Thursday

by David Ridgway

  Jackie Bleasdale decided to get the bus from Wimbledon to Richmond. She had got out of bed a little later than planned and knew that she would be late. She would miss the kick off by a good twenty minutes, she estimated.

  After grabbing a slice of toast, she put on a coat and scarf and set off, walking to the bus stop. She had decided to wear her dark jeans and boots, with a warm T-shirt under a long woolly jumper.

  As she got on the bus, she began to feel more excited at seeing David again. Although she had been busy with her revision and her local friends, she now realised how much she had missed him. She had regularly replayed their time together in her mind, especially in bed before going to sleep. As she settled at the front of the bus, upstairs so she could see the road ahead, she felt a tingle of anticipation begin to build in her lower stomach.

  At Richmond School, David, John and their coach had been talking tactics. They all knew that the team wasn’t match fit and that it was bound to be a tight game, filled with errors. At midday, a minibus drove into the carpark next to the pitch and the opposition began to disembark. David, John and their games teacher went to meet the opposition.

  Andy invariably started work late on a Saturday. He usually used the time to tidy up his house and do his weekly shopping. He also spent some time with his photos that he kept in date order on his computer. This Saturday was no different. After a quick breakfast of cereal and tea, he had driven to the big Sainsbury’s on Brixton Hill.

  He was in the tinned vegetables aisle when his mobile started to ring. “Hi! Andy here,” he answered.

  “Oh! Hello,” said a lady’s voice, somewhat hesitantly. “I don’t expect you’ll remember me, but I was a customer in your cab on Thursday. You took me to Waterloo Station…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Yeah, of course I remember,” he replied, wondering who on earth this lady might be. “How can I help?”

  “Well, you mentioned that you might be able to get me some extra work. We didn’t have time to discuss any details, but you gave me your card.”

  Andy was rather surprised that someone should have called him. It was usually the other way around, with him getting the contact mobile number and following it up. He only used the business card to demonstrate that he was pukka and to put people at ease.

  “Yeah. I might have something for you.” Thinking quickly, he added, “Perhaps we could meet to discuss what you’re looking for and whether I might be able to help.”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps this isn’t a very good idea.”

  “No, no. Hang on. If we meet for a coffee, you’ll be able to see what’s what and if you don’t like it, then you can walk away. There’s not much point in calling and then doing nothing about it.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s fair,” she answered. “Where would be a good place to meet?”

  “Well, I drive a cab, so I can get to most places without much difficulty. Where are you?”

  “Richmond,” she replied.

  “If you tell me where we can get a decent coffee, I can meet you there.”

  “There’s a Costa Coffee on the Quadrant.”

  “Yeah. I know it. That’s OK. When’s good for you?” he asked. Then he added, “I could be there at about half past two this afternoon.”

  “All right”

  “By the way, what’s your name?”

  “Alice.”

  The game in Canning Town followed the usual pattern for an under 10s soccer match. Twenty boys, plus two goalkeepers and one referee, chasing about a field, following a white leather ball. From above, the twenty boys looked, for all the world, like a school of fish or a flock of birds, twisting and turning without any seeming purpose.

  On the ground, however, it was rather different. Fred had been trying to teach his team that position and passing will always be superior to the collective chasing after the ball. Adnan completely understood this and, using his ability to read a game, he stood out from the crowd. Suddenly, the ball came to his feet and, looking up, he saw that his right wing was slightly detached from the crowd. He kicked the ball to a point between the wing and the touchline. More by luck than judgement, the pass was exquisitely weighted and completely wrong footed the defence. The wing chased after it, taking it deep into the opposition half. He only had the goalie to beat, as he entered the box. Instead of advancing to make the shot more difficult, the goalkeeper appeared rooted to the spot and the winger slotted the ball between him and the upright. Goal!

