‘The Harriers need you. Not next season, when you’ve stopped feeling sorry for yourself. We don’t have time for that! The Sherwood Cup is next Saturday and we’ve been looking forward to it all season. You said that if we worked hard and kept trying then we could play in the tournament. We kept our end of the bargain, now it’s time for you to keep yours.’
‘Ibrahim…’ Elliot’s voice was a rough croak. ‘That’s not going to happen. The best thing you can do is follow Olly and Jackson and find another team. One where you stand a chance of actually winning.’
‘You must be joking!’ Ibrahim practically shouted. ‘I’m a Houghton Harrier. Harriers ’til I die! Is that really what you think: that if a team loses some matches then everyone should quit and go somewhere better?’
‘Well no, but at the moment there is no Houghton Harriers under nine’s team. If you want to keep playing – and you’re a great player, you really should – then you have to find another team.’
‘Not happening!’
I crept closer. Ibrahim’s arms were folded, chest puffed out in defiance.
‘I’ll never kick a ball again if it can’t be with the Harriers. Well.’ He stopped then, squinting upwards. ‘Apart from at school. Or at the park with my friends. But not in a team! So, you have to come back or else I’ll never get to play for Nottingham Forest.’
‘I hear what you’re saying, but it’s a lot more complicated than that.’
‘No it isn’t. You promised. Are you a man who keeps his promises or not?’ Ibrahim stuck his hands back on his hips. ‘I’ll tell my mother to expect a message on the group chat by the end of the day.’
With that, he marched off. Eventually, I reached past Elliot, still standing there clutching the envelope, and closed the front door.
‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ I asked, giving him a gentle nudge. ‘We can talk about it?’
Elliot turned his head towards me, but it was tilted too far down to meet my eyes. ‘No. Thank you.’
‘Okay, well I’m here if you change your mind.’
* * *
A couple of hours later, when I’d moved on from weeding to lounging in a chair with a book, Elliot appeared, holding two mugs.
‘I changed my mind. Is now a good time?’
‘Of course.’
I tried to ignore my heart accelerating when his fingers grazed mine as he handed me a mug.
I’d felt certain there’d been another shift between Elliot and me since I’d broken up with Seb. What I wasn’t sure about, was whether the shift was just in me. Without the protective shield of a boyfriend, I found it harder to ignore the prickle of chemistry, the heat of memories that clouded my senses when our eyes caught or he brushed past me in the kitchen. With Arthur spending so much time with Elsa, and Isaac either working or in the garden, as well as increasingly meeting up with Connie and Wilf, I found myself alone with Elliot more often than felt sensible.
On the surface, we ate eggs and jam, chatted about work and watched television in a silence more comfortable than it had any right to be.
Beneath that, my feelings towards Elliot were digging in like the roots of Isaac’s cucumber plants.
I knew that I was orchestrating excuses to be sitting in the garden when he finished his run, coincidentally deciding I wanted a drink at the same time he’d be preparing his evening meal, causing us to somehow end up eating together. It was impossible to accidentally bump into a man who ran such a rigid schedule, especially when any variants were usually displayed on prominent notes on the kettle or the front door.
Night after night, as I lay in my attic bedroom, I vowed to stop playing with fire, to for goodness’ sake manage just once to avoid sabotaging a perfectly good situation.
But then he’d look at me. Burst out laughing at the same joke on the television. Get out his phone to find where he’d made a note of something that had happened earlier that day that he’d thought I’d find interesting and therefore wanted to remember.
How couldanyonestay away from a man who feels like home?
‘I was wondering if you’re free next Saturday?’
I gripped the mug a little tighter.
‘Um… yes?’
His shoulders drooped with relief. ‘Excellent. Great. I was terrified at the thought of having to do it without you.’
‘Is this what I think it is?’
