The team followed Jesse around the pitch applauding the fans, back slaps and hard hugs given between us. A win always elevated us, made all of us feel at least seven feet tall and immortal – until we re-watched the game and got torn two new ones by the coaches.
When we got to the tunnel, Dee was still there, Toby hanging over for a fist bump from me. It was an away game, a local derby, so them coming to watch hadn’t been an issue, apart from it was a school night and now way past his bedtime.
“See you at yours.” I grabbed Dee’s hand as she was too far away for a kiss, and Matty Culver was trying to get past me, words about being ‘desperate for a slash’ letting everyone know exactly why he was in a rush.
The changing room was loud, as it should be when you won a local derby, especially as an away team. We were approaching the holiday period in the top four in the table, the target of getting into Europe next season well in reach. Winning the league was probably going to be out of the question, unless the team at the top had a bad run of form, but top four would be a huge achievement for the club.
That was one goal. The other was to get Dee to agree to move in. That wasn’t as easy, which said something about Dee’s ability to be fucking stubborn as hell and have various pre-conceived ideas about needing to have been together longer before we made a commitment.
“Fucking worldy of a goal, that, Ro.” Jesse slapped me hard on the back then gripped me in a hug that was just as hard. “Sky have you down as Man of the Match. We’re both being interviewed.”
“Fuck.” This was the bit most footballers hated, the post-match interviews when you were expected to be coherent and analyse your game when you were dripping with sweat and all you wanted to do was shower and celebrate. “When?”
“Now. Put your shirt back on.” Another slap on the back.
We headed out of the changing rooms to the media room, both of us in just our socks, boots already off.
Leila Downey, one of the television journos, was there, giving us a knowing nod as Jesse sent me forward first, his way of being nice. Leila knew how we felt about post-match interviews, and she was generally decent enough to keep them short and the questions straight forward.
Today was no exception. Talk us through your goal. What do you think your chances are of Europe next season? Where’s your recent good form come from? How have the new players settled into Athletic?
Two minutes of pain, and I left her to Jesse, hoping she’d give him a harder time, just so the rest of us could take the piss out of him later. Matty was streaming the interviews onto his iPad in the changing rooms, and already Jesse was getting shit from Leila. The two of them had clashed a few times during interviews, with Leila enjoying correcting Jesse when he was ever slightly wrong. It was good banter, but Jesse usually came off worse.
“You coming out tonight? Nate’s got a private room at Chemistry.” Jude managed to ask me while styling his hair in some stupid way that he thought was trendy. He was currently Genny’s worst nightmare, as he was loving the footballer lifestyle, which was only going to end up in tears.
I shook my head. “School night.”
“It is for Aaron’s kid too. You’ve got to let lose at some point, and that fucking goal, man, it was da shit.”
“You sound like a moron.” I couldn’t be arsed talking to him anymore. It was a good job he was a kid and would hopefully improve like a fine wine with age.
The team bus took us back to our ground, a few of our supporters hanging around to see us off, which always made me feel slightly awed that they were that invested they would do that, especially on a night that was cold enough to freeze Satan’s testicles.
Not all of my teammates headed to Chemistry. Ryan, as predicted, went off on one of his secret missions, after discreetly asking me to lie about his whereabouts if he was late tomorrow morning. Dee and I agreed that he was seeing someone he shouldn’t, or someone that no one could know about, and it had become her new hobby to try and find out who it was. Lennox and Micky were heading out with their agent first for a meal, and Leo Hilton, our second-in-line goalkeeper, had bad guts, so the only place he was going was somewhere with a bathroom and a plenty of loo roll.
I headed off in my car to Dee’s, wishing for the eleven-thousandth time that she would move in with me when my house sale went through, if only to save me having to drive down narrow roads that were double parked and risk scraping mine.
I had keys to Dee’s place by now, and she had keys to mine, not that she used them often. This was where Toby lived so she needed to be here more often than not, and although he’d become accustomed to staying at Genny’s or Megs, or at the houses of a couple of his friends, Dee kept a pretty strict routine. He’d stayed at mine once, when she had an away match which Genny was going to, and Megs had a date so she couldn’t have him overnight. I didn’t mind looking after him at all; he was a good kid, really even tempered and pretty much did as he was told, but Dee was funny about asking me, or as she put it, ‘taking advantage’.
She was watching the highlights when I got in, her usual mug of tea next to her, legs folded underneath.
“Hey.” She paused the programme. “You’re here quick.”
I bent down for a kiss, not even trying to keep it PG as Toby would be fast asleep by now and there was no risk of him coming downstairs. The kid slept like the dead.
“Wanted to see you.”
Her smile was soft, but I could see worry there.
“You played amazing. That goal’s a contender for goal of the season.”
I sat down next to her on the sofa, pulling her into me and rearranging us so her back was against me. “When that house sale goes through, I’m buying the biggest sofa that we can stretch out on. I swear this thing adds physio time onto my week.”
She didn’t defend the sofa, which was her usual comeback, and she didn’t relax into me either.
“What’s up?”
“Ro, what did you do with your old phone?”
