Is An Own Goal Bad?

by Helena Pielichaty

  “I thought people reading it might be a bit tired of the proper words and like a change. Miss Parkinson is always telling us to broaden our vocabulary. She is, isn’t she, Daisy?”

  Actually Miss Parkinson’s always telling us the same as Megan: to write less and to stop making words up. She goes cross-eyed when we hand things in – but I wasn’t going to embarrass my twin by telling Megan that. “She is,” I agreed.

  Megan shook her head again. “Sorry, guys, but I can’t use this. Women who play football for Chelsea or Leicester City Women might read about us one day. You have to keep it real. Have you included the Group A table?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you must. That’s vital.”

  So she took us over to the IT Room and printed out Hannah’s official match report and the vital Group A table from the website again, and said Dylan could decorate them or something.

  After Megan had gone, I asked Dylan if she was all right. “Course I’m all right!” she said. “It’s not Meganini’s fault she’s not a good reader like us. She’s probably never even heard of Mrs Enid Blyton. I’ll keep it shorter next time and write in capitals to help her out.” She handed me the report and the table and went off to find Ellie.

  Here is the match report written by Hannah:

  NETTIE HONEYBALL CUP

  Group A

  Parrs U11s (Parsnips) 7

  Lutton Ash Angels 1

  Saturday 15 December

  After awful weather all week it looked as if we’d have to postpone the match, but the rain held off long enough for us to go ahead.

  This was our first meeting against Lutton Ash Angels. They began sprightly enough and scored after seven minutes while we were still waking up. Luckily Nika equalized from a deft pass by Gemma a minute later. Our midfield did a fantastic job of keeping the ball going forward, and we were rewarded with a second goal just before half-time after a nice one-two between Gemma and JJ, who tapped it in.

  In the second half Gemma’s incisive runs and even more incisive crosses to Eve up front soon saw us four–one up, with Eve netting one and Nika her second. The fifth, scored by Gemma, deserves a special mention. She swerved round not one, not two, but three Lutton Ash defenders, then nutmegged the keeper to slot home a sweet solo effort even the England Women’s manager Hope Powell would have applauded! Lutton Ash’s defence could only stand and stare.

  Ten minutes before the end, the heavens opened and the field, already muddy, turned into a swamp. This had a negative effect on Lutton Ash. Our last two goals were from penalties. Penalties at this level are rare, so having two awarded shows how bad things got. Well done to our girls for not retaliating and to Amy for scoring her first goal of the season. Way to go, Minto!

  Our six points puts us on equal points with Furnston at the top of the table. Remember, only the top team from each group qualifies for the final. The next one will be a nail-biter – it’s against Furnston. Furnston beat the Angels six–one back in November and Misslecott five–nil on Saturday so they’re obviously the ones to watch!

  Parsnip of the Match: Nika. Awesome, Nika!

  Hannah Preston (coach)

  Next cup match: Saturday 9 February at HOME against Furnston; 10.30 KO

  I sighed at the part where Nika won the golden globey, then turned to the table:

  I then folded up the sheets of paper and put them in my bag.

  When we got home from school we had some surprise news. Granny was coming to stay with us for Christmas. Usually Granny goes on a cruise at Christmas, on a boat called the Pride of Peebles, but there was a bug going round so it couldn’t sail. “Which means she’s coming here,” Mum said and scratched the side of her neck. It had a red rash on it. It’s called a stress rash and it always comes when Granny visits.

  I don’t know why Mum gets a stress rash when Granny visits. I think Granny’s nice. I like the way she talks and how she phones to make sure we get to things on time. I don’t think Mum does, though. She says Gran should realize Jim isn’t ten any more and doesn’t need her phoning every two minutes to check he’s wearing clean underpants.

  So anyway, the next few days were really busy because we had the end-of-term Christmas party at school, then we had all the shopping to do and all the logs to chop and all the mince pies and biscuits to bake on top of the usual stuff. And of course there was Santa to think about as well as Granny. I totally forgot about football. I think Dylan did, too. It’s only to be expected on special occasions.