  When the game was over and the boys were back in the minibus, before setting off, Fred talked to them, congratulating Bill, the winger, on his goal. He carefully explained that Bill’s opportunity had come as the result of Adnan’s pass, which was exactly what he had been trying to teach them during their midweek training sessions. Adnan and Bill glowed with pride and the others began to think it through on the short journey back to Poplar.

  At eleven o’clock, as Martin reached the end of yet another furrow, he stopped. Turning off the engine, he took out his coffee flask. Mm, he thought, I’ve done about a quarter and it looks OK. This field has drained better than I thought and the plough has done its job well.

  He sat back and stretched his back, listening to the music in his headphones. He looked up to the pale blue sky and then back over his furrows. A few seagulls had gathered and were feeding on the worms that had been disturbed.

  There really aren’t many birds, he muttered to himself. I must keep this field as open pasture after the next harvest and put the cattle on it. Then it will need some decent muck worked into the soil to improve it. Mind you, it’s going to take some time to get the quality up all over the farm.

  He looked to the west, towards Tilbury and London and then to the east towards Southend. He could see no indication of a change in the weather. The sun was shining and the rest of the field was waiting his attention. He threw out the dregs from his coffee mug, put away the flask, started the tractor’s engine and set off once more.

  Over in Richmond, David and John with the rest of the team had run onto the pitch to be confronted by the opposition from Streatham Comprehensive.

  “They don’t seem too big,” David muttered to John. “We should be OK here.”

  “Depends on how well they’ve been organised and coached,” John replied.

  “At least they’ll be no more match fit than we are.”

  “Maybe.” John looked at David. “We’ve got to keep possession as much as possible. No kicking it away,” he instructed.

  David kept looking towards the touchline, to see whether Jackie had arrived. There was no sign of her when the referee called the captains together for the toss. John lost and the opposition chose to kick off.

  The game followed an expected pattern of over-enthusiasm, tempered by a growing tally of penalty kicks. Without an opportunity to play for most of the term, both teams had realised that it would take a little while for the players to settle into any rhythm and reduce the knock ons and off sides. The referee, fully understanding this, tried to play as much advantage as possible, even though this benefitted the Streatham fly half who, scooping up a loose ball, passed sweetly to his left. His inside centre caught the pass and kicked over David’s head. He was aiming for a deep touch, but slightly sliced his punt and the ball went towards the try line instead. The Streatham left wing was fast and ran inside the Richmond fullback, took the ball on a lucky bounce and went over to score in the corner. The try was not converted and the score was still 5-0 at half time.

  Looking towards the entrance to the playing fields, David had noticed Jackie’s late arrival, just before the Streatham winger scored. His heart jumped and he immediately lost all coordination in his hands.

  While he was sucking his half-time quarter orange, he waved to Jackie and felt quite giddy when she waved back. She was smiling and looked so attractive in her tight jeans and sweater. She had allowed her sheepskin coat to fall open in what was a quite normal manner but to David it appeared to be extraordinarily provocative. />
  The teams changed ends and Richmond kicked off. As fly half, this responsibility fell to David. He kicked high, but too long and the ball went straight into touch.

  “Come on, David,” said John. “I know Jackie’s here, but you must concentrate on your game, not her.”

  “Right,” David muttered. He put Jackie into the back of his mind, while John marshalled his scrum. Streatham put the ball in on the halfway line, but Richmond produced a sudden, concentrated push which completely surprised the Streatham scrum. The ball popped out on the Richmond side and the scrum half took it forward 10 metres before being brought down. Curling round the ball, he presented it to his flanker who passed it to David. David was lying slightly deeper than normal, as he had also been momentarily surprised by the Richmond shove. He took the ball on the burst, did an immediate sidestep completely wrong footing the opposing fly half and sprinted towards the right-hand corner flag. He only had the fullback to beat, who had been lying deep all game and was now swiftly cutting off David’s line of attack.

