Wings of a Sparrow

  The room settled into an awkward silence and eventually, Charlie hit the play button on his touch screen, the room instantly filled with the steady tsk, tsk, tsk of some anonymous beat.

  Rob remained on the bed. He’d never been entirely sure of the protocol involved in leaving a moody teenager to his thoughts but the last thing he wanted to do was appear uncaring.

  ‘What you listening to?’ he said to break the silence, adding when no response came ‘it’s OK, I don’t care anyway. It’s all shite. I’m just making conversation really. With myself obviously. Oh well-’

  He patted his son on the knee and stood to leave but Charlie suddenly pulled his headphones off his head.

  ‘It’s not over, is it?’

  ‘What? Me and your mum? I don’t-’

  ‘No,’ he replied, a little too anxiously for Rob’s liking. ‘The scum.’

  ‘Not till the fat scummer sings,’ said Rob with a smile. ‘And that won’t be until 4.45 on Saturday.’

  Charlie laughed.

  ‘I never thought I’d ever want the scum to win a game.’

  ‘Welcome to my world mate. Welcome to my world.’

  Chapter Forty Five

  Rob dropped the newspaper onto his desk and sighed.

  ‘Git,’ has said out loud to himself just as Joanne entered with the latest in the long line of coffees he’d insisted she kept him fuelled with.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Not you,’ he said holding up the paper. ‘This git.’

  ‘I did actually guess,’ Jo replied. ‘All I’ve heard all morning are expletives. I don’t know why you’re still bothered by it. You spoke to Gary and he told you it was rubbish.’

  ‘Yeah. But he would say that, wouldn’t he?’ said Rob glumly.

  Joanne shook her head in sad resignation. She felt torn in three different directions at the moment - and in truth, wasn’t quite sure which was having the greatest pull on her.

  Naturally, as a City fan she was thrilled that the club’s league status had been secured and there was also a small part of her which was quite glad that the man who had caused her so much grief earlier in the season was finally getting his comeuppance. However, she was also feeling incredibly sorry for her boss who all week, despite finally trying to do the decent thing, had been bombarded by stories of match fixing and dirty deals.

  This latest one had been the worst, primarily because it alleged that Pete MacDonald was the driving force behind the supposed plot to draw the remaining games.

  Even though Rob had indeed called Gary in Cyprus and been assured that it was all rubbish, there was still an obvious fear which Joanne could see was gnawing away at his thoughts. She also sensed a degree of betrayal, given that he’d brought Mac back into the team because he thought it would give the players a much-needed boost.

  ‘Well like I say,’ she said, ‘I don’t believe a word of it and nor should you.’

  Rob shrugged his shoulders and dropped the paper back onto the desk.

  ‘That’s easy to say. You’ve not got Nurse Ratchet living with you.’

  ‘Wanna bet?’ she laughed. ‘Anyway, they’re back tomorrow so you can ask him yourself.’

  ‘I intend to,’ said Rob. ‘So what’s up with love’s young dream?’

  ‘Four women in a house- Let’s just say all those jokes you men make about PMT, I get them.’

  Rob was about to respond when a familiar voice called from the outer office and Joanne headed off only to return seconds later with a smartly dressed but slightly nervous looking Lee England in tow.

  ‘Sorry to intrude,’ he said as Joanne left and they shook hands. ‘But I've something we have to discuss.’

  ‘Come to dot the Is and cross the Ts ahead of taking it all back, have you?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ replied the solicitor awkwardly. ‘I have something I have to give you.’

  He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a letter, which he handed to a bewildered Rob.

  ‘Do I read this now?’

  ‘Yes please.’

  Rob sat down at his desk and tore open the envelope before pulling out and unfolding two A4 pages covered in text.

  It took him barely two minutes to read it all, after which he glanced up at Lee England who was now sitting opposite him. He then read it again.

  ‘Have you seen this?’

  ‘Yes. And before you say anything,’ said the solicitor, ‘I was instructed not to make any reference to the existence of this letter until the Wednesday before the final game of the season. Which is today.’

