by Chris Harris
The Dean and Piotr revolution continued down at the south coast. The Denham fans nearly outnumbered the Littlehampton supporters, although a lot of them were groundhoppers anxious to see what the fuss was all about.
The board were all there together. Big Mal and Economical Tony had driven them down. The others all had a few drinks. There should have been a party atmosphere, but it quickly emerged that Michael Hall and Lucy Lotwell were at odds. Michael looked sheepish and embarrassed, and Lucy looked furious.
Catherine inquired as to how and why she seemed unhappy. Lucy just said, “It’ll wait. I’m texting my stepmother later to find out what’s been going on.”
“What do you mean, is she okay?”
“Let’s just say, she’s fine, but might not be when I’ve finished with her.”
She knew she shouldn’t relate this to Greg. It was a personal conversation, but because they’d always gossiped about the will they won’t they relationship between Michael and Lucy, it didn’t seem inappropriate. They returned to Denham with three points after another further improvement and gelling of the team.
Doing their podcast after the game, The Piotr, as he was beginning to be called by the fans, and Dean discussed the timescales for when they thought the team might fully gel, and the general hope it would be by the end of January, in a month’s time, for the quarter-final of the Sussex Senior Cup. With Michael in one car and Lucy in the other, the journey back to Denham was relatively quiet, a post alcohol lull, but there was a slight buzz of excitement about the performance. Lucy continued furtively texting, looking increasingly angry.
The partygoers had all arrived at the clubhouse, and Greg, stepping back to take in the view, decided he would try and keep away from whatever shitstorm was brewing. As the club owner, he decided it would be more appropriate to spend the evening talking to the volunteers and players; he loved this part of running the club. He knew they all looked up to him, and he oddly looked up to them as he relied on them. People helping him build his dream.
Michael was sitting in the corner with a couple of people from the supporter club. Lucy had been sitting at the bar, drinking at a worrying speed. Whilst the party began to get going, the board members sensed a volcano about to erupt as glances from Lucy towards Michael began to turn to furious ones, and they didn’t have to wait long before Lucy walked over and threw her drink all over him.
“That bastard’s only been doing my mother!” she screamed.
Catherine Brown grabbed her, just as she was about to launch herself at him. “Michael, you’d better go and I’ll try and sort this out. Exit Michael Hall from the Denham Phoenix FC clubhouse for the last time. Having just been humiliated, this was a very kind get out of jail card for him, and he left.
They had an unusual rule during their potential courting. Lucy would maintain her friendships whilst they worked out whether they were compatible; every Friday night she would continue to go out with her friends drinking and have a long lie-in on the Saturday morning to nurse her hangover. Unbeknownst to Michael, the previous night she had a cold and stayed in. At eight o’clock on the Saturday morning, she had driven over to her stepmother’s to drop off Christmas presents. Outside was Michael’s car. She’d always known Michael got on very well with her stepmother and, in fairness, did often wonder whether he’d be far better off with her. A view he had clearly taken himself. She knocked on the door aggressively. Michael wondered what was going on, but they were just sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of tea.
“Oh, hello, love,” her stepmother said. “Michael’s just got round to chat about things.”
She put the presents down and said, “Yeah, sure. Right. I was born yesterday, was I?”
Thus began a day of texting and teasing the truth out, both Michael and her stepmother in full denial mode. By the time of the game, it was more a case of, “Yeah, well, we do spend some time together, but there’s nothing wrong with that. We’re not in a relationship. There’s not been anything physical.”
By the time of the party, a text from her stepmother came through at 8.06, and the denials of the morning had changed to, “It was just the once,” which was when she launched herself at Michael.
“He can’t be on the board any more,” Lucy said.
Catherine reasoned with her, although she did agree but knew how valuable he was to the club, “Your potential courtship has been going on for months now, and I hate to say it, but by the sounds of it, Michael just got fed up with it and did what so many men do, and chased down the easy option, which sadly, in this case, was the stepmother.”
“Come off it, Catherine. That’s bollocks. Michael and I love each other, and I actually was moving forward into a relationship with him. But he didn’t know that, and my stepmother didn’t know that. So what am I supposed to do or say? At the moment they’re the two closest people to me in my life, and they’ve both just shat on me. All for a shag.”
Dean walked her home, propping her up, as she wept uncontrollably.