  Granny arrived on the eve of Christmas Eve at two-thirty in the afternoon, not long after we had got up. “Mum! What a brilliant surprise!” Dad said when he opened the door and saw her there, her dark hair dripping from the rain.

  “I’ll let you pay for the taxi,” she told him before handing Darwin her suitcase.

  “Oh, of course,” Dad mumbled, and stepped outside in his stripy pyjamas.

  “There was no need for you to get a taxi, Sue,” Mum told her, standing on tiptoe to kiss her cheek because our granny’s very tall. “We could have picked you up.”

  “Oh? And when might that have been? Hogmanay?” Granny asked. Then she looked round the kitchen, which was perhaps less tidy than it might have been, sighed and said, “A cup of tea would be nice.”

  “I’ll make it,” Darwin said immediately. “Peppermint or camomile?”

  “Tetley’s,” Granny replied, and produced a box of tea bags from her handbag.

  Then Dad said he’d take Granny’s suitcase upstairs, and Mum said she’d come with him to make the bed up. The rash on Mum’s neck was so pink it matched her hair.

  They were very noisy going up the stairs, with Mum saying, “I thought you said she was coming tomorrow?” and Dad saying, “I thought it was tomorrow, but obviously I was wrong,” and Mum saying, “Now she’ll think we’re as scatterbrained as ever,” and Dad saying, “Well, we are as scatterbrained as ever, Luna my love, but does it matter?”

  I cleared a space at the table so Granny could sit down.

  “Thank you, Dylan,” she said.

  “I’m Daisy,” I told her, and held my fingers out to show her my bitten nails – though to be fair I had been working on my thumbs.

  “Hm,” she said.

  Darwin gave her the tea with the bag still floating on top like a life-jacket.

  “Thank you … er…” She paused. “…Darwin?”

  “Well done!” Darwin beamed.

  “Two sets of twins, just like I had. What are the chances, eh? But look at the four of you; you’ve grown so much.” She looked pleased then and gave us all a wide smile.

  “We’re always growing,” Declan said, and slid a plate of burnt ginger biscuits we’d made the day before next to the cup.

  Granny took one, bit it, grimaced and put the rest of it back down on the plate. “So, tell me all your news.”

  So we did. All our news. All at once. “Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh,” Granny kept saying, her eyes switching from one to the other of us like a crazy metronome. After a bit I stopped talking to give her head a rest and to let Darwin show her his knitting. “Och! That’s grand! A man who can knit won’t go far wrong in the world,” she told him.

  I grinned. I liked the way she said “world”. It sounded like wirraled.

  Granny caught me grinning. “And what about you” – she glanced at my nails – “Daisy? How’s school?”

  “Don’t ask!” I told her.

  “Is that Miss Parkinson still giving you a hard time over your writing and spelling?”

  “Every day.”

  “Oh dear. Doesn’t she help you?”

  “Sometimes, but she says until we’ve had proper tests to see exactly what our problem is there’s nothing much she can do about it.”

  “And we’re not having tests because we’re not packets of cheese.” Dylan sniffed.

  “Mum and Dad don’t approve of tests,” I explained.

  Granny nodded. “I know they don’t, but a wee one to get you on the right road wouldn
’t do any harm. After all, not all cheese comes in packets if you shop around,” she said mysteriously, then glanced towards the stairs. “But never mind! We’d better not ‘go there’, had we? I don’t want to be in the bad books so soon. How’s the football?”

  I shrugged. “It’s OK.”

  “OK? Only OK? You’ve not been made captain yet, then? Either of you?”

  Declan snorted. “They’ll never be made captain. Not until they learn which end they’re playing towards.”

  Dylan thumped him. “Excuse me! That’s highly mean. Mummy’s told you on many occasions we aren’t allowed to say mean things to each other because it’s bad for our self-esteem!”

  “You’re not allowed to punch, either, Dylan!” Declan said, and thumped her back. Then they began having a bit of a fight.

  “Oh, wonderful,” Granny said.

