‘Well, we are honoured. What's this, three games all season?’
Rob looked at Tony and raised an eyebrow. Although they had been mates for many seasons, there was clearly tension in the air.
‘Coming from someone who used to support Liverpool, that’s a bit of a piss take.’
‘I was 11!’ replied Tony defensively. ‘And I only went ’cos my uncle took me.’
‘Yeah, and when I was 11 I had two seasons in at this club,’ said Rob irritably. ‘So don’t lecture me, smart arse.’
‘What’s going on?’ asked Mick as he appeared with a handful of bottles.
‘Nothing,’ said Tony as he took his bottle of Budweiser. ‘Just winding Rob up.’
‘Can I join in?’
Rob threw his father a withering look which suggested that enough was enough.
‘It’s hardly my bloody fault if w-’ Rob stopped himself instantly. An action which did not go unnoticed.
‘Is that we as in United or City?’ asked Jamie, to the obvious delight of Tony.
‘Oh piss off, the lot of you,’ said Rob, becoming increasingly angry at having his club allegiance called into question. ‘You know the fucking score.’
‘Well we thought we did, but now-’
Rob turned to Tony, enraged.
‘What's that mean?’
‘That geezer on the telly, he said what a lot of people are thinking.’
‘You are fucking joking, right?’
‘Alright lads,’ said Neil irritably. ‘Enough eh? We’re supposed to be mates.’
‘Loyalties,’ continued Tony without taking his eyes off Rob. ‘It's all about loyalties. But I suppose six million quid buys a lot of that, don’t it?’
Rob glared at his accuser. In any other circumstance he would have gone apeshit at what was being inferred, but with Charlie a mere ten feet away, albeit with his full attention being fully applied to yet another female, he daren’t do anything. Besides, as the police had warned him already, if he was caught up in anything which resulted in him ending up in court, he would almost certainly receive a football banning order - and that would mean game over. Not even smacking Tony was worth that.
However, before he could react, Steve leant across and lifted the still fresh bottle of Budweiser from Tony’s hand and passed it back to Rob.
‘Don’t take a drink off the man if you’ve got a problem with him,’ he said to a flabbergasted Tony. ‘That’s out of order.’
Tony grunted and headed for the bar.
‘Fucking bloke’s a knob,’ Steve continued. ‘Just ignore him. Anyway, come on you tossers. We running a sweep on today or what?’
Some hours later, having dropped Mick off at home, sunk a quick cup of tea and collected Charlie’s overnight bag, Rob sat staring through the windscreen of the Bentley at the back of a coach full of Sheffield United fans heading home after their game at Crystal Palace.
Save the bog standard rantings of the armchair fans on TalkSport and the steady tick-tick emanating from Charlie’s headphones, the journey thus far had passed with barely a word being spoken as Rob reflected on his afternoon.
Although he hadn’t said anything, coming in the wake of the events at SoccerAM, Tony’s dig at him had hit home. Hard.
Perhaps they were right and he had lost sight of what he was supposed to be doing. After all, as had been pointed out to him, City were sitting comfortably in mid-table - and although in many ways that suited him, the stark reality was that in many respects, the fans were having quite a decent season. Not least because they spent most of their games giving him shit, which if nothing else, must be quite entertaining for them.
‘You alright old man?’
Rob looked at his son and smiled. A genuine warm smile. He loved having his boy with him, it made him feel complete. And of all the things going on in his life, the fact that it happened just one day out of seven was the toughest. Heartbreaking if truth were told.
‘I’m sound mate. Just thinking about today.’
‘I know, we were shit.’
‘Oi!’ rebuked Rob gently. ‘Don't let your mum hear you say that. The way she is these days she'll have you off to boarding school. She's turned into a right bloody snob.’
‘She at home?’
‘Nah, her mate has dragged her to some charity do or something.’
‘That Vicky bird? She could spend money for England.’
‘At least she’s got it to spend,’ replied Rob, gently easing the car up to the gates and waiting for them to swing open. ‘Mind you, your mum can certainly cane the plastic when she has a mind to. Anyway,’ he continued, patting his son on the knee, ‘with them out we can have a proper lads’ night. We ain't done that for ages.’
