, and she has to take the bags to the tip herself.’

I had no idea how Rose knew this. Oh alright, I had a very good idea. Ayesh would have told Mum, and word of this riveting bit of intel had been distributed far and wide. I was really going to have to have a word with Ayesh about what she told people. Or be more thoughtful in my chore-completion.

‘Oh great. Anything else I’m crap at?’

‘Well now you mention it, love, there’s the laundry, the washing up, the –’

‘OK, OK, I admit defeat. Gran, where are the garden bags?’

‘In the shed, dear.’

‘Right, I’d better go, before you think of anything else I should be better at. While I’m doing something nice for my Gran, if I can remind you.’

‘You’re a good boy, Calum.’

‘Yeah, yeah. Get back to your gossiping, ladies.’

Rose did love a good gossip, never seemed happier than when she was recounting something scandalous that a friend or neighbour had done or said, unless it was cuddling one of the children. But although she loved a good drama, she was kind and generous with her time, and often had wise words to say in the midst of her chatter.

When I was about fifteen, when all the stuff with Chrissie had gone on, when I was being the ‘Cob-on Kid’ on holiday, and everyone was taking the piss, she was the only one who didn’t act like it was some hilarious adolescent phase. I don’t know whether she knew exactly what was bothering me, but she stayed behind one day when everyone else had gone to the beach, leaving me to stew in my room.

When I heard everyone leave, and the silence of the villa settled on me like a cool shower in the wake of all the noise, I opened the door of my room and went into the kitchen in search of breakfast. I was starving, but there was no way I was going out there to be ripped to shreds by Matty’s smart mouth, Charlie’s annoying questions or one of Mum’s looks.

I got half way across the lounge when a movement made me jump almost out of my skin. Rose was sitting in a chair, reading a book, and she’d turned a page. No one had ever stayed behind when they all went to the beach, I’d always had the villa to myself at least until lunch time when they all piled back again and filled the place with talking, laughing, clattering plates, music and chaos. I just wanted some head-space to deal with everything, and being away from home was hard enough, let alone being expected to have a jolly time.

Seeing Rose sat there, not even looking at me, but just in my space and my time, really annoyed me. I ignored her, once I’d noticed her, and carried on into the kitchen, where I banged plates and scraped cutlery for all I was worth, to show how pissed off I was.

Rose didn’t look up, not once, didn’t say a word, not even good morning. Well, if she was trying to get me to talk to her by being all quiet and mysterious, she was going to have a long wait.

I filled a bowl with cereal, using up the last of the milk, and poured myself a glass of orange juice, then took it all back to my room, as there was no way I was going to sit at the breakfast bar while Rose watched me eat.

I stomped crossly back to my room, checking out of the corner of my eye for some sign that she’d noticed so I could ignore her more, but she kept her eyes on her book.

Back in my room, furious that I was imprisoned by her and unable to wander round the villa like I’d been used to, I ate my cereal and drank my juice. Then I took out my iPod, put the earphones in and tried to block everything out with some loud music.

It didn’t work. I lay on my bed not thinking of anything, but my empty thoughts kept reminding me that Rose was in the next room, just being there. I couldn’t relax into my sulk, not properly, because the reason I was sulking (sulking more should I say) was because she was out there, and why couldn’t she just leave me alone, why did she have to bug me? Everyone else pissed off and left me to my own devices all day, why did she have to just be sitting there, obviously wanting to disturb me and get in my way.

I was fifteen, I was a growing bag of hormones. Of course everything was about me. I see it now, but I didn’t see it then. Then, nothing was fair, everything was huge and dramatic and black or white. And right then, I just wanted her to go to the beach with everyone else so I could have my space back.

I took my headphones out and stood up, intending to go out and tell her to fuck off out with the rest of them. Then I found myself hesitating, unsure how to start, knowing if I was too rude I’d be in the shit with Mum, and kind of not caring but only in a theoretical way, not in any way that meant I would do it regardless.

As I wavered by my bed, I heard footsteps coming my way, and a tap on the door. I stood, frozen, as if caught in the middle of something I shouldn’t have been doing.

‘I’m just making a cuppa, love. Anything you want?’

Rose drank tea all day. Even in Spain, where sangria was easier to come by, and relaxed you a lot more.

Shit, though. Now she’d acknowledged me, spoken to me, I had to either reply to get her off my back, or not reply, which would make her tap harder on the door, maybe even come in. I didn’t want to talk to her, because then I wouldn’t be ignoring her any more, but I didn’t want her to come in, either, because it would be much harder to ignore her.


I thought, seriously, about saying ‘fuck off’ but in the end I just couldn’t do it. I could have said it to almost anyone else who was there, except possibly Gran, and it would have made me feel more powerful, but with Rose, although she was well used to bad language, and said the odd word that raised Mum’s eyebrows from time to time, it just didn’t feel right. Rose was about the same age as Gran, and she was kind of like a gran, and you just didn’t do that to your gran, unless she really really annoyed you. And all she’d done was ask if I wanted a cup of tea. It shouldn’t have tied me in as many knots as it seemed to have done. I tried the best compromise I could think of.

‘No, I’m fine.’

See? No ‘thank you’. That was a bit rude, but not offensive, and curt enough to get my message across, I felt.

‘Are you, though, love?’

Oh now she wanted to talk about whether I was fine or not. Well if she tried anything more than offering tea, she was going to get told to fuck off. Her look out. I didn’t answer, and sat down on the bed, getting my earphones ready to put in.

‘Alright then, I’ll be here if you feel like a chat, or if you want some pancakes.’

Oh the evil old witch. She’d mentioned pancakes. Now I could think of nothing but pancakes, the thick ones with syrup, the ones that Rose made that were de-fucking-licious. But no, I had to be firm. She wasn’t going to win me over.

I was starting to get hungry again, though. A bowl of cereal and a glass of juice doesn’t go far for a growing lad. I usually had half a loaf of toast smothered in marmalade too, but Rose being there had stopped my breakfasting.

I carried on with my music, forcing myself to stop thinking about pancakes, or syrup, or food of any sort. But it was like telling someone not to think about red balloons. I couldn’t help it. And to make it worse, I thought I could smell pancakes cooking. Maybe it was my mind playing tricks, but I could smell the batter as it hit the frying pan, and then I could imagine the batter turning brown, being flipped over, steam and oily smoke rising, a stack of thick pancakes dripping with maple syrup …

I was out of my bedroom before I realised what I was doing. I hadn’t imagined the smell of cooking; Rose was in the kitchen, frying pan in one hand, spatula in the other, a small pile of pancakes on a plate by the side of her. She looked round when she heard me coming out of my room, and smiled, but turned back without saying anything.

I stopped in the doorway of my bedroom, wanting to go back in, unwilling to give up the pancakes. The eternal teenager dilemma: food or funk. Food won. Food always won with me. If Mum had only realised this, she would have won a lot more arguments.

I ambled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, like I was just looking for something to drink. I even got a bottle of water out, and stood looking at it, as if it was hugely interesting.

Rose still didn’t speak, just carried on making more pancakes. The stack was getting taller, and was crying out for something gooey to be oozing down its sides. She had butter and syrup standing by, but there were more pancakes on the go, so she was waiting.

‘I think I might have made too many, love. Fancy giving me a hand?’

Yeah, it was pretty lame, and I didn’t believe her for a minute – Rose hardly ever ate the things she cooked herself. But it did the trick, got me off the hook of having to ask for myself, and enabled me to shrug a reply.

‘Here, then, there’s tidy. Put half of them on a plate. There’s maple syrup, butter, and I think there’s some lemon juice and sugar if you want to be traditional.’

Rose split the pile and put half on the plate that I’d got from the cupboard. I poured maple syrup over my half and stood in the kitchen, eating greedily, stickiness running down my chin while I shovelled hot pancakes in my mouth as fast as I could. Rose watched, but didn’t eat.

As I finished the last mouthful, and wiped my chin on the back of my hand, Rose rolled her eyes at my rudeness and then gestured to her plateful.

‘I’m not as hungry as I thought. Can you eat this lot as well?’

I shrugged again and held my hand out. You know, anything I can do to help, I like to be useful. As I had my mouth full of hot battery sugary goodness, Rose decided this was the time to talk to me.

‘I expect you’re wondering where I got the milk from to make these?’

I had wondered no such thing, not really knowing or caring about ingredients so much as the end result. I frowned a response and offered another shrug.

‘I mean, on account of you using the last of the milk for your cereal and putting the bottle back empty in the fridge.’

Oh she was not serious. Having a go at me when my mouth was too full to defend myself was unfair.

‘None left for my cuppa, was there.’

I had a pang of guilt. I hadn’t thought about how Rose was going to manage her eighty million cups of tea without milk, and I’d have liked to have said I didn’t care, but it turns out I wasn’t quite as hard as I’d have liked to be.

‘Good job I’ve got my own little fridge in my room, for when I need tea in the night.’

Oh well that was alright. What was she complaining about?

‘Except there’s no milk there, now, either.’

Just pile it on, Rose, why don’t you.

‘I reckon you and me should take a little stroll to the shops, get some supplies. What do you think?’

Well I’d been absolutely stuffed, hadn’t I, and not just with pancakes. She must have been planning it since I got up, maybe before. I had managed the whole of this holiday so far by staying in my room, not going out into the bright Spanish sunshine, it was a bit of a thing. This was going to be the holiday Cal didn’t leave his room. And now she’d tricked me. I’d used the last of the milk, and made her use hers to do something nice for me, and now I had no choice but to do what she asked. OK, maybe I did, because if I’d truly been the sulky teen I liked to think I was, I would have said ‘screw you’ and slammed my bedroom door again.

But I suppose I wasn’t that kid, I was the one whose mum had given a huge sense of right and wrong to from an early age, and leaving Rose without tea all day was not something I could do.

My answer was, you’ve probably guessed, a shrug. I’d managed the morning so far by saying three words to Rose, and that was pretty good going. I hoped I would be able to stand as firm on the short walk to the nearest shop.

Turned out I didn’t need to stand firm at all, at least not at first. Rose talked all the way there and all the way back, about all sorts of things, ranging from her nephew, who was about Dec’s age, and his wife and children, to her landlord’s plans to put new carpet in, to Charlie’s first day at school, Rosa’s first tooth, in fact she went through practically every member of the family, talking about her worries and hopes for them all, and then she ended up with me. By the time she got there, I’d forgotten about being uncommunicative, and was craving a chance to say something, anything, to stop the flow of words coming from Rose.

‘I hope this girl’s worth it, love.’


‘I hope she’s worth you missing having the time of your life with your family. You won’t get it back, you know.’

‘What would you know?’

‘I’ve had my fair share of romances gone wrong. I wasn’t always an old bird, you know.’

Why did adults always say that, as if they had any idea what it was like?

‘They all miss you, being with them.’

‘Yeah right.’

‘That’s why they’re being so annoying, Matt and Declan trying everything to cheer you up and get you out of your room. It’s not the same without you there. Your mam misses you the most.’

I knew that, really. I knew deep down I was spoiling things in some way, for everyone, but I just didn’t have it in me right then to be that happy chappy they all wanted me to be.

‘I can’t, Rose, I just can’t.’

‘They worry, you know. We all do, love.’

‘I can’t help it. It’s like …’

I tried to find words to say how big a hole Chrissie had left in my life.

‘… whenever I feel happy, it doesn’t last long, because I think about her, and everything goes a bit dark, because I want to tell her how I’m feeling, but I can’t. I can’t ever. And don’t tell me I’m too young, Mum said I’m too fucking young to feel like this, so that’s why I don’t talk to her, she’ll never understand.’

‘Oh love, I’d never say you’re too young. Love can hit you hard any time, young or old, and I’m sorry you’re feeling like this. Maybe, though, you might need to think about trying to pull yourself out of it. I don’t mean right now, you sound like you do need some time to yourself, but don’t let it go on too long. It can be hard to shake it off.’

I looked at Rose. The way she spoke, it sounded like she did understand how I was feeling, almost as if she’d felt it too. She was looking back at me.

‘Yes, love, I do know how it is. I was fifteen once, too. Same thing, loved a boy, he left, I was heartbroken. Cried my eyes out for weeks, I did. Then I decided I wasn’t going to let a boy, who wasn’t there any more, rule my life, and I stopped crying and started smiling. If you smile enough, you can convince yourself you’re happy sometimes.’

It sounded like a load of bullshit to me, but it was true that Rose did seem happy a lot of the time. It wasn’t going to work for me, though, not yet, although maybe some of what she said made sense.

‘I’m not going to smile, not right now. I need to be on my own.’

‘Fair enough, love. Just promise me you won’t let it rule your life.’


‘I can have a word, if you like, get them to leave you alone a bit?’

‘No, it’s OK, don’t say anything. There’s only a couple of days before we go home, I don’t want the ten thousand questions.’

‘Alright, love.’

We got back with the milk, and to my knowledge Rose never told anyone about our conversation – to all intents and purposes, nothing had happened that morning. I stayed in my room for the rest of the holiday, dinner aside, and thought about Chrissie and what she’d meant to me and what she meant to me now.

When I got home, I realised that what Rose had said had stuck, and I started smiling more. It did make a difference, even outwardly – the way people reacted to me was different if I was smiling than if I was being a miserable git, and that made me feel different. I didn’t miss Chrissie any less, but I started to do things that made me forget, and in time it stopped hurting so much.

Rose often had wise words to say, and she was often surprisingly discreet. She loved a good gossip, talking about who was moving in with who in her flats, how terrible it was that the postman had run off with the woman who ran the convenience store, but when she had her chats with you, she didn’t tell anyone, she just talked and you generally just listened because you couldn’t get a word in, but she let you make your own mind up if you took her advice. Never came back and said ‘didn’t I tell you to …’ or ‘why didn’t you do what I said’.

When Chrissie came back and there was all the awfulness that went on with Ayesh, and it felt like everyone hated me for breaking up with her, Rose was the first one to say ‘I knew you and Chrissie should be together’, and she gave me a look like she remembered that morning in Spain, when I’d told her things I couldn’t tell anyone else, and I’ll always love her for that.


It wasn’t long after Rose’s funeral, in fact it was a few days after Conor’s first birthday, that we found out Lily was on the way. Not that we knew it was Lily, obviously, and it was a bit of a deviation from our plan as she was due in February, instead of the summer holidays. Babies – you just can’t trust them to get anything right.

From the start, she caused no end of trouble, and I expect she’ll go on causing it, like all the women in our family seem destined to do. Firstly, she was a bit of an accident – not in any way unwanted, Lily my lovely girl, we always wanted you, so much, still do, even when you’re screaming the place down because you wanted a green lolly and Mummy got you a red one. But anyway, there was a contraception mishap (hey Lau, I said it again), and before we knew it, Chrissie was having morning, noon and night sickness. She vomited at the slightest hint of food, almost literally anything would set her off, and she lost about a stone, instead of gaining weight, in the first couple of months after we knew.

Chrissie and the doctors finally got the puking under control, only for her blood pressure to spike, resulting in her being on bed rest for the last two months of the pregnancy, and the last month actually in hospital, because she just would not do as she was told.

That meant a month of me and Conor fending for ourselves, although to be honest we’d been doing that beforehand anyway, trying to keep Chrissie out of action.

And then when the time came for Lily to arrive, we nearly lost them both when there was some bleeding that wouldn’t stop, and I was shoved unceremoniously out of the room to pace in the corridor, sick with worry and angry at the lack of information.

It was very different from Conor’s birth, and it took us some time to stop feeling traumatised and begin life as a family of four. Chrissie was unwell for quite a while afterwards, and it was only because of a massive rally round by the rest of the family that we didn’t go under.

It was approaching the end of what I didn’t realise at the time was my last full season as a regular Raiders player. I’d felt for a while that I was maybe a metre off the pace, couldn’t get across the pitch as fast as I used to any more, missed a few important tackles. In the summer after that season, Raiders brought in the young TomCats and England winger who was hitting the headlines, and my regular playing days came to an end. I was destined to stay with Raiders until I called it a day – I couldn’t leave now, I wouldn’t know how to start again somewhere else – but it was with a game here and there in less important cup competitions, and a role in coaching, which I really didn’t enjoy.

Having a young family to support helped me to focus my attention on what I was going to actually do to support them once I stopped earning a living by playing rugby. I’d had my head in the sand about it for so long, and then suddenly, it hit me slap in the face.

While Lily was so little and Chrissie was so poorly, I had no choice but to carry on playing, when I was picked, helping out with the corporate and media stuff when asked to, and trying not to mourn my fading fitness or the lack of match appearance or win bonuses which decreased our income somewhat.

I felt it deeply, it affected my sense of who I was. I was a rugby player, had been since I was a teenager. It was a constant in my life, and losing that with possibly two thirds of my life left – well, I found it hard to accept. Until I talked to Matty, that is.

Matty had more bad days than good. He was regularly in hospital with pneumonia; he was more often than not either confined to his bed or his recliner chair; when he was up and about, he usually needed wheeling from place to place. He hated every second that he wasn’t what he considered normal, so he spent a lot of his life hating what he was. He could have become bitter and angry, but somehow he kept his sense of humour and his love of a good natter about nothing.

We could have just left him alone, God knows he told us to often enough, but his and Dec’s ‘you shouldn’t be alone when you feel this shit’ mantra had filtered down to us all, and when he was feeling down, that’s when we stepped up the visits, calls, texts and Facetimes.

Mum was coordinating the current campaign, and she’d text someone every day to suggest they might give Matty a ring, or call in to see if Lau needed anything from the shop. It was my turn, and I stopped off on the way home.

‘Hi Cal. How lovely to see you.’

‘Hey Lau. Just on my way home, wondered if there’s anything you need?’

‘Oh, no, thanks flower. Josh popped to the shop for me this morning. Come and have a coffee, though. I’ve got some chocolate chip cookies just out of the oven, too.’

‘Great. Is Matty about?’

I always asked this, even though Matty had no choice but to be ‘about’. It just continued the illusion, for him and for me, that there was a possibility he could be off on one of his hikes, or out checking the internet connection at Raiders.

‘Yeah, he’s had a snooze, just woken up.’

‘Lazy bastard.’

‘Matt’s always loved his sleep. He’s in the lounge, go through, I’ll be there in a minute.’

Lau headed off to the kitchen, and I walked through to the living room, where Matty was sitting in the large recliner chair they’d bought so he could sleep there in the day if he wanted to, without having the hassle of going back to bed.

These days, Matty was stick thin. He’d never had much body fat, but he was positively gaunt now. As I saw him, I had a sudden flashback to how he looked when he first came home from hospital up in Stafford, all those years ago, when I thought he looked like a ‘skellington’. He wasn’t that far off now, and I saw it with a lurch to my heart, how small his reserve of energy must be, and how exhausting every day must be for him. Before he could see me feeling sorry for him, I gave him a grin and plonked myself in the chair next to him.

‘About time you woke up, old man.’

‘Pihs ohf. I desehv my rehst.’

‘Yeah, I can see how a long day of sitting watching Countdown would tire someone out.’

‘Sihting watchihg Dec ruihn my businehs mohr lihk.’

Matty gestured to the laptop that was on a small table by his chair. He still spent a lot of time doing the IT side of their business, Linebreak, while Dec visited various locations and fed back via email and text.

‘Why, what’s he done now?’

‘Triehd tuh tehl Trohjans’ IT guy hoh tuh fihx thehr dahtabahs.’

‘Bugger. I take it he doesn’t know how to fix Trojans’ database?’

Matty looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

‘Cahl, yuh knoh he’s shih at compuhters. He cahnt evehn sahv a fihl, an now heh’s fucked ih up evehn mohr. Said he wahted tuh sahv meh a johb. Dickhehd. Cauhsed meh mohr wohk.’

‘Well that’s your afternoon sorted, then. I’ll leave you to it, shall I?’

‘Noh, dohnt goh, or Ih’ll hahve tuh sit an look at Lau ahl aftehnohn. Oh, heh Lau.’

Matty managed a cheeky grin as Lau came in with the coffee and cookies she’d promised.

‘Watch it, buster, I’m carrying a tray of hot drinks and it would be really unfortunate if one of them ended up in your lap, wouldn’t it.’

‘Lau, yuh wouhn’t, not my tahkle, wha wouhd yuh do wihout ih?’

‘Hmm maybe. Just watch your step then. Have a cookie and tell me how delicious it is, to make up for it.’

Lau was always trying to tempt Matty to eat, but Matty rarely had an appetite. He’d force enough down to keep him alive, but it was sad to see how little he cared about food any more. He’d always loved to cook, messing about with ingredients, making sauces for pasta, creating weird and wonderful sandwich fillings, doing amazing breakfasts for everyone, but now he hardly seemed to notice he was hungry.

‘I cahn smehl ih’s dehliciohs frohm hehr.’

‘Smelling’s not tasting, Matt. Here, Cal, show him what he’s missing.’

I dutifully ate a cookie. As I’d expected, it was really tasty. Chocolate chip cookies were Lau’s speciality.

‘Yeah, Matty, as good as ever. Possibly the best batch I’ve ever tasted.’

‘There you go, flower. How can you miss the chance to taste possibly my best batch ever?’

‘Goh on thehn, hahf a ohn.’

Lau smiled triumphantly and broke a cookie in half, handing it to Matty on a plate. She watched eagerly as he ate half of it, then put the plate down; Matty looked at her apologetically.

‘Dehd tahsty, Lau. Not huhgry tho.’

‘Never mind, flower. Here’s your coffee.’

She put Matty’s on the table by his laptop, then gave mine to me before picking up a mug of tea that Matty hadn’t drunk, and heading back to the kitchen. Matty’s coffee also remained untouched.

‘Hoh’s Chrihsie?’

‘Much better than she was, thanks. She’s been out a few times this week, taken Lily to appointments, came to the park with us yesterday.’

‘Greht. Lihly doing wehl?’

‘Yeah, growing every day. Conor’s got a cold, so he’s a grumpy little git. I would have brought him round at the weekend, but I didn’t want you to catch it.’

Matty rolled his eyes, as if catching a cold made no difference to him, when in reality it would have had him on a drip within twenty-four hours.

‘I saw Raihders sihgned Joss Tenk.’

Joss Tenk was the whizz-kid England winger who was set to replace me.

‘Yeah, great signing for us.’

‘Yuh OK wih ih?’

I looked at Matty, who knew as well as anyone what it meant for me, in all likelihood, unless I managed to find some previously undiscovered reserve of speed, fitness and (let’s face it) youth over the pre-season. I could have bullshitted him, but he would have seen through me in a second.

‘I haven’t got a choice, Matty. I’m not going to last forever, am I? I’m off my pace, and he’s a great signing. Raiders can’t afford to be sentimental. I’ll just have to try my best over the off season, see if I can’t show them there’s life in the old dog yet.’

‘Wha yuh gona duh?’

‘Well, work hard, train hard –’

‘Noh, wih yuhr lihf.’

It was a while since anyone had been this blunt with me. I’d avoided that question so well and for so long, that people had given up asking. I always hinted at some vague plan without actually expanding on it, and had become expert in avoiding being specific. Even Chrissie, who had begun to seriously question what I was going to do when I stopped playing, had been too poorly since Lily was born to be persistent, and I’d gone back to ignoring it all.

‘Oh I don’t know. Something will turn up.’

‘Yeh, yuhr righ, cos wehl paid johbs jus fahl in yuhr lap wehn yuhv got noh qualificahtions or expehriehce.’

‘I’ve got my coaching badges.’

‘Oh yeh. Weh ahl knoh hoh much yuh lohv cohching.’

‘Back the fuck off, Matty.’

I was getting defensive. I’d called round to see Matty and maybe have a bit of a chat about the weather and the kids, and instead I was getting the third degree about my career prospects.

‘Noh, Cahl, I dohnt thihk I wihl. Thihs fucking bahstrd’s gona geh meh ohn day, an I wana say shih befohr ih does.’

‘Matty …’

I hated it when Matty talked as if it was inevitable he wasn’t going to last much longer. However bad he got, he had so much guts and determination, he loved Lau and his kids so much, he always battled back. This was just another setback, I was sure, and I didn’t want to think about it being anything else.

‘Noh, Cahl. I wana say thihs. If yuhd behn shih at rugby, wha wouhd yuh hahv dohn?’

His question sparked a memory, of lying face down on the physio table at Raiders, talking to Kieran about what he was doing with his life because he knew he wasn’t going to be a professional sportsperson. Being a Physio wasn’t a substitute, it was completely different, and I wouldn’t say it was something that had ever occurred to me, except in a ‘bloody hell that’s too difficult’ kind of way. But I had always been fascinated with how the body healed itself and how it could be helped along. I had a sudden image of me being part of a different sort of team; one that looked at how to get the most out of arms and legs, how to help muscles repair, when to exercise and when to rest. It was just the seed of an ambition, but it took root in my head as I shrugged and answered Matty.

‘Dunno. Something physical, something not academic.’

I hardly had any GCSEs, not because I couldn’t have got some if I’d applied myself, but because I had other priorities at the time. Raiders Academy had always been hot on studying, but my focus had never been on schoolwork, it had always been on the outdoors, running about, throwing a ball, being buried under a pile of blokes, instead of under a pile of books.

‘Yuh couhd, tho. Duh the acadehmic thihg.’

‘Nah, I’m too old.’

‘Fuck ohf wih yuhr ‘tuh ohld’. Cahl, yuhv got a fahmly. They’ll lohv yuh whaever, buh yuhv got the braihs tuh beh amahzing. Duh ih while yuh can. Duh sohmthing tha hehps yuh look ahfter them. Yuhr gona nehd tuh suppoht them. Yuh nehd tuh duh the behst thihg yuh cahn. Migh tahk sohm hahd wohk.’

‘But I …’

My protests died away as Matty ignored me and took a big, noisy slurp of his coffee. He had decided the conversation was over, and when he’d finished swallowing his mouthful, he turned the topic to football, and we argued Tottenham versus Arsenal for a good half an hour before I had to go home.

Later that evening, my head still whirring with the possibilities Matty had made me think about, I pulled Chrissie against me on the sofa, after Conor and Lily were in bed.

‘Matty thinks I should go back to school.’

‘Oh does he? To do what?’

‘Get a career.’

‘Mm hmm. Did he give you any other careers advice?’

‘What, apart from never managing Spurs because they wouldn’t want someone who obviously knows nothing about football as evidenced by my poor taste in teams?’

‘Not that you’d take the job if they offered you a million a year.’


‘Yeah, apart from that, then.’

‘Well, no, he didn’t come up with anything, but … I did have a thought.’

Chrissie twisted in my arms and looked up at my face, an eyebrow raised quizzically at me. She knew I never talked about this, and I wasn’t really sure what I was doing talking about it myself, but something from this afternoon had got under my skin, and I needed to think out loud about it.

‘Well go on, then, share please.’

‘Alright then. I know it’s not the most original thing, but I was wondering about training to be a Physio.’

‘What, like Gracie?’

‘Yeah. Well, maybe more along the lines of Sports Physio than helping old ladies with their hip replacements, but it’s all the same training.’

‘That’s a lot of Uni, Cal.’

I looked down at Chrissie. She wasn’t suggesting I couldn’t do it, I knew she’d support me whatever I did, the same way I’d support her, we’d find a way to do whatever we all needed to do to be a family. She was wondering if I’d thought of all the implications and consequences, and fair enough, thinking things through wasn’t my strong point, and I had only just begun to think about this, I hadn’t thought any of it through at all. She also knew I was a lazy bastard at heart, and training aside, did as little as I could to get by.

‘Yeah, I know, I don’t know if I could do it, I mean, fuck, I’d have to do a shitload of exams just to get on the course. I honestly don’t know if I could actually stand it, but I think I want to find out.’

‘That sounds like a good place to start. Find out what you’d have to do. You should ask Gracie.’

‘I guess I could start with her, but she’s such a brainbox, she had all her exams sorted before she went, knew what grades she needed, passed everything with an A star. And she’s young. You know, old dog, new tricks and all.’

‘Yeah, but Cal, you haven’t really got a choice but to learn new tricks, have you?’

Trust my Chrissie to just say it how it was. She didn’t go on at me, usually said her piece once and then let it stew until I made my mind up, but once we were talking, she just said what she thought. And she was right. I didn’t have long before any decisions about my future were out of my hands, and I would be without a playing contract or, indeed, a job of any sort. It was like a light going on – I had to start doing something about it; should have been doing something about it for a long time.

‘Shit, Chrissie, you’re right. God, I need to do something, don’t I? I’ll call Gracie tomorrow, have a chat. Maybe talk to the guys at Raiders too.’

‘Yeah, sounds like a plan. Hey, who’d have thought, eh? Cal Scott has a plan.’

‘I know. Well weird. I think I need to lie down.’

‘You practically are lying down.’

‘Oh yeah. Well that’s alright then, no need to move at all.’

We sat together in comfortable silence for a bit.

‘How is Matty?’

‘He was out of bed, which is good, but still talking this shit about wanting to say everything while he’s got the chance.’

‘It sounds sensible to me. Do what you need to while you’ve got the energy.’

I didn’t respond immediately. It was too hard to think about Matty wanting to set his affairs in order, because I’d have to think about why he’d need to do that.

‘You know what, though, he’s a bit of an inspiration. He’s never let anything stop him doing what he wanted, or maybe what he needed to do. I mean, he can’t get around without help, and his speech has gone to shit, but he’s still working, still sorting out people’s IT stuff. He made it happen with Dec, and he’s training up Tom so when he –’

I stopped, as it was too hard to say what I’d almost said, that he was training up Tom to take over from him when he wasn’t around any more Matty was making sure everything was in place, that it was all sorted. I knew he’d made Lau some kind of partner in the business so she’d be financially OK, and it seemed he was working his way through the whole family, trying to make things as right as he could. Thinking back, I knew he’d talked to Iz about marrying Ben (fat chance, Matty, but nice try), he’d talked to Mum about ways to manage her business so she could step back a bit (Mum was rather taken aback at being told what to do for a change), he’d told Dad to retire and go travelling before he was too old (that went down well); I couldn’t think of any of us he hadn’t tried to sort out one way and another. He’d made some waves, thinking about it, but it hadn’t stopped him.

