Eventually, as a cold trickle of water found its way underneath her scarf and down the back of her neck, Jan couldn’t contain her frustration anymore, ‘How much longer have we got to stand here freezing to death watching this ………….?’

‘Until the end of the match ….. c’mon, that’s what we agreed.’

Mo had to admit it was dire. The rain, driven by a vicious easterly wind had thinned spectators to them and three mums. The match was a maelstrom of wet, muddy figures running around hacking at a slippery ball. The score was nil nil and was destined to remain so until the end.

For Jan and Mo their ordeal continued after the final score as they waited for their friends to emerge from the changing room. Even the mums had gone home. At last they came out, three lads together, J, Eb …… and Davey.

‘That was a tough game,’ ventured Mo.

J grinned, ‘Thanks for watching until the end.’

Jan managed a smile, ‘Can we go to the cafe, we’re freezing?’

Eb looked doubtful, frantically searching his pockets, but Davey was already moving away, looking embarrassed and mumbling something about ‘being needed at home.’

Mo, seeing her big plan collapsing before her, panicked. ‘Please come ……. I’m paying  …… my birthday treat.’

Jan sighed, she knew when Mo’s birthday was. Eb grinned, relieved. Davey looked doubtful but stopped moving away.

— x —

Across town Bill Chadwick was sitting in his scullery, acknowledging to himself that on a day like this being banned from the touchline had its compensations. Nevertheless he knew Davey was enjoying the football and ….. remarkably, seemed to be making friends with those boys. He wished he was there to support him ……. and them!

There was a knock on the front door. Bill raised his eyes and sighed – who knocked on front doors round here?

‘Round the back!’ he shouted down the hallway and moved to open the back door.

He stepped into the yard just as Clever Dick turned the corner out of the passageway. They both stopped and regarded each other, it has to be said, less than enthusiastically. Both remembered the last time they had stood face to face.

Bill, on his home ground, was first to break the silence, ‘What d’yer want?’

Mr. Brown swallowed, took a breath and then blurted out ‘Come to apologise.’

‘Apologise? ……’

‘Yes , er, um, sorry.’

‘Sorry? For making me look a fool? For laughing at me? For accusing my son of dirty, dangerous play?’

‘Oh, well ….. yes ….. for all of that as well of course ….’

‘As well as what?’ Bill was on a bit of a roll and wasn’t appreciating this middle-class prat coming round to his to try and make up.

‘Well …… you know …. for you getting the sack.’

Bill felt his anger dissolve into that familiar feeling of hopelessness and as he did he became aware that a couple of neighbours had come out into the yard, drawn by Bill’s raised voice.

‘You OK Bill?’ a large man asked, ‘need any help?’

Bill shook his head, ‘No I’m fine thanks Bert’, then to Clever Dick, ‘You’d best come in.’

— x —

Once in the café Mo organized the drinks (five bottles of coke with straws – which were immediately discarded) whilst the others sat at a large table in the window. As she sat down a large, bulky looking man in an expensive coat came in with a lad about their age.

‘Well played Johnny’ said Eb.

‘Well we got a point  …. and  against Hockley,’ was the smiling reply.

‘Our new goalie,’ explained J in response to questioning looks from Jan and Mo.

‘Oh yes, he looks different now he’s not covered in mud.’

Inevitably another discussion about the match ensued, which Jan and Mo endured the best they could. Then came a pause and a silence. They all attended to the last drops of their coke. Then, as Mo knew he would, J cleared his throat and had a stab at the elephant.

‘Look Davey we’re really sorry about what’s happened to your D ….’

Davey was on his feet.

Eb responded automatically, he sensed danger and his default was to defend J. He found himself staring across the table at Davey as though in a stand-off.

‘Sit down!’ the order, from Jan, brooked no argument. ‘We were just messing around …… no idea of what would happen.’

‘And we are sorry for what’s happened, that’s all,’ interjected Mo.

Davey sat down, sighed and shook his head, ‘I know you didn’t mean any of this to happen ……….’ He tailed off before murmuring ‘It’s just my stupid Dad, he’s made such a fool of himself and now he can’t get another job.’

‘He wasn’t stupid Davey,’ said J, ‘he was just trying to do his job …… and, the awful thing is we were just messing around.’

‘It’s awful,’ said Mo.

‘It’s awful your dad was sacked Davey, it wasn’t his fault.’

