by Jules Wake
Tea came and went, a flurry of players piling their plates high, squabbling good-naturedly over the last chocolate fingers and chattering about the game.
When they all trooped back onto the pitch, Dad’s face split with a wide grin in anticipation of unleashing his special bowler, the empty pavilion fell silent except for the rattle of teaspoons in saucers as I went around collecting all the cups.
As I was dumping them into the sink, Miriam sailed into the cricket club kitchen with a pile of tea towels and a pair of bright red rubber gloves, ready to do battle with the dishes. What is it with that generation? They have an obsession with drying up. Surely it’s more hygienic to leave things to drain or perhaps that’s me being lazy?
‘Darling, how are you?’ she said, soundly kissing me on both cheeks. She called everyone darling. Daniel once told me it’s because she has a terrible memory for names. Sebastian, more maliciously, observed it was an upper-class affectation.
However, anything less like a country matron would be hard to imagine. With her short grey hair cut in a spiky, gamine style, she looked more like an errant pixie. Dark blue dungarees covered her short dumpy figure and the overall look was completed by a pair of maroon Doc Martens.
‘Much easier on the bunions,’ she’d told me once.
I was surprised when she suddenly grabbed my arm and brought it up to her face, to peer at the wound. Although short-sighted, she was still in denial so never wore the prescribed glasses.
‘Nasty. Daniel told me. Unpleasant. I hear the company was interesting.’
I looked at her uncomprehending for a moment.
‘You mean the South London ladies of the night,’ I said realising what she meant.
‘Mm. How the other half lives, eh?’ Miriam shuddered. Country born and bred, the concept of a casualty department in the city was as alien to her as an episode of Dr Who.
‘Help? Want some? You all right with that arm? Wash or dry?’ Miriam wasn’t a great one for social pleasantries.
‘Wash, definitely. Thanks for these.’ I nodded at the gloves. ‘The ones here are always full of holes.’
‘Can’t bear the bloody things myself.’ She snorted like a dissatisfied horse. ‘Came free with a job lot of slug pellets or was it worming pills? Amazing thing about skin. Waterproof. You know. Marketing people, worse than estate agents. Inventing things we don’t need.’
‘Mm,’ I murmured, looking at her hands – definitely the perfect advert for rubber gloves. The people at Marigold would have paid good money to show those chapped, wrinkled fingers.
‘Gather you put some work Sebastian’s way. If you can call prancing about in a monkey suit work. Looked a picture on the news,’ she said.
‘You saw him. What at the Bond premiere?’ I asked. ‘What channel?’ I was still talking to several TV companies, trying to get hold of some tapes of coverage of the premiere.
‘The Beeb, darling,’ she said outraged. ‘Wouldn’t watch anything else. Can’t bear the ads and George does love those David Attenborough—’
‘So you saw Sebastian on the BBC,’ I interrupted, desperate to keep her on track.
‘Yes. On the news. Looked a picture he did. Showed Daniel last night.’
I nearly dropped a cup. ‘You’ve got it!’ I exclaimed excitedly.
‘Yes, dear.’ She looked at me strangely. ‘George doesn’t trust the video recorder. Sets it to come on half an hour early. Sebastian was on at the end of the news. Only reason we saw it.’
‘Video recorder? You’ve still got one?’
‘It works, why throw it out?’
‘Can I borrow it?’ I asked eagerly.
‘What the video recorder?’
‘No, the tape of Sebastian. I desperately need a copy for work.’
She looked at me as if I were quite mad. ‘You’re allowed to watch television at work? How odd.’ She frowned as if trying to understand the complexities of life in the twenty-first century.
‘Pop round tomorrow morning,’ she said airily. ‘We’re out to the Richardson’s for lunch. He’s a bloody bore but she’s a hoot. Daniel can let you in if we’re not about. Come on. Let’s get this lot done and then we can have a G and T.’
Great, another excuse to see him tomorrow. Just what I didn’t need.
Duty done, I headed out with a rug and a book to enjoy the late afternoon sunshine on the boundary. I avoided looking at the players, especially the one at the crease batting. So much for avoiding Daniel after today, but never mind. Once I’d got that tape it really would be the last time I’d see him.