‘He is pretty inspiring, Cal. Nothing seems to stop him. He just fights all the time.’

‘Yeah, that’s what I mean. He wants his family to be OK, and he’s just going for it. I should be doing the same, whatever it takes. If I have to do some studying, take some exams, get off my arse a bit, I bloody well should, to make sure you’re all OK and we don’t have to worry.’

‘We’ll be OK, whatever.’

‘Yeah, and I know it’s not just up to me, but I think now playing isn’t so certain any more, I need to man up, be part of Team Scott. Unless you think thirty-one is a bit young to be manning up?’

I looked at Chrissie hopefully, but she just cuffed me on the arm and shook her head.

132. May you never

In which we encounter birth and death.

‘Hello sweetheart. Everything alright?’

‘Yeah, just off to the hospital. The baby’s coming.’

‘Oh Cal! That’s so lovely. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

‘What? Why are you coming?’

‘Well I thought I might be able to help –’

‘Thanks, Mum, but I think we can manage. We’ll call you later, and you can come and start being a granny.’

‘Oh but –’

‘Thanks for offering, Mum, but we’ve got this. Gotta go, we’re in the car. Bye.’

As far as being assertive with Mum went, it was pretty successful. Chrissie and I had been very sure that we didn’t want Mum anywhere near the delivery room giving anyone and everyone the benefit of her advice, but we were sure that we wanted her there as soon as possible afterwards so she could cuddle her new grandson.

‘Well done you.’

‘I handled that quite well, didn’t I?’

‘Yep. Now, drive on – ooh – they’re expecting us.’

It was early afternoon, the sun was shining, it was just like going on a day-trip, apart from the occasional ‘ooh’ as I drove.

Just as I pulled up outside the hospital, parking in the ambulance-only bit because there was no way Chrissie was going to be walking across the car park, there was an ear-splitting scream.

‘Aaaaah fuck. Aah shit that fucking hurts.’

This was more like it. Now I was proper panicked, like I thought I ought to be, and Chrissie looked like she was in real pain, with screaming and everything. Now we were getting somewhere.

‘OK, OK, just wait here, I’ll get a wheelchair or something.’

‘Don’t, you can’t leave me.’

‘Well I’ve got to babe, I can’t stay parked here.’

‘No Cal, don’t leave me, please.’

‘Two seconds, just to get a wheelchair.’


Chrissie reached over and grabbed my arm, harder than I would have thought her capable of. Serene Chrissie had left the building, and Determinedly Unreasonable Chrissie had taken her place.

‘Chrissie, we can’t stay here –’

There was a tap on my window. Looking round, I saw a man wearing a hi-vis jacket with ‘AMBULANCE’ across the front in blue. I opened the window.

‘You can’t park here, mate.’

‘Yeah, I know. I’ve just brought my wife in. She’s in labour.’

The man looked over at Chrissie and saw what was obvious, that she was heavily pregnant, with a large side order of fraught and hysterical.

‘You need a wheelchair. I’ll get you one.’

Before I could thank him, he’d headed off; I prised Chrissie’s fingers from my arm and got out of the car to open the passenger door for her.

‘I’m sure he won’t be long, grab hold of me and get out, babe.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Sure you can. Here, hang on to me, swing your legs round –’

‘I mean I can’t do it. I can’t have the baby.’

What was this now? How could she even be thinking that? That was totally illogical.

‘But … but … you haven’t got a choice. It’s not like they do refunds. Come on, it’s just nerves.’

‘It is not just nerves. Are you the one who’s going to be in level ten pain, or squeezing a person out of your vagina?’

‘Er, no, but maybe keep your voice down a bit, babe.’

‘Don’t you dare. This fucking well hurts. I can’t do it.’

I didn’t know how to respond. Chrissie hadn’t moved from the front seat, and if we were there much longer I was going to have to explain myself to more irate ambulance drivers.

‘OK, then, what do you want to do?’

‘Well how should I know? Don’t just stand there looking like a moron, help me.’

‘But I don’t know what to –’

Aaaaaah. Aaaaaah fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell.

Chrissie bent over her stomach, her face going red and her hands gripping her knees. I had never seen a woman in such pain before, and it was truly terrifying. Of course I’d seen plenty of blokes in a lot of pain, you know, dislocated finger, ruptured knee ligaments, internal bleeding, that kind of thing, usually on a muddy field, on their backs, being tended to by a physio while a game went on around them. They didn’t make much of a fuss about it. I didn’t think now was the time to mention it.

As Chrissie’s screeches subsided, I felt a tap on my shoulder and it was the ambulance bloke with the wheelchair.

‘Here you go mate. Your first is it?’

I nodded.

‘Yeah, thought I recognised the look of terror. Need a hand?’

I nodded again, suddenly helpless in the enormity of what seemed to be happening. The hi-vis man reached over and put his hand on Chrissie’s arm.

‘Alright there, love?’

I winced. Chrissie hated being called ‘love’ by men she didn’t know, and always tore anyone off a strip who tried. Except today.

‘No, I’m in fucking labour and it’s fucking agony.’

‘Oh, yeah, I know how that goes. Having a contraction now are you?’

‘Just had one.’

‘OK, then, we need to get you into the chair before the next one, so we can get you up to the Maternity Unit before junior makes a surprise entrance.’

To my amazement, Chrissie nodded and swung her legs round, allowing herself to be helped up by the ambulance man. Maybe they were trained in Jedi mind control or something.

As Chrissie sat in the chair, Obi-Wan Kenobi addressed me.

‘You need to move the car, mate.’

‘No, Cal, don’t leave me.’

‘I can take her if you like.’

I looked at him, undecided. Fuck it, I should have brought someone else with me who could park the bloody car. Why had Chrissie misled me with all the serenity and ‘ooh’, when really this was a panic situation that required quick thinking and not having to spend hours driving around looking for a bloody parking space?

‘Chrissie, I’ll be two minutes, I promise. I’ll run, I’ll catch you up.’

Two minutes was if I just dumped the car on the first lot of double yellow lines I found and paid the ticket or got the car unclamped later.

‘Don’t be long. I’m scared.’

‘I won’t, babe. I’ll be right there.’

As I drove off, Chrissie was pushed away by the hi-vis man, and I saw her looking desperately back over her shoulder, as if it was going to be the last time she saw me.

The gods were smiling on me, and a parking space opened up as I drove by it, so I abandoned the car at a bit of a crazy angle, then legged it as fast as I could to try and catch up with Chrissie and Obi-Wan.

The hospital was enormous, and the maternity unit was over the other side of it. There were lines painted on the floor to help idiots like me who had no sense of direction and couldn’t follow simple instructions, so I kept my eyes glued to the purple line as I raced down the corridors.

It wasn’t long before I picked up the sound of Chrissie’s voice.

‘Jesus fucking Christ where is he? He said two minutes.’

There was a less audible reply, so I just followed the sound of swearing. There were no more quiet ‘ooh’s, just ‘aaaaaah‘s and ‘fuck‘s.

I should stress that Chrissie didn’t normally swear a lot. Not that she never did, just that she chose her moments a bit less often than other people, me for example. I knew as well as anyone how helpful a good ‘holy fuck’ was in times of need, and it sounded like Chrissie was currently in a lot of need.

I sped up towards her voice, and she came into view as I rounded a corner, just as she was approaching the door to the maternity unit.


She turned her head as I reached her, and relief washed over her face, swiftly replaced by pain.

Aaaaah. Fuck. This is all your fault, you fucking bastard. Where the fuck have you been?’

I reached for her hand, but she batted me away.

‘Sorry, babe, I had to park the car.’

‘Here, mate, do you want to take over now?’

The Jedi Master ambulance driver handed the wheelchair over to me and started to walk away.

‘Thanks very much, you’re a lifesaver.’

‘That’s my job. Good luck. The name’s Dave, by the way, in case, you know …’

Obi-Wan Dave looked at me hopefully.

‘Thanks. We’ll bear it in mind, er, Dave.’

I opened the door to the unit and pushed Chrissie through it. She let out another scream, which brought quite a few people running, and before long we were in a room with a doctor and a midwife. Not Chrissie’s midwife, who was on holiday. This was apparently my fault.

‘Why did you have to knock me up just then, so Karen wouldn’t be here?’

‘Sorry, babe.’

‘Fucking men, the whole bloody lot of you are fucking useless.’

‘On behalf of men, sorry.’

I thought by being apologetic and remaining calm, I might get out of further abuse. This was not to be the case. Chrissie only stopped berating me long enough to scream, and then it was back to the badmouthing.

After what felt like hours and hours of sweating, screaming and swearing, Chrissie was pronounced ready for the delivery room, and she was helped into the wheelchair again. I tagged along behind, feeling a bit useless and a bit unwanted, until Chrissie looked for me and held her hand out, an expression of complete fear on her face. I reached for her hand, and she squeezed it so hard it hurt, a lot. I was slightly worried she might have broken a bone, but chose not to mention it.

‘Don’t leave me.’

‘Not going anywhere, babe.’

‘I’m scared.’

‘I know. You’re being so brave, so incredible. Just keep going, not long now.’

And then, after another forever in the delivery room, with a lot more sweating, screaming and swearing, he was suddenly there. I watched it all happen, and it was impossibly gruesome but spine-tinglingly awesome to watch him arrive. I got to cut the cord, and then I went back to Chrissie and held her hand and wiped her forehead and kissed her, and then they gave us our son, all wrapped up, and he was the most exquisitely beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Neither of us could speak, we could only look at him. The first thing he did was cry, and it broke my heart. I wanted to tear the world apart to look for the thing that would make it better. Turned out I didn’t have to, he just needed a feed. Took after his dad straight away on that front.

We had a few minutes with him while he fed, and then had to go back to the private room, where they’d put a little plastic cot with a blanket in it, but otherwise we were left on our own.

‘Look at him. He’s perfect.’

‘I know. You’re a clever thing, babe.’

‘No, it all just happened. Sorry I was yelling at you.’

‘Were you? I didn’t notice.’

‘Are you going to call your mum?’

‘In a while. I want to have him to ourselves for a bit. Can I have a hold?’

Chrissie reluctantly passed him over, and I held him against me, taking in all the tiny details of his face and his little hands, and the small noises he made as he moved.

‘Why don’t you call your mum, while I’ve got him?’

‘OK, good idea.’

While Chrissie talked to her parents, who still lived up north, I took him on a tour of the room, which wasn’t very big, but included a window, so we went and had a look outside.

‘Well, here you are at last, little man. In the world. Not much to see out there, really, just a car park, a few litter bins, oh look, there’s a cat. They go meow. Some clouds in the sky. I hope it’s not too much of a shock out here, I know you’ve been pretty comfy where you are. Time to grow up now, though, and –’

My meaningless drivel was cut through by Chrissie’s voice.

‘Conor … no, not after anyone. It’s just what he looks like.’

She looked guiltily at me as she said it, neither of us ever having mentioned Conor as a name, and for just a second I was annoyed at having the decision taken away from me, but as I looked back at the bundle in my arms, I realised that’s who he was. Conor. Not something beginning with ‘J’ after all.

‘Hey Conor.’

He wriggled, and one arm went into the air.

‘Oh, you like that do you?’

I smiled over at Chrissie and she relaxed, talked to her mum for a little while longer and then disconnected.

‘Sorry, Cal. I just said it without thinking.’

‘It’s fine. Probably the best way to do it. We’ve been overthinking his name, we should have known he’d have something to say about it. He is your son after all, he’d want an opinion.’

‘Oh Cal, he is, isn’t he. My son. Our son. Oh give him here, I can’t get enough of him. Call your mum now.’

And so I had no choice but to give him up and call Mum, which went as predicted, with Mum practically cutting me off mid-sentence so she could jump in the car and drive over.

With Mum on the case I really didn’t need to call anyone else; she would have the hands-free going all the way there. But I wanted to do some of it myself. I predicted that her list would start with Dad, then move on to Dec, then Amy if she wasn’t with Dec, then either Gran or Matty, it was a toss up. If I was quick, I could get in first. Maybe forget Dad and Dec, and go straight for Matty.

Matty was bound to pick up, because he was recovering from his most recent bout of pneumonia, and didn’t move far from the house at the moment. I called him.

‘Wha news?’

‘It’s a boy.’

Woohoo! LAU! Thehyv hahd him! Ahl OK?’

‘Yeah, great, he’s four kilos. Tons of black hair.’

‘An yuh cahled him Matthew. Ah thahks Cal, Ihm honohed.’

‘Ha ha, no. He’s called Conor. After no one, just because that’s his name.’

‘Ah maht, tha’s awesohm. Soh plehsed fuh yuh.’

‘Thanks. You’re now officially a great uncle. I’m going to start calling you Bulgaria.’

‘Pihs ohf, Greht Uhncle Bulgahria’s way befohr yuhr time.’

‘Maybe, but I’m not too young to remember you’re a cockwomble.’

I fist pumped – I’d been saving this joke up for months, praying no one else would think of it first. I’d deliberately avoided all references to great uncles, because I knew it would make Matty laugh, and I wanted to be the gifter of the humour. It wasn’t often anyone got one over on Matty in word games, especially me.

Matty did laugh, hard, and then broke off with a cough, and I listened to him hacking for a few moments, fleetingly guilty that I might have harmed him with my need to impress him.

‘Cal? It’s Lau. Matt’s having a bit of a cough, you can probably hear him. That’s great news, flower. Is Chrissie OK?’

‘Apart from having to fight me to the death over who gets to hold him, yeah.’

‘Four kilos, that’s not small. Stitches?’


‘Ooh, get you, all smug.’

‘Yeah, like it had anything to do with me, but I’ll take it.’

‘Is she staying in?’

‘Yeah, just tonight.’

‘Bring him to see us as soon as you can, won’t you?’

‘Sure thing. Soon as. Can’t you make it over, Lau?’

‘I’d love to, flower, but I’ll have to wait.’

This meant Matty wasn’t up to going out and she didn’t want to leave him, but he was still in the room, so she wouldn’t say.

‘I’d better go, Lau, other people to call, I’m trying to beat Mum to it.’

‘Good luck with that, flower. See you soon, I hope.’

I disconnected and tried Gran.


Gran never used caller ID, so she never knew who it was calling her.

‘Hi Gran, it’s Cal.’

‘Calum! Hello dear.’

‘Has Mum called you yet?’

‘No dear, why?’

Yes! Two down in the beating Mum to it stakes.

‘Well I just wanted to let you know you’re a great-granny.’

There was a brief pause and a slight intake of breath, then Gran replied in her unflappable way.

‘Oh that’s just lovely dear. I trust all is well?’

That was Gran’s way of being really excited and asking for more information.

‘Yeah, everything’s great. We’ve called him Conor. He was four kilos – er, oh, I don’t know what that is in pounds. Chrissie, what’s four kilos in pounds?’

‘Eight pounds thirteen.’

I had no idea how Chrissie knew that, maybe she’d made it up, but I took it.

‘Did you hear that Gran? Eight pounds thirteen.’

‘Goodness, Calum. That’s large. Is Chrissie alright?’

‘Yeah, no trouble at all.’

I loved telling people there were no stitches, as if my wife had the most stretchy lady parts, and it was all down to me, in some way.

‘Well I’m glad to hear that.’

‘I don’t know if you can make it in? Mum’s on her way, but if you call Dad or Dec, they might give you a lift.’

‘Oh I don’t want to trouble anyone.’

‘It won’t be any trouble, Gran. You do want to see your first great grandson don’t you?’

‘Well of course, dear.’

‘Call them then.’

‘You don’t think they’d mind?’

‘Gran, when did Dad or Dec ever mind you asking them to do anything?’

‘Alright then. I will.’

‘Great. See you in a bit.’

I disconnected and sat on the bed next to Chrissie, holding them both close as we gazed in stunned adoration at the most amazing baby that was ever born. I was pretty sure Mum would have contacted the rest of the world in the time I’d been talking to Matty and Gran, and sure enough texts started arriving not long after.

Dec: ‘Woohoo he’s here. On our way. Ready 4 invasion of the Summers?

Iz: ‘Aunty Iz says hi to little nephew. Any chance of details? Mum too excited to note names etc.

Dad: ‘Got to pick up your Gran then will b there. Well done.

Nico: ‘Cal this is great news from England. We like to see a picture soon please.

Ayesh: ‘Congratulations, Cal and Chrissie. Hope 2 cu & Conor soon Ayesh and Sam xx

Charlie: ‘Does this mean I’m an aunty? Congrats Daddy Cal. Love 2 Chrissie c ya l8r xxx

Mum really had been busy. I wouldn’t have put it past her to set up a conference call while she was on her way over so she could blitz as many people as possible. I almost turned on the TV in the room to see if it had made the headlines on the local – no, make that national – news.

It wasn’t long before the newest Scott grandmother made her appearance. We could hear her heels clicking down the corridor, gathering speed as she nearly broke into a run.

‘Ready babe? You’re going to have to hand him over now, you might not get him back for a while.’

‘I’ll get him back when I say so.’

This was likely true. Chrissie was superb at handling Mum.

The door opened, and Mum came in, breathless and shiny-eyed; her gaze honed in on Conor wrapped in Chrissie’s arms, and she hurried over to stare down at him. Chrissie and I could have been invisible for all the notice she took of us.

After a good minute or two of staring, Mum reached out and touched his cheek very gently, then looked at first Chrissie and then me.

‘Cal, he’s just perfect.’

I could sense the self-control she was having to use not to grab him from Chrissie. Chrissie seemed to realise too, and relaxed her grip slightly.

‘Would you like to give him a cuddle?’

Mum looked hungrily at Conor.

‘Oh I’d love to.’

She reached down and picked him up from Chrissie’s arms.

‘Hello Conor. Oh you are just the most adorable thing. I’m your Granny – oh. Dammit. I was going to say Nana.’

‘Don’t stress it, Mum, it’s not like University Challenge, your first answer isn’t binding. You can be Nana, like Nana Jane.’

‘I don’t want to be Nana Beth, it sounds Victorian. Just Nana.’


‘How’s that, then, Conor? I’m your Nana. I’m going to have you over for sleepovers, and feed you all the things your Mummy says you can’t have, and buy you really inappropriate things for Christmas.’

‘Really, Mum?’

‘No, I suppose not. But I hope you remember that it is my right to if I want to, as his Nana.’

‘You’ll always have the right to spoil him, Beth.’

‘Thank you sweetheart. I don’t think it’ll be hard. Oh, he’s so, so lovely. How are you Chrissie? He’s quite a weight. Was it hard work?’

‘No, not really. Didn’t seem to take that long.’

I stared at my lying wife, who seemed to have forgotten the hours calling me all the names under the sun – or maybe it was just ‘fucking bastard’ repeated at frequent intervals – while she screamed in pain through every contraction and all the pushing. Bloody hormones have a lot to answer for.

‘Cal said no stitches. Well done you. All that massaging and Vaseline must have worked after all.’

Oh dear God. Was there anything she hadn’t shared with my Mum? The massaging and Vaseline had been one of the perks of pregnancy, even though I hadn’t been quite sure why I was doing it. Some things you just don’t question, do you. If Mum knew, I could guarantee Amy and Lau would know, and that meant Dec and Matty would know and would be unable to resist taking the piss. In fact, it was amazing they hadn’t already.

To save me from further immediate embarrassment, the door opened again and Dec and Amy came in, closely followed by Tom, Gracie and Rosa.

‘Calum Scott you make me feel bloody ancient. How can you be a dad?’

‘Same way you are, old man.’

‘Let’s have a look then – come on Beth, hand him over.’

I thought Mum was going to resist for a moment, but she gave Conor to Dec without any fuss. Chrissie was watching closely, ready to demand his return at any minute.

‘Oh mate, he’s great. Look, Amy, he’s got my nose.’

‘Yeah, hon, course he has. Just like Josh has got your ears and Ella’s got your eyes. He’s perfect, Chrissie. Well done you.’

Conor started to cry, a little bleat at first, then full on yelling with added wriggling and arm-waving. Chrissie sat up a little straighter, looking worried, but Dec handed him straight back to her.

‘Thanks Dec. I think he just wants a feed.’

Chrissie pulled up her shirt and held Conor close so he could suckle; Dec went a bit pale and looked uncomfortable.

‘Maybe we’d better leave you to it.’

‘Don’t be daft, it’s fine.’

‘You could always wimp out in the corridor.’

Dec looked at me gratefully, despite the ironic nature of my suggestion.

‘Good thinking, Batman.’

As he turned to leave, Amy rolled her eyes at him.

‘Oh honestly hon, you’re not still squeamish? After all the babies there have been?’

‘Yep. Come and get me when it’s all over.’

Dec had a thing about breastfeeding. It had been fine, apparently, when it was Amy, no problem with that, but when it was anyone else’s wife or girlfriend, he’d be found waiting outside pretending to be interested in the January edition of Woman and Home. Matty was the same. Pair of losers.

Dad and Gran turned up shortly afterwards. I could hear Dad talking to Dec in the corridor, then the door opened and it became seriously crowded in the small room.

I had a sudden memory of a similar scene, many years ago, when Charlie was born, the room full to bursting with family, lots of noise and laughing, the small baby being handed round to everyone, and then all of us getting kicked out by a nurse for being too loud. There were about the same amount of people in the room today, despite there being notices up everywhere about the rules around two visitors at a time and keeping the noise down.

I watched proudly as everyone admired Conor, and as he coped admirably with being held by them all, the young Summerses included. He was the first baby in the family since Rosa, the first second cousin, or first cousin once removed, or third generation Scott, or whatever his official title was, and even though it would have meant even more people crammed into the small room, I wished Matty and Lau, and Iz and Ben could have been there. Rose would have made the family gathering complete, but she hardly went out, and even another baby to cuddle wasn’t enough to tempt her.

I made a mental list of people I was going to have to either visit or text pictures to, which included Baggo and Ayesh.

The loud Scott-Summers baby welcoming committee didn’t stay too long, although Mum had to be crowbarred out of the room by Dad, and Chrissie and I looked at each other, letting out a sigh. It was great being part of a big family, but exhausting too, especially after the day we’d had. It was early evening, and Chrissie looked wiped.

‘I should go soon, babe, let you get some sleep.’

‘Not yet, though. Stay with us for a bit.’

‘As long as you like, I can hardly bear to leave him.’

‘He is amazing.’

‘Yeah, he is. Can we Facetime Matty? And Iz? I really want to show him to them.’

‘Of course we can. I’ll scooch over, we can sit together here.’

So Chrissie and I snuggled together and I held my phone up, calling up Matty on Facetime. Soon, his face filled my phone screen. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face, although he was trying really hard to be cool.

‘Yuhv distuhbed my buhsy lying dohn scheduhl. Hohp ih’s impohtant.’

‘I’d say so. Here’s your great-nephew. Conor, say hi to Unca Matty.’

‘Uhnca Mahty … not behn cahled tha in a whihl. Heh Cohnor. He’s prehty cool.’

‘Yeah, we think so. We’ve got something to ask you.’

‘Noh, yuh cahn’t lihv hehr tihl he’s twehnty.’

‘Oh bugger. Well that’s that, Chrissie, he’s going to have to go back, if we can’t sponge off the old rellies.’

‘Lehs of the ohld thahks.’

‘Will you be his godfather?’

There was a long silence, and Matty’s eyes looked suspiciously like they filled with tears. It was even more suspicious when the view was suddenly of the ceiling of their bedroom, and we could hear rustling sounds. I looked at Chrissie and shook my head as the view returned to Matty, who had regained his composure.

‘Rehly, Cal?’

‘Yeah, we need some dodgy old atheist bastard to stand up and promise to look after our son’s spiritual well-being.’

‘Yeh, wehl, cahn’t promihs tuh beh able tuh stahnd uhp.’

‘No worries. Just being the dodgy old atheist bastard is good enough for us.’

‘Ha ha. Oh, Lau. Hehr, hahv a lohk, ih’s Cal an Chrihssie an Cohnor.’

There was a bit of readjustment as Lau came into the shot and sat next to Matty.

‘Hi guys – ohh, he’s gorgeous. How are you Chrissie?’

‘Yeah, good, tired though. Cal’s going to give me some peace in a bit.’

She looked up at me, and I could see the fatigue on her face. I wouldn’t stay long.

‘Lau, they wahnt meh tuh beh godfather.’

‘Why, did everyone else say no?’

Lau’s teasing was softened by a quick stroke on Matty’s face.

‘Chehky cow. Heh guys, cahn Josh have a quick look? Dehd quihk, promihs.’


Matty called Josh, and he came into the shot a few moments later. He’d been doing some kind of training and was still wearing his Raiders kit. Josh – the newest Scott on the Raiders block, on the point of breaking into the first team, in the middle of his first proper pre-season. Ella was away with friends celebrating the end of school, and I would have to text her later.

‘Hey Josh.’

‘Hi Cal. You’ve had him, then.’

‘We’ve had him. You can pass the good news on to the guys if you want.’

‘No, lazy arse, you can do that. He’s pretty cool, though. Alright, Chrissie?’

‘Yeah. Tired but happy.’

‘Will you be at training tomorrow, Cal?’

‘Yeah, but maybe not till later. Chrissie and Conor are coming home, and I’ve got the morning off.’

‘Any excuse.’

‘Come on Josh, let’s get off the iPad so Cal can get home.’

‘Thanks Lau. We’ll come and see you soon.’

‘Look forward to it. Bye flower.’

‘See yuh.’


I turned to Chrissie, who was really flagging now. She was almost asleep, and Conor was snoozing in her arms. I picked him up and placed him in his hospital cot, wrapping a blanket round him and stroking his head. As I looked back at Chrissie, her eyes closed and her head settled back against the pillows. I tucked the blankets around her and kissed her forehead, then took some pictures of Conor, to add to the several hundred I’d already taken. Iz’s Facetime would have to wait.

I looked at Conor for an age; I would have stayed all night, but Chrissie needed her rest, and our son was bound to wake up soon wanting food. Chrissie was going to call or text or Facetime if she was awake in the night and able to get to her phone, and I hoped this meant it would feel more like I was there too.

It was really hard to leave the room. Once I’d taken a step out into the corridor, it felt like I was back in a world I hadn’t visited for a long time. In fact, it felt like the world had changed. Now, it was a world where I was a dad, where Conor Scott was my son, and it felt completely new and utterly different from how it had felt before.

I drove home in a happy haze, microwaved some dinner and then called Iz while I emailed her from my laptop.

‘At last! I thought you’d forgotten about me.’

‘Sorry, I’ve only just got home. I wanted to Facetime, but Chrissie fell asleep. I’m just sending you some pictures and a vid.’

‘Mum sent some pictures. Actually she sent thirty-seven. Cal, he’s so gorgeous. I can’t believe he’s yours.’

‘Neither can I. He’s so perfect, I keep thinking someone’s going to come along and say ‘sorry, we made a mistake, this is the one who’s really your son’, and it’ll be some minging baby with enormous ears and a weird belly button.’

‘Ha ha. Ben and I were thinking about coming down at the weekend. Can we come and see him?’

‘Yeah! Chrissie’s coming home tomorrow, she’ll be glad of the company. I’ve got a pre-season game on Saturday. Oh, does Ben want tickets?’

‘Oh I suppose so.’

I could almost hear Iz rolling her eyes. She couldn’t escape rugby even in football mad Manchester, because her boyfriend was a huge Royals and England supporter, and whenever they visited, she had to sit through hours of rugby chat.

‘Great, I’ll sort it. Don’t pretend you won’t be happy to sit with Chrissie, cuddling your nephew.’

‘Yeah, if I can get a look-in. Did Mum even let you or Chrissie hold him all the time she was there?’

‘Maybe for a second or two. Chrissie’s more than capable of telling her to back off though.’

‘I know. She bloody scares me sometimes, your missis.’

‘Yeah. Me too. That’s the only reason I married her.’

‘It is not. It’s because I made you go and find her when you nearly let her move away.’

‘Jesus, Iz, you’d take credit for the bloody sun coming up if you could.’

‘And why not? It does mainly happen because of me.’

‘Ha ha. Have the pictures come through yet?’

‘Yeah, I’m just looking now. Oh, and the video, oh Cal. He’s so tiny.’

‘Not that tiny. Four kilos.’

‘Yeah, but compared to you, he’s so little. Aw you look well chuffed. How’s it feel, being a dad?’

‘I don’t know. Different to how I thought it would be. It’s like, kind of weird that they’re back in the hospital and I’m here. Like there’s some kind of link, pulling on me, so I can feel him all the time. I can’t believe I made him, or part of him. It’s the best thing I ever did.’

‘Well I can’t wait to see him. We’ll be there late Friday, so we’ll come and see you before you go to the game on Saturday. Is Joshy playing?’

‘No, but he’s going to be with the squad. You’ll see him in the kit doing the warm up.’

‘Well I won’t, but Ben will. If Josh was playing I might have gone. I hope I can see his first game.’

‘It won’t be long.’

‘I bet Matty’s pleased.’

‘I hope he’s better before Josh’s first game. He’d hate to miss it.’

‘Yeah. He’s not that great much of the time any more, is he.’

‘No. It’s horrible. He couldn’t come and see Conor today, we had to Facetime him from the hospital. We’ve asked him to be godfather.’

‘Oh wow, he’ll love that. Well, maybe not the God bit, but the honour and that.’

‘Would you be honoured?’

‘Er …’

I hadn’t meant to say anything, Chrissie and I were going to ask her together, but it felt like the right time. I had, of course, made a bit of a bodge of it.

‘I mean, we’d like you to be Conor’s godmother, when we get round to having a christening.’

Iz’s voice got very quiet.