‘Domino’s and Xbox it is then,’ said Charlie with a grin, before plugging his earphones back in and returning his attention to his Facebook world.
Rob dropped the controller on the floor and frowned disapprovingly at his son who was dancing manically around the room.
‘You’re shit! AAARRRRGGGHHH!!!’
‘I let you win,’ said Rob matter-of-factly as he took the final slice of pizza and began chomping away.
‘As if. Face it old man, you’re crap.’
‘What did I tell you about your language? Now go and get me another beer, you bleeder.’
‘Can I have one?’
‘As long as you get rid of the empties later. And don’t tell your mum or she’ll skin me.’
Charlie vanished and returned almost instantly with two fresh bottles.
‘United really were crap today,’ said Rob through a mouthful of pizza. ‘That kid in goal is a bloody liability. How long is Starkie out for?’
‘Rest of the season they reckon,’ replied his son. ‘His shoulder's knackered. Mind you, even with one hand he'd be better than what we've got now.’
‘Make you right there son. Still, it could be worse, you could have to endure City every week. Now that is a bloody nightmare.’
‘I can imagine. At least you have a decent keeper though.’
‘Yeah, that Webber kid is shit hot. I-’ Rob suddenly froze. ‘That’s it!’ he said.
‘What?’
Rob downed a mouthful from his bottle and smiled excitedly.
‘The answer to everything.’
Chapter Twenty Nine
Rob sat staring at the papers strewn across his desk, then sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.
It was at times like this that he wished he smoked. At least then he’d be able to escape outside for a few minutes.
‘This is bloody ridiculous Jo,’ he groaned. ‘I told you I don’t want anything to do with bloody agents. Why can’t Keith do it? Or Andrea?’
‘It’s tough at the top. Didn’t you know?’ replied his secretary drily. ‘Besides, you’re the one who insists on being in control of everything to do with transfers.’
‘Thieving bastards, the lot of them,’ he grumbled.
Joanne smiled inwardly. In truth, not one of the documents she had placed on his desk needed his attention, but the perverse pleasure she gained from seeing him irritated made it all worthwhile.
With a sigh, Rob picked up another sheet of paper as the door flew open and Gary Rogers flew in - with Keith Mayes close behind.
‘You fucking arsehole!’
Joanne turned and looked horrified, then furious. She wasn’t immune to bad language but that didn’t mean she approved of it.
‘Excuse me?’ she said.
‘Sorry Jo,’ said Gary sheepishly. ‘But he is an arsehole.’
Joanne raised an eyebrow in admonishment. It was a point she found hard to argue against, but still.
‘Is it true?’ asked Keith Mayes. ‘Have you sold Pete Webber to United?’
‘You haven’t,’ said a shocked Joanne.
Rob leant back in his chair and folded his arms as he contemplated his response. Judging from the looks on the faces of the people standing opposite him, he had about five seconds.
br /> ‘I have,’ he replied succinctly. ‘He’s on loan with immediate effect and will be sold when the transfer window opens.’
‘But for Christ’s sake,’ said Jo, ‘he’s our star player! You can’t just sell a player because you feel like it.’
‘Technically, he's my star player,’ replied Rob, ‘and I’ve kind of proved that I actually can. All it took was a couple of phone calls. How did you find out?’
‘It’s just been on Sky News,’ said Keith Mayes angrily. ‘Did you not think to discuss it with anyone?’
‘I only finalised the deal this morning and I’ve been stuck here sorting out all this crap ever since.’
Joanne felt a pang of guilt but then smiled.
‘He won’t agree,’ she said confidently. ‘Webbo’s a City fan, he hates United. Always has done.’
‘Yeah, right-oh,’ said Rob. ‘Where do you think he is now? As soon as he found out United wanted him, he couldn’t get in the car quick enough. Players don’t do loyalty these days, not when there’s a 250K cheque being waved under their nose.’
‘Well at least I know why he wasn't at training this morning,’ said a defeated Gary. ‘But why, for God’s sake? I've just got them playing as a unit.’
