Mr. Cyril Mason sighed, pushing the folio of accounts that he had been struggling to comprehend, across his desk and away, temporarily, from him. How had that investment in the Longley estate gone so wrong? How was he going to explain to Louise that profits were going to be down again this year? Times were tough for the building industry … but even so. He then moved to his default position – himself. Should he withdraw the order he had put in for that MG C sports car? He knew that he could still afford it, but Louise would be scathing.

Regrouping his thoughts, he took some comfort in the fact that he would not have to discuss the situation with Louise until their formal review meeting in a couple of weeks time – time he would use to fashion the best explanation he could – and one which would absolve him of much responsibility. Then he smiled – he wasn’t going to have to see Louise at all until then and look at the fuss she had made about that incident in the café with Johnny … ridiculous!

His phone buzzed. That would be from the front office, managing incoming calls, just as he liked it. His hand had only just begun to move towards the receiver when the door of his office burst open and in marched Louise and Johnny.

‘What?!’

‘Cyril!’ Louise advanced to the end of the huge desk and glowered down at her seated husband (separated). Suddenly the power dynamics of the desk were reversed. Cyril felt pinned back in his chair.’

‘I hear that you have refused to give Bill Chadwick a reference ….. a reference that he needs to get another job.’

Cyril groaned, was this never going to go away? ‘How can I give him a reference when I sacked him for not doing his job?…… he let children play on a dangerous building site!’

‘Because you told him to concentrate on other things!’

‘Well that’s what he says, let’s see whose side an employment tribunal takes eh?’

‘You told J’s dad that you sacked him to reduce costs!’ Johnny had moved to stand next to his mother.

‘That lawyer wallah? He’ll not make a credible witness, he was so pissed at the end of the golf club dinner I had to put him in a taxi myself , and …….’ he paused to give full weight to the injustice of it all, ‘I paid his fare!’

‘Cyril that will be your third employment tribunal in 18 months. You are shredding the company’s reputation as a good employer and’ she added, ‘my family’s good name – it’ll be all over the local papers again.’

‘You’ve got to be tough in this business Louise – your dad knew that.’

‘He always maintained good relationships with the workforce Cyril however difficult times were for the industry. I see you have lost Jean from the front office and now Rachael just told me she is looking elsewhere – and she didn’t need to tell me why.’

‘I run the business Louise and I run it my way.’

‘Maybe not much longer Cyril, have you seen those preliminary accounts yet? Yes dad knew you had to be tough and he would be tough with you! As the majority shareholder I have a responsibility to the company ….. and it’s employees!’

Cyril stared at her, his mind blank as he sought to find a way to regain some composure, some degree of control over the situation.

‘I am not writing a reference for Bill Chadwick,’ he blurted out, ‘he has been in this office accusing me of shafting him, threatening me with the union and his son and his friends have publicly called me a scoundrel, a monster, a mean and nasty man.’ Through asserting himself Cyril found that he was losing a different type of control, but he didn’t care, he was sick and tired of this nonsense and now his job was threatened. ‘What do you take me for? A fucking ….’

‘Cyril!!!!’

The tirade came to an abrupt halt.

‘You don’t have to write a reference, we’ve prepared one for you to sign.’ Louise produced a page from her briefcase and handed it to him.

‘On headed note paper then.’ He commented bitterly. He made as though to begin considering the contents.

‘Don’t read it Cyril’, barked Louise, ‘just sign it …. that’ll be easier for everyone.’

Beaten, Cyril grabbed a pen and signed – anything to get these two out of his office.

‘You will amend the records to indicate that Bill was made redundant and make the appropriate payment to him.’

Cyril blew out his cheeks, but the fight had gone out of him.

‘And you will make a suitable good will payment in the light of the distress and anxiety your appalling behaviour has caused to Mrs. Chadwick.’

‘Oh I say …..’

‘Just do it Cyril!’

Louise turned and walked to the still open office door, suddenly aware that the ‘conversation’ conducted as it had been at high volume between her and her husband (separated) would have been heard by everyone in the front office. She smiled to herself before turning around to engage once more.

‘We need to talk about Johnny’s schooling, he wants to leave Rochester College and I can’t say I blame him. All that money and he can’t even get a game of football!’