  He took a quick glance to his left and saw a Richmond shirt on his shoulder. He drew the Streatham fullback closer before passing the ball to his outside centre, giving him an open opportunity to simply catch the ball and score under the posts. David retrieved the ball, placed it and converted the try.

  “Let’s do that again.” John encouraged his team as the Streatham side was lining up for the kick off. The fly half drop kicked the ball to the Richmond twenty-five metre line. The ball was caught cleanly by the scrum and a maul formed. Slowly, the Richmond team advanced up the field, lost possession which then allowed the Streatham team to move forward. This was the pattern for the rest of the half, neither side being able to break the deadlock and create an advantage. It sapped the strength of the boys and they began to make more and more silly mistakes that even the referee was unable to ignore. Scrappy, tiring and totally unspectacular, everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the final whistle was blown and the referee said, “No side.”

  The Streatham team lined up on the touchline, creating a passage through which the Richmond boys passed. There was some backslapping and a few words of congratulation. In their turn, the Richmond boys also lined up allowing the Streatham boys to pass through in the time-honoured manner at the end of all rugby matches. As David turned away, he heard his name called. It was Jackie. The boys were already disappearing into the club house, so he walked over, all thoughts of the match receding rapidly from his mind.

  “Hello!” He looked at her and wondered why they hadn’t found much more time together over the past six months. “How are you?”

  “I’m great,” she replied, moving closer to him. “Did you win?”

  “Er, well, yes. I think we did.” David had forgotten all about the match as he drank in the vision standing in front of him. He breathed in her warm, welcoming scent. Her coat was still open and David could see the beguiling swell of her small, pert breasts under the sweater. She leant closer to him and kissed him on the cheek.

  “To the victor the spoils,” she whispered into his ear, pulling him towards the side of the club house. Despite feeling so tired after such a gruelling game, David could feel his lower stomach stirring. She pulled him into a passage, between the clubhouse and a storage shed. He started to put his arms round her, but she stopped him by opening her coat so that he could slip his arms round her inviting body, under the coat. As the coat fell back around them, he felt the warmth of her and he kissed her hard on the lips. She opened her mouth and gently pushed her tongue into his. It was like an electric shock and had an immediate effect on him.

  “I’ll have to get my shower,” he muttered. “I’m all muddy.”

  “Well, you can’t go in like this,” she giggled, squeezing his erection.

  She pulled him further back between the club house and the shed, where it was darker.

  He moaned as she took hold of his hand and slipped it under her sweater and T-shirt. David needed no further invitation and felt her nakedness up from her stomach to her ribs and her breasts.

  “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. “You’re not wearing a bra!”

  He looked round, guiltily, but they were quite alone. She pulled urgently at the cord of his shorts and slipped her hand inside. She could feel his manhood standing hard as iron as her finger moved down its length. Her knees felt weak as David’s left hand moved up her spine, rucking up her jumper. As he held her close with his left arm, she allowed his right hand to find and fondle her left breast. Her nipple hardened and ached with exquisite pleasure as he kissed her hard on the mouth, their tongues entwined like two baby eels. She undid the button at the top of his shorts and the second button, allowing them to slip over his buttocks. He undid the top button of her jeans and pulled down the zip. He put his hand inside the waistband.

  Crikey, he thought, no knickers, either. What am I getting into?

  He pushed his fingers gently between the lips of her sex, hearing her moan with pleasure as he found her clitoris, already extended. She was moist and warm as she drew his erection closer to her. Urgently, she pushed down her jeans below her knees and then, opening her knees, she pulled his penis between her legs. David pushed gently and, as Jackie arched her back with her jeans slowly slipping down to her ankles, he felt the glans suddenly move inside her secret warmth. He put both his hands behind her, holding her buttocks one in each hand, and lifted her completely off the ground. As he held her tighter, he felt her compliant body move closer to his. She bent her legs until her boots were pressing against the shed wall. She opened her knees wider, which allowed her to accommodate his complete length. As she arched her back, her head moved away from his and, with her bottom supported by his hands, she lifted up her sweater, exposing both her pert breasts with their rock-hard nipples.