I was happily relaxed, lying on my stomach, head propped on my chin relishing the warm sun on my back when a cool shadow fell blocking out the hot rays, disturbing my pleasant daydreams. Turning to look over my shoulder, my irritation dissolved as I realised it was Daniel. Even better, he was carrying a condensation-covered glass of wine along with a pint of lager.
‘Thought you might like one,’ he said, offering me the wine before settling down next to me. He studied me intently as I gratefully raised the glass to my cheek, enjoying the coolness against my hot face.
So much for keeping my distance, his tanned face was so close I could see the faint white lines around his eyes that had been missed by the sun. My mouth went dry.
‘Thanks.’ I looked over at the players on the pitch trying not to look directly at him. ‘Are you out? Sorry, I must have dropped off.’
He nodded. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him pulling a face.
‘Bad luck,’ I said sympathetically.
‘My own fault,’ said Daniel cheerfully. ‘Stupid bloody shot to play and it was a great catch.’
I risked looking at him and found his blue eyes were twinkling. Clearly being within an arm’s length of me wasn’t bothering him. I tried to ignore the skittering of my pulse, which seemed to have developed a pace of its own today. ‘How many did you get?’
‘You mean you weren’t watching every majestic stroke?’ he said with mock outrage.
I giggled. ‘No, remember me, chief sandwich-maker. Chained to the kitchen sink most of the day.’
‘Between gossiping with the whole village,’ he said teasing. ‘I saw you. We’re out there slaving over the wicket to bring home a triumphant win and the womenfolk can’t even be bothered to watch our heroic efforts.’
‘How many did you get, Hercules?’
‘Fifty-six. Not bad. We might just win. Mind you, your Dad’s surpassed himself this year with that Aussie bowler.’
Another shadow appeared. Ben. Trust him. The original gooseberry. With a brief grunted greeting, Ben dropped down. His mood wasn’t great, he’d only scored a few runs before being caught out by a spectacular catch from Dad’s oldest teammate. Lounging next to me, he helped himself to a good glug of my wine.
‘Oy, get your own,’ I snapped. He would have to spoil the mood.
‘Oo, what’s bitten you,’ he teased in typical irritating brother fashion. ‘Girls, eh?’ He tutted, looking at Daniel.
I glared at him. ‘You’re just a bloody scrounger. Go get—’
Ben just laughed and jumped up. ‘Stroppy mare. She just needs a good shag.’
I very nearly threw my wine at his retreating back. I could wring his bloody neck. Did he have to say that in front of Daniel?
‘I’m not stroppy,’ I smarted indignantly, watching Ben saunter across the field back to the pavilion.
I might as well have been talking to myself. Daniel had gone very quiet. He seemed distracted as he stretched out on his back, hands tucked behind his head.
Sipping my wine I looked over at the players on the field, conscious of the silence. Daniel sighed. Then he sighed again. Opened his mouth and then closed it.
If he had something on his mind, I wished he’d just spit it out. B
ut he didn’t and the silence between us lasted until another wicket fell. It was only as a new batsman strode into the centre of the pitch that Daniel rolled over to face me, propping his head up on one elbow before finally speaking.
‘Shame your chap’s not here today,’ he began tentatively. ‘I mean, with Mike turning up. You could have done with a bit of moral support.’ He avoided looking at me as he traced small circles on the grass with his left hand. ‘I suppose weekends are a bit difficult for him.’ He glanced up with a quick, sympathetic smile.
‘What? For Mike?’ I was confused.
Daniel was absorbed in the grass again. ‘No,’ he muttered. ‘Your … you know, chap.’
I looked at the top of his head mystified. ‘Pardon?’ I wrinkled my nose and waited for him to look up.
It must have been catching. Last night Ben had been wittering on about a fella. My family had a lot to answer for. Chinese whispers had turned a couple of dates with Ned into a full-blown boyfriend.
‘It’s all right, I know all about it,’ said Daniel, his steady blue eyes holding mine.
