Hill, Reginald - Dalziel and Pascoe 01 - A clubbable woman
Page 22
'Wait a mo',' he said.
The Welsh kick had found touch. Now the ball had come back badly on the English side, but the scrum-half got to it. He was pounced on before he could move and the best he could do was to throw out a slow lobbing pass to his fly-half, who had to take it standing still. But miraculously with a simple twist of his hips, he opened a gap between the two Welsh forwards bearing furiously down on him, stepped through it and suddenly accelerated straight ahead.
'Run! Run!' screamed Dalziel.
'Go now!' yelled Pascoe, not quite sure why he felt so excited by this alien game.
'Nothing can stop him,' said Marcus with certainty.
He was right. The cover was far too slow in coming across. Head high, ball held lightly before him, beautifully balanced, he rounded the full-back as though he were rooted and touched down gently, undramatically, between the posts.
'Oh, you beauty!' breathed Dalziel. 'You beauty!'
He sighed and shook his head as though coming back to reality.
'Right,' he said. 'Let's go.'
'The kick?' suggested Marcus. To hell with the kick. He might miss it. Let's go now,' said Dalziel. Marcus took a last glance back at Connon before going through the exit, but he wasn't looking. He was slowly sitting down again after the leap of jubilation which had taken him and thousands of others to their feet.
There were tears in his eyes. He rubbed one away.
The Welshman next to him nudged his neighbour and surreptitiously pointed to Connon.
The buggers have got feelings after all, boy,' he said.