Sweeney winced. ‘Ouch.’
‘Yeah.’ Fin grimaced. ‘Don’t think they’re destined to make the Olympics, do you?’
‘They clearly got Donny’s sporting gift.’
Fin threw back his head and laughed and Sweeney joined him and suddenly it wasn’t awkward anymore—he was just hanging with his bestie, talking smack about Donny and his two left feet, just like old times.
They could do this.
Five
An hour later, the game had come to an end and the Murphy clan were eating, along with most families around the lake, as the sun started to cast long shadows across the water.
Fin was ensconced on a picnic blanket, chowing down on chicken satay skewers. Sweeney was on one side, and his mother and Connie were on the other. Catherine and her wife, Margaret, sat opposite with one of their grandsons, two-year-old Jai, sitting between them, tomato sauce all over his face. Mai and Donny and their two kids also occupied the blanket, along with two of Donny’s sisters and their mother, Fin’s Aunty Siobhan.
Donny pulled his phone out to check an incoming text. ‘Oh, crap.’
‘Donald!’ his mother scolded. ‘Children.’
‘They’re fine, Mum,’ Donny muttered, as his fingers flew across the screen.
Jai, who’d just climbed into Catherine’s lap, looked around angelically and loudly proclaimed,‘Crap.’
Sweeney stifled a laugh as Mai said, ‘What’s up?’
‘Owen’s mother’s been in a serious car accident. She’s in hospital. They’re heading to Sydney with the kids for the next few weeks. He doesn’t know when he’ll be home but he doubts they’ll be back for the comp.’
Fin raised an eyebrow. ‘What comp?’
‘Gaelic youth competition at the Gold Coast in a month’s time. Over the Easter long weekend. Your dad entered the two teams a few years ago, but with lockdowns and travel restrictions, the comp never went ahead.’
Gaelic football. Of course. Michael Murphy’s drive to establish his beloved game in the area was legendary. When every other kid in the state was signing up to play AFL, kids in Ballyshannon, persuaded by his passion and gift of the gab, signed up to playthe beautiful gamefor the home team—the Banshees.
Silver-tongued Michael had also managed over the years to persuade the nearby towns to get teams together so they could run a small district competition that had been his pride and joy. Along with a handful of other local enthusiasts, he’d volunteered countless hours to keep it running and healthy, which included coaching as well as providing the initial funding to build the pitch in Ballyshannon and sponsoring the annual awards night at Murphy’s with free food and trophies for all the kids.
Once kids hit high school, they lost interest in playing for the Banshees. And not just because Banshees suddenly lost theircoolcred around that age but because, even in Ballyshannon, the more mainstream sports were better funded. Fin’s father had occasionally lamented the inability to attract older kids, but had mostly been philosophical. He’d figured he’d given them a good grounding in teamwork, strategy and ball control and, as he’d been fond of reminding everyone, many a professional Gaelic player had been enticed from the Emerald Isle to Australia to play in the AFL.
‘The comp’s up and running again and we decided at the beginning of the year to go ahead and enter,’ Donny continued. ‘In honour of your dad.’
A thickening in Fin’s throat made the bite he’d just taken almost impossible to swallow. He remembered the first time his father ever took him to a Gaelic exhibition match in Melbourne. His dad had talked then about them going to Ireland together one day and watching a game in Dublin, and Fin would have given anything in this moment to be sitting next to his dad at Croke Park, a pint of Guinness in their hands, a crowd of eighty thousand all singing ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’.
Fin was conscious suddenly of something brushing his knee, and he looked down to find Sweeney’s hand there, Claddagh ring in place, giving it a little squeeze. She removed her hand just as quickly but she was closer too… maybe? Not leaning into him exactly but pressing there, all steady and… present. Their eyes met and she gave him a small smile.
The thickening turned into a lump.
‘So we’re down an under-7’s coach.’ Donny was oblivious to Fin’s sudden emotional turmoil. And to the way a simple act of closeness from Sweeney had soothed it. ‘Also, Owen’s daughter’s the best player on the team. She at least knows what the hell she’s doing.’
‘Not that it’s about winning,’ Mai reminded him drily.
Donny ploughed on, ignoring the mild reproach in his wife’s voice. ‘It’s going to be hard to find someone to coach for the next few weeks on such short notice.’
‘Nellie and Tori will be disappointed,’ Siobhan said. ‘They’re Owen’s biggest fans.’
‘They’re on the team?’ Fin asked, finally finding his voice.
Donny nodded. ‘They love it.’
Fin watched as both girls leaned in towards a big bowl of chips between them, banging their heads as they each reached for a handful.Jesus.They were his goddaughters and he loved them, but he hoped they wore helmets and bubble wrap to training.