‘Oh my God, Cal. Yes. Yes please. Wow. Thank you.’

‘I wasn’t supposed to say anything. I might not tell Chrissie, so if we ask you again at the weekend, you’ve got to act all ‘OMG what a surprise’, right?’

‘I’ll try. God, thanks. That’s amazing. Does Mum know?’

‘Do you think it would be a surprise if she did? She’d have blabbed to bloody everyone by now.’

‘How do you know she didn’t, and I was just demonstrating my talent at acting all ‘OMG what a surprise’?’

‘True. Well as long as everyone thinks nobody knew, that’s the main thing, isn’t it.’

‘If you say so, Cal.’

‘I should go, I’ve got texts to answer and ‘proud dad’ photos to post on Facebook.’

‘Go on, then, bugger off and greet your public.’

I disconnected from Iz, replied to all the texts, which included congratulations from team mates, Ella, and Rose. I also tried to call Baggo, but he had his phone off, or didn’t hear it, or more likely had forgotten to charge it, so I texted him.

Hi Bags. Here’s a photo of MY SON! He’s Conor and arrived earlier today. More photos about to be posted on Facebook. Will call u soon. Cal.

And then I set to work on Facebook. I had never really got people’s obsession with posting daily pictures of their new babies, not until now, when I just wanted everyone to ‘Like’ and comment, and tell me how awesome he was.

I also posted a picture on my Twitter account, and immediately got the expected flurry of replies from Raiders supporters, which I favourited to show I appreciated it.

Then I opened a beer and flicked the TV on, and sat not watching it, but scrolling through all the pictures of Conor I’d taken that day. I was entranced, and sat smiling stupidly to myself as I looked at the photos and watched the few short clips of video.

Baggo replied after a while.

Awesome mate. Proper little tyke. Must meet up soon, wet his head.

Then Chrissie called, just as my eyes started drooping and my head lolled backwards on the sofa.

‘Hey babe. How are you?’

‘Better now I’ve had a sleep. Sorry I passed out on you.’

‘I think you needed it. Full on day, with a new person at the end of it, can’t blame you for snoozing. How is he?’

‘Awake, but quiet. He’s just had some dinner. So have I, it’s pretty good in here. He says hi.’

Chrissie put on a squeaky voice.

‘Hi Daddy I miss you.’

‘Hey mate. You’re not missing much, though, son, there’ll be plenty of opportunity to watch your old man drinking beer and slobbing on the sofa over the next few years.’

‘Sounds like you’re having a relaxing time.’

‘Yeah I am, now. I called Iz when I got in, she’s coming down with Ben at the weekend.’

‘Oh great. We can ask her, then.’


And I couldn’t do it, couldn’t keep it from her.

‘I, er, might have let it slip though.’

‘What, you asked her already?’

‘Yeah, kind of couldn’t help it.’

‘What did she say?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Oh, well that’s great. One less thing to do.’

I was a little relieved. The last few months had been slightly unpredictable regarding how Chrissie handled changes in plans. She liked things ‘just so’ anyway, and often got exasperated with me being what she called ‘lackadaisical’ about arrangements; but being pregnant had made her cranky at times, and I’d come in for some stick. Not that I didn’t deserve it, mostly, but it would be nice to think I wasn’t permanently in trouble.

‘I’m getting Ben some tickets for Saturday’s game, so you and Iz can have a girly time in the afternoon.’

‘Sounds good. What time will you be here tomorrow?’

‘How about nine?’

‘Great. I can’t wait to bring him home.’

‘Me neither. I love you, Chrissie.’

‘Just as well I love you too, then, isn’t it.’

I eventually went to bed, after looking at all the pictures one more time. Chrissie texted me a couple of times in the night, to say she was feeding Conor, and we Facetimed once she knew I was awake. Watching them both was mesmerising, and although I should really have been sleeping, I couldn’t think of a better way of spending the night than watching my wife feed my son.


Ella went off to university to study Law; Josh worked his way through the ranks at Raiders, and became a regular starter in the first team. Matt managed to travel with us to take Ella to Durham to start university life, and with a huge effort he made it to Raiders Stadium with the rest of the family to watch Josh’s first team debut. He missed Josh’s first try and Ella’s starring role in the University production of The Importance of Being Earnest, as he was in hospital recovering from pneumonia both times. There was enough video footage of both events to more than make up for his absence, and he played them over and over again when he was back at home. I often heard him shouting ‘A handbag?!’ or ‘Scott goes over for his first’ and knew what he was watching.

Matt made it to Cal’s son’s christening; I don’t think anything could have stopped him from being there, as he was godfather to Conor, and it was one of his proudest moments.

We had good days, where things were normal, or felt normal, and we got happy and sad and cross and relaxed with each other. We had great days, like the day Matt and I went for a walk round the lake in the cold, and it was sunny and frosty, and although Matt was in his wheelchair, when we sat together, me on a bench and him next to me, it was like we were the only couple in the world, and we talked and talked about nothing and everything, and came home feeling like nothing was going to get to us ever again.


Having a son was brilliant. I mean, yeah, the lack of sleep was a pain in the arse, and when he was really little, all he seemed to do was eat, sleep and shit, but that didn’t last long, then he started to get interesting, and learn stuff, and it seemed like he changed every day.

Chrissie really wanted to go back to work, but she was taking a year out before she decided for definite. I was starting to weigh up my own employment options for when I finished rugby – I was thirty now, and I suppose the end was in sight. I really didn’t want to think about it, but with Dad and Dec on my case about not leaving it until the last minute, and every game could be my last and other such cheery bollocks, I had little choice.

Coaching wasn’t really my thing. I’d done some badges, and maybe I could have made a go of it, but I didn’t have the ability to control a group of people like the best coaches do. I could tell a bunch of kids the best way to step around a tackle, or how to hold a defensive line, but I’d never be able to give a group of grown men a bollocking to motivate them in the upcoming game.

I’d got a few GCSEs at school, but nothing that had inspired me, and by the time it came to A levels, I was purely thinking about my rugby career, despite advice from everyone to think about another option in case things didn’t work out, and I’d failed the two I took. I hadn’t had to have a plan before, and now I needed one. I needed to be able to provide for my family once my days of earning a living from the sport I loved were over.

I’d never thought about Physiotherapy as something I could do; the thought of doing something like a degree seemed really hard, and I’d seen how much work Chrissie put in to her teaching degree. I didn’t think I had the brains to put that much into learning something new.

It wasn’t until a student Physio came to Raiders on a placement from Uni at the same time as I’d developed an ongoing calf strain problem, that I even showed any interest in what it took to become a Physio.

I was having a massage in the treatment room and, as you do, we were chatting while Kieran (the student) iced and heated my calf, then massaged it. Chatting helped you relax and took your mind off what was happening, so you didn’t tense up the part that was being worked on.

I found out that Kieran had gone to the same schools as me, both primary and secondary, and that one of the reasons he was a Physio was because I’d been to his school and was a bit of a ‘legend’. I use this word lightly, because I know there is a signed picture of me and a signed Raiders shirt in the corridor near the hall, but to my certain knowledge my photo is anatomically altered regularly with a Sharpie, and Kieran confirmed that this was still the case. However, being a huge Raiders fan, this didn’t stop Kieran wanting to find a way to enter the world of professional sport, despite not having found a way to do this as a sportsperson himself.

‘And so when Uni said I was coming here for my placement, I couldn’t believe it. I went home and sat at the table for about an hour just going ‘wow’. Now I’m here, of course, I know you’re all just a bunch of tossers and I’m changing my allegiance to Trojans.’

‘Careful, Kieran. You know us tossers get to comment on your final report.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t know what you’d have done without me, so I’m pretty confident.’

Despite our banter, he was a good Physio, particularly as he hadn’t even qualified yet.

‘Is it hard, doing practical and academic stuff? My wife’s a teacher, and she had to do both when she was training.’

‘Well, I suppose there never seems enough time to do both, but you can’t do one without the other, and it’s great to put your learning into practice, like now. When you learn a technique, and practice on other students or on volunteers, it’s not the same as a real person with a real injury, and when you see what you know working on someone, it’s awesome.’

I recognised this concept from playing rugby. Practising moves on the training ground was one thing; using the same moves in a game and scoring or preventing a try as a result felt fantastic.

‘My cousin’s just started training to be a Physio, in Manchester. She spent some time here hanging round you lot, talking about obscure bones no one’s heard of and I think you make up, and recovery rates and other nonsense.’

‘Hey that made up nonsense is keeping you playing, old man.’

‘Fair point. Must be rewarding though, like you say, knowing how to put things right.’

‘Yeah it is, and frustrating when it doesn’t happen, and when you lot go out and blow weeks of work by twisting your knee in the first tackle.’

‘I’d love to be able to do something like that when I finish.’

‘Why don’t you?’

‘Nah, never been bookish, well not since I was little anyway.’

‘What will you do, do you think? I know some people have got, like, plumbing qualifications or are starting their own companies.’

‘Yeah, I know. Haven’t really got a plan. I should, I know, everyone goes on at me all the time, but I hate thinking of not playing.’

‘Happens to everyone some time, whether you’re working in a bank or playing rugby. You can’t go on forever.’

‘No, I suppose not.’

And that was the spark. I didn’t think about it a lot, but every so often I’d go back to it and something about working with muscles and bones, and using what I knew about strength and conditioning, appealed to me. Every time I talked to Gracie, I’d quiz her about what she was doing, and just wonder if I could do it. But that’s as far as I got, just wondering. I was still avoiding thinking about it.


It was a few weeks after my conversation with Kieran that I was woken in the night by my phone. I didn’t recognise the tone, but when I looked at the screen, it was Rose. Rose never called me. Actually, Rose hardly ever called anyone apart from Dec, and I assumed she’d pressed the wrong key by mistake. Still, you never knew, and I answered.

‘Hey Rose.’

There was no sound for a moment, then some words that didn’t make sense, then a noise I couldn’t interpret. Then the connection was lost.

Chrissie had woken up next to me.

‘Who was that?’


‘Is she OK?’

‘I don’t know. She wasn’t making sense. I thought she’d called me by mistake, but it was weird. Maybe I should call Dec.’

Dec’s phone rang for a while, and I wondered if it was on mute, but he finally answered.

‘What the fuck Cal? If your bloody baby’s keeping you awake, watch repeats of The Simpsons like normal people at this time of night.’

‘I just had a call from Rose.’

‘Oh. Oh, what? What did she want?’

‘I don’t know. It was weird. She said … well I don’t know, it was just garbled.’

‘Shit. I’ll call her.’

‘Can I do anything?’

‘No, mate. Thanks for letting me know.’

I disconnected and turned over, but couldn’t sleep. Something felt wrong. I texted Dec.

Anything to report?

She’s not answering. On my way over there.

Without thinking about it much, I got out of bed, pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt, and got in the car. We lived closer to Rose than Dec and Amy did, and I’d get there about the same time.

The streets were almost deserted at that time of night, and the journey was quick and uneventful. Dec had just arrived at the sheltered flats when I got there. I got out of the car and hurried over to him as he opened the door to the lobby.

‘Cal? What the …’

‘Thought you might like someone with you.’

I had a really bad feeling, and didn’t want Dec walking in on something awful by himself.


Dec knocked on Rose’s door, then unlocked it and went in, calling out as he did so.

‘Hey, it’s me.’

There was no reply. The flat was in darkness, so Dec flipped on the hall light.


It was all eerily silent.

‘Shit, Cal, where the fuck is she?’


It seemed logical. In the hall light, I could see how terrified Dec was. He was shaking, his eyes were wide and he was breathing fast.

‘Let me check. You stay here.’

‘Sorry, I feel like a complete wimp.’

‘Just stay there.’

I tapped on Rose’s bedroom door, then opened it and tried to see by the light from the hallway if she was in bed, but it was too dark. Almost holding my breath, I turned the light on. And breathed out. She wasn’t there. The duvet was turned back, as if she’d just got out of bed.


Dec’s shout startled me, and I ran out of the room and towards him. He wasn’t in the hallway; the door to the living room was open, with soft lamplight coming out. I hurried into the room, to find Dec standing staring at Rose, who was sitting in her armchair, eyes open, but no longer seeing. I stared at her for a long time, hoping to see the rise and fall of her chest as breath went in and out, but it was all terrifyingly still.

‘Fuck. Dec, go and wait in the car.’

It was the only thing I could think of to do. Dec was frozen to the spot, staring at Rose, who, just to be clear, was obviously dead. He didn’t need to be here, there were things that needed doing, and he wouldn’t be able to do them. Part of me wanted to freeze along with him – I’d never seen a dead person before, and it was freaking large parts of me out. But Dec, the look on his face, like he was having waking nightmares, I knew he needed to be out of there.

‘Dec. Dec.’

He slowly looked at me, but there was no understanding on his face. I knew he was going to need me to be pretty forceful, so I pulled hard on his arm and made him come with me. He started to resist as we got near the front door.

‘No … no I need to … she needs …’

‘I know, mate. I’m going to do it, OK? You need to sit in the car and wait, and I’ll come out when I’ve done it, yeah?’

I had no idea what Dec thought he needed to do; I was just trying to reassure him. I also had no way of making him stay in the car, but I had to trust that he would. I opened the passenger door of my car, and made sure I had my keys, so he wouldn’t take it into his head to go driving off, and then I went back into the flat. I couldn’t immediately face going back into the living room, so I got my phone out and called the one person everyone called in a crisis. Mum.

‘Hello sweetheart. Is everything alright?’

‘No. Rose is …’

I couldn’t make myself say the words, because then it would be real, and it felt too soon and too harsh for it to be real, and it might tip me over the edge into completely freaking out.

‘Rose is what?’

‘Me and Dec just found her.’

‘Found her where?’

‘In her flat. She was just sitting in her chair.’

‘Is she alright?’

‘No, Mum.’

‘Is she …’

Mum never minced her words, but it seemed even she found this hard to say.

‘Is she breathing?’


‘Oh God. Where’s Dec?’

‘He’s in my car. He just froze, like a statue. I had to drag him away.’

‘OK, Cal, I’m on my way. You need to call an ambulance, though. They’ll need to take her away.’

131. I’ll be there

In which an ex becomes a friend, and a new dad begins his journey.


Matt continued his unsteady decline. His MS took him down and let him back up again, but he always lost something more along the way. We had our house turned upside down so that our bedroom was downstairs, where the dining room had been, and made a lounge for the children upstairs. We turned the downstairs shower room into an en-suite, and Matt grudgingly accepted various bits and pieces of equipment, that gathered dust in the cupboard under the stairs until he really couldn’t do without them.

Matt was an usher at Cal’s wedding; he stayed on his feet through the whole ceremony using what I can only assume was willpower, stayed in a chair throughout the reception, and collapsed exhausted as soon as Cal and Chrissie had left for their honeymoon.

Just over a year later, he stood in for Jay at Iz’s graduation from Manchester University, as Jay was away coaching with the England rugby team. He managed to give Iz a standing ovation when she collected her certificate, and was so proud of his niece.


It was a Thursday afternoon. Raiders day off, down time to prepare for the game on Saturday. Chrissie was at Uni, and I was lying on the sofa flicking through channels on the TV trying to find something to watch so I didn’t have to do something more productive. ‘Oh but, babe, I would have done the washing up’ sounds so much more convincing if you can follow it up with ‘but there was this thing about how the world’s going to end because of a superbug’ than ‘but I couldn’t be arsed’. At least it did in my head, before I presented it to Chrissie.

Chrissie was much more on my case about pulling my weight than Ayesh had been. I can’t blame Ayesh at all, she just took the path of least resistance, and followed Mum’s model, which was to give up the daily fight of getting me to put my socks in the laundry basket/dirty cups in the dishwasher/towels on the towel rail, in favour of the quieter life where they did it for me. Suited me. Chrissie was not of a mind to let me get away with such blatant laziness, however, and chivvied me at every opportunity, never doing something that was my job, always reminding me when things needed doing, and she was actually training me well. Most of the time.

Days off were a different matter, a kind of holiday, and that Thursday afternoon I was just chilling. My phone rang. Ayesh. I had long ago changed her ringtone from the clubbing number that used to announce her calls, to the generic tone for anyone from acquaintances to wrong numbers, but I hadn’t ever been able to delete her from my contacts. Ayesh hadn’t called me for a long time, and I hadn’t spoken to her since that brief conversation at our wedding, several months ago.

‘Ayesh? Er … hey.’

‘Hi Cal. I’m really sorry to call you.’

‘No problem. What’s up?’

‘It’s just, there’s no one else … everyone’s … I can’t get hold of …’

‘Are you OK?’

‘I think I just ran over a cat.’

Ayesh was completely soppy about animals. She wouldn’t even kill spiders and flies, choosing instead to spend hours shooing them out of windows, and so running a cat over would be horrendous for her.

‘Shit. You only think?’

‘There was a bump and I looked in my mirror and something gingery ran into the bushes behind me. I don’t know what to do. What if it’s lying there all …’

Her voice tailed off as she imagined the horrors, and I heard a sniff.

‘Ayesh, where are you?’

‘On the bypass. Just past the retail park.’

‘That’s not far from us.’

‘I know. I didn’t know what else to do. Sam’s not answering his phone, but he’s at work, and you’re so close, I just want to look for it, but what if it’s …’

More unimaginable horrors filled the silence. Stifling a sigh, I sat up and slipped my trainers on.

‘I’ll be there in five minutes.’

‘Oh Cal, are you sure? I’m so sorry, I just didn’t know what else to do.’

‘Stay in your car, yeah?’

As I drove there, I thought about how weird it felt, that after all this time, Ayesh was calling me to help her out. And how weird it didn’t feel to be going to help her.

I saw Ayesh’s car and pulled in behind her in the layby where she’d parked. She opened her door as soon as my car stopped, and got out, looking pale and a bit shaky.

‘Cal, I’m so sorry, I’m being stupid, I know, but it shook me up, and I just can’t stop thinking about it. We’ve got a cat, and I know if anything happened to it, I’d want someone to look after it, so –’

‘It’s OK, Ayesh. Which way did it go?’

‘Well if it was anything, it went that way.’

‘OK then, let’s have a look. You stay here, just in case.’

I knew that was what was at the heart of Ayesh’s panic. She wanted to make sure the hypothetical cat was alright, but didn’t want to have to see its mangled remains. I’d always been the one who bashed the spiders with a shoe, hence the hours she spent shooing them out of windows.

‘I can come.’

‘No, it’s fine, stay here. Keep an eye on the cars.’

It was a bit of a flimsy excuse for her not to come with me, but she took it and nodded her agreement.

There was no cat that I could find, although I have to say I didn’t look tremendously hard. I tramped around a bit, peered under a few bushes, made a few half-hearted ‘puss puss’ noises after I’d carefully checked there was no one around to hear me, and went back to the cars when I thought I’d spent long enough to convince Ayesh there was nothing there.

‘I can’t find anything. Nothing under any of the bushes, no cat noises, I suppose it could have gone anywhere, but it might not have been anything, Ayesh.’

‘Did you look in the long grass?’

Well I’d looked at the long grass.

‘Yeah. Nothing there. Maybe you just hit, I don’t know, a pothole or something?’

Ayesh looked dubious, but I looked back down the road, and sure enough there was a divot in the road. I pointed at it.

‘But what about the ginger thing I saw?’

‘I don’t know, but it could have been anything, something lit up by the sun in your mirror, a Sainsbury’s bag –’

‘Did you see a Sainsbury’s bag?’

‘Ayesh, there are about fifty thousand plastic bags littering the undergrowth. I’m almost a hundred per cent sure you didn’t hit a cat.’

I had no way of being able to promise her this, but it just seemed like the easiest way to stop her worrying. In fact, her face lightened a bit as she either believed me, or chose to believe me.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Almost a hundred per cent.’

‘I feel really silly now.’

‘No, don’t, it’s better to be safe, isn’t it.’

‘Thanks for coming out. I didn’t know who else to call. When Sam didn’t pick up, I couldn’t think of anyone else who wasn’t miles away, might be at home, and who wouldn’t laugh at me.’

‘Why would anyone laugh at you?’

‘Oh you know, my little dramas. Rhi’s always calling me a silly cow for what I worry about.’

‘You always were a worrier, Ayesh, but Rhi would have helped.’

‘Yeah, but she’s at her sister’s. So, anyway, thanks.’

‘Sure thing. Are you OK? You looked a bit shaky before. Do you want to come back for a cuppa or something?’

Ayesh looked at me gratefully.

‘If that’s OK. I was a bit wobbly, before you got here, just thinking it could have been Nobbles – oh, that’s our cat – and how I would have felt.’

‘Nobbles, eh?’

‘He’s a rescue cat, we didn’t choose the name.’

‘Yeah right, Ayesh. You stick to that story. Follow me back, I’ll put the kettle on.’

So now this was officially weird-but-not-weird. Ayesh and me spent the rest of the afternoon catching up like old friends, drinking tea and scoffing chocolate biscuits. It should have been awkward, there should have been lots of things we said that made us go ‘ooh, shouldn’t have mentioned that’, but Ayesh talked easily about leaving our old flat, about taking time off work when we split up, about meeting Sam, about moving in with him, about her job in a GP surgery, about his job as manager of a Toyota dealership. She didn’t flinch when I mentioned Chrissie, she looked at our wedding photo and asked to see the album, she complimented our décor and the furniture (which were mainly Chrissie’s choices and ideas).

While she was flipping through the wedding album, she stopped on a picture of Rosa dancing with me.

‘I couldn’t believe how much they’d all grown. I swear Tom was six inches taller than the last time I’d seen him.’

‘Yeah, they just keep on stretching. I think Amy feeds them fertiliser.’

‘Ha ha. Dec might, I think Amy’s a bit more sensible. I miss them, you know. It feels weird them growing up without me.’

‘You don’t have to. Everyone would be more than happy to see you.’

‘I don’t want to make things difficult for you.’

‘You wouldn’t. Chrissie would be fine.’

‘Yeah, I know she would, I meant you, really.’

I raised my eyebrows at her assumption of Chrissie’s fineness.

‘You know it was Chrissie who invited me to your wedding, don’t you?’

‘Really? No, I didn’t know. I assumed it was Mum, or Iz, one of the more assertive members of my family.’

‘Chrissie’s pretty assertive.’

I couldn’t disagree there. Ayesh had always been a pushover for Mum and Iz, she’d just done whatever they told her. Chrissie presented more of a challenge.

‘Yeah, I know. Why, did she get assertive with you?’

This was a whole wedding story I hadn’t heard, and I was more than a little intrigued.

Ayesh nodded. ‘I wasn’t going to come, sent back a ‘declining your kind invitation’ card, but she called me and said I should definitely come and bring Sam, help me and you get over ourselves and be friends.’

‘What, she knew about Sam?’

‘I guess someone told her, your Mum, Lau, someone. I’ve kept in touch with them a bit.’

‘Jesus she’s sneaky. So you’ve talked to each other then?’

‘Only that one phone call. Cal, she was lovely, she is lovely, you’re so right for each other. I talked to Lau, about that, and about me and Sam, and she made a lot of sense about knowing when someone’s right for you.’

‘Yeah, I’ve had that speech too.’

‘She made me realise that me and you, we were always great mates, but it was never, really, anything more. If you think about it now, I mean, feeling how you do for Chrissie and how I do for Sam.’

I was a bit overwhelmed. A couple of hours ago, I’d been trying to think of a way to avoid the washing up without getting into trouble. Now, I’d just had Ayesh call Chrissie and me right for each other and we were having a chat about old times like old friends; in fact, she’d just called us great mates; and now Chrissie was home to join in the party – what? Oh fuck, Chrissie was home.

I heard the key in the lock, and Ayesh must have seen something on my face that told her of the sudden pang of guilt I felt.

‘I should go.’

I didn’t know what to say to her. I didn’t want to rush her out like she was a sneaky secret, but I really didn’t know what Chrissie was going to do if she walked in on us having a cosy chat. But it was too late, because Chrissie had just walked in on us having a cosy chat.

‘Hi Cal, whose car is that – oh. Ayesha, hi.’

Nothing about her expression betrayed any hint of suspicion, although I wouldn’t say the greeting was overly warm, not at first anyway.

‘Hi Chrissie. I was just going. I hope you don’t mind, I borrowed Cal for a while this afternoon, made him wander around the bypass looking for a cat I didn’t run over.’


We explained what had happened, and the mugs and biscuit crumbs told the rest of the story. Half way through the telling, I saw a tension leave Chrissie. I hadn’t realised she was holding herself in until she let it out. She smiled her rock star smile at me and Ayesh, and sat down next to me, giving me a kiss on the cheek while listening to Ayesh.

‘So there wasn’t anything other than a carrier bag?’

‘Yeah, if it was even that. Still, got me out of the house I suppose.’

‘Mm, I’m sure you were grateful for the excuse not to do the washing up.’

Chrissie knew me really, really well.

‘Not that you haven’t got a hundred of those, Cal.’

And so did Ayesh.

‘Hey, that’s not fair, both of you ganging up on me.’

‘I suppose you do sometimes load the dishwasher.’

Ayesh arched an eyebrow at Chrissie.

‘Really? God, it must be true love. I don’t think you did that in four years, Cal.’

‘He’s coming along nicely.’


‘Socks in the laundry basket?’


‘Chrissie, I bow to you.’

‘Look, if you two don’t mind –’

‘Any chance of a cuppa, Cal? There are some more biscuits in the cupboard.’

Sensing defeat and needing to get out of the line of fire, I stood up, shaking my head, and escaped to the kitchen, where I listened to Ayesh and Chrissie firstly comparing notes on me, and then starting to generally chat about other things. It was bizarre.

Half way through the cup of tea, Ayesh’s phone rang.

‘Hey huns … yeah, I’ll be home in a bit, I’m just leaving … with Cal and Chrissie … yeah … ha ha, no … no I’m fine, I had a bit of a thing, Cal helped me out … yeah, you weren’t answering … yeah, I thought so, it’s fine … tell you when I get back, yeah? Bye, love you.’

Ayesh stood up to go, picking up her bag.

‘Sorry to have ruined your afternoon, Cal. Thanks for the loan of your husband, Chrissie.’

‘Any time.’

We both answered together, then looked at each other, eyebrows raised in mock disapproval.

‘You and Sam should come over for dinner sometime.’

I was surprised by Chrissie’s offer, but if she was willing to invite my ex-girlfriend to our wedding, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised if she was prepared to invite her and her new boyfriend round for tea.

‘Yeah, you should.’

‘Know what? I’d really like that.’

‘I’ll text you.’

‘Great. Thanks for all the tea and biscuits.’

She left, and I gave Chrissie the more thorough hug and kiss I hadn’t been able to in polite company.

‘Mm, miss me, did you?’

‘Always. Have a good day?’

‘Yeah, hard work, unlike some, strolling around looking for imaginary cats.’

‘I couldn’t believe it when she called. And then she told me you were the one who invited her to the wedding.’

I scowled in pretend annoyance, but Chrissie was never fazed by my annoyance, real or pretend.


‘You never said.’

‘You never asked.’

‘Some things you maybe should say without being asked.’

‘Some things you maybe should keep to yourself. You were getting on well though, before I turned up and made you feel guilty.’

‘I didn’t feel guilty.’

‘Cal, I can read you like a book, a picture book for a three year old.’


‘The look on your face when I walked in, like all the excuses you could possibly think of were causing a log jam in your brain.’

I couldn’t deny it.

‘Were you doing anything to feel guilty about?’

‘No, of course not. Actually, Ayesh had just finished telling me how Lau thinks you and me are perfect for each other in the same way she thinks Ayesh and Sam are perfect for each other, and that me and Ayesh were only ever great mates.’

‘Yeah, Lau’s had that conversation with me too.’

‘Jesus, does she ever let up? She’s such a bloody romantic.’

‘I’m glad, though, Cal. I really like Ayesha, and I’d like it if things could be OK between you and her.’

‘Chrissie Scott, you have to be the most awesome woman there has ever been.’

‘Well I certainly hope you believe that.’

‘I do. I don’t know many women who would not only invite their husband’s ex to their wedding, but would ask her and her boyfriend to dinner, and actively wish for things to be OK between them. Maybe you’re wasted on teaching, I think your diplomacy and powers of forgiveness could be better used in the UN or something.’

‘Oh I don’t know, a classroom of thirteen year olds might fit the bill actually.’

And that’s how it started, how me and Ayesh became the great mates we’d apparently always been, and Chrissie and Sam let us, and all four of us started something great that really, given how it all began, I just did not deserve. But the wise Declan Summers would have something to say about that, wouldn’t he, about not deserving shit, but just taking what you get and making the most of it.

Oh, and just having a bit of a think about what else was happening around then, the biggest news of that year was Baggo. Baggo sorted his life out, with no help from anyone. Just did it. I mean, he was always going to be Baggo, a bit off the wall, a bit too easy to get pissed, a bit of an eye for a D cup, but he got a real, proper job, started doing a real proper college course so he could do his job better and get a promotion, and he started actually going out with a real proper woman, like actually dating her, not just copping a feel and being dumped or waking up in her bed and scarpering before her husband came home.

Jen was brilliant for Baggo. She let him have his flights of fantasy, talking bollocks about his plans for the future, never told him it was a load of horseshit, but still somehow managed to keep his feet on the ground, so his dreams weren’t trampled on, but he didn’t try too hard to do some of the crazier things he thought about. She even encouraged him to join a band.

Baggo’s voice stayed in great shape despite all the drink and cigarettes he’d put his vocal cords through over the years – who knows, maybe that’s what had made it mature into such a deep, resonant, gravelly sound, kind of a bit like Kelly Jones from Stereophonics. Baggo met Jen at a karaoke night in his local, when she went over to him after he’d sung, and complimented him on his voice. They talked until closing time, and Baggo realised he hadn’t had a single drink, hadn’t even thought about it.