‘Bloody Barney,’ I said, disconcerted by his gaze. ‘Honestly. Two dates and suddenly my family has me married off.’ I tossed my head in disgust. ‘Two. Neither a huge success. Ned’s not really my type, bit too football mad, but will they listen? Will they hell?’
Daniel’s eyes narrowed in confusion. ‘So it’s finished with the other chap?’
What was it with everyone? They all knew more about my love life than I did.
‘What are you on about?’ I asked, my voice rising slightly.
‘Emily did say you wouldn’t want to talk about it.’ He looked away, his index finger resuming its circles. ‘Must be serious. Never thought you’d fall for a married man.’
My mouth opened but I couldn’t say anything. ‘What?’ That wasn’t right.
‘I’ve known for ages,’ he muttered, still absorbed in the grass.
‘You’re kidding!’
‘Emily told me that night at the party.’ Daniel was still mumbling.
Bloody hell. The scheming cow. Suddenly everything fell into place.
‘She told you, did she?’ I snapped sarcastically, as I felt the blush heating my cheeks, which I think he took as guilt because he looked awkward and began apologising.
‘You can tell me to piss off. It’s nothing to do with me.’ He gave a shrug. ‘You’ve got your reasons. Emily warned me. Said you don’t like talking about it.’
I’ll just bet she did, wait until I got hold of her. Stunned, I stared at Daniel who was unable to hide the disapproval etched clearly in the lines around his mouth and the furrow under his fringe.
I finally found my voice, or rather it found me. I exploded, my words tumbling out in a loud explosion of sheer frustration and fury.
‘Daniel Caldwell,’ I yelled, and lashed out with my hand at his chest pushing him over onto his back and looming over him.
‘Do you,’ I poked him hard in the ribs with my index finger, ‘honestly THINK’ a much firmer poke, ‘that I, me, would go out with a married man! DO YOU?’ I growled at him in low menacing tones.
Lying beneath me, at the mercy of my finger digging into his ribs, he stared up, his face a picture of confusion, surprise, puzzlement and concern.
I leant back into my heels, my chest heaving. We stared at each other, until my breathing slowed.
Daniel was looking horrified at my outburst and sat up.
Now that he was facing me, I felt a dangerous wobble. Please don’t let me cry. If I burst into tears now, it would be a seriously bad mistake. I was bloody furious with him. I needed to stay angry.
He opened his mouth but I wasn’t about to let him take charge.
‘Daniel,’ I said icily, meeting his gaze. ‘I repeat, do you honestly think that I would go out with a married man? Really? After everything, everything that happened with Mike. After what you went through with your mother? You think I … would do that … to someone else?’
He inhaled deeply, his eyes narrowing as if about to say something but I cut him off.
‘Just how long have I been having this imaginary affair?’ I asked dangerously. ‘Just so I know,’ I added, my lips twisting in an exaggerated sneer just in case he was in any doubt.
His eyes flashed and his mouth curled. ‘Since Ben’s birthday party,’ he snapped, folding his arms.
‘That long. God, I hope the sex was worth it. Have I had a good time?’ I looked down, studying the golden hairs on his forearms, tanned against the white cricket shirt.
‘Stop being bitchy, Olivia. It doesn’t suit you. How was I to know Emily was lying? You’ve not exactly been forthcoming of late, have you?’ There was a sarcastic note to his voice. Rising to his knees as his gaze bored into me and his eyebrow quirked in challenge.
‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ My fists were clenched, my voice tight. How dare he be angry with me? I hadn’t done anything wrong.
‘We used to be friends. Remember? Now you avoid me like the plague.’ His voice was cold, the words snapped out, like ice breaking.
‘Excuse me? I avoid you? What am I supposed to do? You’re going out with my flatmate. I can hardly hang around being green and hairy.’
‘As you weren’t around much, I assumed you were busy with your married man, which under the circumstances is perfectly reasonable.’
‘You …’ Who did he think he was, trying to justify himself? ‘Reasonable?’
‘Yes. Little clues like the stray brick.’
God I wanted to punch him. ‘What the hell has that got to do with anything?’
‘Don’t swear. That doesn’t suit you either.’