  “Mind my knitting!” Darwin yelped.

  “Shall we go upstairs into the living room?” I said to Granny.

  She nodded. “It might be an idea.”

  The living room was even more untidy than the kitchen. That was because we’d had to move stuff around to make way for the Christmas tree and because none of us had cleared our school things away yet. And because it was never that tidy in the first place, to be honest.

  Granny picked her way between backpacks and piles of magazines and books and old beanbags and a few of Mum’s canvases before shooing our cats, Beetroot and Pickle, off the settee so she could sit down.

  She peered at one of Mum’s paintings. It was of a huge bare lady, dancing. “That’s Bella Sings the Blues,” I told her.

  “Is it?” she said. “I’m not surprised.” She glanced around. “Still no telly, I see?”

  “No. It rots the mind.”

  Granny snorted very loudly. “What nonsense! It’s a good job I’ve brought my laptop so I can watch Deal or No Deal, that’s all I can say.”

  “Is that like a computer?”

  “It is a computer. And a telly. Clever, eh?”

  “Can it print things?”

  “Only if you’ve got a printer. Why?”

  So I told Granny about the match reports and how we hadn’t got one right yet.

  “How come?”

  “Well, we missed the first match and only got to the second half of the last one. Then—”

  “What? You were still late? Even after my phone calls? Och!”

  “I know. We all kind of seem ready on time, and then one person goes off to do something and then another one does, and – oh, I don’t know…”

  “And do people on the team say things when you’re late?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “And does it bother you?”

  “Yes, because I know if I’m late I’ll never win the golden globey…”

  “The what?”

  “It’s a beautiful trophy the best player of the match gets. I…” I paused and listened out in case Dylan or anyone else was around. I had never told anybody this before, but I knew Granny could keep a secret. “I would love to win it – but I know I never will.”

  “I see.” Granny beckoned me closer. “I think it’s time you and I had a little chat about tactics, Daisy Nail-biter McNeil.”

  And that’s exactly what we did. We talked tactics, in private, whenever we got the chance between festive mealtimes and present-opening and carol-singing and chocolate-munching and playing Twister. Those discussions were most interesting, I can tell you. I learned a lot.

  Granny left the day after Boxing Day. Her train was at twelve, so we had to get up quite early. At eleven-twenty-five Dad tried to reverse Chutney onto the drive, but Chutney wouldn’t start. Dad began to apologize to Granny – but as if by magic the taxi she had arrived in swept into our driveway.

  “Oh,” said Dad. “That’s handy.”

  “That’s because I know you like the back of my hand-y, son!” She grinned, and winked at me.

  We all waved until she was out of sight – but I stayed there longest because I knew I’d miss her the most.

  5

  In which Miss Dylan McNeil tells you about her terrible mistake

  This chapter begins once upon a time on the morning of Saturday 9 February. I awoke with ringing in my ears, but this time I didn’t have to run all the way downstairs because the ringing was actually in my ears, person reading this. In my ears! That was because the night before, Daisy had made me sleep with my alarm clock next to my pillow.

  Daisy had ringing in her ears, too. Only she had stuck her alarm clock to her ears, with sticky plasters, and the clock was hanging from her hair like a monkey from a tree.

  “You look funny!” I told her.

  “It’s worth it,” she said, pulling the clock and the plasters off her hair.

  Some of the plasters wouldn’t come off, so I had to apply scissor usage in the end. I was still a bit sleepy, so some pieces of hair were not straight in the slightest after I’d finished cutting. I frowned. “That’s the best I can do, twin sis.”

  “Och aye the noo, twin sis!”

  I looked at her. “You’re not skulky with me?”

  “No. We’re up early. That’s all that matters!” she trilled and began pulling her nightie over her head. This next bit I’m going to tell you is strange… Daisy was wearing her football kit already!

  “Oh,” I said. “I wish I’d thought of that.”

  “I’m thinking ahead. That’s the name of the game.”

  “Thinking ahead. I might do that from now on.” I glanced round. “You don’t happen to know where my stuff is, do you?”