After that, Jen took him to karaoke nights, then open mic nights, then got him to respond to ads in local music venues for singers, and after a couple of auditions, he ended up in a band that gigged regularly. It was great to see things coming together, finally, for Baggo. I wouldn’t say he was settled down, because there were still times when he let his love of a pint and a bit of cleavage get the better of him, and there were big rows between him and Jen, and she called it off a couple of times, but on the whole, if you thought about where he had been, well, where he’d got to was pretty amazing.


Nothing major happened for a couple of years, which was good, because things had been a bit full-on for a while there. Iz graduated from Uni, and stayed up in Manchester with her boyfriend and her job. I missed her, even though we called and texted all the time, but it wasn’t the same. Now Iz was grown up, we got on really well, and I suppose Manchester isn’t the end of the world. Just feels like it when you’re up there and it’s bloody raining.

Maybe a quick round up of where everybody was and what they were doing just then, so I can keep it all straight in my head.

I was still having the time of my life playing for Raiders. I’d never quite made it into the England team, not for want of trying, but it was my misfortune and England’s fortune that there was a glut of incredible wingers around, most of whom were my age or younger. It hadn’t helped that my one shot, the only time I’d been called up to the squad, when I was twenty-one, I buggered up my cruciate ligament in a game the week before. I tried really hard not to be gutted, but it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, to try to keep my spirits up through months of rehab, seeing mates take my place in the Raiders team, and people I knew take my place in the England squad. By the time I was fit again, it was too late, people were established, and although I was still young enough that it was a hope, I had learned not to get swept along with the Raiders supporters loyally calling for a place for me every time a new England squad was announced.

I’d got my place back in the Raiders team, with hard work and a bit of luck with other team mates getting injured – that’s the conflicted nature of playing, that you have such a close bond with everyone in the team, and put your body on the line for your team mates, but the ones in front of you in your shirt (in my case number fourteen), you could happily murder in their sleep. Even if you’d die for them on the field.

So, anyway, that’s where I was with Raiders. There weren’t many players who had stayed with the same club for so long. Dec was the longest serving Raiders player, and I suppose I took my cue from him. Dad had been there since the year dot as well, and even though he was always telling me to look around, listen to offers, try a different way, I just didn’t want to. I had an agent, and I always had a look at the things he showed me, some flattering offers from other teams both home and abroad, but this city was where I belonged. Maybe, if I lost my place and Raiders didn’t want me any more, I’d think harder about it but Chrissie and I wanted to stay here.

Chrissie and I – we were awesome. Chrissie was nearly two years into a teaching degree, studying hard, I was so proud of her. She worked harder than I thought I would ever be capable of, although I was going through my levels in coaching badges, in an increasingly unsuccessful attempt to kid myself I was planning my post-rugby future.

As a bit of a distraction, Chrissie and I had even planned for our future, which must mean I was getting truly old mustn’t it, either that or Chrissie was way more successful than anyone else had ever been at badgering me into talking about important shit. Our future, meaning children. We’d talked about it, what we wanted, what we saw for us, and once I really thought about it, I realised that, yeah, I did see us with kids, which was just as well, because I think Chrissie was going to have children whether I wanted to or not, and not would have been a little awkward.

So having agreed on that, the timing of it, in our plan, was that Chrissie would finish her degree and work for a couple of years, and then, boom, we’d have a baby, and that would be the start, then maybe in a couple of years after that, boom, another one, there was our family. Sorted. It was still the planning stages, but it seemed pretty foolproof to me.

Chrissie was a little bit worried about leaving it too late – if our plan worked out, she would be thirty or thereabouts when she had the first one. There were so many people around she could talk to about it, I decided to suggest going public. It’s not like someone didn’t ask almost every week ‘when are you going to start a family’ or something equally nosy.

‘Talk to Mum if you want to know about having babies in your thirties. She had Iz when she was thirty something or other.’

‘You are kidding? Your mum? Cal, I love your mum, but she’d have our whole family planned in ten minutes, down to the colour of the nursery, make of people carrier and date of your vasectomy.’

The last one made me gulp a bit, and Chrissie was right, we needed to have things watertight before letting Mum get her mitts on any information.

‘OK, so maybe not Mum. Although I like the sound of ‘our family’, God Chrissie, it sounds awesome.’

It suddenly did sound very awesome indeed. Up until then, it had been kind of theoretical, just a natural progression from being married and getting older, but suddenly I could see it, a couple of golden haired children in the park, snuggling up on the sofa to watch a DVD, carrying them on my shoulders. It made me smile.

‘What about Lau? She had Josh and Ella in her mid-thirties.’

‘Maybe. I always forget she’s the same age as Matty. She looks so much younger.’

‘Don’t let Matty hear you say that, he likes to think he’s weathered well. Lau would be great though. You know she keeps things to herself.’

‘Yeah, I do.’

The look she gave me suggested there may have been one or two discussions I wasn’t aware of.

‘Give her a call, babe. If you want to go over there, I can go and see Matty and you two can gossip about me in the kitchen.’

‘Alright then.’

Dec and Matty had continued their success with their rugby IT business. I have never been that sure what it is they did, but it meant that Matty could be at home more, which he was needing on a regular basis because of his health. Working from home was ideal for him, and he had reduced his hours with Raiders. Dec did all the travelling about meeting people, charming them, while Matty kept a close eye via e-mail. It was a really successful business, and had given Dec something to focus on after he retired that still involved him in the sport.

I hated what was happening to Matty, we all did. His MS returned more often and took more away every time, leaving him reliant on crutches, a wheelchair, rails and stuff in their home. It took part of his soul away to be so dependent on it all. And he had so many fights with pneumonia that we were all on first name terms with the nurses at the hospital. Lau tried to keep him at home for as long as she could when he got really bad, but sometimes he just had to go in and be pumped full of whatever it was that made him better.

That’s not to say he was always ill. He still had days when he could get about pretty well, and he never lost his love of banter and chat. You could see in his eyes how much he got from having everyone there, talking, chatting and arguing with each other, taking the piss, winding each other up. Matty was always in the thick of it. It was really surprising to me, reading Matty’s story, that it hadn’t always been that way, that he’d been a bit maybe resentful of Mum and Dad, maybe distanced himself from them, because if anyone was a natural family man it was Matty. Maybe you don’t always recognise who you are when you’re younger. Or maybe you grow into who you are. Oh, way too philosophical, Cal.

Mum’s party business was going great guns, it kept her busy and made her quite a bit of money. Dad was thinking about retiring. He had been head coach at Raiders for several years, and he and Mum were finally finding the demands of the rugby season getting in the way of other things they wanted to do. They wanted to travel while they were still young and fit enough to do it, and although they never actually said anything, I had a feeling that Dad was considering how much longer he was going to stay.

All the kids were growing up, by which I mean Dec’s and Matty’s kids – obviously Iz and I were extremely mature already. All of the ‘little cousins’ as my sister and I liked to patronisingly call them, were teenagers or thereabouts, and causing havoc of their own on varying levels.

Josh was doing really well at Raiders, and had been called up to the England under sixteens too. He didn’t think about much else apart from rugby, and Ella was always taunting him with being boring. Ella herself was off and away as soon as she tasted freedom. She’d try for every school trip going, soaked up knowledge, argued the toss with Matty and sometimes won, tried arguing with Lau but never won, not because of a lack of debating talent, but because Lau would just put her foot down and say how it was going to be. Josh just got on with quietly doing what he wanted, which was either playing on his PlayStation, training, or hanging out with his mates.

Dec’s lot, well if ever a more undisciplined rabble existed I am unaware of it. Chaos ruled in that house at that time, but it was always fun, full of life, full of laughter (and full of screeching if Charlie wanted her way about something). Tom was the laid back one, and Gracie was usually fairly chilled, but sometimes, usually when Charlie had wound everyone up about something, all three girls would be screaming at each other about the unfairness of something or other (someone having sparklier lip gloss maybe), and Tom would just be quietly tapping away on his laptop, oblivious to it all. Tom and Matty had a special relationship because Tom was so techy. The two of them often spoke their own language, or so it seemed, because they were talking about things none of the rest of us had a clue about.

All the oldies were getting older.

Gran was amazing, she was in her eighties but still going strong, never let her gnarly old arthritic hands get her down, always knew what everyone was up to, always said just the right thing to make you feel good.

Rose wasn’t doing so well. No one really knew how old she was, she would never tell, and Dec claimed not to know either. When Dec went to Australia, something broke in Rose. We all looked after her while he was away, but it wasn’t the same, and she changed. She’d always talked non-stop, been in the thick of everything, giving her opinion, helping out, but when Dec took his family to the other side of the world, she stopped talking so much, and she started to look like someone had deflated her. Dec had offered to take her with them, but Rose was terrified of flying and couldn’t face the journey. I think Dec even considered not going because of it, but sometimes you have to make those hard choices. Even when they all came back, and Rose perked up a bit, she wasn’t right. She was never as, I can’t think of the right word to describe her … bustly. Before, she would bustle everywhere, being busy, getting involved. After, she sat still a lot more, quietly, and she lost her confidence in things like cooking.

Rose had always been an awesome cook, a match for Mum even. They used to try to outdo each other by seeing who could make the best cake for tea on a Sunday, and honours were pretty much even. But little by little, Rose stopped baking, she stopped doing the little things she’d always been good at, like sewing, she even stopped doing so much cleaning and tidying, and I knew Dec and Amy were worried about her. There was talk about her moving to a sheltered flat somewhere, but no one knew how to suggest it, and there was also talk of Dec and Amy having her to live with them. Dec and Amy’s house had already been extended outwards and upwards to cope with their brood, and there was little available space for any further extending, so that would mean moving somewhere else, which would mean not being four doors down from Matty and Lau. Negotiations were still at an early stage.

Right, well, I think that’s the catch up sorted. On with the tale.


So life went on, after a fashion, and there were triumphs and disasters along the way:

Matt had allowed us to buy a powered wheelchair, for more independence. I’d thought he would enjoy being able to get out and about on his own, but his spasms had increased, and on only his second trip out in it, he tipped himself out of it when he rocketed off the kerb. He was lucky he didn’t end up under a lorry, and he never used it again.

He carried on working, as an occasional consultant for Raiders, and with Dec in their rugby IT business.

His health began to suffer; he got more chest infections and pneumonia was always on the cards. Although he had been in hospital several times, and it was always an option, I tried to care for him at home as much as I could. I knew when he needed to be admitted, and wouldn’t let him persuade me otherwise, but it was better for him to be at home if he could when he was really poorly. I had all the kit – the oxygen masks, the drip stands, the access to physios for chest drainage, the emergency numbers. The family were fantastic, and never let me carry it on my own. The children accepted how their dad was, and enjoyed spending time with him, whether it was a mad dash to the beach to catch the sunset, or sitting by his bed trying to keep his spirits up with a ridiculous conversation.


I guess one of the reasons I’m doing this is for Conor and Lily, so maybe I should restart with that, how child number one came about. Oh for God’s sake, no. What part of ‘there will be no porn’ did you not understand? Seriously, if you want to know how babies are made, read Matty’s or Lau’s stories, or just go and ask Mum.

So, baby-making part one. Remember the plan? Well it only went and worked. Chrissie passed her degree, wore the square hat and batman cape, and got a standing ovation from the Scott family who had managed to wangle far too many tickets for the graduation ceremony and caused a scene.

Then she got a job in a local primary school, because she’s so clever, who would not want to hire her? And bloody hell, teaching is hard, I know this because I know how hard Chrissie works, it’s much more than the time she spends in the classroom. Long summer holidays? Forget it. She’s doing lesson plans and all sorts for most of it, it’s all I can do to prise her away for a couple of weeks in the sun when the season’s finished. But she loves it, loves teaching, loves kids.

As soon as she’d been teaching for a year, we stopped using contraception (Lau, I hope you’re noticing that I’m using the word), and within three months, bang on schedule, she was up the duff, and a baby was due just in time for the end of summer term.

I still can’t believe how it all went to plan. Maybe this is because I never make plans, so don’t get much opportunity to see them working, but I do know how bloody unpredictable making babies can be. I know Dec never planned any of his four kids (sorry guys, if you were unaware of this fact), and neither, come to think of it, did Matty (again, soz for blurting). Mum and Dad apparently tried for years after they had me, and it took six to get to Iz. So I would not have been surprised to find that babies don’t always pop along just when you want them to.

However, Conor was on his way shortly after ordering him. It was thrilling and scary at the same time, knowing I was going to be a dad. I had all manner of dad role models around – Dad, Dec, Matty, Baggo – oh yeah. Baggo.

I forgot to mention that Baggo beat me to fatherhood by a good couple of years. He and Jen moved in together and she was pregnant within six months. Baggo as a dad was a changed man. He adored his daughter, you should have seen him with her, going all soppy. He stopped drinking, altogether, when she arrived, because he never wanted to be unable to help her when she needed it. Oh, and he sang to her every night. Sang her a story. He still sent me manic texts in the middle of the night, too, but they were a bit more comprehensible.

Callywally, how do u stop a v crying child from crying?

Dunno Bags. Lullaby?

Tried it. Still screaming.






U beauty. On it.

So all these father figures, and I was still cacking my pants at the thought of being a dad. Maybe it was a lot to live up to, or more likely there was such a variety of styles, ranging from Dad’s less-is-more, via Matty’s ruling with a humorous iron rod to Dec’s let’s all have a laugh and see who can make Fanta come out of their nose, and I wasn’t sure how I would know what to do. Admittedly it was going to be a while before I had a teenager, but even knowing what to do when they cried was a worry (I really didn’t think earplugs was going to cut it with Chrissie), when the most responsibility I’d previously had was babysitting, and making sure they went to bed on time, which they never ever did when I was babysitting because I was a complete pushover.

The nearer it got to Chrissie having the baby, the more worried I got, tying myself up in knots, and I couldn’t talk to her about it. She was so happy, I didn’t want her to think I was this incompetent buffoon and make her worry too.

Inevitably it was Lau who set me straight. She’d called round with Josh and Ella after school one day, to borrow a saucepan or maybe it was a cake tin, something round and metal, not important. Anyway, she caught sight of the ‘Being a Great Dad for Dummies’ book I’d been reading and had carelessly left on the sofa when the doorbell went. I’d been reading it in secret, while Chrissie was out, in a desperate attempt to try to learn something useful and then seem casually competent when things started to happen, but it was having the opposite effect so far.

‘Doing some homework, flower?’

I shrugged.

‘Useful book?’

‘More like confusing. Lau, how the fuck am I going to remember all this?’

‘What are you worried about in particular?’

‘What apart from everything? Well for starters, what if he hates me?’

‘Does it suggest in the book that the baby will hate you?’

‘Well, no, not in so many words, but there’s all this shit about the baby bonding with the mother and how all the hormones get going between them and it’s all great, but I don’t have those hormones, so what if he hates me?’

Lau laughed and patted my arm.

‘Cal, your baby will love you. It’s not just hormones. You’ll love him, as soon as you see him.’

‘I already do.’

‘See? You’ve got that bond already. Do any of the kids you know hate their dads? Oh, maybe best not to think about Charlie.’

‘Well, no, I suppose not.’

‘There you go then. Matt used to talk to Ella and Josh, put his mouth right on my bump and talk all sorts of nonsense to them.’

‘I do that.’

I looked down, embarrassed to admit it.

‘Then he’ll know the sound of your voice. As soon as you say ‘hi’, he’ll recognise you as the one who told him about Arsenal. Or told him you loved him, or something else not as important as Arsenal.’

Lau always got it, I liked that about her. And it had really helped. She was a genius.

I had chats with everyone I knew about the same sort of thing, after that. Loads of the Raiders lads had kids, and there’s no one softer about his children than a rugby player. I felt part of the kid chat now, and it made me look forward to his arrival even more.

We knew he was a boy, had wanted to know as soon as we were offered the chance, and it helped us get to know him before he was born. We decorated his room with racing cars and space rocket mobiles, and were given piles of clothes from friends and family – Lau even gave us some of Josh’s old things, God knows where she’d kept them for eighteen years, but they were in mint condition.

So knowing he was a boy, we could choose names, although nothing binding in case he didn’t suit it when he arrived. Matty had insisted he needed a womb name, and threatened to come up with one himself if we didn’t. That led to a bizarre conversation late one Saturday night.

‘Cal, we need to think about a name.’

‘We’ve already got three. Have you ditched another one?’

Chrissie was forever changing her mind about the names, I sometimes wondered if we were going to get through every single name in existence before we finally decided, but I’d thought the last three were goers – they’d lasted a week so far, which was a record.

‘No, a womb name. We need to do it before tomorrow.’

‘Huh? What’s the rush?’

‘It’s Sunday lunch. Matty will be there.’


‘He said he’d think of one if we didn’t.’

‘Yeah he did. And since when was Matty the boss of us?’

‘You know what he’s like, he’ll think of something stupid on purpose like, I don’t know, Darth Vader, and then he’ll make everyone laugh, and they’ll remember, and that will be it until he’s born, even afterwards. Do you want your son to be called Darth Vader?’

Pregnant Chrissie had a tendency to be slightly paranoid and overwrought about everything. It was usually best to go with what she wanted to avoid floods of tears and accusations of not caring about her needs.

‘No, maybe not. I see your point.’

‘Or, God Cal, he might try a Tottenham player, he might call him ‘Hoddle’ or ‘Osvaldo’ or something. He’d think that was hilarious.’

Now that was more serious.

‘Shit. You’re right. We need to get thinking. Maybe head him off with an Arsenal name. Theo?’

‘No, don’t be stupid, womb names aren’t supposed to be real names.’

I hadn’t reached that chapter in ‘Being a Great Dad for Dummies’ yet, so was lacking a vital piece of information which was obviously only available to the person with the womb.

‘Oh. What do you think, then?’

‘Well I don’t know, do I. There aren’t books like there are of baby names.’

We had spent hours and hours looking at baby name books, and I mean hours and hours, before eventually deciding our top three boy’s names were Joel, Jack and Jordan. Something beginning with ‘J’ anyway. It sounded good with ‘Scott’. I was pretty sure he was going to be a Jack; it was Tom’s middle name, but apart from that there was no one else in the family or close friends who had a Jack. I was quite glad there wasn’t a book of womb names, as I wanted to get some sleep before Chrissie woke me up at the crack of dawn with a desperate need for banana and sardines on toast.

‘Well, I suppose it could be something self-explanatory like The Bump, or Peanut, that sort of thing.’

‘Really? That’s a bit boring.’

‘Seriously, Chrissie, we’re only doing this to stop Matty calling him Klinsmann.’

‘Yeah, but don’t you think it would be nice if we had a cool kind of name?’

‘I think it would be nice if I could go to sleep sometime tonight without having to think up a stupid name.’

‘Do you think it’s stupid?’

Oh bollocks. Chrissie’s eyes had filled with tears. Pre-pregnancy Chrissie had her emotions in perfect working order. She laughed when she was happy or something was funny; she cried when something was sad; she gave me a bollocking when I’d been an inconsiderate git. Nowadays, it really didn’t take very much, just one thoughtless word, and she was blubbing. I needed to back-pedal, and quickly.

‘No, of course not, sorry babe, I’m just tired. Let’s think then. Something that will shut Matty up, but isn’t boring.’

Chrissie’s tears stopped, and she smiled up at me. Her rock star smile was always worth it, whatever it took.

‘You know, I’m quite liking your Arsenal idea. Not Theo, obviously. No-one too recent. Old players maybe.’

This started a bit of a list battle, to see which of us could name the most obscure old Arsenal player. Chrissie started it off.


‘Nah, too much like a first name. Ljungberg.’

‘Nobody will be able to say it. Bergkamp.’

‘Veto. Too European. Wilson.’

‘Hmm. Has potential. That’s a maybe. Van Persie.’

‘Traitor. And too European.’

‘Why do you keep saying too European?’

‘It’s a valid veto. Sunderland.’

‘What? That’s a city. No way. Winterbottom.’

‘He never played for Arsenal. You’re thinking of Winterburn.’

‘No I’m not. Walter Winterbottom –’

‘Was the first manager of England. He never really played football, a couple of seasons with Man U. He was just a manager, really.’

A pause while Chrissie furiously Googled on her phone. A silence when it was confirmed that I was, of course, correct.

‘Well I still like Winterbottom.’

‘As a womb name for our baby?’


‘As something that will shut Matty up?’


‘Even though he played for Man U?’


I sighed. I wanted to go to sleep.

‘OK. Winterbottom it is. Night Winterbottom. Night Chrissie.’

‘Night Cal. Love you.’

‘Love you.’

So that’s how our baby son ended up being called Winterbottom for five months of his pre-birth life. Sorry, Conor. We stopped as soon as you were born, but some things are always remembered.

After hearing all the scare stories that people, especially women, like to tell about the births of their various children, and particularly being aware of Matty and Lau’s adventure when Lau got stuck upstairs with Matty out on the piss at a stag do, I was quite anxious about how it was all going to go. In fact, pregnancy and childbirth are two of the few things that actually make me feel anxious. Usually I’m fairly laid back, but this, having a tiny person who you already love, who is inside someone else, and who has to go through unbelievably difficult things in order to get into the world, made me feel utterly out of control.

Chrissie was really, really well throughout the whole thing. No high blood pressure, no dizziness, she hardly even seemed to put on much weight, if you ignored the enormous bump protruding from her front. She worked right up to the end of term, which was two weeks away from her due date, and although she was tired when she got home in the evenings, she managed it well (in other words, by me doing my best not to burn a meal either she or Mum had made for the freezer, and giving her loads of foot rubs and cold drinks, and doing as I was told as regards washing up and cleaning the worktops).

Even the timing was great. Most babies, from what I can gather, decide to come in the middle of the night, meaning two groggy adults stumbling around trying to remember where the baby bag is and find the car keys, but this one was so considerate, he even waited until we’d had our breakfast before deciding he was on his way.

‘Oh! Cal, I think, sorry, can you get the mop? I think my waters just broke.’

‘Really? Where?’

‘Where do you think? Where I’m sitting. Ooh.’

Chrissie held her large bump and screwed her face up in discomfort.

‘Shit. What do we do?’

‘Well, you get a mop, and a cloth, just clean up a bit here. Then maybe you can help me have a shower and get changed?’

‘Shouldn’t we be going to the hospital?’

‘Not yet. That’s the first contraction. It’ll be ages yet.’

Chrissie seemed very calm; however, all of the information I’d taken in from ‘Being a Great Dad for Dummies’ and the ante-natal classes we’d been to went out of the window in the rush of panic I was feeling.

‘But if it’s started … what if we’re too late? What if we have to stop on the way, what if –’

‘Cal, just chill. We’ll time the contractions, when they’re closer together, we’ll go, OK?’

I took a few deep breaths and nodded, then reached into the cupboard for the cleaning stuff as Chrissie headed off for her shower.

I cleaned up as well as I could (which to be honest wasn’t that well) then hurried into the bathroom, where Chrissie was standing under the shower, leaning against the wall, with her eyes shut.

‘Chrissie? Are you OK?’

She opened her eyes, and looked almost serene, as if she gave birth every day of the week.

‘Yeah. I was just thinking, this is my last day of being pregnant. I’m going to miss it.’

‘Really? Even the not being able to put your shoes on and the piles?’

‘In a way. You can’t go back there, can you, it won’t ever feel like this again, even when we have another one.’

‘S’pose not. Shall I wash your back?’

‘Mm yeah, that’d be lovely. Ooh. There’s another one. Can you check my watch?’

I told her the time, and she nodded.

‘Thirteen minutes. Ages yet.’

And that’s how it went, all morning, Chrissie just going ‘ooh’ every once in a while. It almost freaked me out, how little screaming there was. I was pretty sure there should be screaming, and at least some questioning of my parentage. The gentle ‘oohing’ continued as we listened to the radio and I wandered about doing things Chrissie couldn’t do on account of her huge belly, like dusting the skirting boards (seriously? Who does that?), making an olive and lemon curd sandwich (oh, that wasn’t pregnancy, that was some freakish thing she’d learned to love in Carlisle. Weirdo), rubbing her feet (which I never moaned about because she had lovely feet).

Then, shortly after lunch (the aforementioned weirdo sandwich for her, a cheese toastie for me because I’m normal), Chrissie announced it was time to get going, and she called the hospital to tell them we were coming, while I called Mum to let her in on it.

130. By your side

In which a landmark birthday is celebrated, and a wedding occurs.


Matty had been up and down with his health; more recently he’d been down more often than he’d been up, and just before his birthday, his MS flared up again, knocking him off his feet and sending him into himself. Mum’s big plans looked doomed, as Matty had taken to his bed and was refusing to talk to anyone, until Mum talked to Tom.

Dec’s son took after Matty in that he was an utter tech wizard. Matty’s main reason for his funk was that he was suddenly reliant on his wheelchair, and that he couldn’t get downstairs. Plenty of us had offered to carry him down so he could get to his party, but none of us were surprised when he refused us all and said he just wasn’t going. Tom came up with a completely brilliant plan using some technological wizardry, where Matty could still be at his party through the medium of the internet:

Matty’s face would be projected onto screens at the venue, he would have live images sent to him from several webcams around the place, and there would be a constant flow of real guests to keep him company while he watched from his bedroom. I wasn’t there when this idea was suggested to Matty, but he agreed to it, so it must have been convincing.

And it was inspired. Matty lorded it over his party looking like some kind of floating-head Bond villain, and could keep up with the action from the two laptops and three iPads that were connected to the WiFi in his bedroom. All of the family were taking it in turns to sit with Matty, not that it was a chore, because Matty had cheered up quite a lot by the time his party rolled around, and it was always fun to be with Matty when he was happy.

Lau had stayed to start with as well, not wanting to leave Matty. I was down for the nine o’clock stint, and Matty seemed keen for Lau to be on her way.

‘Lau, yuh dohnt hahv tuh stay the whole night, goh an hahv fun.’

‘I am. This is cool, I can see everything, in fact I can see more than if I was there.’

Lau did, actually, look like she was wishing she could go and see everything up close, and maybe have a scoff of some of the food. Lau loved her food.

‘I think what Matty’s trying to say is bugger off so I can fetch him beer and we can get wasted.’

‘Yeah, good luck with that, Cal, there is no beer.’

Well that needed addressing. Matty must have been upstairs being a miserable git for longer than I’d realised.

‘What? Matty, how did you let that happen?’

‘Fuck, sooner I geh downstairs an staht takin control of the fridge, the behter.’

‘Seriously, though, Lau, go and have a look, Mum’ll be well disappointed if you don’t even go over there and go ‘ooh isn’t it lovely Beth didn’t you do a good job’ and tell her how amazing the lighting is and what a clever cow she is and shit.’

While it was true that Mum liked a bit of backslapping, I also hoped that Lau would just go and have a good time, because the rest of us were more than happy to be here with Matty, with our well-organised rota (yeah, Mum’s work) keeping us strictly to time.

‘I suppose so. Who’s relieving you, then, Cal?’

‘Charlie and Goat are coming at ten, and Dec and Amy are coming at eleven, then I think Dad is putting in an appearance, although that’s because he wants to avoid any clearing up, and he’ll sit in the chair and sleep until he can sneak off home. Beyond that, well it depends how blitzed the Raiders lot get as to how late it goes on.’

‘Surely the players won’t be staying late, it’s midweek.’

‘I didn’t mean the players, I meant the office girls and IT guys. They party hard!’

From the look of the action from the computers, the Raiders clerical support team were already rocking Matty’s fiftieth birthday. I was looking forward to going over there and joining them once my Matty shift was finished in about an hour and Chrissie came to fetch me.

Lau finally let her curiosity and need for cake get the better of her, and she left, but not before checking about a million times that I knew where everything was, that I had her number, that I, or whoever was here after me, would call her if anything happened. I don’t think she appreciated that having an enormous screen with a live feed of Matty on it would mean she would be able to see the minute a new pimple formed on his face, so any phone calls would not be necessary.

‘Thank fuck, I thoht she was gona stay ahl nigh.’

Matty was relieved; not because he wanted Lau to go, but because he wanted her to go and have a good time. Matty and Lau spent their lives, now Matty was ill more often than not, dancing around each other trying not to put the other one out. It got ridiculous sometimes, the things both of them would refuse to do so the other one didn’t have to walk up the stairs, or ask for a glass of water.

‘Nah, she’s too nosy. That cake looks seriously chocolatey, no way Lau was going to resist. So if there’s no beer in the fridge, where is it?’


‘Nice one. Back in a minute.’

Matty and I spent a pleasant hour sinking beers and making bitchy comments about the guests at his party (there was no sound on the images of him being projected into the venue), and then Charlie arrived for her turn, with her boyfriend the ever unpopular (with Dec, because of going out with his daughter) Goat. Nobody knew why he was called Goat, but he was a couple of years older than Charlie, who was fifteen, and was the cause of many a raised voice in the Summers household.

Who would have thought that it would be his daughter who would finally turn Dec from being Mr Chilled into Mr Angry? Oh, only anyone who had been around in the last fifteen years and seen the demanding Charlie, who no one ever said no to, twist her parents round both little fingers and a few toes as well. Once she started wanting to do things that Dec could only say no to, such as going to clubs with her seventeen year old boyfriend, it was way too late. The shock-waves continued to vibrate around the city, and Dec discovered depths of exasperation he never knew existed.

However, for the time-being, there was an uneasy truce between Charlie, Goat and Dec, and they had been allowed to Matty’s party, and to do a time-slot with Matty together.

Charlie and Goat arrived before Chrissie came to fetch me, and for a short while the three of us watched the party unfolding on the various computer screens.

‘Who’s that with the hat – oh no.’

‘Is that your dad? Wait, that’s not a hat.’

Charlie was hiding her face with shame, as we watched Dec pull his usual party ‘trick’ of wearing a pair of Australia underpants on his head. He did it at every party he got pissed at, which was every party he went to. Charlie must have seen it tons of times, but obviously never in the presence of someone she was hoping to impress with her coolness.

