Own Goal

by Tom Palmer

  She didn’t speak.

  Dad was sitting on a stool, his face pointing towards the ceiling. He often did that. He was blind. But he still knew his son had just come into the room.

  ‘Danny?’ Dad asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Danny replied. ‘It’s me.’

  Still his mum said nothing. She had moved to the other side of the kitchen and now was sat at the table, her head in her hands.

  Danny watched Dad stand and follow her, to put his hand on Mum’s shoulder. Then he saw his mother move her shoulder away.

  That said it all. It gave Danny the answer to the question forming in his mind.

  But he had to know. He had to hear it from them.

  ‘What’s happening?’ he asked.

  Neither of his parents answered.

  Danny could hear a car accelerating outside the house. And someone calling a dog.

  ‘Tell me,’ he insisted. Because he knew exactly what they would tell him. He just didn’t know whether they had the nerve to do it.

  ‘They’re splitting up.’

  The voice came from behind him.

  His sister’s voice.

  ‘No, you’re not,’ Danny said, keeping his eyes on his mum and dad.

  But neither of them denied it.

  PARTY

  An hour later, there was a knock at Danny’s bedroom door. It was his dad.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ Danny answered. He was changing his clothes, about to go out to the party. Cal had invited him. And there was no way he wanted to stay at home tonight.

  Once he was dressed, Danny opened the door.

  ‘Can we talk?’ Dad asked.

  ‘I’m off to a party,’ Danny said.

  Dad nodded.

  Danny tolerated the silence between them for as long as he could, then said, ‘Can we talk about it tomorrow? I just want to get my head round stuff.’

  His dad nodded again. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Whenever you’re ready. Do you want a lift from your mum?’

  ‘No thanks,’ Danny said. ‘I need to be alone. You know.’

  ‘I think so,’ Dad said, standing out of the way to let Danny walk down the stairs.

  It was cold outside. And as Danny ran – because he felt like running – he enjoyed the chill of the air on his skin. He didn’t really want to get his head round anything. He didn’t really want to think about his mum and dad at all. He wanted to escape from his thoughts altogether, thoughts that were starting to make his head hurt.

  He turned left at the end of his street and ran down towards the park. As he ran, he counted car and window stickers. This was a variation on a game he played when he wanted to not think about something. City versus Forza stickers. How many of each? If there were more City, then City would win the game next week.

  But there weren’t more City stickers: there were more supporting Forza. Way more.

  Danny stopped counting and ran down the centre of the road, his eyes fixed on the woods in the park ahead. Birds were wheeling over them, their dark silhouettes against the sky turning and turning again.

  He didn’t really want to think about Forza FC, but it was better than thinking about home.

  Why was it that thousands of people in this city – and cities across the world – supported Forza? This was the question that came back to him again and again. It had to be more than the fact that Sam Roberts, England’s top footballer, played for them. People liked Real Madrid when David Beckham was there. But only a bit. They’d not become sticker-sticking, shirt-buying idiots like this Forza FC lot.

  It made Danny angry. And the more angry it got him, the better he felt.

  He ran through the park, beside the lake, up the slope and past the bandstand where he saw a couple sitting together in the dark.

  After the park, Danny slowed to a walk. He didn’t want to arrive at the party with a pink face and sweating. But a part of him wished he could have carried on running up into the hills on the edge of the city.

  The party sounded quiet when Danny arrived.

  The front door was wide open. The house was big and built of dark stone. Danny noticed the two houses on each side had Forza stickers or flags in the windows. Cal’s house didn’t. That was a relief, at least.

  As Danny edged inside he heard a boy’s voice complaining that Cal didn’t have MTV. ‘What are we supposed to watch?’

  It was a voice that was familiar. Too familiar.

  ‘We don’t have Sky,’ Cal said.

  ‘What? Everyone has Sky!’

  Danny heard a laugh. A girl’s. Familiar again.

  ‘We don’t,’ Cal repeated.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘There’s a music system. That’ll have to do.’ Cal was now sounding irritated.

  Danny chose this moment to walk into the room.

  And there they were.

  Cal, the host.

  Charlotte, with her friends Molly and Beth.

  And Theo Gibbs, with another boy who Danny didn’t recognize.

  The room was lit by three lamps. There were drinks on the table at the side of the room, and a pile of bags of crisps.

  ‘Danny!’ Theo shouted. ‘How’s it going?’

  Danny said nothing. He didn’t even catch Theo’s eye.

  ‘You’re not still angry about what I said about City, are you?’ Theo asked, then turned to laugh with his friend.

  Danny said hello to Cal. Then he looked at Charlotte in a way that he hoped would say please come and talk to me without drawing attention to himself.

  It worked. Charlotte came straight over. Just as four more people from school walked into the house, distracting the others.

  Theo started retelling their clash at school. But Danny would not rise to it. He would just ignore anything and everything that Theo said. He knew that, deep down, most people would think Theo was an idiot.