“Oh dear, poor lass,” Greg said to Catherine Brown. “She’s going to wake up with a terrible hangover and a personal crisis to deal with.”
By now the party was quite rowdy, and Greg found himself getting very drunk. Whilst he didn’t get very drunk very often, he did enjoy it. But he also knew he wasn’t enjoyable to be with. He went outside with a pint of water and sat down at the corner of the clubhouse.
His heart broke as he saw Piotr and Catherine Brown embracing. Staggering and drunk, he had enough self-preservation within him to know his only option was to walk home. He knew what he saw, but they were both his friends, and through the alcohol haze and experience, he knew the best option was to just walk away. As he got to the road, he could see them both return into the clubhouse.
He also knew on these occasions the last thing he should do was text. Once it’s sent, there’s no coming back from it. He’d sent too many drunken texts in his lifetime and created so many problems. His only option was to sit down with a Scotch and get obliterated.
Waking up the following morning, he knew how Lucy Lotwell would be feeling, and he felt just the same. He was beginning to think his and Catherine’s time had finally come, just to be thwarted by Piotr, a younger, more handsome fellow. But he was also someone who worked for him, was an integral part of his project, and someone he’d always been so kind to. A text came through from Catherine Brown.
“I think Dean and Lucy slept with each other last night. Can you believe it?”
He didn’t reply. Why should she send something like that when she’d just done the dirty on him, in his own mind? It wasn’t like Catherine to simply ignore a defining moment, although she had drunk a lot, something she was not used to; maybe she forgot? Tricky. He wondered if he should call Piotr, but that felt so childish.
Three o’clock that afternoon, just as the gloom of the evening was on the horizon, another text came through from Catherine.
“Are you alright? What are you doing tonight? They’re having a Christmas party in the Red Lion.” Shameless, he thought to himself, and ignored her.
She texted him again. “Are we still on for tomorrow if you’re not going out tonight?”
He was beginning to feel a bit better about it. Maybe it was just a drunken, stolen snog. He began to turn over in his mind whether he could live with that. When a knock came on the door, it was Catherine Brown.
“What’s up with you, Greg? Why aren’t you talking to me you numpty?”
“I can’t believe what you’ve done,” he replied.
“What do you mean?”
“I saw you kissing Piotr last night,” he almost snivelled.
“Oh, what, outside the clubhouse?”
“Yeah. I saw you.”
“Oh crikey no! I was consoling him. He was crying his eyes out because he was missing his family in Ukraine. It’s Christmas time, Greg. Think about it.”
This was the moment where he couldn’t bear it any more. He started to cry. She put her arms around him.
“I love you so much. I know it’s my fault. I’ve got it all wrong. I’ve been a businessman, a driven businessman, all my life. As good as I am at that, I’m bad at relationships. I don’t want you to ever think I would take you for granted. I don’t want you to think I have any expectations; it’s just that I so desperately want you to be with me. I’ve never been able to convey how I feel, and I know I should have done.”
“Hush, Greg. It’s fine,” Catherine said. “I hadn’t had a relationship for over fifteen years when I “I hadn’t had a relationship for over fifteen years when I met Charlie, and I got my fingers burnt. After that, I was never going to rush into anything again. Things with him happened far too quickly. Yes, we both had feelings for each other, but with you it’s been different. I’ve needed to take my time. It’s been your patience, your willingness to wait for me, and having all this time to get to know you and learn that I can trust you, that has made all the difference. And that means that now, if we take things slowly, we can finally take our first steps together.”
Fifteen minutes ago, Greg was in the depths of despair; now, as they passionately embraced each other, he was on Cloud 9.
Catherine’s boys were spending evenings on their own. Greg and Catherine Brown returned to the pub, hand in hand, their first proper kiss behind them, beaming with a sense of relief.
Dean and Lucy sat next to each other, smirking and glaring, unable to keep their eyes off each other. A brace for cupid’s arrow. Catherine said to Greg, “Well, it’s funny how things ended. Twenty-four hours ago I’d never have guessed those two. I’ve never sensed anything there between them whatsoever. Have you?”
Greg walked to the bar, winking at Big Mal, who read the room and had the biggest smile imaginable. “Well, Christmas dinner’s going to be interesting this year, isn’t it?” he said to Greg. Well done me old mucker.”
#Lewes #Denham #Non League Football #Football Story #Sussex
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