‘Charlie, Dec always does this. I’ve got pictures on my computer going back to when I was little of him wearing various pairs of Australia kecks.’

‘God, he’s just so embarrassing.’

‘Noh, heh’s brahv.’

‘How do you reckon brave, Matty? He’s wearing yellow and green pants. On his head. I think they say ‘Waltz down here, Matilda’. He’s my bloody dad. That is the definition of embarrassing.’

‘Not many mehn wouhd show thehr lohv of thehr cohntry by the fehrless display of undergahments.’

‘Matty, you do know Dad’s not really Australian?’

Matty was enjoying winding Charlie up immensely. She was just too easy.

‘Yuhr couhtry is wha’s in yuhr heart. An wha’s on yuh passpoht.’

‘He was born in England.’

‘Heh’ll alwahs belohg tuh Austrahlia.’

Matty blew it by solemnly nodding his head and placing his hand over his heart.

‘Oh just fuck off, Matty. Goat, I’m so sorry both my dad and my uncle want to embarrass the shit out of me tonight.’

‘Don’t stress it Char, your dad’s pretty cool. The pants make him a bit less scary, actually.’

Matty and I cracked up at this.

‘Priceless. Dec, scary? Tell you what, Goat, if you want to be less scared of Dec, we can come up with something better than wearing underwear on his head. How about it, Matty? I’ll go first …’

And we got some way through a list of Dec’s more cringe-able moments, from the distant and not-so-distant past, before Chrissie arrived to take me to where the rest of the action was.


‘Know wha, Lau? Bes birthday ever. Apaht from bein bluhdy fifty. Stihl cahnt believe tha.’

‘Really? Better than the one just before the children were born when we spent the whole weekend in the bridal suite at that posh hotel in Bath?’

‘OK, reassessin, second bes birthday ever. Unless yuh geh naked an wiggle yuhr tits fuh meh now.’

‘Happy to oblige, hang on a minute, how do you turn this web-cam thingy off?’

‘Ih’s off. Tom rigged ih up soh I can turn ih off when I’m wiped an the screen shows an ahtistic montage of photos from my youth. Geh em ouh then.’

‘I’m not sure I like it looking at me, can we put something over it?’

‘Ha ha, yuhr hilarious Lau. Jus clohs the cover.’

‘Oh. Right. And we’re not expecting any more virtual party goers? You’ve had quite a mob up here all night.’

‘Noh, all gohn. Yuh can goh an lock the dohr thogh.’


‘Right, where were we?’

‘Yuh wehr gona geh yuhr tits ouh.’

‘Oh yeah. How’s this?’

‘Awesohm. Never geh tired of seeing tha. Cohm hehr. Lau, I lohv yuh. Soh, soh much. Sohry I tol yuh tuh fuck off las nigh. How duh yuh put up wih meh?’

‘You must be worth it or something.’

‘Sohry fuh las couple of days.’

‘Mm. Don’t do it again.’

‘Try not tuh.’

‘I mean it. I don’t ever want to see dark Matt in my bed again.’

‘OK. Nohted. Dark Maht fucking off fuh good.’

‘I should think so.’

‘Lau …’


‘Our fahmly’s soh awesohm. Dohnt knoh wha I’d do wihouh them.’

‘I know. We’re lucky.’



Matty had been told, by Mum, in the big stand-off leading up to the party, that Matty was going to be at her son’s wedding if she had to carry him down the stairs herself. This must have been enough of a threat – I have no doubt that she would have made good on it – to make him think again about how stubborn he was being about his independence, because shortly afterwards, Lau and Matty had a lot of alterations done to their house so Matty didn’t need to do the stairs ever again. He was going to be an usher at our wedding which, for the first time in recent family history was going to be in a proper church, with a vicar and all the trimmings, rather than a barn or a beach, and Chrissie and I didn’t give a shit if Matty was in his chair, or using crutches, standing or lying on the bloody floor, as long as he was there. But it mattered to Matty, and he made a big effort.

As the day approached, the whole thing got bigger and bigger. Mum was the official wedding planner, it was just easier to let her do it, but she and Chrissie had banged heads quite a few times over some of the details.

Now it won’t come as a surprise, I’m sure, if I say that Mum likes to be in charge of things. She gets an idea in her head, and everyone is supposed to follow along as she dishes out jobs and writes lists, and things generally get done and are generally awesome.

Chrissie, understandably, had her own thoughts about what our wedding day should be like. She tried to get me to say what I wanted, but I really just wanted to be married to her, and it could have been in a yurt in the Outer Hebrides for all I cared about the where and how. I was a really, really frustrating groom. Plus, being the one who had to pick sides between my mum and my fiancée? No thanks.

So, yeah, I can hear the condemnation from all sides, but I just stayed non-committal about it all, said what my favourite dessert was, agreed with Chrissie that purple was an ace colour for bridesmaids, told Mum we maybe didn’t need a personally engraved wine glass for every single guest, and kept my mind on the most important decision of the wedding. Who my best man was going to be.

Obviously, Mum had her opinion. Naturally, Chrissie wanted to have her say. There were about five thousand different views from every single member of my family, and I listened to them all, and weighed up their arguments for and against various people. And then I went ahead and did what I wanted anyway. I asked Baggo.

Well who else was I going to ask? I’d considered Dec, as the kind of brother I’d never had but had actually had; I’d thought about Matty, who had been a rock in some difficult times, and would be able to organise the stag to end stags; there were a couple of mates from Raiders who would have fitted the bill. But no one knew me like Baggo. Also, Mum would hate it.

Over the years, Bags had … well, let’s just say we had matured at different rates. Being a rugby player isn’t the most responsible job in the world, so I could hardly claim to be completely grown up, but even so, Baggo’s world still revolved around copping off with a girl for the night, desperately avoiding any serious relationship, working part-time in his brother’s garage while simultaneously going through job after job designed to help him make ends meet. It didn’t seem to worry him that he never had any money, that he didn’t have any kind of qualification or trade, or that he still lived with his mum – as it wasn’t that long ago that I was living with mine, I didn’t judge him.

We stayed mates, after school and beyond, seeing each other more often in the off-season and less often otherwise, because Baggo’s evenings out always meant beer and late nights and I couldn’t keep up. Or rather, I had to not keep up.

A couple of months before the wedding, having known I was going to ask Baggo to be my best man for almost a year, but loving that no one else knew, I arranged to go out for the evening after a home Raiders game. Baggo never came to watch Raiders, so we met in a bar in the city centre.

I was there first, as Bags had started out somewhere else, and had texted to say he’d been held up, doubtless in a different bar, probably trying to extricate himself from or, who knows, entangle himself with some woman. I got a couple of pints in, on the off chance he arrived within the zone of the time we’d arranged, but wasn’t too surprised when I ended up half way down the second one before he arrived, predictably pissed.

Baggo’s ability to hold his drink had not improved with age, and it was often the case that he became very shit-faced, very early in the evening. This may have accounted for a large proportion of his failed love life, although Baggo was unlikely to call it failed. The beer would make him sociable enough to pick up a woman early in the evening, she’d hang around until she got a better offer than the drunken arse who kept grabbing her chest, and then he’d be left with the ones who were a little less discerning, or a little more rat-arsed, and he’d take his pick and take her home. Baggo had never, to my knowledge, had a steady girlfriend, but then he had never said he wanted one. He’d had quite a few other blokes’ steady girlfriends, though, and it was lucky his older brothers were around to intimidate the shit out of said blokes when necessary.

By the time Baggo finally made it to the bar where we’d arranged to meet, he was in phase two of his night, which was having been ditched by woman number one, and on the lookout for the lucky lady he was going to take home. I was a fortunate pit stop on his regular journey.

‘Callywally! Hope I didn’t keep you waiting mate.’

‘Don’t sweat it, Bags. Glad you made it.’

‘I was in Molly’s, thought I had a sure-fire winner, but she bailed. Shit hot, arse up to here, top down to there. Redhead. Buggered off while I was in the bog.’

‘Shame, mate.’

‘Yeah. Wha’ ya having?’

‘Oh, let me, Bags. Are you sure you’re having another one?’

‘What? I haven’t started yet. Night is fucking young. On you? Double scotch donmindifido.’

I got the drinks in, and we sat at the table I’d managed to secure by having been there long enough to keep an eye out for people leaving. Baggo was eyeing up the talent, but wasn’t having much luck finding anyone who wasn’t very obviously with someone else. Someone bigger than him, in most cases.

‘Cheers, mate. Why’d ya make us come in this dive? S’all posh birds and rugger buggers. Oh, no ‘fence, mate, I didn’t mean like you. I meant, like, public school, yah yah.’

‘Well, Bags, this might come as a shock to you, but I’m actually not out on the pull, as I’m getting married in a couple of months, so I chose somewhere we could talk, rather than get off with random women.’

I had never actually been out on the pull with Baggo, largely due to having been with Ayesh since before I left school, although there had been many times when Bags had been out on the pull while I was nearby. In fact, Baggo seemed to be in a permanent state of ‘on the pull’. He waved my comment away with an unsteady hand.

‘You should be making the most of it, mate, wild oats, play the field. You’re too bloody sensible, you are. Two months before that’s it? Tied down, family man? Shit, Callywally. You know what? That is sad.’

‘Sad or not, it’s what I’m here to talk to you about.’

Baggo’s face brightened.

‘Oh, you want me to help sort you out with a little last minute skirt? Oh mate, I’m your man, why didn’t you say?’

‘No, Bags. I’m marrying Chrissie at the end of June, and I’m going to be as faithful to her then as I am now. Which is completely, if you don’t count the ten years we didn’t see each other.’

Baggo was a few too many sheets to the wind to make much sense of that, so I simplified it in the face of his confused expression.

‘I’m not after skirt, Bags. I want to ask you something – something else, not to do with women.’

‘Oh. Bugger. Thought I’d turned you at last, you boring old fart. What then?’

‘Well, most of the wedding is organised, the dress is bought, I’m told, the menu has been chosen, the church is booked, and the hen night is planned. I need someone to sort my stag.’

‘Your best man should be doing that, mate. What do you need, some suggestions? Michael might be able to sort some cheap beer.’

‘Yeah, my best man should be doing that, shouldn’t he.’

‘Yeah, like I say. He needs to get going, though, it’s not long, is it.’

‘No, it’s not, but I haven’t asked him yet, so give him a break.’

‘Who is it?’


‘Your best man. Keep up, mate. How many pints have you had?’


‘Me what?’

‘You’re my best man.’


Baggo was temporarily lost for words. A look of disbelief was quickly followed by a huge grin and a wide-eyed stare. More shouting followed.




‘Yeah. I am very slightly regretting it just at the moment. Any chance you could keep it down a bit, Baggo?’

There was no chance at all. Baggo addressed the room, even though it had already been pretty thoroughly addressed.


There were a few cheers, but the bar manager was looking over with a scowl, and I tried to send him a reassuring shrug and calm Baggo down by putting my hand on his arm and squeezing.

‘Baggo, seriously, you’re going to get us kicked out.’

‘Oh, soz mate. Ah, Cal, I don’t know what to say. I never thought about being asked, you’ve got your mates and your uncle and your … Dec. I’d have thought it’d be one of them.’

‘You’re my best mate.’

‘Ah mate, you’re making me go all poncey. Don’t make me cry, I’ll have to beat you up.’

I treated that remark with the contempt it deserved. Threatening me with one of his brothers beating me up might have made me take him a bit more seriously.

‘OK then, you’ve got nine weeks to organise my stag. Night, weekend, don’t care. Maybe talk to Matty and Dec, they’ll have some ideas.’

And they might be able to keep some of Baggo’s own ideas in check.

‘Yeah, sounds cool. OK, what I’m thinking is, weekend, Ibiza, or, no, lets go classy, Dublin, or, whoa, there’s this new club on Moor Street, we could …’

Baggo spent the rest of the evening on a fantasy tour of stag venues. He drank a lot more, and I slipped the letter I’d prepared in his pocket as I put him in the taxi to take him home. I’d predicted him either being or becoming too drunk to remember exactly what I’d asked him, so I’d left him a reminder.

Dear Baggo

Last night, you agreed to be my best man and organise my stag. You had lots of great ideas, but I doubt you will have remembered any of them.

Please call Dec or Matty for help. You have nine weeks to sort it.

Your other jobs are: Don’t lose the rings, and give a speech without swearing.

I’m serious about the swearing. Mum will cut out your tongue if the word ‘fuck’ passes your lips while you’re telling everyone about my sordid past.


So that was the best man sorted, and I freely admit that I sat back and let everyone else get on with the rest of the stressing. Not that I didn’t listen when Chrissie told me how impossible it was to get decent shoes for her sister (bridesmaid with size nine feet), or when Mum was having a meltdown over whether to decorate the cake with edible real or sugar flowers, or when Auntie Lou and Uncle Steve couldn’t come then could then couldn’t again then finally said they could with a week’s notice, when someone else had already been invited in their place. If I hadn’t been listening, I wouldn’t be able to tell you all about it, would I? I just didn’t get stressed, because to me, being married to Chrissie was the only thing that mattered, and as we were both going to be there whoever else came, and whatever was on top of the cake, and even if the bridesmaids wore wellies, well, to me, that was what was important.

I know I was bloody infuriating, because I was told so at least three times a day. I began to suspect it was on a list somewhere – tell Cal he’s infuriating (tick) – but still didn’t let it get to me. Mum and Chrissie sorted things between them, got closer, nearly fell out several times, but ended up being best of friends. I like to think I was doing my bit by giving them some common ground (i.e. moaning about me being infuriating and then ticking it off the list), because I can be helpful like that.

Baggo, with some help from other sources, sorted a weekend in Magaluf which is best left to the imagination. It included a great deal of drink, most of my Raiders team mates, old man Declan Summers, and that is where the tale of my stag weekend finishes. It stays in Magaluf, oh, and maybe the odd picture on What’s App.

And then, unbelievably, it was the day itself. The day I married the love of my life, the woman I’d fallen for when I was fifteen, hadn’t seen for ten years, and then fallen for all over again when she came to find me.

We were doing the traditional church thing, so we did everything the right way (although all this really meant was doing things Mum’s way), and I spent the night at Mum and Dad’s, while Chrissie got our house to herself so the girls (an astonishingly large herd of female friends and family) could squeal all morning, drink Prosecco, and get ready together.

Mum was part of the herd, probably the chief cow, which meant I had the morning to myself for a lie-in, then a visit from the Best Man and Ushers team for a few beers before getting ready in our penguin suits and heading off to do the deed.

I was hit by a wave of nerves as I was sitting at the front of the church with Baggo. It was the first time I’d felt nervous during the whole process of planning the entire event – it may have had something to do with Baggo jiggling his leg like he was trying to make it fall off, and muttering to himself under his breath.

‘Baggo, shut the fuck up, you’re giving me the heeby jeebies.’

‘Sorry, mate. I’m trying to remember my words.’

‘What words? You don’t have to say anything. It’s me who has to say ‘I do’ in the right place.’

‘No, I mean my speech.’

‘Haven’t you got it written down?’

‘Yeah, course I have, but Matt said you can’t have bits of paper, you have to do it, like, commando style –’

Light dawned. Matty had been having some fun at the expense of Baggo, who would normally have told him to fuck off, he was reading his speech, what were they going to do arrest him, but for some reason saw his role as best man as being some kind of saint who did everything he was told to. Maybe it was being in the church that was having this effect.

‘You can read your speech. Matty was pulling your leg.’

Baggo’s face displayed a comical mix of deep relief, embarrassment and then annoyance, as he turned round to see where Matty was. He got a thumbs up from my wayward uncle, who was showing my Aunty Rachel to her seat, and Baggo turned back to me, shaking his head.

‘Wanker. Oh fuck, so I’m not going to actually have to sit on the kiddies table? Or help the old ladies on and off the loo?’

‘Ha ha, no. Not unless you want to. Bags, how long have you known Matty?’

‘Er … as long as I’ve known you.’

‘Does he or does he not like taking the piss and winding people up?’

‘I suppose.’

‘So why did you choose today to believe him?’

‘It wasn’t just today, it was when he was helping me with the stag, he was coming up with these like top notch suggestions, and then he’d throw something in that sounded reasonable, like ‘you know it’s your job to tip the vicar’, and so –’

‘Oh my God Baggo, you haven’t tried to tip the vicar?’

‘Well not yet, I thought I’d wait until afterwards.’

‘Baggo, Do. Not. Offer. The. Vicar. Money.’

‘OK, OK, I get it. I’ve been had. Doing the bridesmaids is all part of it, though, isn’t it?’

As I turned horrified eyes to Baggo’s cheeky grin, I realised I was part of the revenge, already being served hot, and that Matty would live to regret his little joke later.

This whispered exchange ate up a few more minutes; minutes where I didn’t have to concentrate on the butterflies that seemed intent on eating their way out of my stomach, and then I was checking my watch every thirty seconds, and then Chrissie was late, and I started going through all the reasons why she might be, which ranged from planned lateness (Mum’s idea of traditional), through hair and make-up trauma (about which I would have no clue), alongside having to go back for her phone (always happened, why should today be any different), merging into traffic jam (they were coming along the bypass, which was notorious on Saturdays), which morphed into the car having been involved in an accident (minor, no one injured), then became a head-on collision (blood, guts, that type of thing), so that by the time Baggo tapped my arm, I was deep in fear and dread, and I jumped about a foot in the air.

‘She’s here, mate. Up you get.’

I turned round and caught a glimpse of white in the door of the church, and got to my feet, taking deep breaths as I did so. Then I turned round properly, the organ music started, and my beautiful Chrissie walked down the aisle, smiling her rock star smile just for me, making my heart pound with pride, love, and more than a bit of desire. I could not believe this woman was about to promise to be with me for the rest of my life.

But that’s what she did, in front of witnesses too, so she couldn’t go back on it later. It felt awesome, being all dressed up, doing it properly, saying words that sounded solemn and serious, like we really meant it, like no one could contradict us.

And then afterwards, after we’d promised to love and cherish, better or worse, death do us part, after all that, and about a zillion photos, then we got to the bit where we let our hair down.

Mum had not left any detail out of the reception. Chrissie had planned most of the ceremony, and told Mum about music, food, who needed to sit next to and, more importantly, far away from each other, but Mum had just gone to town on the details. She’d done marquees in the past, she’d done barns, she’d hired warehouses, she’d hired church halls. This was a giant ballroom in one of the oldest hotels in the city, not the swankiest, but by the time Mum had finished with it, it was just stunning.

All the colours toned with the bridesmaids dresses and the ties the guys were wearing (er, so I’m told, not that I notice this type of thing, being so infuriating). There was a jazz band playing in the foyer as we arrived. There was a string quartet playing while we ate our meal, which was all the things Chrissie and I enjoyed, from exquisite salmon fillets to an old favourite, woossy beans, which not many guests chose, but I had a plateful of while saluting Dec with my beer bottle. There was dancing, lots and lots of dancing, first to a swing band, then one of the best DJs in the south west, then a soul band got everyone grooving, then the DJ kept the party swinging well after Chrissie and I left.

And the speeches. I won’t put it all down here, because mine was pretty dull (Chrissie is lovely, I love her, she’s my wife, I’m so happy, yay), Chrissie’s dad’s was similar (Chrissie is lovely, I love her, she’s my daughter, treat her well, Calum Scott, or you’re toast), and Baggo’s was … typical Baggo.

He’d taken my warning to heart, about Mum cutting his tongue out if he swore, and he didn’t, not intentionally, not as part of his speech, anyway. He told a few tales of my misspent youth, even though most of my youth had been misspent because of him and his antics, not because of anything particularly noteworthy that I’d done. Still, there were enough of our escapades to keep the public entertained.

Then he told everyone what good mates we were, embarrassed me by saying what a good mate I was, embarrassed Chrissie by complimenting her arse, and then embarrassed everyone by looking up to the back of the room.

‘Fucking hell, Ayesh, I didn’t know you were coming.’

All eyes turned to the back of the room, where Ayesh was, indeed, standing, next to a tall man who had his arm round her, looking self-conscious. I looked at Chrissie, prepared to declare my innocence, but she didn’t look outraged, more like it wasn’t a big deal, almost like she’d expected it.

‘Oh, sorry, Mrs S. Cal said you’d cut out my tongue if I said fuck. Oh shit, I’ve only got one tongue, and I kind of need it for pleasuring the ladies. Any chance of a let off?’

Mum waved him away with a shake of her head, in the hope of averting any more bad language, and attention was rediverted to Baggo’s speech, which he finished without any more ‘fuck’s or references to ex-girlfriends.

It had shaken me, though, to see Ayesh. I didn’t know how long she had been standing there, or whether she had stayed after Baggo had made everyone look at her. I forced myself to put it out of my mind, because after the speeches, it was time for the first dance, and then cutting the cake, and it wasn’t until Chrissie needed the loo that I had a moment to myself. Just before Chrissie disappeared in a gaggle of bridesmaids who were going to help her, I don’t know, undo her buttons or something, she whispered in my ear.

‘Go and find her, Cal, talk to her before she goes.’

I didn’t have to ask who she meant. I looked around at everyone enjoying themselves, and caught sight of Ayesh disappearing through a door at the back with the tall man. She had just hugged Mum, and they were both smiling.

I hurried over to the door and caught up with her just as she was leaving the building.


She turned at the sound of my voice, looked up at the man and smiled. He started to walk away, but she held onto his arm, pulling him to her side as they waited for me to come closer.

‘So, er, you’re here.’

‘Yeah. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘No, it’s great to see you. Sorry about Baggo, he never did know when to keep his mouth shut.’

‘No, I remember. The rest of his speech was surprisingly good, though.’

‘Yeah, amazing what he can do when he puts his mind to it.’

I looked at the man by Ayesh’s side, sizing him up a little longer than was strictly polite.

‘Cal, this is Sam.’


I held a hand out, and he shook it.

‘Aren’t you staying, then?’

‘No, we just popped in. I wanted to see you all dressed up, doesn’t happen often.’

‘Ha ha, no, Penguins R Us not my usual dress code. Please stay, Ayesh. Sam, can’t you persuade her? Couple more dances? A few drinks?’

Ayesh looked up at Sam, checking, it seemed, what he thought. He shrugged to tell her it was up to her.

‘Well it is great to see everyone. Maybe a dance or two huns?’

‘Whatever you want, Ay.’

That told me everything I needed to know, which was that they definitely were Ayesh and Sam, as in a couple, not just someone she’d brought along for moral support while she checked out her ex getting hitched. He seemed like a decent bloke, if you can tell that on thirty seconds of conversation, and I was happy for her. I had no idea how this plot had been hatched, how much Chrissie had known about Ayesh being here, but Chrissie being OK with it was huge.

We had never talked much about Ayesh, I hadn’t talked much about her to anyone once she moved out of the flat we’d shared. It had always felt wrong, that someone who had been such a huge part of my life was suddenly not in it any more, but it seemed like it had to be that way. And maybe it would still have to be that way, but today something mended in me, seeing Ayesh with someone who made her happy.

As it turned out, Ayesh and Sam were still there when Chrissie and I left for our honeymoon much later that night, and it seemed like the new beginning for Chrissie and me was the ending in my mind of Ayesh and me. She’d moved on, and a lot of the guilt I’d felt, continued to feel, could be put behind me.


Wedding – bloody awesome. Initial nerves dispelled as soon as I saw Chrissie and she blasted me with her rock star smile. Sun shining through the stained glass windows, Mum sniffing into a hanky, Dad looking proud, in fact my whole family squashed together in the front three pews, Iz grinning up at me trying to make me laugh, Dec with actual tears in his eyes the big loser, an exhausted Matty being held up by Lau but pretending he was fine for me, Charlie trying to check her texts while we were saying our vows, Rosa nudging her and making her put her phone away, Baggo looking chuffed with himself when the vicar asked him for the rings, and he actually had them in his pocket, me getting Chrissie’s name wrong (oh not disastrously, just called her Christine instead of Christina, because I was nervous, alright?), Chrissie having to stop in the middle of her vows because she got a bit tearful (in a good way, apparently, and none of her mascara ran, so that was also seen as a good thing), walking up the aisle as Mr and Mrs Scott to the sound of church bells, and standing outside in the sun having photos taken with everyone. It was just a wedding, the same sort of wedding I guess I’d been to loads of times, but it was ours, and it felt perfect.

Reception – bloody awesome. I was glad I hadn’t been that involved in the planning (i.e. not involved at all), because everything was a surprise, from the vintage car that took us there, to the tiny Raiders players that everyone had as place markers, with their names on the back of their painted shirts, to the woossy beans, to the music, to the dance that the Raiders lads had choreographed to a smushy love song (there is footage, and I will sell to the highest bidder when I need the cash), to Josh having a slow dance with one of Chrissie’s cousins, to Iz being out of her tree on cocktails and falling on her arse while trying to out-groove Charlie, to Dec’s predictable head-wear, oh there was so much, it’s all on a Wedding Video somewhere, that we haul out once a year and remember. Bloody awesome.

Honeymoon – bloody awesome. Two weeks in Mexico, soaking up the sun, seeing the sights, being with my amazing new wife. I’d never doubted I’d done the right thing over a year ago, well not after all the self-doubt and beating myself up at first, but afterwards, it just set inside me as this big feeling of rightness. We were so happy, neither of us wanted to come home, but I had the joy of pre-season training, and Chrissie had to get ready to start her teacher training, so we both needed to bulk up a bit (although my bulking was brawn and Chrissie’s was brain).

After that fairly crazy year, when my life had been turned upside down, and then hurried along like that for the next twelve months, it was a bit of a relief to start to feel settled again. The rugby season started, and its rhythm felt familiar. Chrissie started her course, but worked part time too, and we became Mr and Mrs Scott, Happily Married Couple. Chrissie had a study, which was the third bedroom in our house, and I’d often get out of bed, having woken up to find her still not sleeping next to me, walk along the hall where the light from the desk lamp was spilling out of the doorway, and rub her shoulders while telling her to stop, she was already top of the class, she needed to come to bed and be top of my class for a bit.

Chrissie worked so hard. Corporate sales had never really been her thing, but she loved kids, and had always wanted to teach, just had never got round to doing anything about it. Quitting her job to stay here with me had given her the opportunity to rethink where she was headed, and now the wedding was out of the way, she was giving studying her full attention. Sometimes too much attention. I felt the need to remind her from time to time that we were newly-weds, and there were certain expectations we had to live up to. No, still no porn, although I am well aware that if this was Matty or Lau telling this, we would have been naked and sweaty in the bedroom already, but you know what I mean. It was all going well, is all you need to know.

One of the most surprising things to come out of our wedding was a friendship with Ayesh and Sam. I didn’t find out till later exactly how Ayesh ended up at my wedding reception, but it seemed it had happened with Chrissie’s blessing, and it was highly likely that Mum and Iz had something to do with it too(and let’s face it, they are pretty impossible to turn down, especially when they team up). But if Baggo hadn’t blurted out his surprise, I might never have known she was there, and four people would never have got to be such good friends.

129. The show must go on

In which an old adversary visits, the ‘shouldn’t be alone’ concept is revisited, and a party is planned.


The banging on the door woke me up with a start. The doorbell rang immediately afterwards, and I reached over for my phone, to check the time. Twelve twenty four. I looked over at Matt in the light from the screen; he was lying on his front, head turned towards me, mouth slightly open, fast asleep. More banging on the door. I got out of bed and went to the window, looking down to see who was there. Someone was standing outside, but I couldn’t see who it was. I opened the window and leaned out.

‘Who is it?’

A face looked upwards.

‘Oh, flower, are you OK?’

The face shook its head.

‘I’ll be right down.’

I glanced over at Matt on my way out of the bedroom. Still fast asleep. I pulled on my dressing gown as I went down the stairs, stuffing my phone in the pocket. Moments later, I had let a tear-stained Charlie in, put the kettle on and sat her down at the kitchen table, where she laid her head on her arms and sobbed.

‘Do your mum and dad know you’re here?’

Charlie was fifteen, and pretty much did what she wanted, but Amy worried about her constantly, and I wanted to make sure Charlie’s parents knew where she was at this time of night.


‘I’ll just text, then, so they don’t worry.’

There were some sniffs, a shrug.

‘They won’t fucking care, they don’t give a shit about me.’

I got my phone out and quickly texted Amy, hoping she wasn’t asleep.

‘Charlie’s here. Upset. Will talk and send home. L x’

‘That’s not true, Charlie. Have you had a disagreement?’

‘They’re just so … bloody unreasonable. It’s none of their business who I go out with.’

So this was about – oh what was his name, some kind of farm animal – Pig? No. Goat. He was seventeen, had a car, seemed perfectly nice, but Dec was understandably protective, and he was the cause of quite a few arguments. The usually placid, easy going Dec tried to impose curfews – time limits, no school night rules – all to no avail, and every time Charlie broke them there was a huge row. It looked like it had happened again.

‘Want to tell me about it, flower?’

Charlie lifted her head and nodded, looking at me as if the world was ending. She glanced at my dressing gown, and then at the clock.

‘Shit, Lau, sorry, I didn’t realise it was so late, well late for you. I didn’t wake Matty up did I?’

‘Charlie, I don’t think Matt would wake up if you knocked the house down around him.’

‘Ha ha, no, you’re right, but I know he gets tired.’

The contradiction that was Charlie Summers; one minute headstrong selfish teenager, the next considerate almost-adult.

The kettle switched itself off, and I stood up to make us tea.

‘Thanks, Lau, you’re cool.’

It was easier to be cool when it wasn’t your own children. Amy and I often talked about how irritating it was when your own children went to someone else for advice and support, but had agreed to always be there for each other’s when they needed it.

‘So what’s this all about?’

‘They think they can rule my life, who I can see, where I can go.’

‘Yeah, remind me again how old you are, flower.’

‘Nearly sixteen. I can do what I fucking well want.’

I smiled to myself. Charlie had only recently had her fifteenth birthday.