‘United needed a decent keeper and City had one,’ said Rob with a shrug. ‘And in case you’d forgotten, I have a financial obligation to fulfil and that is to secure the finances of this club for the season. Selling Webber has done that.’
Rob looked at the three faces opposite him but try as he might, he couldn’t suppress a sudden pang of guilt. It was a hollow victory.
‘Is there anything else?’ he asked, in a desperate bid to break the silence.
‘Well if your aim was to upset the City fans, I think it's fair to say congratulations are in order,’ said Joanne, looking suspiciously tearful as she turned on her heels and stormed out.
Gary and Keith watched until the slam of the outer office door signalled her departure and then, with a final glare at their chairman, they followed.
Rob sat in silence for a second and then sighed.
‘Fucking scummers,’ he said to himself. ‘Never satisfied.’
Chapter Thirty
Not for the first time in recent weeks, Rob pulled into the drive and let out a silent curse.
The sight of his wife and the seemingly ever-present Vicky unloading yet more bags from the back of her Jaguar was bad enough, but her dog running around yapping was too much.
‘Just run over here you fucker,’ muttered Rob to himself as he wondered how the Bentley’s suspension would deal with the crushing of a small, annoying animal. Quite well, he assumed.
‘Thank goodness you’re here,’ said Vicky excitedly as Rob stepped from his car and threw a warning glare at Lilly. ‘We need a man to help us with this.’
‘But until one turns up, you’ll have to do,’ said Jane as she emerged from the front door. ‘Come on fatty. Get lugging.’
Rob walked across to the Jaguar and surveyed what was left in the back. Even the carrier bags looked expensive.
‘Bloody hell, what have you been buying now?’ he said.
‘Stop moaning and get carrying,’ said Jane as she grabbed another handful. ‘Most of this is for Charlie anyway. And he’s been trying to call you. Did you know your phone's not working?’
‘I had to change the number. Some bastard put my old one on a fan site, so if it wasn’t sodding agents calling trying to sell me shit it was scummers wanting to give me it.’
‘And you didn’t think to tell anyone?’ Jane asked as she headed toward the front door with another armful. Rob sighed, grabbed the final bags and followed her inside.
‘That’s all of it,’ he said as he dropped the bags on the kitchen worktop. ‘Where’s that bloody dog gone?’
‘Vicky has taken it out to the garden,’ Jane said. ‘Stop moaning about it. It’s like her baby.’
‘If it was a baby it wouldn’t be shitting on my lawn,’ said Rob as he peered into some of the bags. ‘What the fuck?’
Horrified, he lifted a bright pink handbag from inside a carrier and held it up.
‘Please tell me that there’s a decimal point missing from this price?’ he said. ‘£625 for a bloody handbag?’
‘It was in a sale.’
‘So how much did you pay?’ Rob asked nervously.
‘It’s a Mulberry handbag,’ Jane said dismissively. ‘It’s an investment.’
‘How can a fucking handbag be an investment? And stop ducking the question. How much was it?’
Before Jane could answer, the back door opened and Vicky entered carrying her little dog.
‘Isn’t that lovely,’ she said. ‘And down to £625. Such a bargain!’
‘Down to?’ said Rob. ‘What the bloody hell did it come down from?’
‘£875,’ replied Jane. ‘See, I saved you £250.’
‘Jesus wept,’ said Rob, shaking his head at the logic behind her thinking. ‘I’ve had cars that cost less than that.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ said his wife as she watched her husband dive into another bag, pull out a new blouse and fiddle around to find the price tag.
‘Fuck me! Are you going to wear this or frame it?’
Jane frowned. She was starting to feel embarrassed and when her husband was the reason that usually meant anger wasn’t far behind.
‘It’s Armani, not bloody Primani,’ she said curtly before looking across at Vicky and shaking her head. ‘You see? I told you. Moan, moan, bloody moan.’
‘And you were bang on,’ Rob said. ‘For God’s sake Jane, we can't afford all this.’
‘Actually, we can,’ said Jane, ‘because in case you hadn't realised it yet Rob, we are millionaires.’
