Saturday morning dawned with a northerly wind hissing over Cheadle's main factory. I pulled into the yard and clocked in. Joe Hillian was singeing his pants against the forge's furnace door. "Mornin', Al," he grunted. "it's a cold 'un today, lad." I gave him a quick smile and hurried through the sliding door to the machine shop. Wally Mullins and Terry Bonsall had spent Friday evening at the Royal in Shefton and Wally was determined to tell me about every minute of what had happened.

     Of course he had to start with the guessing game. "Guess what, Al."

     I pulled on my overalls. "I'm too tired to guess, Wal, just tell me what it is."

     His expression was somewhere between wonderment and fright. "I've got myself a bird."

     "A bird? What sort of bird? A raven, a thrush, a sparrow, or...?"

     He pushed my shoulder. "Don't get funny. She's a real bird. That Scottish bird we met at the Royal. You know, the one with feathers in her hat."

     Terry Bonsall came over from his lathe, grinning. "Have you heard about Wally, Al? He's got himself that old turkey at the Royal. Yeah, he's fixed up a date with her. Christ - she's fifty if she's a day! She's invited him to her shack on a Scottish Isle for the New Year.."

     The starting buzzer sounded.

     Terry and Wally went away - arguing.


The weather was picking up at lunchtime as I drove home. Laura saw me pull up and
held Edwina at the window to show her I was home. I'd cleaned myself in the factory wash room but I had another scrub in the kitchen sink while Edwina swung on my trousers right leg saying "Daddy, Daddy - I love you."

     Laura was casually dressed for the afternoon and she looked eye-catching in a blue and grey patterned dress with half sleeves, which she did not wear often. Why
 was she wearing it now?

     "For no particular reason," she said. "Do you like it?"

     I dried my hands and face. "Love it, and I love who's wearing it."

     "Yeah, tell me another old story. By the way, I bought corned beef this morning. Shall I make you sandwiches?"

     "That will be fine. I'm sure I'll score bags of goals on corned beef sarnies."


     
Uncertain weather conditions had thinned the traffic on the East Coast Road. I
glanced in my rear view mirror. Two motorcycles each with sidecar were catching me.
Fred Binks closed right up and piped his horn. I moved over to let him pass. Then Tony Ross drew level, complete with huge dark goggles, the wind pulling at his ex-army shirt. Rita was riding pillion, clutching him tightly round the waist. He accelerated
to tag along with Fred. Rita, green hair flying in the wind, smirked at me, held up a hand behind her back and gave me a v-sign. The next road sign showed Leskam two miles ahead and Chilton Magna off to the left, also two miles distant.

     I turned off for Chilton Magna. It was one of the oldest village settlements in the area and had the unenviable record of having lost most inhabitants to the Black Death in the mid thirteen hundreds. Gradually, the village recovered and became famous manufacturing lace and other textiles. I followed Fred and Tony along a winding, second-class B road that would scarcely allow oncoming vehicles to pass. We made High Street without problems and in front of us, hogging our view, stood the
Nag's Head, a massive, bizarre hotel that would have looked at home in a Disney
picture. The hotel sported an extensive car park where several of our players, along
with Pop Watson, were standing beside an old Ford van.

     Fred and Tony pulled in beside the van. I parked next to them. Rita stared at me,
 her hair ruffled from the ride. She nodded to a Mercedes car parking near the hotel
entrance

      "You've got a supporter," she said.

     Terry pulled off his goggles. "Hello, mate," he said, pointing to his motor cycle. "What do you think to the old bike then?"

     "Not bad," I said.

     Mickey came up, unable to keep his mouth shut. "Your fancy bird's waiting. Saw you together at the Bull on Thursday." He gave me a nudge. "How do you pick 'em, Al? She's absolutely gorgeous."

     It was a strange feeling, being complimented on having a beautiful girlfriend, yet knowing I shouldn't be anywhere near her. "She's a friend of the family," I said.

     Mickey grinned. "Yeah, I believe you, but does Laura know about her?"

     Natalie, sitting behind the wheel, wound down her window to half way and beckoned me. I went to her. She told me to get in beside her. The news was what I did not wish to hear. Her brother John had laid it on the line to - stop seeing me or there would be trouble. I had no time for anything else for Pop Dawson called for us to get changed for the match. "See you after the match, Natalie," I said, getting out.

     She smiled. "Okay, I'll park close to the fence so I can watch."

     I closed the Mercedes door. A black Ford saloon came into the park and stopped close to the hotel entrance. A man in a grey raincoat got out. It was a similar coat to mine. I looked closer at him and saw the glint of pince-nez. He was the man I had seen at the Bull. He glanced sideways at me then entered the hotel. A flicker of apprehension fluttered down my spine.


Chilton Magna turned out in an all blue strip. Their captain won the toss and decided to kick off. I thought this unusual for teams generally decided upon which end to defend. We soon found out the reason for their choice: their centre-forward rolled the ball to his inside-right, he flicked it sideways to his wing half and he fired a tremendous shot that went over our goalkeeper and struck our crossbar. The Magna overran us for the next ten minutes. A thunderous shot from Magna's outside right cannoned against our post and deflected to Fred Binks. He chipped a pass to Tony who used his blinding speed to force a corner. Mickey West came up in support. Tony put over the corner kick and Mickey headed in to give us an undeserved lead. After that, play was even. I had several incidents with their centre-half, Phiz Norris, and caught him late as he cleared the ball downfield.