‘Well you’ll be able to do more when you actually are sixteen, in about a year, although you won’t be able to do just what you want, but for now your mum and dad have the right to say what they think is best for you. Sometimes it’s better to talk about it and agree together.’

‘Have you ever tried to talk to them? They’re just like, all ‘you can’t see Goat he’s too old, where are you going, be back by eleven’. Eleven! The clubs don’t open till midnight. It’s not like I’m fucking five.’

‘Have you been going to clubs?’

Charlie looked sideways at me, from underneath her dark eyelashes, reminding me for all the world of how she looked when she was five, and didn’t answer.

‘You know you’re both under age.’

‘Oh Lau, everyone does it, everyone has fake ID. Goat’s cool, he’d never let anything happen.’

‘OK, assuming that’s the case, Goat seems nice enough, can you think what your mum and dad might be worried about?’

Charlie’s answer was interrupted by my phone pinging.

‘Thanks, Lau. Do u want me 2 come an get her?’

‘No, just chatting.’



‘Goat’s a few years older than you –’

‘He’s only just seventeen, it’s like, only just over a year.’

I let the maths slide, as it wasn’t worth getting into the argument.

‘He’s still older. Think about it, flower. You’re not a mum, so you won’t understand how absolutely terrifying it is to think of your daughter, who only five minutes ago was a tiny baby, having sex with someone called Goat, who takes her to clubs.’

‘Who said we were having sex?’

‘Are you?’

Charlie looked down at her hands and nodded. She looked up at me, her big blue eyes full of protest.

‘But everyone does. We’re careful, we always use a condom.’

‘You know that he is actually breaking the law, don’t you.’

‘Well we both are, then.’

‘No, just Goat. You’re the one who’s under age, he’s the one with the responsibility. Charlie, I don’t know if your dad knows you’re sleeping together, but if he doesn’t, and he finds out, you’re going to have to hide Goat for a very long time.’

‘Who’s gona hahv tuh hide Goat?’

Matt had come into the kitchen unnoticed by either of us. Charlie looked at me pleadingly. Matt was likely to get almost as angry as Dec if he found out exactly what Charlie had been up to.

‘Go back to bed, flower, Charlie and I are just chatting.’

‘Yuh always chuck meh ouh when thehrs anything juicy. Any teh goin?’

‘Kettle’s just boiled.’

Matt wandered over to the counter and got a mug out.

‘Sorry I woke you up, Matty. I was trying to be quiet.’

‘Noh yuh wehrnt, yuh nehly broke the bluhdy door down.’


‘I thought you were still asleep when I came down.’

‘Only half. Thoht I’d hehr sohm goss if I kep my eyes shut an my ears open.’

He shot Charlie a direct gaze.

‘Duh yuh lohv him?’

It seemed Matt had heard quite a lot of our conversation. I held my breath.


‘Goat. Duh yuh lohv him?’

‘Well, yeah, course.’

‘Does he lohv yuh?’


‘Does he treht yuh righ? Never makes yuh duh stuff, lehs yuh say noh, always careful, uses protection?’

‘Yeah, he’s great, really, like, caring and that.’

‘An he’s not seeing anyone else?’

‘No. I’d break his legs.’

‘Ha ha, yuh would too. Chahlie, everything Lau said is righ. She’s always righ. An I wana kick his fucking teeth in fuh touching yuh, buh I wohnt. Prohbly jus fall over if I tried. Yuh jus nehd tuh know tha wehr here if yuh nehd tuh talk, an we’ll prohbly tell yuhr mum an dad a loh of wha yuh tell us, buh tahk tuh us, wohnt yuh. Plehs.’

Charlie nodded. I slowly exhaled.

‘An listen as well. I know yuh think wehr ancient, buh me an Lau have behn aroun a bih. Well, meh mohr than Lau, I was a bih of a floozy back in the day –’

‘You were? No way, Matty, you’re like Mr Married.’

Matt shrugged. ‘Sohm hair raising tales tuh beh told. Maybeh one day.’

Charlie looked at me for confirmation.

‘It’s true, flower. Matt had a reputation as a bit of a stud when I first knew him. He’d broken hearts all across the city.’

Charlie looked incredulous.

‘How come I’ve never heard about this?’

‘Long tihm agoh.’

‘Yeah, it was a long time ago, flower, but Matt knows what he’s talking about when it comes to boys behaving badly. But he also knows how to treat people, and what’s right and what’s wrong, and we just want to make sure you’re being safe and looked after.’

‘Yeah, well, I am. It’s not like when I went out with Billy and he was all hands everywhere and having to push him off me all the time, Goat like totally knows how to look after me, he’s literally a gentleman.’

‘Wha, born intuh an upper clahs fahmly in the Victorian era?’


‘When yuh say ‘literally’, tha mehns sohmthing is actually, rehly true.’

‘Yeah, whatever, Matty, didn’t come here for an English lesson.’

‘Chehky brat. So wha yuh gona duh now?’

‘About what?’

‘Ih’s nehly sodding one o’clock. Goh hohm and say sohry tuh yuhr parents.’

‘No way, they don’t care where I am, no way I’m fucking apologising.’

‘Yuh know wha ih looks lihk, when yuhr all arsy abouh goin ouh?’


‘Looks tuh them lihk ih’s Goat’s fault. They think ‘tha boy, he’s noh good fuh her, look how he mahks her behave’. If yuh stopped bein arsy an listened, an did wha they said sohmtimes, they’d think ‘wehl wehl, tha Goat, he’s a good influence’. They migh listen tuh yuh as wehl. Donht yuh wan them to know how greht Goat is?’

‘Well, yeah …’

‘Goh hohm, then, Charlotte Lucy Summers, an apologise tuh yuh parents fuh keeping them up. Come an see us tomohrow an let us know how ih went.’

Charlie thought about it, and nodded. She was a hot-headed, impulsive, headstrong girl, but if you said it right, she listened. Matt had hit just the right note.

‘OK. Thanks, Matty. Thanks, Lau. You’re both so cool. Sorry to wake you up.’

‘Any time, flower. See you tomorrow.’

I let Charlie out, and texted Amy to say she was on her way home. Then I turned to Matt, who had sat on a chair at the table.

‘Fuck, I wana punch his fucking lighs ouh.’

‘You were awesome, flower. I hope Amy and Dec will be as sensitive and understanding when it’s one of our two.’

‘Shih, I’m not letting Dec give his fatherly opinion tuh Ella, who knows wha half-arsed advice he’d end up saying. Can yuh hehp meh back upstairs, Lau?’

‘Course, flower. Grab on.’


Just being with Chrissie, feeling that ‘click’ as we slotted together, helped a lot, but we both had a lot of talking to do as we worked out things like where we were going to live (I stayed with Mum and Dad for a few months while Chrissie moved into a house nearby), where she was going to work (temping agencies for now, and maybe doing a teaching degree later), how we were going to handle bumping into Ayesh at the supermarket (me: panic; Chrissie and Ayesh: with dignified silence followed up with less dignified sizing each other up and sending visual daggers to each other while I dumped the trolley and fled, pulling Chrissie with me), how we were going to do family events (with a lot of checking exactly who had invited who, especially if anyone had invited Ayesh, and initially staying away if Ayesh had been asked, even if she said she wasn’t coming, which she always did), how we were going to go about socialising with friends of mine who had been friends of mine and Ayesh’s, many of whom were Raiders team-mates and whose wives and girlfriends were also Ayesh’s friends (similar to family events, but with less forgiveness on the cards if Ayesh got upset, and more likelihood that we would see her there).

I moved into Chrissie’s house in the summer; we always intended for it to be our house, but there was so much to talk about and think about that it felt right for her to be on her own for a while so things could settle down. Both of us had been traumatised, and if I’m honest I needed time and space to truly separate from the life I had with Ayesh before plunging straight into life with Chrissie.

My life had been tangled together with Ayesh’s in more ways than our emotions. There were things like shared bills (which Ayesh now had to pay herself), shared possessions, our flat (which she could no longer afford on her own), a holiday we’d booked but needed to cancel – every time I thought I’d got there, that there wasn’t anything else that could crop up to make me feel guilty, there would be another message via Mum or Iz that Ayesh needed to talk to me about the tenancy or the Sky contract or any of a million things that reinforced my feelings of selfishness and guilt.

The only good thing that came out of it all was that Ayesh and I had to talk to each other, about details, about finances, about all the things that have to be done when two people who were together now aren’t, and we managed to do it without getting upset, in the end. Ayesh had to move out of the flat, because it was too much for her to afford on her own, and once that happened, I didn’t have so much contact with her, not for a long time.

Mum still saw Ayesh, but not as much, and I think it was starting to feel a bit weird to both of them as time went on. Iz stayed in touch, but then Iz has seventeen hundred Facebook friends and follows over two thousand people on Twitter because she can’t bear to let any of them go, even the weirdoes who only friended her because she’s got long blonde hair.

That summer, Chrissie and I went away together, the off-season being our first chance to really leave everything (by which I mean my enormous, overly curious and far-too-opinionated family) behind and have some time truly to ourselves.

Chrissie came from a Mum-Dad-two-kids family, who had moved around so much that grandparents, aunties, uncles and cousins were scattered and rarely saw each other. She found it hard at first to be thrown into the mayhem of the Scotts – even though she’d experienced it before, we were both young enough that it didn’t affect us that much. Now we were older, and there were more of us, more was expected of us, and I knew that she struggled sometimes with Mum’s pop-rounds, Iz’s texts, the noise of everyone on a Sunday. People really tried hard to make her feel welcome, but by the time the rugby season finished and I had some downtime, I knew what we needed to do.

‘Oh Cal, really? Bali?’

‘Two weeks. A week on Saturday.’

‘I love you.’

‘Me or my credit card?’

‘Maybe a bit of both. Actually, right now, I think I love your credit card just a little bit more. Or a lot more. Oh sod it, I’ll just sleep with your card. You can have the spare room.’

And so we flew out to a fortnight of complete luxury, our hotel apartment virtually on the beach, with its own private pool, room service, spa facilities available, the complete works. We hardly moved for fourteen days, except to … well you can imagine without me having to spell it out. Oh, and I had to move far enough to get down on one knee and ask Chrissie to marry me.

It was the perfect setting. Sun sinking into the sea sending the sky into raptures of red and purple, soft waves splashing, a warm breeze lifting Chrissie’s hair away from her face, a great meal eaten and a bottle of wine nearly finished.

I’d had the ring with me, had been planning to do this when the moment was right, had been wanting to ask her since about a week after we got back together. I knew it wasn’t right to ask straight away, not only because of how insensitive it would have been to Ayesh, but because I knew Chrissie felt we needed time to find out about each other.

I knew right from the start how I felt. It was like Matty and Lau said, I just knew it was her and no one else, and I knew I was never going to change my mind. I’m pretty sure Chrissie felt the same way, but she trusted her emotions less. She felt she’d got it wrong that first time when she broke up with me, and had nearly got it wrong again by leaving. She wanted to be sure, so I waited until I thought she was sure, and then took her to Bali. You can’t get much more romantic than Bali at sunset – I knew this because I’d Googled it.

So, with dinner eaten and wine drunk, I took a deep breath, took the ring out of my pocket, knelt in front of the love of my life, took her hand in mine, and looked into her eyes as she gasped.

‘Chrissie Coulson, you need a new last name. Scott is way cooler. Why don’t you change it?’

‘I don’t know, I quite like it. I like my initials. CC. I sound like a bratty American teenager.’

‘Well if bratty teenager is where you’re aiming, maybe you have a point. Isn’t there anything I can do to persuade you?’

‘Hmm, well, you appear to be down on one knee.’

‘Yeah, it’s getting a bit uncomfortable. And that bird is giving me a funny look. Anything occurring to you?’

‘Well I do quite like my name. It has panache, you know, with the two Cs and everything. You think Scott is cooler? Hm, Chrissie Scott. Really? That’s quite a lot of sss.’

‘Just the right amount. Some good c and t as well. All great names have c and t in the right places – c at the start and t at the end.’

‘You might have something there. How would I go about changing my name then?’

‘There are a few methods I have researched.’

‘Go on.’

‘You can change it by deed poll. It’s not expensive, and quite quick I believe.’

‘Mm hmm. And?’

‘Well you could just start telling everyone you’ve got a new last name. It doesn’t have to be official. You’d announce it in the Herald – ‘Chrissie Coulson will henceforth be known as Chrissie Scott’ or something.’

‘I can see how it could happen. Anything else?’

‘Well, there is one other way, but it’s a bit out there. You have to answer a simple question. One word only. Has to be the right word, to the right question.’

‘Now I’m intrigued.’

‘I know the question.’

‘Do you know the answer?’

‘No, only you know that.’

‘You’d better ask it, then.’

‘Sure you’re ready?’

‘Very sure.’

‘OK. Chrissie, will you marry me?’

‘You’re right, that is a pretty easy question.’

‘In which case I’m going to have to hurry you for an answer.’


‘Correct. Go to the top of the class.’

And then I opened the box and showed her the ring, and we stopped messing about because it was real, we were getting married, and neither of us had ever been happier.

Mum had a whole year’s notice to plan it, which was almost a whole year more than she had for Matty and Lau’s wedding (less than a week) and Dec and Amy’s (just over two months), and I expected some gratitude for giving her the wedding she’d been craving, even if it wasn’t with the daughter-in-law she’d been expecting. And Chrissie wasn’t even pregnant. It was a level of planning, organisation and decency almost unheard of among the Scott and Summers families.

Mum had a flourishing party planning business, that had started as a hobby and grown through word of mouth following her successes with Dec, Amy, Matty and Lau. My wedding wasn’t the only big event planned that year; a few months before Chrissie and I got married, Matty was fifty, and Mum wasn’t about to let that one go without a fanfare.


‘Laura, what on earth’s the matter?’

Beth dropped her bag on the hall floor and put her arms round me. I took several deep breaths and tried to pull myself together. If I’d known I was going to dissolve into a blubbing puddle I would never have answered the door. I stood back from Beth, and tried to slap a convincing smile on my face.

‘Nothing, just having a funny moment.’

‘It doesn’t look very funny, sweetheart. Come on, sit down, I’ll put the kettle on. Is Matty upstairs?’

I nodded, and as Beth went into the kitchen, another wave of tears blurred my vision. I rummaged in my pocket for a tissue, and wiped my eyes. Beth’s voice floated into the living room.

‘Is everything set for tomorrow? You know all the times and everything, don’t you?’

I didn’t answer. Tomorrow. Matt’s fiftieth birthday. Big party planned by Beth. Except it wasn’t going to have a guest of honour, not if Matt was still intent on staying in bed and not speaking to anyone. I’d tried everything, all the tricks in the book, anything I’d ever tried that had worked before when he was miserable, but none of it worked this time.

His latest flare up of MS had affected his mobility so badly that we’d had to talk about either moving or adapting our house so he didn’t have to do the stairs. It had been a big blow to him, and since we’d first talked about it about a couple of days ago, he’d retreated into himself and stopped talking to anyone about anything. He wouldn’t even talk to the children, and although they were used to Matt’s ups and downs, they weren’t used to his unresponsiveness in the face of their chatter, and it upset me to see their hurt and confusion.

I hadn’t told anyone yet, I’d hoped to be able to jolly him out of his dark mood like I always did, but the longer it went on, the more desperate I became.

Beth had arrived just as I was having a weep to myself, and I’d sniffed to a halt before answering the door, but she’d seen the look on my face, had given me a sympathetic smile, and I’d started crying again.

‘Laura? Oh you are in here. Here you go.’

She handed me a mug, and sat down.

‘Are you OK for tomorrow? Cal’s coming over at about seven …’

Her voice trailed off.

‘Oh Laura, just tell me what’s happened.’

I shook my head. I didn’t even know where to start.

‘I don’t think … Matt’s … I can’t … he won’t … I don’t know what to do.’

My face felt like it crumpled, and fresh tears ran down my face. I buried my face in my hands, and felt Beth sit next to me and put her arm round my shoulders.

‘Oh sweetheart. Tell me, please. I know Matty can be difficult.’

I felt a surge of loyalty.

‘He’s not difficult. He’s just … oh he’ll hate it if I say anything, but to be honest I don’t know if I’ve got the energy to try to persuade him to tell you himself. He’s got worse in the last few days, and he can’t do the stairs. He’s stuck up there at the moment. We’ve had to talk about adaptations, a stairlift, or moving. He’s stopped talking to anyone. I can’t get through to him, at all. He just lies there, either pretending to be asleep or ignoring me, he won’t even talk to the children. I don’t think he’s going to be coming to his party.’

‘Oh Laura. Why didn’t you say something? Call one of us?’

‘Well you know what he’s like about telling people stuff. I can usually talk him round, it’s never gone on this long before.’

Beth looked at me with understanding, then shook her head.

‘He’s sucking you in. If he stops you talking to us too, he’s created this little bubble of Matty misery. He knows that he can’t fend us all off, but he can just about manage you, Josh and Ella. Can I go and see him?’

‘Feel free, if you think you can try something I haven’t thought of.’

Beth went up the stairs, and I sat and sipped my tea. I could hear Beth’s voice, but not what she was saying. I didn’t hear any response from Matt, and didn’t know what I thought about that. I wanted him to feel better and start talking again, but I wanted to be the one who made it happen. Then I smiled to myself – Laura Scott, just how arrogant are you? Hadn’t I just told Beth I’d tried everything? She was right, it was time to ask other people for help. Ever since I’d known him, Matt had fought against asking people when he needed something. I was stubborn too, but I usually recognised when someone else would do something better than I could. Beth was right, Matt had sucked me in, and I’d fallen for it. I heard Beth come back down the stairs.

‘Any luck?’

She sighed. ‘Not right at the moment. Maybe he’ll think about what I said …’

‘What did you say?’

‘I asked him how long he was planning to make all of you feel as miserable as he was feeling, I told him if he didn’t want to come to his party that was fine, but we would be celebrating his birthday with or without him, and it was going to be a great night and he’d regret it if he wasn’t there, and I reminded him that Cal’s getting married in a couple of months, and so he’d better start thinking of a way to get downstairs before then, as there is no way on this earth I am letting him miss my son’s wedding, if I have to come and carry him down myself.’

‘Well thanks for trying.’

‘Laura, I know this is none of my business, but how is he managing with the loo?’

To anyone else, this would have seemed both rude and inappropriate, but we’d both been nurses, and we’d both looked after Matt when he’d needed a lot of help. There really was no point in not saying what we were thinking.

‘Well he’s not eaten anything for a couple of days, so he’s only needed to go once. He struggled there on his own, God knows how, and I heard him up there, so I waited outside the bathroom. When he came out I was there, and he leaned on me, but he didn’t say anything.’

‘He’s not eating? Oh Laura. I think we need the big guns. Do you know if Dec’s home? And maybe we need to get a commode or something for the bedroom?’

She saw the look on my face, and she knew as well as I did how that was likely to go down with Matt.

‘Sweetheart, surely there are some things he can’t have a choice about. It affects you almost as much as him. Maybe you should get Social Services round to talk about adaptations?’

‘Not without his say so. We’ve always said in it together. I’m not going to start deciding things without him now, he needs to know he has a say.’

‘Then you need to make him understand that it’s not just about him. I know sometimes he thinks about things, seems like he’s not listening and then it’s like it’s his idea. If you wrap him up in cotton wool and don’t tell him how you’re feeling, then it’s all about him. He needs to know how upset you are, that he’s not the only one who hates how he’s feeling.’

I breathed in. ‘I know. You’re right. It’s just so hard for him, he feels every small thing he can’t do any more so much, I just want to protect him.’

‘Well, if you’re in it together, you both need to be honest with each other, otherwise it’s just both of you in it for Matty.’

‘He doesn’t feel he’s got anything to give any more’

‘Well we both know that’s not true. Iz was telling me what a laugh she had with him on Facetime the other week. Didn’t he help Gracie with her maths homework a few days ago? And Dec wouldn’t have a business without him. And as for all of you …’

‘You don’t have to tell me, it’s him you need to convince.’

‘OK then, I’m texting Dec. Hasn’t he been round lately?’

‘Not since all this. He was away at that sports dinner thing, I don’t think he got back until this morning.’

‘You know, the first time that Dec and Matty spent any time together, he managed to talk Matty out of something like this. That was a long time ago, now, but I still think if anyone can do it, it’s Dec.’

‘I’m up for trying anything, Beth. I just don’t know how much longer I can do this, being positive all the time, cheering him up, making the most of things. Sometimes I just feel like screaming about how unfair it is, he shouldn’t have his life taken away bit by bit, the kids should still have a dad who can run around with them, I should still have a husband who can –’

I stopped myself; if I carried on I was going to break down again.

‘Sorry. It’s not like I can say I didn’t know this was going to happen, I saw it so many times when I was working, I knew exactly what was likely to be in store for us. I’m having an off day, that’s all.’

‘Sweetheart, you’re entitled to a few off days, more than a few. You’re always so cheerful, you never seem to let anything get you down, you just get on with things. The trouble is that when you’re so good at it, we don’t know when you need us. You have to ask. Call or text, we’re all here.’

‘Thanks. But everyone’s got their own stuff – Dec and Amy are worried about Rose, you and Jay are doing more for Carol, the children are all growing up and needing different things …’

‘Yes, everyone’s got their worries, but that doesn’t mean that when you need us, we can’t make room for yours as well. Look at all the times you and Matty have helped out with Iz, and Charlie, and been there for Carol and Rose. We all look after each other don’t we?’

I looked down at the floor and nodded. In the last few months, without realising it, I’d started to cut myself off from everyone. Matt had begun withdrawing, and I’d allowed him to pull me with him. Well now I’d realised, it wasn’t going to continue.

‘Know what, you’re right. He’s not getting away with this. You’ve spent months planning this party, and if he’s not going to be there, that’s his loss. Yeah, text Dec, see if we can use a united front to show Matt what’s what. Thanks, Beth.’


‘So just so you know, one of us is going to be up here giving you grief until you get a bloody grip. We’ll let Lau do the night shift, but every other moment of the day, someone’s going to be here chatting or singing or telling you interesting facts about Doctor Who – OK, that last one will only be Rosa – but you’re not getting left alone to get on with it, mate. Oh, and first port of call is getting these bloody curtains open. It’s the middle of the fucking day.’

Dec strode over to the window and pulled the curtains wide. It was sunny outside, and light flooded into the bedroom. It made me wince, and Matt pulled the duvet over his head. Dec was having none of it.

‘No way, mate. You’re not suffocating yourself with your own farts. And this entire room stinks of your rank feet. You need to bloody well sort yourself out.’

He pulled the duvet away from Matt’s face and held it there.

‘I know it’s bright, that’s the point. Find something to be cheerful about. Get out of this pit of despair or whatever the fuck you’ve climbed into. We’ve got emails backed up to last Monday that I can’t answer, and if we lose business I’m taking it out of your bloody pocket money. How about a cuppa, Lau? I’m gasping, and I suspect Matt is too, not that he’d admit it, fucking stubborn fucking bastard that he is.’

I nodded and left the room, hearing Dec’s constant cajoling as I headed downstairs and into the kitchen. We weren’t out of the woods yet, not by a long way, but just having someone else take charge, as Beth and then Dec had done, made me breathe easier. I was pretty sure Matt was going to get angry before he got better, and I would bear the brunt of that, but I was prepared for it. If he even communicated with me it would seem like a major breakthrough.


‘Bye Dec. Thanks, flower, you’re a star.’

Dec grinned and put a hand on his hip.

‘Well which is it, Lau, flower or star? I need to know so I can put it on my chart.’

‘Ha ha. Both, I think.’

His expression turned more serious.

‘You’re gonna be OK tonight?’

‘Yeah. I know where you are, anyway.’

‘You do. Four doors down like always. Any time, night or day, call us.’

‘Thanks, Dec, that means a lot. I can’t believe how lovely you’re all being considering how he’s being to everyone.’

‘There’s not much I wouldn’t do for him. And middle of the night calls have always been on the cards with Matt. I hope it works, I hate to see him like this.’

‘I know, I do too. I understand it, but I just wish … oh but there’s no point wishing is there.’

‘Take care of yourself, Lau. See you tomorrow. Beth will have drawn up her rota by then. Oh shit, it’s the fucking party, isn’t it.’

‘Hm, I don’t think that’s happening. Beth told him it’s going ahead with or without him, but … I just don’t know.’

‘Well we’ve got all day tomorrow to work on him. He’ll be there or he won’t, two choices. ‘Night.’

‘Night, Dec.’


‘There’s a glass of water there. Your mouth must be proper dry, just have a couple of sips. I put a bit of bread and cheese on a plate too – it’s that crusty granary you like, baked fresh today, and some Cornish cheddar, just in case you’re peckish.’

Matt was lying on his side, eyes closed, turned towards the edge of the bed. I turned the light out, got in next to him and moved behind him, folding an arm round him and kissing his shoulder. He didn’t move, didn’t tense or relax or try to pull away. It was as if he was unconscious.

‘I love you, Matthew Robert Scott.’

I unhooked my arm and lay on my back, eyes open in the dark, thoughts too scattered to sleep. After a while I became aware of small sounds that Matt was making, little choking sobs, that told me he was crying and trying to do it silently.

I thought about how to respond. In the past, he had always cried with me, not because of me, and he’d sought me out to comfort him. I reached over and put my hand on his hip, needing to show him I was aware of him and was there for him. This time he did tense, and it was obvious that he didn’t want me to touch him. I decided to ignore his body language, and kept my hand where it was. Matt’s breathing became noisier and more snotty. Eventually, he spoke.

‘Why the fuck cahnt yuh all jus lehv meh alohn? Ih’s all I ever ask fuh, an I cahnt even hahv tha.’

Leaving my hand on his hip, I turned over towards him and spoke to the back of his head.

‘I’ve been leaving you alone for the last two days, and this is where it’s got you. We’ve done it your way, and it’s not working for any of us.’

‘Jus fuck off, Lau.’

‘No. You heard Dec. You’re not going to be left alone until you stop this. I’ve told you before, I’ll force feed you if you don’t eat, so you’ve got that to look forward to as well. You could also have a visit from the Mental Health team if you’re really lucky.’

‘Fuh fuck’s sake.’

‘Well those are your options, Matt. Pull yourself out of this, or we’ll get someone else to do it for you. I’m scared. The kids are scared.’

‘Whole fucking loh of yuh’d beh better off wihouh meh.’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous. You’re just looking for pity now.’

It was a calculated statement, and reaped its reward.

‘I never fucking asked fuh pity. Dohnt want anyohn tuh fucking pity meh.’

‘Then stop saying things designed to make people feel sorry for you. Oh, poor Matt, he’s in a right state, his poor family, they can’t wait to get rid of him. Is that what you want people to think? Or would you rather they thought, hey, that Matt, he’s a fighter, he’s got it tough at the moment, but you should see him, nothing can keep him down, his family are lucky to have him.’

‘Dohnt give a shih wha pehpl think.’

‘Yes you do, otherwise you’d be thinking about all the things we talked about the other day, all the things that have sent you here, running for cover, all the equipment, adaptations, things that would make your life easier, but would mean your MS is more noticeable. If you didn’t care, you’d just do it and sod them.’

‘Wha the fuck duh yuh know abouh wha I think?’

‘Ha ha, Matt, good one. I’ve spent the last fourteen years knowing how you think, thinking for you, holding hands through your crazy, scrambled thought processes. How’s this, then? Every time you lose something, every time there’s something you used to be able to do that goes away and doesn’t come back, it feels like a part of you has died. You’re worried about how much of you there is left, you feel like it’s nearly all gone, and you’re scared. Scared that we’ll stop loving you, scared of losing the rest, scared of how hard you’re going to have to fight to hang on to yourself.’

Matt was silent, apart from the small sobs that he was trying very hard not to let out. I reached up and stroked his hair.

‘I’m scared too. But not of the MS. I’m scared I’m going to lose you, my lovely, gentle, clever, kind, strong, sexy, funny Matt, my beach boy, who’s always been there, through everything, but now I’m wondering where he’s gone, and whether he’s coming back to me. I don’t like this Matt who’s lying there in his place at the moment. He’s dark and self-absorbed and doesn’t care that his children have both had to do their maths homework with their mother because they couldn’t face coming in here and you ignoring them. I don’t like this Matt who cares more about lying on his own in the dark being miserable, than about his business with his best friend. I don’t like this Matt who, when I touch him, tenses up as if I’m burning him rather than turning over and kissing me. I’m scared that this Matt is here to stay, and my Matt has gone for good.’

There was more silence. The sobs quietened, and finally stopped. I didn’t know if he’d gone to sleep or not. I doubted it – despite having been in bed for the last few days, I didn’t think Matt had been doing much sleeping. I moved my hand away from his hair and back to his hip. He didn’t move a muscle, or say a word.

I must have dozed off, because I found myself on my back, head turned to one side, away from Matt. I turned to face him, and saw that he had turned over himself, and was lying on his front, head towards me, mouth slightly open, asleep. His hair, which was still thick and sandy, but shot through with grey now, was, as usual, sticking out all over the place.

It wasn’t much, but it was better than the rigid, non-sleeping, determinedly facing away from me posture that had been my companion for the last two nights. I lay facing him, watching him sleep, until my alarm started peeping, and it was time to get up and get the children to school.

As I began to turn over, I felt a hand grip mine. I turned back to Matt and saw his big grey eyes looking pleadingly at me. I lay back down on my side and stroked his hair. We didn’t speak, just looked at each other, until Matt looked away briefly, breathed in, and:

‘Dohnt lehv meh, Lau, I nehd yuh.’

I nearly wept with relief, and my eyes did fill with a few tears.

‘I’ll just be downstairs, I’ve got the packed lunches to do and the kids aren’t up yet, I need to give them a knock.’

‘Can yuh duh lunches up hehr? Dohnt wana beh on my own.’