‘And don’t change the subject,’ I shouted at him, uncaring that I might be overheard. ‘How the hell does that … prove … I’m having an affair with a married man?’
‘An irate wife,’ he suggested snidely.
‘Crap,’ I said turning my back on him, rising to my feet, ready to walk away.
‘I saw your and Emily’s faces that night.’ Putting his hand on my arm to halt me, he stood up and said, ‘Don’t deny it, you knew who was behind it. Didn’t you?’
He had me there. I turned slowly, his hand slid down, and the fingers gently encircled my wrist.
‘I promise you,’ I said looking up into his face, slowing my words, ‘That was nothing to do with a married man.’
His blue eyes studied me for a moment. ‘So there’s no married man?’
I shook my head. Frowning he asked, ‘So why did Emily say there was?’
I shrugged. ‘You tell me. I have no idea.’
We stood in silence both of us lost in thought. What could she gain from telling him that? Suddenly I knew. ‘When did she tell you?’
He frowned again. It took him a moment to answer. ‘I told you, that night at the party.’
That made sense. Sadness washed over me. ‘What exactly did she say?’ I pressed.
‘God, I can’t remember … something like “Poor Olivia, it’s a shame she has to come to things on her own all the time. He’ll never leave his wife.” ’
I felt light headed for a second.
‘Then, she said, “Please don’t let on I told you, she doesn’t want anyone to know.”’ I could picture it all too clearly. Emily earnestly clutching his arm and whispering urgently in his ear as I walked out of the room.
‘Wait ’til I get hold of her,’ I said, remembering the feeling of bleakness when I’d come back to find her lips locked with his.
Daniel frowned looking right through me. ‘Yes,’ he said absently, letting go of my wrist. He seemed miles away.
‘Oy, Dan,’ called one of the team, coming over with a loping run. ‘As you’re out, can you come and do a spot of scoring?’
/> With a rueful look, he called, ‘Be right with you.’ He glanced at me, his mouth looking grim. ‘Talk about timing.’
‘Hmph,’ I muttered crossly.
‘I’ve got to go, Olivia.’ With that he turned away and then immediately turned back, an odd expression in his eyes. ‘We need to talk.’
Heavy-footed, I walked slowly back to the pavilion oblivious to the sights and sounds around me, my thoughts were back at Ben’s party.
Cringing I could remember the flirty banter with Daniel at the start of the evening, when he’d greeted me with the line, ‘Wow, you’re looking gorgeous tonight.’
Things were going swimmingly with lots of sparkly-eyed conversation until I was dragged away to supervise my brother’s birthday cake. A sugar paste triumph in the shape of a bat and ball.
Drifting through the clubhouse into the ladies toilet, I gazed at my flushed face in the mirror. I leaned against the cool glass for a moment. Was that when things had gone awry? Had I stood a chance with Daniel that night?
Going back over that evening in my head, I remembered that awful kick in the stomach sensation I’d got when I returned from sorting the cake out to find Emily wrapped around Daniel, her arms encircling his neck, kissing him deeply. At the time I’d nearly doubled over with the pain of it.
The memory still made me feel sick and embarrassed. Turning on the cold tap in the cramped toilet, I splashed water on my face, glaring at myself in the mirror. God, Daniel must have found it hilarious, that night. Me, throwing myself at him. What an idiot. Of course Emily was going to be his type, a petite, sexy blonde with curves in the right places. I stared at my reflection. Who’d want a lamp post whose ribs were more prominent than her boobs?
So had Emily’s lies put the barriers up? And now that he knew the truth, did it make any difference, or was I about to make the same mistake all over again? What if all Daniel wanted to say was, ‘You’re a really nice girl but …’
Events were determined to thwart us. Daniel’s team won the game, so he was in big demand. Not that defeat seemed to have bothered the opposition, both sides were celebrating equally. The clubhouse was packed, the pints were flowing and the bar filled with empties. Clusters of men were grouped around the tables, discussing in great detail every ball. How did they remember? They spoke another language and I could hear strange incomprehensible snippets: ‘Defensive drive … just caught the edge … bowled a googly … silly mid-off’ as I circulated chatting to wives and girlfriends.