  “Push harder,” she murmured. And then, as he complied, “Oh God, that’s wonderful! I’m going to come.”

  Locked inside her, David felt the same, feeling her body convulsively contract around him. He pulled out, wondering if he would burst, as Jackie threw her arms around his neck and held him tight to her. His penis erupted over her lower stomach and feeling the sudden warmth, she straightened her legs until her feet were on the ground, then she let go of his neck, squatted in front of him and sucked out the rest of his ejaculate. Standing up, she pulled up her jeans, did up the button and the zip, and rubbed the rest of his ejaculate off her tummy with her T-shirt, before pulling her sheepskin coat tighter around her.

  “Now, was that worth waiting for?” she murmured with a small smile, her eyes dancing with excitement.

  “Oh, yes!” David replied, doing up his shorts. “But I will have to get inside for my shower. People will be wondering where I am.”

  “Always the practical one,” she teased.

  “When can I see you again? There is so much I want to know about you.”

  Somewhat coquettishly, she replied, “I’ll send you a text when I’m free. I’ve got to revise all next week for the exams, but I might be free next Saturday.”

  “That sounds good. Can you wait now until I’ve had my shower and we could go out this evening, perhaps…?” he trailed off.

  “Sorry, no.” She wrinkled her nose and looked at her watch. “I’m going to have to dash to catch my bus.”

  She started to walk away, but he caught her arm and stopped her. They kissed again.

  “Must go,” she said. “I’ll text you.” She walked away down the drive to the main road.

  For a moment, he stood stock still and watched her go, before turning to go into the club house. At the gate, Jackie hesitated and turned back, but all she saw was the closing door.

  During the afternoon, after his break for sandwiches and the rest of the coffee from his flask, Martin Havers had continued to plough the top paddock. As usual, his wife was right, because the ground had become increasingly wet as he had slowly worked his way down the field. When he stopped for his lunch break at about 1pm, Martin noticed that he h
ad ploughed just over half the field, although he was expecting to have completed at least two thirds.

  It’s getting stickier now, he thought. I must be careful, especially in that bottom corner. Anyway, at this rate, I won’t get there before dark.

  He munched his cheese and homemade pickle sandwiches and drank the rest of his coffee, listening to Classic FM on his headphones.

  Just lower down the field, Martin studied a slight dip in the land, mentally noting that he should swing the tractor round with more care at that point, especially as the ground was getting wetter. He packed away his plastic box and thermos, restarted the engine, dropped the plough and set off once more.

  When the tractor crossed the width of the field towards the west, Martin noticed that the plough was getting easier, but as he ploughed back towards the east, the ground became wetter and stickier. On approaching the dip, he had noticed earlier, instead of turning in a loop to the left while switching the plough, Martin decided to do a three-point turn. He lifted the plough, turned to face down the hill and stopped. Putting the tractor in reverse, he realised that the dip was steeper than he had realised and as the tractor reversed up the slope, the big, ribbed rear wheels had to bite deeply into the earth in order to retain traction.

  Still facing downhill, he reversed the plough and gently turned to his right in order to set the plough for the next furrow. He was soon back on firmer ground and, looking back, Martin noted that the next five or six turns would all have to be done with greater care. He stopped to look at the lie of the land and how the field sloped more steeply just at that point. He decided that he would complete the next twelve furrows, taking great care while turning in the dip, before calling it a day, because by then he would be losing the sun and the field would be getting increasingly difficult.

  Alice got off her bus in Richmond and walked slowly towards the Costa Coffee at the Quadrant. When she arrived, she saw that Andy was already there, sipping an Americano, while watching the door. As he waved to her, she realised that he had seen her, losing any opportunity there might have been for her to change her mind and quietly disappear. She lifted her hand in acknowledgement and joined the queue.