This was such a complete turnaround from wanting to be left alone, that I needed to respond. I thought fast, needing to reorganise how the morning routine worked in my head.

‘OK then, but I’ll have to go and get all the stuff, and give the kids a knock on my way past. I won’t be long.’

Matt nodded. ‘Jus fehl soh lohnly when yuhr all down thehr getting rehdy.’

‘Oh, my love. OK, I’ll grab some stuff and be right up.’

I leaned over and kissed his cheek, got out of bed, grabbed my dressing gown and hurried down the stairs, pausing only to bang on Josh and Ella’s doors. I grabbed a basket from the top of the fridge, tipped out all the leaflets and flyers that had gathered there, and filled it with bread, spread, cheese, ham, crisps, fruit, juice cartons and yogurts, then grabbed the lunch boxes. It was quite exciting, almost like a picnic, and I let myself smile. I’d been worried that Matt was going to stay in his misery for a long time, and although he was still miserable, he was at least doing something about it.

When I got back upstairs, Josh and Ella had found their way into the bedroom and were sitting on the edge of the bed, talking to Matt, who was smiling at them. I could see the effort it took for him to look involved and interested in their chat, and this told me it wasn’t real for him, not yet, but it was a huge step. I helped Matt lean forwards so I could prop him into a sitting position with pillows.

‘Josh tells meh yuh wehr doin simultaneous equations las nigh.’

‘Oh, is that what they were? I thought I was learning Martian or something.’

‘No Mum, it’s algebra.’

‘Might as well have been Martian, Hippo.’

I sat on the bed and started putting the lunch boxes together.

‘Mum, what are you doing?’

‘Lunch boxes. Unless you want to make your own sandwiches?’

‘No way. But why are you doing them up here, like in the bedroom?’

I glanced at Matt, who was looking back at me, begging me not to make it his fault.

‘Well, I think it’s a new thing for now, me and Dad are doing the lunch boxes together up here, I’m doing the sandwiches and Dad’s chucking everything else in.’

‘Yes, but why?’

‘Just to keep you on your toes. It could change at any minute. We could do it in the garden next week, or the bathroom. But for now, here will do just fine.’

‘You two are like so totally weird.’

‘Thanks Ella. Here’s your sandwich. Would you like to hand it to Dad so it can go in your lunch box with a juice and – your choice, an apple, cheese and onion crisps, yogurt. Two of three.’

‘What’s in the sandwich?’

‘You just watched me make it.’

‘Yeah, but I’ve, like, forgotten.’

‘More like weren’t paying attention because someone else was doing the work for you. It’s ham and cheese.’

‘Oh. Yogurt and crisps then, if they’re cheese and onion. And Josh will have apple and yogurt.’

‘Thanks, Ella, I can speak for myself.’

‘Yeah, but you’re gonna totally have apple and yogurt if it’s ham and cheese sandwich.’

I raised an eyebrow at Josh, saw him struggling with himself to have something different, but then give in.

‘Apple and yogurt, please, Dad.’

Ella looked at me triumphantly.

‘Stohp bein soh bluhdy bohsy, Squeaks.’

‘It’s not bossy, it’s saving time. If everyone listened to me, and did what I said, everything would be much more efficient.’

‘Ha ha, yuh jus defined bohsy. Hehr yuh goh, two lunch boxes. Geh drehsed now, Muhm’ll beh rehdy tuh take yuh soon.’

‘Actually, Matt, before we all shoot off …’

I looked pointedly at Ella and Josh, who got the message and raced out of the room. I reached into the drawer in my bedside table and got out the card and present that had been there for a week.

‘Wha’s this?’

‘Special day. Someone’s an old man.’

‘Tha’s noh way tuh talk abou Dec.’

‘I don’t mean Dec, do I. Oh, looks like Ella and Josh have remembered as well.’

‘Happy Birthday Dad.’

They said it together, smiles lighting up their faces, excited to be able to give him the present they’d spent ages choosing.

‘Oh yuh guys. Awesohm. I nehly fohgot. Wha’s this, then?’

Matt pulled the paper off the parcel – a pair of binoculars.

‘Whoa. These are greht. How did yuh know? Now I can look in Mrs Wilkins’ bedroom when she’s getting undrehsed.’

‘Daad, they for birdwatching.’

‘Oh, rehly? Shahm, I bet Mrs Wilkins looks dehd sexy in her support tights. Thehr awesohm. Thahks, guys. Yuhr the best. Greht card too.’

‘Rosa made it. She makes loads and sells them at school.’

‘Rehly? Clever old thing. Oh, looks lihk thehr’s sohmthing from yuh, Lau.’

I was a bit nervous about it, not knowing how Matt was going to take it. He hadn’t seemed that bothered about turning fifty, but I wondered if his dark mood of the last couple of days had something to do with it. I’d spent ages choosing the present, but was still unsure.

Matt unwrapped the paper, revealing a small jewellery box, opened the lid, and there was a silver coloured ring. It was actually platinum, a plain band, designed to fit his thumb. Matt looked up at me, one eyebrow raised in query. He wasn’t saying he didn’t like it, just wondering if there was any more to it.

‘I never got you a wedding ring. This is an eternity ring. It should fit your thumb, but if you want to wear it on a different finger, I can get it resized. Or if you don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it.’

‘I lohv ih, Lau. Whoa, eternity. Yuh rehly wana beh stuck wih meh tha long?’

‘Longer if I can.’

We looked at each other.

‘Ew, Mum, like, get a room or something.’

‘Er, I believe we already have a room, thank you Ella. I think I’m going to snog your dad now, so you can stay or go, whichever is less embarrassing for you.’

Ella and Josh scuttled out, clutching their lunch boxes, and I turned back to Matt, who was inspecting the ring more closely.

‘Yuh had ih engraved. Cahnt see wha ih says … oh, ih’s a picture. Aw, Lau, two hands, lihk yuhr ring.’

I always wore the one he gave me the first Christmas in this house.

‘And words. Can you see them?’

Matt’s eyes often played up, and he couldn’t always see clearly, especially small writing.

‘Leh’s hahv a goh. Er … oh, fuhever. Hohding hahds fuhever. Perfect Lau. Soh, if I hahv a thumb ring, dohs tha mehn I’m finally a cool duhd?’

Matt always wanted to be cool, but he didn’t always want to do the things that would have made him cool in his own eyes. He envied Dec’s tattoos – several added over the years to commemorate his parents and the births of all his children – but couldn’t bring himself to have one of his own as it wasn’t an original idea and might, heaven forbid, be seen as copying Dec. Matt had tried various types of clothing which he felt would mark him out – hats, shorts, baseball boots, bow ties – with limited success, and which were given up when they just led to mickey-taking. I’d hit on this as a small way to help him feel like he might be doing something slightly original, something that only some of the younger members of the family wore, none of us oldies.

‘Without a doubt. The coolest. Just don’t ask either of your children to confirm that.’

‘Ha ha, or anyohn under forty-five. I lohv ih Lau. I lohv yuh too. Thahks fuh bein hehr, kicking my ahrs. Yuh said yuh wehr gona snog meh?’

‘Oh, so I did. Come here then.’

I leaned down and kissed him, lingeringly, letting my tongue roam across his as my hands held his face. His arms went round me and held me tight.

Eventually, I pulled away and looked at Matt, who looked back at me. I had always been able to read him by his eyes, and they were telling me that he wasn’t there yet, but he was on the way. He nodded at me, as a kind of recognition, and sank back into his pillows, closing his eyes briefly.

‘Sohry Lau. An thahks.’

‘Yeah, well, we’re in this together, aren’t we. That means you need to look after me as much as I need to look after you.’

‘Yeh. Fohget tha sohmtimes. Nehded tha kick up the ahrs. Got bluhdy Beth an Dec all hot an bothered now, wohnt geh a minute’s pehce.’

‘No, starting in a few minutes when Beth’s arriving so I can take Ella and Josh to school.’

‘Noh. Dohnt nehd tha, I’ll beh OK fuh half an hour or soh.’

‘Tough. Not your choice, not my choice. Beth has done a timetable, and I believe it is being stuck to.’


‘Yeah, don’t think you’re going to be allowed to slip back into your little cocoon of misery, even for a few minutes. Dec said we’re not leaving you alone, and he meant it. I believe there are precedents?’

‘Fuck yeh, him an meh as bad as each other when weh wehr younger. Fuck. Stihl wana tell yuh all tuh fuck off.’

‘I know. But it’s not going to happen, so save your breath.’

As I spoke, the doorbell rang. Assuring Matt I would only be a couple of seconds, I ran down to answer it, expecting Beth but not Tom, who was hovering at her shoulder looking nervous. Beth looked at my dressing gown.

‘Oh, aren’t you ready to go? Do you want me to take them?’

‘No, I’ll just get changed quickly; we’ve been doing birthday presents. Hi Tom, are you coming in?’

I ushered them into the hall as Beth smiled at the news that Matt had been communicating about his birthday.

‘Tom’s had an idea for tonight, in case Matty isn’t up to coming. How are things?’

‘A bit better. He’s talking to us again. I don’t think he’ll be coming tonight, though, I don’t think we’ll get him down the stairs.’

‘Well that’s where Tom’s idea comes in. Do you think he’s up to talking about it?’

‘Go and ask yourself, while I sling some clothes on.’

I led Beth and Tom up the stairs, and dashed into the bathroom to change, vaguely aware of voices from the bedroom. I pulled my clothes on as fast as I could, then had a quick recon of where Josh and Ella were in the getting ready stakes. We seemed to be on target for now, so I hurried into our bedroom, where an only slightly grumpy Matt was listening to Beth.

‘… so it’s really the best of both worlds, the party goes ahead, and you’re still there, you can see everything, everyone can see you and chat, but you don’t have to worry about getting downstairs for now.’

Matt looked up at me as I walked in, a resigned expression on his face.

‘What’s this?’

‘Oh Laura, Tom’s had a great idea. We can connect up all the computers, and beam the party to Matty and Matty to the party –’

‘Beam? It’s not Star Trek, Beth.’

‘Well whatever you call it, Tom, there’ll be a large screen there with Matty on it, so everyone can see him, and we’ll have a couple of laptops or iPads and things, Tom thinks he can rig up a few, so Matty can see what’s going on, people can chat with him, and –’

‘An everyohn laughs at the fucking crihpl who cahnt even mahk ih ouh of bed tuh his own party.’

Tom looked at Matt with a stricken expression; Matt had responded harshly, with no thought to how Tom would feel. I jumped in to the rescue.

‘Or, maybe, it’s the ideal party for an IT geek – how cool, to not even be there at your own party, but be able to be part of it. You don’t have to be all propped up on pillows, you can dress up, no one will know, it can be a ‘thing’, you know, a gimmick. Maybe Beth planned it this way all along?’

‘Ha ha, yes, Laura, I wish I had, it’s brilliant. And you won’t be here on your own, either Matty, there’ll be a regular supply of people here to keep the party spirit going.’

‘Dohnt nehd fucking bahbysitting.’

Matt was still reluctant to hand over control to anyone.

Beth rolled her eyes. ‘Who said anything about babysitting? I’ve literally had Dec and Amy’s lot fighting about who gets to stay with you.’


‘Yes, Matty, literally. I do know what it means. Tom, tell Matty what happened just before we left this morning?’

‘Gracie clobbered Charlie because Charlie said she was going to sit with Matty all night, and Gracie wanted a turn.’

‘So, now I’ve got another rota to organise, and plenty of people to placate, most of who would rather be with you than actually at the huge party I’ve been planning for ages.’

Beth looked at Matt with an eyebrow raised, and he wilted under her gaze.

‘Oh goh on thehn. Buh I wana beh in my bes stuff, noh jahmies. Hide the fucking pihlows.’

‘It’s a deal, you won’t regret it, sweetheart. I think I might offer this service at all my parties, actually, to cater for all the lazy customers who can’t be bothered to attend their own celebrations.’

‘Staht with Cal?’

Matt had a cheeky twinkle in his eye which almost made me cry, it seemed like such a long time since it had been there.

‘Oh no, Cal’s wedding is going to be literally, and not virtually, attended by all its guests and participants. That includes you. So while you’re up here on your bum, you can have a good think about how that’s going to happen. What time do you need to get going, Laura?’

‘In a minute. I’ll have another chivvy of Ella and Josh.’

‘I should go, Mum will be having a fit about waiting for me again.’

I went downstairs with Tom and opened the front door for him.

‘Thank you flower, it’s a great idea, it’s made a difference to Matt.’

He shrugged. ‘S’okay. I’ll get some kit from my mate Gaps, he can help me as well. Dad told me how he and Matty used to get, and how they used Facetime and stuff to help each other, and it just made me think.’

‘Well I’m glad it did. See you later.’

‘See ya, Lau.’

The Philpotts Letters – 11

You worry ’bout growing up, I worry ’bout letting go (Tracey Thorn)

You worry ’bout growing up, I worry ’bout letting go (Tracey Thorn)

Hi Kids

Well it’s been a while from the looks of it. What was I banging on about last time? Being called Daddy? Fuck me, I freaked about the smallest of things back then, didn’t I?

So now you’re teenagers. Holy fuck, two teenagers, a brace of sacks of hormones. I mean – two babies needing changing: challenging. Two schoolkids needing chivvying every morning: a logistical conundrum. Two bright nine-year-olds ganging up on their parents to elicit later bedtimes: needful of concentration. But two thirteen year olds, both shutting themselves in their rooms and playing loud music, barely speaking to us, except to demand more spot cream and look enraged at being addressed by anyone older than them, and needing constant, let’s call it encouragement, not to hang around with the less desirable elements in the park until it’s dark – well it’s the stuff of nightmares.

Where did my awesome, independent but compliant and loving children go?

I must have been a teenager; I didn’t miss out thirteen to nineteen in some bizarre time-travel mix-up. I just don’t remember it being like this. I never thought I’d want to speed up your childhood, it all seems to have gone at a crazy speed, but if I could just fast-forward through this shit, I’d be glad of a few missed years.

Oh I suppose it’s not without its good bits. I mean, you are still the most awesome kids in the universe bar none, but sometimes it would be nice if you smiled a bit, or weren’t just nice to me and your mum when you wanted a lift somewhere.

And I can’t imagine it getting much better, really, for the next few years. Before I know it, and maybe already but I don’t know it yet, there will be girlfriends, and boyfriends. Oh God. Ella, I’m not ready for you to be snogging anyone. And Josh, although the sexist part of me wants to say go for it son, and I recognise the hypocrisy, it’s too bloody soon, alright? If you could both just wait for all that until you’re completely grown up and know what you’re doing and aren’t likely to be experimenting with anything or being all overcome with things in the heat of the hormonal moment or anything … oh who am I kidding? I guess I’m just going to have to reiterate that fatherly talk, aren’t I? I can see the eye-rolling and hear the melodramatic sighing and ‘OMG Dad, like, I know‘ from both of you.

Your mum is so chilled about the whole thing, it’s like she doesn’t notice you both being sullen and uncommunicative, like it doesn’t upset her, but I know it does, because we talk about you. And the conclusion we’ve come to, although it pains me, is that you are no different from any other teenager, and it’s a difficult time, and as we are the grown ups, we just need to provide support, love and guidance, and be good role models. Yeah, right, like that’s going to happen. Oh, that sounds familiar, maybe I never quite stopped being a teenager myself …

I worry, you know. I worry that this is what it will be like for the rest of ever, and my lovely children will never emerge from the chrysalis. It’s irrational, I know that, and everyone with kids goes through it. Can’t help freaking, though, it’s what I do.

I know you’re in there somewhere.

Yours hopefully

Dad xxx

128. If you’re gone

In which a sister takes control.



I picked up the cup of coffee from my breakfast tray and hurled it at the wall, watching as it smashed and splattered, feeling better for half a second until it crashed over me what had just happened.


Oh great, just what I needed, Mum having a go about the mess and being all disapproving into the bargain.

The door opened, and Mum flicked a glance at the coffee carnage decorating the spare room wall and half of the ironing pile. Her eyebrows raised a little, but she didn’t comment, just looked at me and held her arms open. I allowed myself to be swept into them, as if I was five years old again, and howled it all out. I’d thought I could have no more tears left, but the ones I’d already cried had been for me and Ayesh. These new ones, for me and Chrissie, seemed endless, and I reached new depths of sorrow inside now that Chrissie had put herself beyond my reach.

I clung on to Mum as I cried, and she stroked my hair and told me it would be OK, until I stopped sniffling and stood back from her, wiping my eyes and looking anywhere but at her.

‘Chrissie doesn’t … she wants to … it’s all off.’

I looked up and caught a brief flare of hope in Mum’s eyes, but she dampened it almost before I noticed it.

‘Oh sweetheart. Why?’

‘She didn’t want it to be her fault.’

Mum almost said it was Chrissie’s fault, then she stopped herself and smiled weakly, changing the subject.

‘Dad wanted to remind you about Josh’s final today.’

‘Crap, I forgot.’

The last thing I wanted to do was stand around at a Colts game, making small talk with nosy parents who would be wondering why I hadn’t played yesterday.

‘Joshy will be disappointed if you don’t go.’

‘Yeah, I know. I just feel a bit conspicuous. Maybe if I don’t wear my Raiders kit …’

I looked hopefully at Mum for some guidance, knowing that she was only ever going to leave rugby decisions to Dad.

‘You’ll have to ask your dad about that, sweetheart.’

‘Yeah. Better get ready, I suppose.’

‘Cal … I’m really sorry you’re going through all this.’

It was a big thing, almost an apology, for Mum, so I bit back the sarcastic response that my lack of sleep and raw emotions wanted to make, and just nodded instead, as I made a move towards the drawers where I’d put my clothes. My eyes were drawn to the coffee, which continued to dribble down the wall onto the carpet, and I realised I was going to have to make an attempt to clear it up before I even considered going out anywhere.

‘Sorry about this, Mum.’

I gestured pathetically at the splatters and the pile of clothes I’d freshly dirtied.

‘Point me in the direction of wall cleaner and I’ll bung this lot in the washing machine.’

Mum stood with her hand on her hip looking, of all things, amused.

‘Do you even know how to turn the washing machine on?’

Well she had me there, not that I was about to admit it. Ayesh had always done the laundry. I’d lifted the basket from the bedroom to the kitchen, if it was really full.

‘How hard can it be?’

‘Alright, sweetheart, you give it a go, but let me do this.’

She pointed at the wall.

‘I’d quite like not to have to repaint it once you’ve finished.’

‘You’re a legend, Mum.’

I hated fighting with her. I hated fighting with anyone, but it felt extra wrong with Mum. I wanted to show her I was trying, even if I’d done something huge to seriously piss her off.

‘So I’m told. Let me know if you need help with the laundry.

I snorted my contempt for that, and carried the coffee-stained pile of clothing to the utility room.

Some while later, as I was on my seventh ‘for fuck’s sake’ and about to launch a bottle of Lenor through the utility room window, Mum popped her head round the door.

‘How are you getting on, sweetheart?’

I looked at her trying-not-to-be-smug expression as she realised I hadn’t even managed to put the detergent in the right place yet, let alone figure out which programme to put it on, or how the hell to do that, and admitted defeat.

‘This shouldn’t be that hard. Why is it so hard?’

Mum took the Lenor out of my hand, to avoid having to contact a glazier on a Sunday as much as to help me, and opened a compartment so well hidden it should have contained a nuclear detonator rather than a few millilitres of manky water and some soap scum.

‘How the fuck did you do that? I’ve been trying to find where to put the liquid for bloody hours.’

‘It’s not that hard, sweetheart. Can you manage the wash programme, or do you need help with that too.’

It is sometimes very hard not to tell your mum to fuck off, especially when she so deserves it for being a smart-arse, but I contained my rage at the why-does-it-have-to-be-so-bloody-complicated washing machine and answered as meekly as I could.

‘Help me, please.’

‘Alright, if you insist. Have you at least put the clothes in the drum?’

‘Yeah, I’m not a total numbskull.’

Mum gave me a look that told me just how much of a numbskull she thought I was, which was, actually, total; then she turned a dial and pressed a button, and the machine began filling with water.

‘One day, you are so going to have to show me how to do that.’

‘How about today?’

‘No, I’m busy going to watch Josh play in his final. What about the wall, though?’

‘It’s done.’

‘What? But you haven’t had time …’

‘Cal, it’s done. Honestly, you are hopeless. I’m surprised Ayesha didn’t kick you out years ago.’

I stared at her, as she looked at me mischievously.

‘What? I can’t make a joke?’

‘Poor taste, Mum.’

‘They’re the best sort.’

She patted my arm, and I walked out of the utility room shaking my head at my bewildering mother.

Next up was Dad. He wasn’t going to like being bothered with Raiders trivia on a Sunday, but I really wanted to double check it was OK not to wear my kit, as I didn’t want to be there in an official capacity if I could at all help it.

I was going to be coaching the Colts next season, and I got to as many games as my post-match hangover allowed (not that I ever had one, of course) to get to know how things worked. When I was in my Raiders hoody, people were more likely to recognise me, and I was more like some kind of public property, invited to comment on how good little Tommy was as a full-back, would he be better as a centre, was blitz defence a better tactic against Crusaders, that number eight should have been yellow carded shouldn’t he … I just wanted to be as anonymous as possible while I supported Josh.

Dad was just coming out of the shower as I got to the top of the stairs. He ran a hand through his hair and nodded at me.


‘So so, I suppose. Dad, sorry to talk business on your day off, but is it OK to wear civvies to the final?’

Dad frowned, presumably at the work nature of the question.

‘I suppose. You’re not coaching until next season. Want to keep a low profile?’

‘Sort of. Might try a floppy hat and sunglasses.’

‘Yeah, that’ll make sure you don’t stand out. I left Rhys’s number on the kitchen counter.’

Now it was my turn to frown. I’d almost forgotten about talking to the club psychologist, with the morning’s cleaning escapades, but it reminded me that I really had a lot to sort through before I was going to be anywhere near playing rugby again.

‘Cheers. I’ll give him a bell.’

‘Be strong, Cal. Stay positive.’

‘Trying my best.’

Having been given the go ahead to dress incognito, I slipped a pair of joggers on, a hoody and a big beany hat that I pulled down over my eyebrows. Then I picked up the number Dad had left and called Rhys.

Once I’d filled him in on the nature of my headfuckedness and told him about the tight deadline for becoming unheadfucked, Rhys offered to see me in the afternoon. It was more than generous of him; everyone had the day off after a game, and he was eating in to his time with his own family. I gratefully accepted, and set off for the Colts game.

Watching a group of under fourteens play rugby is always an education. Their enthusiasm knows no bounds, and they are just starting to test out newly found strength, which is warring with newly experienced growth spurts and lack of coordination. It’s the time that makes or breaks boys as potential players, as seemingly skilful young players develop a shape or size that does not always match the way they move. But if they are coached the right way, they can be helped to develop to the best of their potential, and I was looking forward to coaching them next season.

I arrived just after kick off, and took my place on the touchline, trying to give off ‘don’t talk to me’ vibes by standing with my hands in my pockets and my shoulders hunched. Josh noticed me, and it was to his credit that he did nothing except smile and turn back to the game. He was a useful little player, and although he was one of the youngest out there, he showed his skill and toughness by shrugging off three tackles to score the first try of the game.

Even if I hadn’t known it was Josh who scored, the loud cheer from the boy’s overenthusiastic father would have alerted me. Matty went to nearly all of Josh’s games, when his health permitted, and this time Lau was with him as well. Lau hardly ever watched rugby, at any level, declaring herself uninterested in any sport that didn’t involve eating cake, so this final must have been important to her. They were standing on the opposite touchline to me, and I made my way round to stand with them, hoping that by being all together, I might avoid being approached.

‘Heh Cal. Did yuh see my boy?’

‘Yeah, Matty. Great try.’

‘He’s soh gona play fuh England.’

I let Matty get away with this kind of speculation because he was my uncle. We both knew it was important for Josh to dream of playing for his country without assuming it was a foregone conclusion, but Matty loved a bit of wild imagining when it came to his kids. Ella was, according to him, going to be a famous author, having written ten best selling crime thrillers by the time she was twenty.

‘One step at a time, Matty. The selectors might be here, though.’

‘Rehly? Where?’

I laughed as Matty looked around him wildly, as if Gareth Jenkins’ dad was suddenly going to get a clipboard out and start scribbling notes on the players.

‘I don’t know, they keep a low profile. Under sixteens nationals isn’t far away, though, if he carries on as he is.’

‘Yuh think soh?’

‘Yeah. Looking forward to coaching him next season, he’s a great little player.’

‘Ah yuhr jus buttering up an old man.’

‘Yeah, you’re right. Trying to get in your will.’

‘Fuck off, no chance of tha, mate. Lau’s getting all my worldlies.’

‘Oh, is there much, Matt?’

‘Yuh know thehr is, Lau. Thehr’s my Chewbacca poster an my life-size Glenn Hoddle. Worth a fohtune.’

‘Oh no, not the same Twobacker poster and Gary Waddle model I put out for the bins last Tuesday?’

‘Oh Lau, yuh didn’t! Tha’s yuhr inheritance blown yuh dozy cow.’

I laughed at their messing about. Matty and Lau were always the same, fake bickering but really crazy about each other.

We all turned our attention back to the game, which Raiders Colts were just winning, but Lau moved so she was standing next to me.

‘How are you, Cal?’

I kept my eyes on the field as I answered, not trusting myself to cope with seeing the sympathy in her eyes that I could hear in her voice.

‘Oh, you know. Not great. Mum had to go and see Ayesh last night, she was in a bad way, and I talked to Chrissie this morning, and she’s finished it too. So, like you said, I’m left with neither.’

‘Oh Cal. I’m so sorry.’

‘Yeah, well, don’t waste too much sympathy on me. I don’t really deserve it.’

‘Don’t say that, flower. Are you sure it’s finished with Chrissie?’

‘Yeah. She felt too guilty about being the reason I broke up with Ayesh, couldn’t handle it.’

‘Maybe it’s just early days.’

‘She sounded pretty sure.’

‘Cal, sometimes … I know I’m butting in where it’s not wanted, but sometimes you just have to say it –’

‘Yeh, Lau, yuh never hold back when yuh’ve got something tuh say.’

‘I’d rather regret something I said, Matt, than something I didn’t say. And I think you’ll agree with this, my love.’

Matty just shrugged and let her get on with it.

‘Cal, when we talked the other night, you made Chrissie sound kind of like ‘The One’. That she was special, and you knew as soon as you saw her again that you wanted to be with her.’

‘Yeah, it kind of was like that.’

‘Does it feel like you’ve been looking for her all your life? Like whoever you were with, you’d have had to finish it to be with Chrissie?’

Lau seemed to be choosing her words deliberately, and as it was just how I felt about her, I nodded, but I wasn’t quite sure of the significance until I saw the smile on Matty’s face.

‘Oh fuck yeh, Cal. If yuh feel like tha, yuh can’t jus let her get away. Do yuh?’

‘Yeah. I suppose … yeah. It’s like everything we nearly had all those years ago, well we had it again, only we were grown up, and we just clicked again.’

‘Well then, little nephew, yuh need to stop bluhdy moping, an get the fuck after her.’

‘But she said she wants to end it.’

‘Yeh, ignore her.’


‘Righ, Lau?’

‘Yeah, Cal. Ignore her. Worked for me.’

‘Oh. Really?’

They both nodded, with ridiculous grins on their faces. They really were the most embarrassingly infatuated couple I had ever known, but I suddenly had a glimpse of what my future could be if I did, indeed, ignore Chrissie and not stop what we’d restarted.

A sudden roar from the handful of spectators signalled a line break for the Colts and we all turned from our talk back to the game, which we had been sadly neglecting, to cheer the try which came shortly afterwards.

My low profile and ‘hang with the rellies’ strategy worked for the most part, and I escaped unscathed at the end of the game, after congratulating Josh and taking a selfie of us both with the cup, which I posted on my Twitter account, in an attempt to appear ‘happy’ and ‘normal’, or some other thing I felt a million smiles away from being.

Matty and Lau asked me back for Sunday lunch, as Mum was still punishing the family for my sins, but I declined, in favour of a microwave meal that I bought from the supermarket on my way home. Mum and Dad had gone for their walk and a pub lunch, and I had the house to myself.

I thought about what Matty and Lau had said, and tried to decide whether I should leave Chrissie alone, or fight for her. I hadn’t come to any conclusions before it was time to meet Rhys in his office at Raiders Stadium.

I hadn’t expected to walk out of his office with my head screwed on the right way, and I didn’t, but I had made some inroads into sorting out what I wanted and how to get my rugby back on track. I realised now it was unlikely I was going to be in the right emotional state to play next weekend, and writing it off mentally helped to still some of the swirling chaos that had been assaulting me since Friday night.

I’d talked about my indecision over the right thing to do about Chrissie, and in true ‘shrink’ style, he’d turned it back on me.

‘What feels like the right thing?’

‘Oh I don’t bloody know. It’s one of the things that’s driving me loopy. How do I separate what I want from what’s right?’

‘What if what you want and what’s right are the same thing?’

It was food for thought, as if I needed any more of that, and I left his office without being any clearer about what I was going to do, but with my mind slightly more ordered than it had been for the last couple of days. Rhys agreed to see me tomorrow and Tuesday, bearing in mind my ultimatum, but so that he could give me an honest assessment rather than because he thought I would be in the right mental shape.

When I got back to Mum and Dad’s, there was a family deputation – Matty, Lau and their two, Dec, Amy and all their lot, plus Gran, had all descended uninvited for tea. Mum had whipped up a cake and some sandwiches, and it seemed that Sunday lunch had merely been delayed by a few hours, rather than cancelled. There was always so much going on with six kids and their assorted parents all battling for attention that I didn’t have time to dwell. The only awkward moment was when Ella asked me if she could borrow Ayesh’s sparkly nail polish, and the room hushed, as I explained as matter-of-factly as I could, that I wasn’t living with Ayesh any more, but maybe Lau could text her and ask.

