Dolly placed the coffee mugs in a disposable tray. ‘Closes at ten. Opens at five am.’
That would definitely work. ‘Would I be able to buy one of those hummingbird muffins and get you to put it aside for later on this evening? I’d like to bring a friend by for a … birthday celebration.’
A small private celebration—just the two of them—felt fitting to mark Michael’s birthday. Away from the hotel, where he was too easily accessible. And where they could get away from that damn bed for a while.
‘We do an afternoon bake,’ Dolly informed her as she took the coffees in their tray to the till. ‘I can put one aside from that, be extra fresh.’
‘Thanks.’ Sweeney smiled as she paid her bill. ‘I’d appreciate that.’
‘See you tonight,’ Dolly said as Sweeney half turned.
‘Oh. You’ll still be here?’
‘Yup. Split shift.’ She grinned. ‘For my sins.’
Sweeney laughed. ‘Okay then, see you tonight.’
By the time she got back to the room ten minutes later, Fin was up, still in his pyjama shirt but with his jeans from yesterday pulled on as Mai and Donny and three other parents talked at him about the schedule and logistics and strategy. It seemed pretty damn intense and Fin looked bewildered by the onslaught, his bed hair still a little crazy despite his finger combing.
‘Hey,’ she murmured as she drew closer to Fin, passing over the coffee. Out of some base instinct, something that felt almost protective, she slid her arm around his waist and held for a moment or two, leaning into him a little.
‘You okay?’ she asked, tipping her head back to thoroughly inspect his expression.
‘Yeah.’ He nodded as their gazes locked for a beat or two.
And in those ticks of silence an entire conversation had taken place. Sweeney saying,I know this is a tough day for youandI wish your dad was still alive. Fin saying,Yeah, these milestone days really suckandI wish my dad was still alive, too.
But then he smiled and said, ‘Thanks,’ and she knew he was doing okay.
Giving his side a squeeze, she stepped away and headed to her camera gear as the conversation continued around her.
*
The rest of the day was a blur. The two Banshees teams each played multiple games within their age groups. Fin and Donny coached from the sidelines, Sweeney madly snapped pictures of the two teams both on the field and off the field. In between games there was more herding of cats as the teams and their entourage navigated the narrow spaces between pitches where games were still being played, dodging referees and umpires and linespeople and coaches and myriad sideline supporters to get to the communal spaces of the massive sports complex.
It was colourful and chaotic under the warm Queensland sunshine, with hundreds of kids aged five to fifteen, from all around the country, running around in their different club jerseys, a kaleidoscope of colours against the backdrop of green grass and blue sky. And loud, too, with whistles blowing and coaches calling and hundreds and hundreds of people bustling and milling as they cheered and clapped and yelled encouragement from the sidelines.
Not to mention the constant stream of announcements over the loudspeakers that floated to the furthest reaches of the fields. Everything from messages for officials to what games were up next and on what field to lost hats, lost children and the spruiking of special lunch deals at the food vans that had taken over a section of the car park.
By the time the comp had wrapped for the day, Sweeney was once again exhausted. But, by some miracle, both Ballyshannon teams had made it through the first round of knockouts—by the skin of their teeth—and had survived to play a second knockout round tomorrow morning. The winners of those knockouts would advance to the quarter finals, which would be played after lunch, with the semi and grand finals being played on the final day.
Mai, who had been chief herder, running the schedule like a drill sergeant—making sure that kids and parents were where they had to be at any given time and that sunscreen had been applied and reapplied and that the kids were staying well hydrated—was probably the most exhausted. So, instead of heading out to a pizza joint for dinner as had been in their official schedule, she arranged for a pizza delivery to the sporting complex that had quickly cleared out after the last game and was now pretty much deserted.
It had been a brilliant idea. No one had to go back to the hotel and quickly change and get going again, jollying along kids in that potentially volatile state of being both tiredandwired. They all just sat under the large jacaranda trees that lined the perimeter of the grounds and ate al fresco.
Come September, the trees would be resplendent with electric mauve flowers, which would form an almost iridescent carpet as they eventually fell to the grass, but for now they were a cool, fluttery green canopy, perfect for a picnic as the sun slowly faded from the sky and the temperature started to ease.
Low murmurs emanated from the group as people ate and chatted about the day or their jobs or whatever they had going on back at home. It was nowhere near as boisterous as the noise level had been for most of the day, which was a nice change. Off to one side, Fin and Donny were talking to the coach and a group of parents from the older team about how their games had unfolded.
Every time Sweeney’s gaze had sought Fin throughout the day, he’d been occupied doing one thing or another. With his dad’s whistle hanging around his neck, he’d juggled strategising with his cousin, chatting and signing with the kids, handing out orange segments at half-time or doing up yet another shoelace for yet another player who for sure was going to trip over it at some point. And for that she was grateful.
At least the day hadn’t dragged for him, which was not nothing.
‘They’ll sleep well tonight,’ Sweeney said, nudging Mai’s arm as she spotted Tori and Nellie.
They were sitting with Winnie, none of them their usual animated selves. There were no clapping games or handstands or comparing toes—as they’d been doing in one particularly memorable snap Sweeney had taken during a training session. The three little girls sat quietly, holding hands as they devoured their triangles of pizza.
‘They sure will,’ Mai agreed, wiping her greasy mouth with the back of her hand as she glanced at her daughters. ‘They look like they’re about to fall off their perch any moment.’ She returned her attention to Sweeney. ‘What are you and Fin doing after this?’