  Rob dropped the letter on the table and leant back in his chair as he turned his eyes to the ceiling. Lee England would have sworn on oath that he atually watched the blood drain from his client’s face.

  ‘Christ on a bike,’ said Rob. His voice trembling with shock. ‘My uncle really must have been some sort of arsehole.’

  ‘Well,’ said the solicitor with a glance at his watch. ‘He was certainly a character. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Unless you fancy lunch?’

  Lunch with Lee England had turned into a full afternoon and with the majority of a bottle of wine as well as a number of Budweisers inside him, Rob had been faced with the choice of a very expensive taxi fare, a night on the sofa at his dad’s or a pricey hotel. He chose the latter. The solicitor had given him much to mull over and he needed peace and quiet. If he was going to have that, he might as well enjoy it in comfort.

  After texting Jane to tell her that he was staying in town, then texting Charlie to make sure he was OK, Rob armed himself with a bottle of vodka and two litres of diet Coke, switched off his phone and took up residence in his room.

  Two hours later, with both bottles empty, Rob turned on his phone and called home.

  ‘Hi it’s me, he said. ‘You OK?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ came the abrupt response. ‘How’s your room?

  Even in his stupor Rob could hear the sneer in her voice but he chose to ignore it.

  ‘It’s well posh,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You’d love it. Look, I need to ask you something?’

  ‘I’m not talking to you when you’re pissed.’

  ‘I’m not pissed, I’m happy. Look, this is important. I need-’

  ‘What the bloody hell have you got to be happy about?’ the voice on the other end of the phone said sharply.

  Rob paused. Even in his semi-drunken state, he realised that she had just unknowingly answered his question. Why bother to ask how she’d feel if they had to go back to the life before Arthur Cooper came into their lives when the tone in her voice was screaming the answer at him?

  ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Nothing at all. So how come you’re not out tonight?’

  ‘Vicky’s busy.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘She does have other friends you know.’

  ‘I'm sure she does,’ said Rob.

  ‘Oh piss off Rob!’

  The phone went dead and Rob dropped it onto the bed beside him.

  ‘Yeah, friends with money no doubt,’ he said out loud.

  Rob reached for the TV and settled back with his hands behind his head. He knew exactly what he had to do now. And just as importantly, he was going to enjoy doing it.

  Chapter Forty Six

  Gary Rogers had just stepped out of his car when a taxi pulled up and Rob stepped out.

  ‘Jesus, you look rough,’ he said as he took his chairman’s outstretched hand.

  ‘I fucking feel it,’ replied Rob. ‘How was Cyprus?’

  ‘Good, just what the lads needed. Listen, about this crap in the papers-’

  ‘Forget it,’ said Rob dismissively as he patted his manager on the arm.

  ‘Yeah but-’

  ‘It's fine Gary, honestly. Come Saturday I'm out of here anyway. Besides, this is their club anyway, not mine. Oh, and while I've got the chance, I just wanted to say that you've done a great job. Really, you have.’

 
‘Cheers boss,’ said Gary, blushing. ‘I appreciate that.’

  ‘Look, I know the lads will be in for training tomorrow so is it worth me asking if they’d fancy getting together for a beer after? Give me a chance to clear the air if nothing else.’

  Gary smiled again. Only this time it was more in embarrassment.

  ‘I don't think- I'd rather they didn't drink- You know, what with the game on Saturday.’

  ‘Good call,’ said a slightly deflated Rob with a nod of his head. ‘Well give them my best anyway.’

  Gary stood and watched Rob head into reception. What the fuck was that about? he thought before following him in and heading for his own office.

  ‘Christ almighty,’ said Joanne as Rob entered. ‘What did you get up to last night?’

  ‘Actually, I had a quiet night by myself,’ replied Rob. ‘And now I’d like a word with you, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘D’you want some coffee first?’

  ‘That’d be good, and a couple of aspirin if you’ve got any.’