Ella’s reaction to the news was awful; I couldn’t look at anyone else, any of the other kids who might not know, although I was pretty sure all the adults knew. Ella looked shocked, and immediately wailed:

‘But we were going shopping for my party dress.’

before being sternly told by her mum not to be so selfish, and looking mortified. I couldn’t bear her being upset, and did my best to make her feel OK about it.

‘It’s OK, Ells. Why don’t you ask Ayesh in a few days? She loves shopping with you.’

‘You’ll get your dress, Ella. We’ll ask Ayesha together, shall we?’

That was Mum, jumping in to the rescue as usual. Mum was likely to be more clued up than me as to the likelihood of Ayesh wanting anything to do with any of my thousand cousins.

Ella nodded, the subject was changed, cake was eaten, and eventually everyone left, full of food and fully indulged in Scott family life.

While I was vegging on the sofa later, watching some dire afternoon sport – could have been curling, could have been tiddlywinks for all I was paying any real attention – my phone pinged to announce a text from Iz.

I hadn’t heard from her since yesterday morning’s assault on my character, and I assumed she had thought of more insults to hurl at me. Not having the stomach for more abuse, I didn’t look at my phone immediately, and eventually forgot about the alert, so it wasn’t until I went to bed – early due to having had little sleep for two nights and having training the next day – that I checked my phone and saw her message.

How are you?

It was so unexpected. Iz often blew hot and cold, but she was loyal, and once you were in her bad books, it took a lot to get out of them. This wasn’t exactly ‘sorry’, it wasn’t exactly ‘I don’t nearly hate you’, but it was connecting. I replied straight away.

Headfucked 😦

Do u need anything?

Sisterly txts = gr8 🙂

On it.

And after that, every few waking hours or so, Iz sent me some little reminder that she was thinking of me. She didn’t apologise for any of what she’d said and texted before, that wasn’t her way, but I knew she’d been thinking about it, and had either decided she’d been a bit over the top, or that even if she hadn’t, I could do with a bit of Izzing. It made a big difference.

Iz wasn’t the only one to text me that night. Baggo saw fit to send me one of his characteristically rambling messages.

Cal mate! Haven’t seen u 4 bloody ages, we need to get wrecked ASAP! Don’t say no because ur a bloody athlete and shit. THIS WEEK NO EXCUSES!!! How’s Tues? 8pm The Crown. DON’T SAY NO!!! Got some news. Oh OK u got it out of me. Gota girl. She’s bloody awesome, tits like bloody water balloons. Come n meet her. DON’T SAY NO!!! Haven’t seen u for fucking ages, ur so domesticated and shit. Ditch the housework and come out to get hammered. DON’T SAY NO!!! Yr mate in case u forgot Baggo.

He was right, I hadn’t seen him for ages. I had been domesticated; Baggo didn’t always fit easily into my life, as mid-week drinking and womanising weren’t really acceptable for a either a professional sportsperson or a dedicated boyfriend. The thought of being introduced to Baggo’s latest woman, if indeed she lasted until Tuesday, was not one I relished, as previous encounters with Baggo’s women usually resulted in me trying to avert my eyes from the enthusiastic groping that was going on while I was trying to get to know the new love of my best mate’s life. It was kind of hard to find out about someone’s family, job and life ambitions while you couldn’t actually look in their direction for fear of seeing something illegal in public going on.

Tuesday (DON’T SAY NO!!! day) was not going to be possible to say yes to, from where I was standing on Sunday night; I really didn’t think I would be able to go over the whole Chrissie/Ayesh saga as well as telling him how I was fucking up my rugby career, and seeing him without telling him was as unthinkable. I told Baggo everything, when I actually saw him. We told each other everything. His ‘everything’ was a long list of pubs, clubs, women, their husbands and bad jobs that he either quit or got fired from, and mine was usually a developing rugby career followed by domestic bliss, sometimes the other way round just to be daring and seem a little bit dangerous like he was.

The last time I saw Baggo, we’d gone through the pregnancy scare and not trying not to have a baby. Baggo was great at listening, even if he didn’t really get what my life was like, in the same way that I didn’t really get what his was like, but we got each other. That was why we were still great mates.

So it was with a slightly heavy heart that I texted back:

Sorry mate. Got to say no this time. Lots of shit going on. Will catch up soon AND get wrecked. Need it. Cal.

A few minutes later, another text winged its way from Baggoland.

NO NO NO NO NO. Bad Callywally. Better be some REALLY BAD SHIT going on.

Pretty bad. Will see u soon tho.

Ah no ways, mate. Soz. Need anything?

That was as close as Baggo was ever going to get to prying. He always gave you space if you needed it.

Not right now. Let u know. Thx.

And that was the last of the texts and calls for the night. I turned my phone off, turned the light off, and tried to sleep. Not that successfully as it happened, none of Matty’s techniques having much of an effect on my overactive brain that particular night. The only one I didn’t try was the one that had been so disastrous yesterday.

I kept thinking about calling Chrissie, but I couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t – I didn’t know which one of those it was. It was Chrissie who was my companion throughout the night, the one who I finally fell asleep with just before dawn, and the one I woke up with just after dawn, with only a couple of hours before I had to face training.

Training. That was fun. No one in the squad knew the whole story. Some of them knew a bit of it, because Ayesh was friends with a lot of the players’ wives and girlfriends, and they’d been in text contact with her to some extent over the weekend. A team like Raiders can be a great place to be when you’re in the thick of it, supporting each other, bantering with each other, motivating each other; but it can be a lonely place to be when you’ve put yourself outside it by something you’ve done which has upset things.

I wasn’t the first Raider to leave my girl for someone else, but it didn’t happen often, and we were enough of a family for it to create the same waves it had created at home. There was some leg-pulling, some ribbing, but mostly there was an uneasiness, as people didn’t really know how to cope with me, especially as word had spread I was some kind of nutcase, on probation for my nuttiness, seeing Rhys for individual sessions. Being the coach’s son just made it more awkward.

My afternoon session with Rhys helped to go over all this, why the blokes I played with might be feeling like they were, what I could do to help us all feel less uncomfortable, how it would take time. The more I was told that, the more I was able to accept it, that regardless of my own personal time frame, I was only going to be able to concentrate on playing when I was ready. It was frustrating, but there it was.

The next day was Tuesday, ultimatum day, and I went to see Dad to tell him I wasn’t up to scratch. He nodded and said he’d talk to Rhys, if it was OK. As far as I was concerned, it felt similar to having a physical injury I was having treatment for, so Dad had as much right to talk to Rhys as he would one of the physios.

I just couldn’t get my head together. This wasn’t like me, I never let things get to me, and yeah, maybe it was the biggest baddest thing that had ever happened to me, but I couldn’t remember ever before letting my personal stuff get in the way of doing what I loved, which was running around a field with a ball in my hand. Other players coped with things like bereavements and just got on with it. The only thing I could do was carry on seeing Rhys and see if I could nail it.

I continued to think about Chrissie. I reached for my phone to text her or call her a hundred times a day, but didn’t actually do it. I kept going back to what Matty and Lau said at the Colts final: that I should ignore what Chrissie said and go after her, if she was the everything I thought she was. And then I’d think about how determined she’d sounded when she said we should stop, and how upset she was about feeling it was her fault, and I just didn’t know how I was going to persuade her differently, or make her talk to me. If I couldn’t make her talk to me, I didn’t stand a chance.

It wasn’t until the next weekend, after a whole week of hardly sleeping, hardly eating, and dragging myself through training in some kind of stupor, that it was made clear to me what I had to do.

Saturday morning. Raiders were away, but I was not with them. It hurt. Away games can be awesome, especially the journey home after a win, and after a miserable week training for a game I knew I wouldn’t be involved in, I was not looking forward to following the match on the radio and Twitter. Some of the other players who weren’t involved were meeting up, but I just didn’t have the heart to join them. I had been a downer all week, and knew I wouldn’t improve things for anyone if I crashed the get-together.

Mum was busy doing whatever it was she managed to keep herself busy with for most of every day, and Dad was away with the team. I was lying listlessly on the sofa, trying to motivate myself to get out of my PJs and do something productive.

The front door opened, a bright ‘Anyone around?’ was shouted, and my sister was home.



‘What are you doing here?’

‘Well that’s nice, isn’t it. Looks like I got here just in time to stop you turning into the man who never gets dressed.’

I stood up to give her a hug.

‘Eurgh, no hugs until you’re wearing trousers. Go on.’

She shooed me away, calling out as I was on my way upstairs.

‘Where’s Mum?’

‘Utility room? Bathroom? Dunno.’

‘I’m here! Oh sweetheart, what a lovely surprise.’

I left Mum and Iz hugging in the hallway while I had a quick shower and got dressed. I don’t know why I was so quick to do what Iz told me; it didn’t usually work, but today I must have been in the mood to be bossed.

‘That’s better. Honestly, Cal, what were you doing lounging around in your PJs at eleven in the morning? Mum, what were you thinking letting him?’

‘Your brother has been taking it easy lately.’

‘Not any more. I’m here to sort your life out, big brother.’

‘Good luck with that.’

‘Yes, sweetheart, I tend to agree.’

‘Nope, no negative thinking. I have a whole two days, well, one and a half, well maybe twenty-four hours before I need to absolutely be going back, and we are going to undo your done nut, no arguments.’

Iz was a force to be reckoned with when she got an idea in her head. It was usually easiest just to play along, so that’s what I did, while Mum sat back with an amused expression on her face.

‘Right, firstly, you need to start thinking about somewhere else to live.’


‘Think about it. You’re trying to move on, aren’t you?’

‘Er …’

I wouldn’t have put it that way, but I suppose so.

‘Well how are you going to do that living with your parents, sleeping in your old room?’

‘Er …’

I obviously had all the snappy answers.

‘Exactly. So we can agree that first thing on Monday, you’re getting the Herald and looking for somewhere else to live, right? Well come on, why aren’t you writing it down?’

‘I need to write it down?’

‘Yeah. It’s not going to be the only thing you’re going to have to do.’

‘Oookaay …’

Mum handed me a pen and some paper, and I wondered if she’d had anything to do with Iz coming home. She had softened her stance towards my split with Ayesh over the week; even though I knew she’d been in touch with Ayesh a few times and had been to lunch with her once, she seemed a lot less angry with me about everything, and we could talk about things like me having left my raincoat at the flat without it becoming a major drama. She was, currently, noticeably taking a back-seat to Iz, who was a whirlwind of organisation and instructions.

‘OK, so write it down. Number one: Look for somewhere else to live.’

I looked at Mum, who I thought should be protesting this just a little bit. Didn’t all mums want their sons to live with them forever? And didn’t this particular mum resent her bossy daughter barging in and taking over the role of ordering this particular son about? But Mum just raised her eyebrow and let Iz carry on. I wrote on the paper, feeling petulant and not quite in control.

‘Good. Right, next thing on the list. Stop moping.’

‘Yeah, good one Iz. I do that how exactly?’

‘By stopping moping. By, instead of moping, just, not. Write it down.’

‘I’ll write it down by all means, but could you just explain to me how the fuck I manage to do it. You do know my girlfriend kicked me out just over a week ago, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, Cal, we all know, yawn.’


‘Time to move on. Come on, on the list.’

Shaking my head, I wrote it down.

‘OK, so you’ve got somewhere to live, you’re feeling less mopey, now you need to get out a bit. Number three: night on the piss.’


‘What, Mum?’


‘Oh for fuck’s sake, you let Cal get away with any bloody thing that comes out of his mouth but I can’t even say piss? Well guess what, I’ve lived with Cal and Dad, and been in close proximity to Matty and Dec all my life, and it was always going to happen. Get the fuck over it.’

I was loving the sight of my mother silenced by my sister, or more accurately by my sister’s foul mouth. I loved it for about three seconds before the focus once again turned to me and my list, and I quickly wrote ‘Night on the piss’ at number three, before I could be shouted at again. I was almost starting to enjoy myself.

‘Next thing you need is a bloody good shag.’

‘Honestly, Isobel Flora –’

‘Mum, just leave this to me. If you can’t take the brutal truth, maybe you should just wait in the kitchen. Cal – bloody good shag. On the list.’



‘No, Iz. That’s not going to happen.’


‘Because the last time it happened was with the last person I ever want it to happen with.’

I saw Iz screw up her face as she tried to unpick what I meant. I hadn’t even realised myself what I meant until I’d said it. I couldn’t see me sleeping with anyone, ever, who wasn’t Chrissie, that’s what I meant. Iz took a while, but got there. Years of arguing with me had helped her to be able to filter out the garbledness from what I said and extract the meaning. Her face took on a sentimental expression.

‘Aww you old softy. I think what you meant to say is the last person you shagged is the only person you ever want to shag.’

‘Iz, really. Do you have to be so coarse?’

‘Yeah, Mum, I think I do. People have been pussy-footing around trying not to upset each other, and plain-speaking is needed. Cal, am I right about the shagging?’

‘I suppose so.’

Iz clapped her hands and squealed like a little girl.

‘I thought so. Matty said you were, like, soulmates, and he didn’t know why you weren’t throwing yourself under her car to be with her.’

‘You’ve talked to Matty?’

‘I’ve talked to everyone. God Cal, you can be incredibly self-obsessed sometimes. You know what it’s like, we all talk about everyone.’

‘Mum, does this include you?’

Of course it did, Mum talked about us all whenever she got the chance. She had the decency to look a tiny bit ashamed, but only for a second and then she defended herself.

‘Sweetheart, I only ever have people’s best interests at heart. I just want what’s best for you, and talking it through with everyone helps me to see what that is.’

‘Oh, so please do let me in on the secret. What the fuck is ‘best for me’?’

‘Well, hard as it is for me to accept, I think what’s best for you is Chrissie. You’re certainly not happy without her.’

This conversation was turning truly weird. Mum and Iz who both, a week ago, had given me such a hard time for leaving Ayesh and wanting to be with Chrissie, were now actively encouraging me to be with the woman who they had previously claimed had ruined both their lives by depriving them of a wedding. I was speechless.

I put the paper and the pen down on the coffee table and looked at both of them.

‘OK, then, you’re both so bloody clever, Chrissie won’t answer my calls.’


‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Jesus Cal, I know I’m the one who’s at Uni and everything, but I thought you had a bit of a brain cell left in that rugby-bashed skull of yours. You know where she lives, right?’

‘Yeah …’

‘So go and see her.’

And so that’s how I ended up in Mum’s car, being driven at a scary speed round the bypass on the way to Chrissie’s flat. Iz wouldn’t let me drive, or take my car, as she apparently wanted to be in charge of the whole big adventure.

‘Jesus, Iz, slow down, you’re going to fucking kill us.’

‘Don’t be such a baby. Speed is of the essence.’

‘Why, exactly?’

‘Love doesn’t wait.’

‘It’s waited ten years or so. A few more minutes might not hurt, especially if it means getting there alive.’

Iz flipped me the finger, and I stopped telling her off; the risk of making her take any more hands off the controls was just too frightening. There was now time for a few of the things Iz had said in her speed-intervention to filter in.

‘When you said you’ve talked to everyone, who did you mean?’

‘Well … everyone. I thought that was pretty clear.’

‘Did you talk to Ayesh?’

There was a short silence while Iz bit her lip, wondering what she should tell me, which actually told me the answer.

‘It’s OK, Iz. I don’t mind, I don’t want people to stop talking to her.’

‘Oh. Well yeah, then. I’ve called her quite a lot, and texted.’

‘How is she?’

Over the past week, I had been torn between leaving Ayesh alone and contacting her. I had no right to be worried about her, but I was worried, and Mum wasn’t giving me much information. I wanted to know she was OK, or at least as OK as she could be, but without her begging me to come back like she had the last time I’d spoken to her. Yeah, I was taking the easy way out by just letting my indecision do my deciding.

‘Oh, you know.’

‘No, I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.’

‘OK, then, she’s a fucking mess. She hasn’t been to work all week, she spends all day crying in that huge flat of yours where all your stuff isn’t, she doesn’t get dressed half the time, and she beats herself up all day and night about what she did to make you leave.’

The picture she painted was worse, much worse, than I’d imagined, which although bad was more along the lines of Ayesh nobly soldiering on, feeling a bit sad, but filling the gaps left by my smelly trainers with newly purchased Jimmy Choos.


‘Yeah, well, you asked.’

‘I don’t know if I should call her.’

Iz, scarily, turned to look at me. It was scary not only because she looked like she thought I had lost my mind and she was sharing the car with a lunatic, but also because she was no longer even keeping up the pretence of watching the traffic on the road ahead.

‘Are you off your fucking trolley? Oh yeah, that’s right, you are. Do not call her, Cal. Leave her alone. You’ve done enough.’

‘She wanted me to go round last week, after I took my stuff.’

‘Yeah, I know, and I thought it showed admirable moral fibre of you to send Mum instead. Don’t be messing with her now, she’s fragile.’

‘Jesus. I wish there was something I could do.’

‘There is nothing. Don’t go popping up, being all nice to her, giving her hugs and shit, I know what you’re like. She’ll think she’s still got a chance. She doesn’t still have a chance, does she?’

It was mostly a statement, but a little bit of a hopeful question.


‘Well I’m glad you’re clear about that, at least. She’s got plenty of friends and ex-boyfriends’ sisters and mums who she can use as a support group.’

‘That’s just weird.’

‘Don’t think about it, then. Seriously, Cal, I’m here for you, to help you do this, and I’m there for Ayesh as well, but they’re completely separate things. It’s not like I want to be a go-between, or anything, OK? If it makes you feel weird, don’t ask me about her.’

It did make me feel weird, not only thinking about Ayesh talking to Iz and Mum, and for all I knew, everyone else in my family, but thinking about them advising her to move on and forget me. It’s not like I wanted her to become a nun and live out the rest of her life being sad about what I’d done to her, but it brought home to me that our paths had now split, that nothing I did from now on would be linked to anything that she did. Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t realised Iz was speaking, and now she was pissed off that she’d had to repeat herself.

‘For fuck’s sake, Cal, is it left or right here? Come on, I’ve had to slow down now.’

‘Go right. Not that slowing down is necessarily a bad thing. Did you ever pay any attention to your driving instructor?’

‘Only enough to get through the test. My driving role model is Dad.’

‘That explains a lot. Turn left here.’

As we made our way down the road to Chrissie’s flat, I realised we weren’t going to be able to stop outside, because there was a big lorry parked right in front of the building.

‘Oh great, there’s nowhere to park. Look, the pillock’s put cones out down half the road. Get out here, Cal, I’ll dump the car somewhere and find you.’

‘Er, no thanks. I don’t think you’re going to help much, Iz. I’ll get the bus home or something.’

‘Well hopefully, you won’t need to go home, Captain Dipshit, you’ll be ensconced in passion for the night. That is what you’re intending, isn’t it?’

I hadn’t actually thought about what I was going to do when I got here; Iz had come home and taken over, and I’d just let her and gone along with it all. And now here I was. I didn’t know what I was going to do or say. Iz had stopped the car in the middle of the road, though, and there were a few cars behind her that were impatient for her to get moving again, if the revving engines and tooting horns were anything to go by.

‘Whatever. See you later, Iz. Thanks for the lift, but go home now.’

I got out and stood on the pavement, looking up at the flats as Iz drove off. Now I was here, outside, on my own, I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing, what had driven me here (apart from my crazy, interfering sister, obviously). Maybe I wouldn’t know what I wanted to say or do until I saw Chrissie.

I moved hesitantly towards the front door, and that’s when I saw her. She was following two men out; they were carrying a sofa, and she – she was carrying a big cardboard box with ‘KITCHEN’ written on it in black marker pen. Oh my God – she was moving out. She looked up, saw me, and froze, as did I.

‘Cal …’

‘Chrissie … what … where are you going?’


‘Back where?’

‘Up north.’

‘Why? Why are you leaving?’

‘I can’t be here, not any more I thought I could, but I can’t be where you are and not be with you. And I can’t be with you.’

‘You can’t just go. What about us?’

‘I can’t do us, Cal. It hurts too many people.’

‘But not doing us, that hurts me. And you. You know you feel the same as I do.’

‘Yeah, I do. But I’ve been where your girlfriend was, and it’s nasty, it’s shitty, and I don’t want to be the one who’s done that to her.’

‘But if you go – that won’t change anything for her. I won’t go back to her.’

Chrissie shrugged and shifted the box in her arms. It felt like I wasn’t going to be able to change her mind, whatever I did or said, and I felt her slipping away from me.

‘I can’t do this right now, Cal, I’m in the middle of moving out.’

Chrissie nodded her head in the direction of the men carrying the sofa, who were about to load it into the lorry that was semi-blocking the road. I hadn’t even noticed it was a removal lorry.

‘Me and Ayesh, we would have split sooner or later. It’s probably better that it’s sooner.’

‘Don’t ever say it’s better.’

I knew Chrissie had been through a bad break up, but I hadn’t truly appreciated until now how much it had screwed her up.

‘Chrissie, please. I can’t believe you’re just going to leave, leave us behind. It’s like when you went before. You’re breaking me.’

The tears began to form in my eyes, and I could hardly keep them in check. My voice was wobbling all over the place, and my face was contorted with the effort of not crying. If I thought I’d gone fruit-loops over the last week, that was nothing compared to how broken I was going to be if Chrissie left me again.

Chrissie put her box down as the removal men walked back into the building for the next load. She looked up at me, her face showing signs of the same struggle that I was feeling in her frown and trembling lips.

‘Please, Cal. Please just let me go.’

‘I can’t. I seriously can’t let you walk out on me again.’

I was getting desperate. The truck looked like it was nearly full, and that meant she was close to driving away.

‘Cal …’

‘No Chrissie. If I have to unload every single thing on that lorry and keep on doing it all night, I will, but I’m not letting you go.’

‘And I’ll help him. Hey Chrissie, how’s things.’

And my can’t-keep-her-nose-out-or-do-as-she’s-told-just-once-in-her-life sister chose that moment to ignore everything I’d told her, and butt in. Chrissie stared at her, looking startled and confused. Iz, however, looked like she was enjoying herself very much.

‘Well you haven’t changed much, but I guess I might have done since I was nine.’

‘Iz, piss off.’

‘Iz? God. What are you doing here?’

‘Same as Cal. Well, maybe not exactly the same, but same end goal. Bloody hell, are you moving out? We were just in time. Have you finished yet, Cal? Only Mum wants her car back.’

‘I told you to go, there’s no need to stay.’

‘Well, that depends. I need to check you’re not fucking everything up before I go, otherwise I will have wasted a weekend of clubbing and partying by coming home to sort you out.’

Chrissie and I stared at each other, not speaking. Iz rolled her eyes and sighed loudly.

‘I take it from the fact that a mattress is just about to be loaded onto the lorry and that you two aren’t snogging each other senseless, that you haven’t actually sealed the deal?’

‘Iz, back off.’

‘No. Chrissie, you do know that my brother is going to live a sexless existence if you leave, deprived of a shag from another woman as long as he lives?’


‘Yep, from his own mouth. ‘The last woman I shagged will be the only woman I will ever shag’. Or words to that effect, maybe he was a bit less blunt, but I sense we’re on a bit of a tight schedule here, and the fewer misunderstandings the better. He meant he only ever wants to be with you. Ever.’

Chrissie was looking, open-mouthed, from me to Iz and back again. I shook my head at my sister, but she was unstoppable.

‘Tell me I’m wrong, then, Cal. Tell me if Chrissie walks out of your life, you can imagine yourself picking up and starting again with someone else?’

Just because it was Iz telling me what to do, I tried really hard to do the opposite, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t imagine it, and couldn’t say it either.


‘No. Quite. Chrissie, it has been suggested by certain parties that you might feel the same way. True or false?’

‘That’s not –’

‘Ah ah, true or false. One word answer.’

Chrissie was stunned into answering. Ella is the lawyer of the family, but Iz could have done it too if she’d had a mind to, she could tie you in mental knots about your choice of breakfast cereal.

‘True. But –’

‘So what the pigging fuck are you doing leaving? Do you know how much shit I’m going to have to put up with from this lump if he’s miserable for the rest of his life? It was bad enough when you left last time, he was such a grouch, he went to bed for three days, and then we couldn’t get a civil word out of him for a good year after that. We’ve just about got him back to sociable. Don’t tell me you’re going to fuck all that up for us?’

‘Iz, I really think –’

‘Really, Cal? Have you been actually thinking with that tiny brain of yours, or have you just been using it to mope? Look at that lorry. It is filled with the possessions of this woman. If the lorry drives away, full of that stuff, that’s it. Last chance over. Why the fuck you weren’t over here before now I don’t know, but if you blow this, you’re off my Christmas list for good.’

And like the bulldozer she was, Iz was getting through. It suddenly became clear how close I was to losing Chrissie. This really was my last chance. I would never, ever see her again if I let her go now. That was not going to happen. Iz saw something in my face that satisfied her, and she nodded.

‘Ah, I see you’ve got it at last. One down, one to go.’

Iz turned to Chrissie.

‘Any chance you could put him out of his misery soonish? It’s bloody cold out here.’

‘It’s not as simple as –’

‘Oh for fuck’s sake. OK. Words of one syllable. He loves you. You love him. Don’t waste it. Hey, they actually were all one syllable, how cool is that?’

Chrissie looked newly torn by indecision. That was way better than her being certain that leaving was the only thing she could do. I decided to press my advantage and, spurred on by Iz’s over-confident berating of both of us, as well as her words of one syllable ringing in my ears, I moved towards Chrissie, held her face in my hands, and kissed her.

I felt her resist, as if she was going to pull away, but it lasted a split second, and then she melted into me and kissed me back, until we were kissing like the world was ending. My hands moved into her hair, and hers moved round my neck, and still we kissed, bodies folded together, mouths openly tasting each other, worlds away, wrapped up in each other. I felt everything click into place, like the last piece of a jigsaw.

‘Well I don’t know why you just didn’t do that before. Er, Chrissie. Chrissie. Chrissie!’

Chrissie pulled away from me, and I watched the otherworldliness drain away from her eyes too, like I felt it melt away from me, as she focussed on Iz.

‘Er, these guys have just finished loading up your lorry. Do you have anything to tell them?’

Chrissie looked at me, and I looked back, holding my breath. I knew now that I would literally throw myself under her car to be with her, as Matty had suggested, but if she left, the process would be a lot more complicated and that course of action would probably involve major surgery and a change of career for me.

‘But I’ve given up my tenancy.’

‘Come and live with me.’


‘Mum and Dad’s’

‘You are not serious.’

‘For, like, the shortest time ever. We’ll find somewhere on Monday, soon as the estate agents open, first place we look at, even if it’s shit. It’s already on my list of things to do.’

I glanced at Iz, who was smirking at my reference to her control freakery of earlier in the day.

‘But all my stuff …’

‘Dad’s just cleared out the garage, it should all fit.’

‘But my job …’

‘Get a new one.’

Chrissie laughed and her shoulders slumped in mock defeat. I couldn’t quite believe it, not yet, because she hadn’t said the words, but she hadn’t said no, and maybe –

‘OK. You win. Or rather your sister does. God, Iz, when did you get so grown up and bossy?’

Iz just smiled, smugly, and for once chose not to reply.

‘So, my stuff. You really think your garage will have room? And your Mum and Dad won’t mind me staying?’

Iz pulled her phone out.

‘On it.’

‘Iz, maybe I should be the one to call them …’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Mum needs to be skilfully handled, not hit with a sledgehammer.’

Iz walked down the road a little way, so we couldn’t hear how skilfully she was hitting Mum with a sledgehammer. Chrissie turned to the removal guys, who had sat down on the wall outside the building and were looking at us impatiently.

‘Any chance we could negotiate a change of plan?’

It turned out they were more than happy to drive a few miles up the road, unload the lorry into Dad’s garage, and be home in time for dinner, for the same fee as driving up north and not being back until tomorrow afternoon, and so we were just waiting on Iz’s negotiating expertise with Mum to bear fruit. Iz had walked nearer, and we could hear snatches of her end of the conversation.

‘… until Monday … room bonking you won’t have to … sake, they’re in love … your idea in the … happy … lorry’s loaded … while it’s still light … won’t regret it … love you Mum.’

She turned to us with a triumphant smile, possibly the only person in the history of the world to persuade my mother to do something she didn’t want to do.

‘Sorted. Right, I’m going to take Mum’s car back so she can go to Trish’s. Dad won’t be back till tonight, I reckon you’ll have hours to yourselves, even with unloading everything. I’m sure you’ll think of something to do.’

‘Where will you be?’

‘Oh, I’m going back to Uni, now. If I catch the three fifteen, I can be there in time for Sasha’s party.’

‘You just got here.’

‘Yeah, but my mission is complete. I’m outta here.’

Some time later, curled up in bed with Chrissie – the only woman, it turns out, I ever wanted to shag for the rest of my life – we’d had time to draw breath. Just about. I stroked her cheek and looked deep into her eyes, and she gazed back at me, with the same astonished look on her face that I must have had on mine.

‘Your sister really is something else.’

‘Yeah, she really is.’

‘She’s almost as annoying as she was when she was nine.’

‘I know. I kind of like it, though. Gets results.’

‘Yeah. Do you think she’d talk to your dad about why he can’t get his car in the garage any more?’

‘Nah, I reckon we’re on our own with that one. That’s Iz, swoops in like a one-woman SWAT team, then pisses off and leaves the fall out to be dealt with by the minions.’

‘Is that what we are, minions in our own story?’

‘You’d better believe it. Iz wouldn’t have it any other way.’



‘I love you.’

‘I love you, Chrissie.’

And so, well, I won’t say that was the end of my headfuckedness, because to be truthful I didn’t really get sorted for a while, even though my concentration came back, and I managed to get back in the Raiders team for the last couple of games of the season, but it was the beginning of the end of it.