‘Huh,’ he sniffed. ‘Elliot doesn’t even want to ask anyone out, let alone buy a ring.’
‘Be that as it may.’
Oh I hope that isn’t true. Is true. Isn’t true…
‘I’ll catch up with you later. By then you can have figured out how to cut a “blow-by-blow” down to the pertinent, non-intimate key points. Most crucially, skipping everything between your lips touching Elsa’s and then not touching Elsa’s again.’
‘Honestly, Jessica. Sometimes I wonder what kind of a man you think I am.’ Arthur shook his head, sadly, and left us to it.
* * *
The Harrier under nines were playing away this week, in a suburb on the north side of Nottingham. They loved the new tops, especially when Elliot had used a nickname. There couldn’t be many football players with ‘Wodger’ on their shirt. Russell, Olly’s dad, of course had his objections.
‘Any particular reason why our team is the only one in history who needs this?’ he sneered.
‘I think it’s a great idea,’ Connie’s mum said, fixing Russell with a gimlet eye. ‘It’ll be good for team bonding if the new players can quickly learn everyone’s names.’
‘Yeah. Right. That’s why we’ve wasted a load of club money on giant name badges. What next? Are the kids who can’t run getting electric scooters?’
‘That would be cool!’ Jackson exclaimed. ‘Football on scooters!’
‘No club money was wasted,’ Elliot said. His voice was firm, but I’d spotted the stiffness in his posture. He was nervous, and potentially fighting a twinge of humiliation. ‘I paid for these myself.’
‘Well Olly isn’t wearing it.’ Russell placed a large hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘This team is enough of a laughing stock as it is.’
There was an excruciatingly drawn-out moment while Elliot gritted his teeth and took a couple of long, slow breaths, seemingly in an attempt not to punch the smirk off Russell’s face.
‘Hey, great shirts!’ a man who looked about twenty said, popping the growing tension with an affable grin as he strode up to meet us. ‘I’m JK. Manager of the Colts.’ He reached out a hand to shake Elliot’s.
There was a ripple of excitement in the boys who were hanging around waiting for Elliot to start the warm-up. JK Jennings had been a legend at Nottingham Forest until a knee injury forced him into early retirement. Even I’d heard of him, thanks to his frequent appearances on various reality shows since.
Elliot introduced himself and they chatted for a couple of minutes, going over the match practicalities. Elliot appeared utterly unperturbed talking to a local celebrity, but then he may not have remembered who it was.
As he turned to leave, JK stopped and looked at Olly, still in his new top. ‘Wow! I love your shirt, Olly. Can’t help feeling you’ve got yourselves a bit of an unfair advantage there.’
He offered Olly a wink, gave his dad a clap on the shoulder and strolled off.
There were no more comments about the new kit.
There were, however, plenty of comments when at half-time the Harriers were down seven-nil. A group of the more supportive parents had to literally form a human barrier between Russell and the team so that Elliot could deliver his half-time talk without constant heckling.
‘Any other thoughts, Jessie?’ he asked, after he’d pointed out how the defenders could tighten up, that the midfielders should try to stop passing the ball to the Colts’ fastest player and the strikers could work harder at running in the right direction.
‘I think Jan should have a go in goal. Move everyone else up front.’
‘Really?’ Elliot kept his face open and interested but his eyes were sceptical. Jan was our partially sighted player, and while he had speed and surprising accuracy on the odd occasion the ball was at his feet, he relied on Olly to let him know what was happening if the action moved more than a few metres away.
‘You can spot the ball much more easily when it’s moving towards you, right?’ I asked Jan, who nodded vigorously. ‘And if Elliot gives you a shout if it’s heading towards the goal, and from what side of the pitch, you can be ready for it.’
He thought about that. ‘I guess so.’
‘Do you know your left from your right?’ Elliot asked him.
Jan nodded again. ‘Of course!’
‘No of course about it.’ Elliot smiled as half the boys held up their hands and formed the ‘L’ sign to confirm which hand was which. ‘I sometimes forget.’
‘It’s kind of important if you can’t see very well,’ Jan shrugged.