  Danny looked into Charlotte’s eyes. He knew his eyes looked sad.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked urgently. ‘What’s happened?’

  This was what Danny liked about Charlotte. She knew when he wanted to talk. She knew when things were serious, without him needing to say a word. She could almost read his mind. It reminded him a bit of how he was with his dad. Except he felt very differently about Charlotte.

  He turned his back to the rest of the room and spoke in a low voice. He felt a tension building in his arms and across his shoulders because of what he had to say. But he wanted to say it, wanted to tell her.

  ‘My mum and dad are splitting up,’ he said. But that was all he could say. This was the first time he’d put it into words. And, for some reason, saying it aloud made him feel like he had been hit by a train.

  However much Danny liked being with Charlotte, he was not happy at the party. He had thought coming out would be better than sitting in his room. But it wasn’t. Too many people were irritating him. Theo. A couple of lads who were drinking cider. Everyone.

  Danny just stood there, in a circle with Charlotte and her friends, listening to other people talking, but saying nothing. He made the odd facial gesture: a look of shock when someone said something shocking, a smile when someone said something funny. But he was not moved by anything.

  And he had this pain inside his stomach. Or was it in his head? He wasn’t sure. But it felt bad. And he knew he had to get out of there.

  He put his hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. She looked up at him.

  ‘I’m off,’ he said.

  ‘OK,’ she nodded. ‘I’ll come.’

  But Danny shook his head. ‘I’m best going on my own. I feel … I just want to go home.’

  He saw Charlotte try to smile, but she looked worried.

  ‘See you,’ he said, taking his hand off her shoulder. Then he walked out into the night.

  SATURDAY

  GOING AWAY
>
  Danny woke at six thirty the next morning.

  No one else was awake.

  It took him seconds to make up his mind.

  There was no way he could face today. Everyone would be at home. And probably wanting to talk about things. Talk, talk, talk! He didn’t want to talk. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

  His mind drifted to City FC. They were playing away today. In London, against Tottenham. He wished they were at home.

  Home games meant being nervous all day, gathering with thousands of others, singing, shouting, the day consumed by football.

  If only he was allowed to go to away games …

  The next thought took Danny completely by surprise.

  He would go.

  That was it.

  His parents weren’t allowed to split up, but they were. So why couldn’t he go to an away match?

  Immediately his body was fizzing with excitement.

  Now he had to get out of the house as quickly as possible. Before anyone else woke up.

  Danny threw on some clothes, including his City FC top under a hoody. Then he grabbed the City piggy bank that he used to save up for his season ticket. He had £115 in there. He took the lot. He’d worry about next season next season.

  Downstairs, he decided to go without breakfast. He didn’t want to risk waking anyone by clinking cutlery and crockery. He could get something in town.

  He left a note on the telephone table. Gone to Charlotte’s for the day. I’m OK. See you tonight. Danny.

  All he needed now was the house keys. They were usually in the front room somewhere.

  Danny was already searching about in the dark before he realized someone else was in the room with him. He stopped and backed up to the door. As his eyes adjusted, he saw who it was.

  Dad.

  Sleeping on the sofa.

  Danny felt a great lunge in his stomach. And his eyes filled with tears. It was the sight of his dad alone, sleeping on the sofa, like some husband from EastEnders who had been kicked out of his wife’s bed. He thought of his mum upstairs, alone as well.

  It struck him hard. Every night, since he’d been born, his mum and dad had slept next to each other in the big bed. He’d slept in there with them when he was very little, if he was scared or ill. But now this …

  And it seemed so pointless. So stupid.

  Part of him felt like waking them both up and shouting at them. They were idiots.

  So, to contain his feelings, he quickly found the keys, left the room, let himself out of the front door and walked, head down, to the end of the street, turning left towards the bus stops into town.

  The city centre was quiet. Not many cars. Mostly buses filled with people in shop uniforms going to work. And one guy with a large blue bag – marked igoal – slung over his shoulder.

  But there were several groups of men.

  All in dark clothes. All clutching plastic bags full of cans or bottles.

  Danny stood for a while in City Square watching them.

  One group of younger men were shouting and laughing. After a while a large van pulled up, the door slid open and they all piled in. More shouting. More laughing. Then the slam of the sliding door, the revving of the engine and the silence after it had gone.

  Danny saw two older men heading into the station. They had City shirts on, so he followed them. At the ticket office they asked for day returns with a London Underground travelcard. Danny copied them when it was his turn. Then he followed them to buy a newspaper in WHSmith.

  The station was filled with the murmur of mostly male voices. It felt a bit like a church before a service. There were a lot of people travelling to see football. But not just City fans. There was a couple in Leeds United tops and another man wearing a Celtic scarf. Everyone seemed to be going to a match.

  And Danny was one of them. A travelling fan. It felt good. And he knew he would remember this day for the rest of his life.