‘From what I’ve heard,’ ventured Eb, missing completely J’s look of warning, ‘That Mason who sacked your Dad is the one to blame, he had no right.’

‘Terrible thing to do, that Mason should be ashamed of himself’

‘Mason’s no good, he’s a scoundrel.’

‘Who are you talking about!’ The man in the expensive looking coat was towering over them, his face red with anger, ‘I’m Mr. Mason to you,’ he paused, then added as though to leave no doubt about his identity, ‘Mr. Cyril Mason.’ Then he stopped, ‘Hey you’re the gang that moved the bowser across the site – and back under the cover of darkness, aren’t you?’ he didn’t wait for a response, ‘What a laugh.’

Guilt is a terrible thing, it disempowers, whereas blaming someone else can feel powerful and even righteous. They were all on their feet, yelling at Mr. Cyril Mason.

Jan told him they’d done no harm and everything had been put back in its original place and he was a horrible monster to sack Davey’s dad.

J repeated that they hadn’t realized the seriousness of what they had done and didn’t think it was funny.

Mo reiterated that it wasn’t Davey’s dad’s fault and that he, Mr. Cyril Mason, was a mean and nasty man.

Eb’s own rather ramshackle tirade was coming to an end when he saw, from the corner of his eye, Johnny stand up from the table he’d been sharing with his dad. He therefore missed the all-important clues that the tumult had come to an abrupt end and his last accusation, voiced at full throttle blasted out into a suddenly silent café.

‘And you got Mr. Brown drunk!’

Mr. Cyril Mason blinked, but before he could gather his thoughts after such an onslaught Davey spoke.

‘I was not part of this gang ….. then ….. so I didn’t move your blasted bowser – but you did sack my Dad.’

Outrage was building up inside Mr. Cyril Mason. He opened his mouth to respond, he didn’t really know what he was going to say, but he was going to damn well say it anyway!

‘Dad!’

He was saved from himself by a shout of exasperation from behind.

‘Leave it, it’s not worth it!’

He turned to see his son at the door.

‘C’mon … let’s go.’

As the door shut behind the pair the group sat back down, stunned by the turn of events.

‘I think it’s time for you to leave,’ a rather harassed waitress suggested and they duly did so, wandering along the street still in silence. J and Davey worrying about how it was going to be with Johnny their new goalie and Eb trying to work out how his loose mouth had got them all into trouble again.

Eventually Jan had to ask the question, ‘What’s that about your dad getting drunk J.’

J laughed and then remembered how bad the atmosphere was at home and sighed.

‘He went to the golf club dinner to try and talk to that …… that Mason chap.’

‘Why’d he do that?’ Davey was puzzled.

‘To explain that it wasn’t your dad’s fault and persuade him to give him his job back.’

‘I wouldn’t want to work for him!’

‘Never mind that, what happened?’

‘Dad came home in a taxi. The taxi driver had to help him out of the cab and into the house. He couldn’t get up the stairs …. so he slept on the living room floor.’

— x —

‘The thing is Dick,’ Bill paused whilst putting a second pot of tea on the table.

‘Richard …. sorry, I’m not keen on Dick – they used to call me clever at school.’

Bill nodded, trying to hide a grin, ‘The thing is Rich, there will be some good jobs going on that huge development down by the old market …. good company too. But I’ll need a reference and I can’t see Mason being too cooperative about that.’

‘Well you’ll have to go and ask him – it’s possible he’s feeling bad about the way he sacked you, he knows he took unfair advantage of the situation.’

‘Eh?’

Richard told an increasingly incredulous looking Bill about his failed attempt to persuade Mason to take him back on.

‘I wouldn’t work for him again if you paid me,’ he interjected, but Richard continued.

‘He said that he needed to let you go because he couldn’t afford to keep a general foreman on and used the bowser incident as the excuse.’

‘Bastard!’

‘He thought the whole thing funny ……. which I’m ashamed to say so had I until I heard about the consequences. He was making you redundant but avoiding paying what you were due.’

‘You didn’t persuade him then?’

‘Er ….. no ….. things got a little out of hand after that – but it looks like a clear case of unfair dismissal to me.’

‘That’s what the Union is saying, but that will take ages, tribunal and all that.’

Richard sighed, ‘Well perhaps you could suggest to him that you would drop any claim for unfair dismissal ….’