  “Underneath Beetroot.”

  “Oh!” I walked over to the old armchair where I read my books and think about important matters and where Beetroot sleeps, said “Excuse me” to the moggle and pulled my shirt from under her. “I can’t believe the Furnston people wanted to start the match early. Why can’t they have a lie-in? Sleep is precious for children, you know.”

  “Don’t ask me. I only know what Hannah told me last night when she phoned. Do you want to use the bathroom first while I put the kettle on?”

  “The kettle?”

  “To make Mum and Dad a cup of tea.”

  “Oh. That’s highly kind of you.”

  “I’m a highly kind girl.”

  Daisy disappeared then and I decided to sit in my old armchair for a moment or two and stroke Beetroot and think about important things – but just as I’d got to the bit about whether or not I should send Callum Kirton one Valentine card next week or two, Daisy came and dragged me downstairs, saying, “Breakfast’s ready.”

  Downstairs, the whole of my precious family was eating breakfast. “Half-eight,” Mother said, shaking her pretty pink head. “This has to be a record.”

  Father’s face was pondering as he chewed a slice of toast. “Why would anyone bring a match forward at this time of year? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I don’t know,” Daisy said, “but they did.”

  “A day’s notice isn’t much, either.”

  “Well, all I know is the kick-off is at half-past nine instead of half-past ten.”

  “At least it’s a home match,” Darwin said.

  “Well,” Dad said, standing up and brushing crumbs from his beard. “I just need to do one or two things…”

  “Can you check Chutney first, Dad? To see if she’ll start?” Daisy asked.

  “Oh, she’ll start. No worries. I put a blanket on her bonnet last night.”

  “You mean that blanket there?” Declan said.

  Father looked at the blanket by the back door. “Yes! That one!” he said and laughed. “Oh well, I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “And I want to check Leda’s Lament while the light is good. I wasn’t happy with her bottom last night,” Mum added.

  Then Declan said, “I just want to test the new ladder to my treehouse…”

  And Darwin said, “And I’ll get my knitting…”

  “Please make sure you’re all back by nine
o’clock,” Daisy told them in a firm manner. “We must get to the cup match on time.”

  “Of course,” everyone said.

  Soon there was only me and Daisy in the kitchen. “Daisy,” I asked her, “what do you think of the Callum Kirton situation? One Valentine card or two?”

  Daisy did not reply. She took a piece of paper from her fleece pocket, glanced at it, then put it back. “Water bottles next,” she said, which did not answer my question.

  At nine o’clock Daisy was pacing up and down, and I had decided two Valentine cards for Callum and one for Ellie. I would make them myself, using the glorious new felt pens Santa had brought me at Christmas.

  “Right! That’s it! ” Daisy said, making me jump. Then she disappeared. By ten past nine everyone was back in the kitchen, Mum with a paintbrush in her hand, Dad with a big book called Restoring Historical Buildings, Declan sucking a cut on his hand and Darwin with his knitting.

  “Time to go,” Daisy said.

  But then the phone rang. “I’ll get that,” Mother said.

  “It’ll be Granny,” Daisy told her.

  “So it will,” Mother replied. “Do you want to take it, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, yes,” Daisy said, shooing us all out of the door. “I’ll be one second. You guys go and get into Chutney.”

  “Daisy’s very bossy these days,” Darwin said to Declan as I followed them out.

  It was a frosty morning with watery yellow sunshine making everything sparkle in a highly beautiful and splendid way, especially Chutney. “She looks like a giant iced doughnut,” Darwin said.

  Sadly, despite her beauty, she would not start. I glanced at Daisy, expecting to see her face a bit blubby, but her profile was as calm as a pond.

  “Sorry, girls. She needs a new battery,” Father told us. “You’ll have to miss the match today.”

  Just then something very strange happened. It was a miracle, probably. A minibus pulled into the driveway. A tall man with a turban and a dark beard even bushier than Father’s got out. “Lornton?” he asked.

  “That’s us!” Daisy said with a leap and a bound over to him.