  He followed the men through the barriers to platform eight and read the screen: 08:05 to London. The train was one of those long dark-coloured ones that he’d seen sometimes from his mum’s car as they went speeding through the countryside.

  Danny climbed on to the train and sat in a carriage near the two men in City shirts he’d been following. A minute later four other men got on. All were clearly City fans. In fact Danny was pretty sure he’d seen them at the football before. One of them winked at him, as he walked by.

  Then the doors closed and the train eased away from the platform.

  Danny thrilled with excitement again.

  He’d got up early and come into town.

  He’d bought his ticket.

  He’d gone to the platform.

  He was on a train with some other City fans.

  And now the train was moving out of the station.

  This was it. No turning back.

  Danny was, for the first time, going to watch City away on his own.

  UNDERGROUND

  Danny knew he was in London when the train started to slow down and he saw Arsenal’s Emirates stadium through the windows on the left. It was an amazing building, like a massive spaceship. There were banners all around it, featuring great players from Arsenal’s past. Danny took a photo of it with his iPhone, a recent birthday present. He wondered if Spurs’ ground would look as impressive.

  He noticed that the group of four men he was planning to follow were getting ready. He tried to avoid being seen by them. He didn’t want them to know he was following them, but he understood that the easiest way of getting to the Spurs stadium was to stay close to them.

  The train passed through a couple of dark tunnels, then into King’s Cross station.

  When it stopped, Danny’s heart started thudding. He could feel the fast pulse in his throat as he followed the men off the train.

  This was a bit like the detective work he had done before. Tracking people without being seen. He had spied on England players and dangerous burglars this way. He figured that following a group of middle-aged football fans wouldn’t be so hard compared to that.

  Except it was. Really hard. The station was packed with thousands of people who all seemed to have lost their manners. People shoved into Danny and he found it hard to keep up with the men. If he lost them, he’d be in trouble.

  But each time he thought they had disappeared, the men suddenly appeared nearby. Like they were waiting for someone they’d lost. And once they were out of the station, there were fewer people around, so it was easier to track them.

  The men headed down a staircase, marked Underground. Danny had been on the London Underground before, with his mum and dad. He understood how it worked. So he let the men stand away from him on the platform, knowing he’d be able to pick them up again once they arrived at what he thought was the right tube station: Seven Sisters.

  The name made him smile. Seven sisters! He had trouble coping with one.

  He looked at his watch. 11:30.

  And, for the first time since he’d left the house that morning, his mind went back there.

  Mum and Dad.

  Emily.

  He knew they wouldn’t be worried about him. He was independent. He regularly went off for the day. And they would have called or texted him if they had been worried.

  Danny checked his iPhone to see if he’d missed a message. He hadn’t.

  He wondered what it would be like at home.

  Emily would have gone out with her friends. Shopping.

  He thought back to his dad sleeping on the sofa. Maybe he would be there still, probably listening to Radio 5. And he thought of his mum. At her laptop, working. Always working. He wondered which one of them would feel the loneliest.

  The noise of chanting broke into his thoughts.

  City till I die

  I’ll be City till I die

  I know I a
m

  I’m sure I am

  I’m City till I die.

  The train had stopped, the doors were open and hundreds of men were getting off. City fans, their deep voices filling the narrow tunnels and staircases that led up to the surface. Danny noticed other people standing aside, nervously letting them pass. Families. Couples. Old people.

  But there was no hint of trouble. The City fans were behaving well, one even helping a woman carry her push-chair up a flight of stairs.

  Amid this mass of City fans, Danny felt good. All his worries about his mum and dad seemed to melt away when he was in the crowd, chanting and laughing. Even though he was on his own, he did not feel like he was alone. Now he had taken his hoody off, other City fans turned and talked to him. Asking if he’d heard the team news. Making jokes about London being busy.

  And Danny felt free.

  Now all he needed was a ticket to the match.

  He walked up a long wide road from the tube station, City and Spurs fans intermingling. Lots of shouting and laughing. The fans of two teams talking without a hint of trouble.

  And outside the stadium, it was equally amazing. Strong smells of hot dogs and fried onions. People stopping to buy flags and badges and T-shirts.

  Danny spotted one man, selling something. Shiftily looking around him every few seconds.

  A ticket tout. Danny had no doubt.

  He stood nearby and listened.

  ‘Main stand, forty quid. City stand, fifty.’

  Danny frowned. Fifty pounds? He’d already spent thirty on the train. But he knew he’d be lucky to get one cheaper. It was an adult ticket. The tout would not be offering children’s discounts.

  He walked up to the man.

  ‘Can I have one in the City end, please?’

  The tout grinned. He had massive arms and a heavy stubble.

  ‘Sixty quid, son.’

  ‘You just said fifty,’ Danny said, stepping backwards.

  The man laughed. ‘OK. Fifty quid.’