‘Not yet we’re bloody not.’
‘But we will Rob, that's the point. And half of it is mine, so I'll spend it on what I bloody well like.’
Rob looked at his wife in astonishment. Of course he’d known from the first time they had been to see Lee England that Jane had immediately regarded everything as a done deal, but he had never considered the idea that she might ever think further than that. They had always held a joint account, always shared everything both good and bad and had never questioned each other when it came to finances. Now it was half hers, half his.
As Rob continued to stare at her, Jane stared right back, unblinking, not a flicker of anything in her eyes save arrogance. But before he could speak, Vicky interrupted.
‘Oh God! Look at the time! We best get ready.’
Rob spun around and looked at her and then back at Jane.
‘You’re going out again? What about dinner?’
Jane reached into a drawer and pulled out a takeaway menu which she slid along the counter to him.
‘Knock yourself out,’ she said. ‘There's a 2 for 1 offer on if you want to save some money. I’ll be five minutes Vicky.’
Rob watched his wife as she headed for the stairs and then pushed the menu away.
‘Can I say something?’ said Vicky.
‘Do I have a choice?’ said Rob with a resigned sigh and without looking round.
‘I do know how you feel Rob, really I do. It's hard to adjust to suddenly having money, but once you do-’
‘Look I appreciate what you’re saying but-’ He paused for a second, turned and half smiled. ‘When it’s safe to relax, I’ll relax ok? But there’s a long way to go yet.’
Vicky smiled and gave a small almost imperceptible nod to herself. The truth was that when they’d first won the lottery she had been the one who had struggled to adapt to sudden wealth, while her husband had immediately grasped their new life with both hands and embarked on a spending frenzy. Yet ironically, it had been the stress of trying to do it all too quickly which had killed him. As a result, she had huge empathy with Rob and his plight.
She bent down and picked up Lilly, who was busily yapping at her feet.
‘It will all work out Rob,’ she said with a smile. ‘I'm
sure it will.’
Rob couldn’t help but throw a glance in the direction of the stairs which led up to where his wife was getting herself ready.
‘I hope so Vicky. I really hope so.’
Rob sat, beer in hand, feet up on the sofa and a pizza box on the floor beside him as listened to his son chattering excitedly away on the phone.
‘So you’re happy with the Webber deal then?’ he asked when Charlie eventually stopped talking long enough for him to take a breath. ‘It was you who gave me the idea. Oh yes, they were right pissed off. Still, what can you do?’
Rob laughed out loud at his son’s reaction. It was like old times, except they might as well have been a million miles apart.
‘Yes mate, your mum’s out again. Yes, with the posh bird. I know, you don’t have to tell me. OK, I’ll see you Saturday night. Yeah, I’ve got to go to the bloody Midlands again. I tell you, it’s shit watching lower league football.’
They talked for a while longer, said their goodbyes and then, with a click, Charlie was gone. Rob held onto the phone for a second and then dropped it onto his lap.
‘Fuck,’ he said out loud, before switching on the TV and flicking through the channels for something to watch. Nothing grabbed his attention and he eventually settled on Sky Sports News, although in truth, it was little more than background noise to his own thoughts.
Of everything his uncle had done, the thing Rob resented the most was the fact that he was having to be separated from his son. Maybe that had been part of the grand plan - but then again, how could his uncle have known how Charlie would react? He hadn’t known him. Come to that, he hadn’t known Rob either.
Yet however it had stacked up, it was killing him - and not for the first time, Rob began to wonder if it was actually worth it.
He’d had nothing but hassle, missed his lad, missed United and been forced to watch a succession of shit football games played, and watched, by people who all hated him with a passion. As a job description, it certainly didn’t have much going for it, even if the perks were pretty good. I mean, he lived in a mansion, was driving around in a Bentley and for the first time in an age, he was apparently debt free. But here he was, watching telly by himself with a pizza. Again. He couldn’t even go for a pint at the local because the landlord was a scummer and the last thing Rob needed was any more earache. He’d had enough of that today, not least from his wife.