     The referee blew for half time. I was heading toward Pop Dawson for our half-time team talk when Phizz Norris cut me off.

    "Hey," he said, fists ready for trouble. "Pack in the tough stuff, pal. You chopped me after the ball had gone." He was several inches shorter than I am, and maybe fifteen years older but he had a mineworker's physique.

     "Sorry if I caught you," I said. "It wasn't deliberate."

     "Well I say it was deliberate, see." I moved to walk round him. He grabbed my arm. "Don't get clever with me, Dibley. I'm giving you fair warning. Mess around with me and I'll kick your arse."

     "Oh, piss off," I said.

     "Okay." His grip tightened. "Put it this way, if I don't get you during the match, I'll sort you out later." I tried to pull away from him. His eyes glittered. "Think you're tough, huh?"

     The referee approached us with Head Master attitute all over him. "Break it up,"
he said. "Save your arguements until I have left Chilton. Do you both understand?"

     I said yes. Norris stormed off to join his own team.

     "What's Norris on about?" Mickey West asked me.

     "It was nothing. He reckoned I'd kicked him after the ball had gone."
  
     "Leave him to me," Mickey growled. "It's about time my boot and his head had a connection."

     A chill breeze hummed through overhead electric wires. I rubbed my hands together. It was then I noticed the man with the pince-nez. He was standing behind the goal nearest the hotel. I touched Mickey's arm. "Hey," I said. "See that feller in the grey raincoat standing behind the goal?"

     Mickey squinted. "Yeah, I see him."

     "He was at the Bull on Thursday night."

     "That's right," said Mickey. "We think he's a Football League scout."

     "What gives you that idea?"

     Mickey shrugged. "Well, why shouldn't he be a scout?"

     I could think of no suitable answer and listened while Pop told us how to handle the opposition. "Use Tony's speed down the wing," he said, "and run their fat left back ragged. He'll crack - and we'll win for sure."

     Playing conditions were still good and the second half started similar to the first with Chilton pushing us back. The break came for us precisely as Pop said it would. A heavy tackle to win the ball by Mickey, a scything pass inside the left back and Tony sped in to score. The crowd roared for Chilton to press forward. They did so but Tony scored again to give us a 3-0 win.


A dark blue dusk had fallen when I joined Natalie in the Mercedes. "We could stay
here at the hotel for a meal," I said. "Then we won't be wondering where to go in Shefton."

     She thought that a good idea and we retired to the bar for a quiet drink. Her face had more colour now. The Nag's Head menu was impressive and we had a three-course meal. I knew I couldn't stay with her much longer and asked if she wanted to see me on Sunday. "I need a day or two to sort things out with John," she said."I might leave Shefton and I want you to come with me." I would have argued but something told me not to. I arranged to phone her on Tuesday night, paid the bill, and watched her pull away in the Merc.


I reached home a few minutes before eight, surprised to see no lights on in the house. I went in through the kitchen and into the lounge. A postcard was leaning against the teapot saying I should telephone Laura at her mother's as soon as possible.

     As soon as possible, eh? I fixed myself a mug of Camp coffee and switched on the radio for a bit of background music. The coal fire was settling low. I dropped a couple of lumps into its heart and watched it pick up with flames licking at the black gold....it was well past eight-thirty when I rang Mum's number.

     Laura answered, her voice tense. "Hello, it that you, Alan?"

     "Yeah. Who else can it be?"

     "Wait there," she said. "I'll be round in a couple of minutes." And before I could answer, she had hung up. My legs were tired from the match and I had gone upstairs to get changed when Laura came in by the front door. It slammed, shaking the
house. "Where are you?" she called out.

     "Upstairs," I said. I went to the stair head and gazed down at her.

     "Get down here," she said.

     "Yeah, okay." I put on a roll-neck jersey and a pair of black trousers and trotted downstairs. The moment I saw her face I knew something was drastically wrong. Surely nothing had happened to Edwina. "Where's Edwina?" I said. "Is she okay?"

     Laura moved into the lounge. I followed her. "Edwina is perfectly okay. She's staying with Mother." Laura had not sat down, nor removed her top coat. "Where have you been?"

     I finished the coffee I had left in my mug. "You know where I've been - playing football at Chilton Magna. The car was acting up again. That's why I'm late."

     She sat on the edge of the couch. "The car has not been acting up, Alan, but you have. Who have you been with?"

     "With the lads, of course."

     "So you've not been with a girl?"

     "No." I tried a laugh but I did not recognise it as one of mine. "Certainly not with a girl. Unless you call green-haired Rita Savanna a girl."

     "So you haven't been with a new girlfriend or anything like that?"

     I put on a chagrined look. "Of course I haven't."

     Laura's face had a metallic look. Her voice rose to twice its normal volume.

     "You're a bloody liar, Alan. I had a telephone call at five o'clock today. Guess who it was from......"