— x —

A good number of months later, on a warm Spring Saturday, Town FC under 12s had their last match of the season – away to Hockley, the return fixture to that of that first match, played under very different conditions. Town had done OK over the season – they had avoided relegation and Coach said that they were looking good for next year. Hockley, on the other hand could secure a second place promotion to the next league up – but they had to win – and were confident they would do so.

The travelling support had been swelled by a particular interest in four players: a goalie, a defender, a midfielder and a forward and now turned up mob handed to every game. The four mums were always joined by two dads and, on this occasion by friends of the players.

The match was not an easy watch for the Town supporters. Hockley were clearly a much better team and sought to press home their home advantage in front of an excited and expectant home crowd largely made up of parents. But Town held firm, Eb more often pushed back just outside his own penalty area, Davey made tackle after tackle and Johnny threw himself around his goal making save after save. J, largely left stranded on the halfway line, spent much of his time chatting to one of the Hockley central defenders who he knew from playing cricket.

As the second half unfolded with still no score the home crowd became anxious, resorting to loud motivational shouts, advice and groans when another scoring opportunity went begging. This seemed to be directly transmitted to the Hockley players who began to lose their composure and team shape, pushing more players up field and taking more risks. In the final few minutes Hockley were awarded another corner and the noise from the home crowd rose with expectation and pressure. Their tall defenders came up for the corner, leaving J to chat with one of their midfielders who was deputed to mark him.

Despite all their height in the box Hockley took a short corner. Eb was swiftly on to the recipient of the ball but was easily beaten by a clever jink and the Hockley player was ‘through on goal’. Across flew Davey and with an outstretched boot just managed to divert the ball from being struck hard into the net. The Hockley player tripped over Davey’s leg and went flying…………..

Uproar!

All the Hockley players and all the home crowd were shouting ‘PENALTY!’ although a small number of voices from the travelling support were shouting ‘GREAT TACKLE.’

The referee, who later said in his match report that the hour after the match was one of the worst experiences he had endured, shook his head and waved play on ‘He got the ball …. He got the ball.’

More uproar!

The home crowd hurled abuse at the Referee and the Hockley players gathered around him to share their disbelief and question his competence in all matters refereeing.

Meanwhile Eb, in receipt of the ball courtesy of Davey’s tackle looked up to see that J’s marker had taken a few involuntary paces up field, away from J, who had stuck on the halfway line by instinct – to remain on side. You couldn’t make the rest up. Eb belted the ball up and over the luckless Hockley player and over J, who turned and ran on to it. A couple of touches and he was approaching the opposition penalty area. The Hockley goalie, who had not had one touch of the ball the whole match, panicked and rushed out to try and smother any shot from J – who calmly lifted the ball over the approaching figure …… and into the net.

The final whistle blew.

Much, much more uproar.

— x —

‘Drinks and buns on me’ shouted a very happy Bill Chadwick as he led the group of three players and their supporters into a local café. ‘Hey, where’s Johhny?’

‘He’ll be along in a minute,’ answered Louise, ‘he’s just talking to someone.’

They looked back across to the pitch where Johnny was in conversation with a man who had stood silently behind his goal for the whole match. Then Johnny gave the man a hug and ran back to the watching group.

‘Alright Johhny?’

‘Couldn’t be better! Moving schools after the summer.’

Once inside the café and replete with coke and buns the conversation moved on from the inevitable analysis of the match and the reprise of the best moments with a statement by Sheila.

‘Well done lads, that was a great result and you’ve got a great friendship – but I want to talk about something else – for next season. It seems to us, ‘she indicated the group of three other mums, ‘that football shouldn’t be just for the boys , it should be for girls too.’

Everyone went silent, apart from Jan and Mo, who couldn’t help a joint exclamatory, ‘Yes!’

‘We’ve been talking to some mums from other local teams and we want to set up a series of friendlies for next season.’

‘How will that work?’ Richard seemed confused, ‘who will coach them and ….’

‘Coach has agreed to run some sessions over the Summer for any girls who are interested and we will pick up what we can.’

‘We could help a bit with that …. if you wanted …..’  J suddenly wondered whether that was the right thing or not.

Louise then chipped in, ‘Cyril will provide kit and cover any other expenses.’

‘Wow,’ said Bill, ‘what can me and Dick do?’

Ethel grinned, ‘You two can do the teas.’