Across the country, Steven sat on a sand dune, staring out to sea. His brother, Andrew, and Andrew’s wife, Nina, sat next to him. Steven’s six-year-old niece, Hanna, came scurrying past them, sending sand flying everywhere.
“Calm it down,” Andrew said. “Uncle Steven doesn’t want half the beach in his sandwich.”
Steven didn’t care. He loved the sound of Hanna’s laughter ringing in his ears.
His mother busied herself laying out a picnic. Steven was perfectly capable of organising refreshments. She wouldn’t hear of it.
With the sun out, they had decided a trip to the beach was in order. As a family, they tried to get together as much as possible. Steven’s family lived in Solihull, a good couple of hours’ drive away. So it took a degree of effort.
Usually, Steven instigated these meetups. He’d been away for a lot of his childhood, playing football. Now those days were gone, he spent as much time as possible reconnecting with his loved ones.
“Shit result yesterday,” Andrew said.
Steven handed him a beer from a cool box and took a swig from his own. He’d only been out of the game a few years and he still loved the fact that he could drink alcohol whenever he liked. It wasn’t that he went crazy. The freedom was more than enough.
“Yeah. The team aren’t bonding that well,” Steven replied.
“Holtmann?”
Steven nodded. “He’s definitely not the same player he was at Chelsea. Up here, he can’t even pass properly.”
“He’s one of the best players I’ve ever seen,” Andrew continued. “We saw him last season. He might as well have been dancing on the air.”
“Maybe it’s the cold?” Naomie, Steven’s younger sister, suggested.
She lay on a blanket, soaking up the rays.
“Thank you, Naomie,” Steven replied. “I’ll go and get him some thermal underwear, shall I?”
“Not a bad idea.”
At eighteen, Naomie had been a late and surprise addition to the family. Steven had already been playing then so he’d been a distant figure in her childhood. When he’d retired, he’d vowed that he would spend more time with her. She still lived in Solihull where Steven had grown up, which made it difficult. Then his father had died and everything had changed.
He watched his mother happily laying out some homemade rock buns. She was so resilient.
“Not got yourself a fella yet?” Naomie asked.
All eyes were on Steven.
“Nope,” he replied. “Chance would be a fine thing.”
He caught Andrew’s sympathetic stare.
“A little bird tells me you have a man,” Andrew said to his younger sister.
She sat bolt upright. “Who told you that? Mum?”
Steven would be forever grateful to his brother for changingthe subject. Hanna made another run past the picnic, sending more sand perilously close to their feast.
“Hanna. I won’t tell you again,” Nina said. “Slow down.”
“I can’t, Mummy,” she replied. “There’s a dog in need. He might die.”
With that she plonked herself down next to Steven and began administering first aid to a cuddly dog. He kissed the top of her head.
“She’s obsessed with being a vet,” Nina explained.
“Come on then,” Steven said to Naomie. “Who’s the lucky man?”