  Five minutes later, Joanne finally sat down opposite her hung-over and slightly dishevelled boss and smiled sweetly.

  ‘So?’ she said. ‘What’s up?’

  Only once he had taken a mouthful of coffee and swallowed the two tablets did he smile at her.

  ‘In about five minutes,’ he said. ‘I’m going.’

  ‘Going where?’ she asked, slightly bemused.

  ‘Home. I’ll be back for the game on Saturday, but that’s it for me.’

  ‘But you can’t. You’ve got all kinds of appointments this afternoon.’

  ‘Keith can deal with it all. He’ll be taking over soon enough anyway.’

  ‘But I-’ she stumbled. ‘But you can’t, I mean there’s-’

  ‘It’s over Jo,’ he replied calmly. ‘Whatever is going to happen is going to happen and there’s nothing I can do about it. I just wanted to say thanks for everything. I couldn’t have done any of this without your help and that’s a fact.’

  Joanne looked at him, unsure of what to say. Much as she’s hated Rob when he’d arrived, she’d grown quite fond of him over the months.

  ‘Well it’s certainly been an experience,’ she said, her voice cracking slightly. ‘It won’t be the same next season without you here, that’s for sure.’

  ‘I’d bloody hope not,’ Rob laughed. ‘But seriously, you’ve been absolutely brilliant putting up with me.’

  ‘It’s been a pleasure.’

  ‘For me too. Honestly. Now if you don’t mind, there are a couple of final things I need you to do for me.’

  Chapter Forty Seven

  The realisation that he could do nothing but sit back and try to enjoy whatever was going to unfold had been akin to a religious awakening for Rob.

  As a consequence, to avoid being sucked into the maelstrom which he knew would inevitably grip events at City in the days leading up to the final game, he had spent the previous day ignoring his phone, playing golf and catching up with the lads at United. Inevitably, the latter had involved serious amounts of piss taking, ridicule and personal abuse of the kind only real football fans understand - but that had been expected and in all honesty, welcomed. The injection of familiar had been just what Rob had needed, reminding him of better days to come.

  So by the time he drove past the eager press pack encamped outside his house and left for George Park for the last time, Rob was totally relaxed, resigned to his fate and in remarkably good spirits.

  The one blight had been Jane who had sulked and thumped around the house like a rhino on heat. On the few occasions they had spoken, it had invariably turned into an argument of some kind and eventually, even though it had been obvious to him that fear was at the root of her behaviour, Rob had simply taken to ignoring her altogether. Or she had been ignoring him. He neither knew nor cared which.

  He had almost arrived on the outskirts of the city when his phone rang for what seemed the thousandth time that morning. This time however, it was a call he was happy to take.

  ‘Dad,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said the electronic voice bouncing around the car. ‘Just wanted to wish you luck. We’ll be thinking of you.’

  ‘Is Charlie there? Bung him on.’

  ‘Alright old man,’ came the familiar voice. ‘You got mum with you?’

  ‘No chance. She thinks she'll be humiliated. Listen,’ Rob continued after a pause, ‘how d’you fancy spending some time together next week?’

  ‘Yeah OK. But I got school remember?’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. Just get home after the game quick as you can OK? I’ll be over to pick you up.’

  ‘OK. Good luck today old man. Keep the faith.’

  The phone went dead and with a smile, Rob settled back to enjoy the rest of his journey.

  Having made it through the traffic and the massed hordes waiting for him outside the ground, Rob arrived in reception to find it packed, as usual, with all kinds of journalists and hangers-on desperate for his attention and just as he had done all season, he ignored them. After all, why break the habit now?

  He stopped and winked at Amyleigh who, as ever, was sitting smiling behind her desk.

  ‘Upstairs, two o’clock,’ Rob said to her.

  ‘I know,’ she replied. ‘Jo already told me.’

  With a nod and a grin, Rob pushed his way through the door and within seconds, had bounded up into his office.

  At five past two, Joanne, Andrea Barker, Amyleigh and Keith Mayes were sitting in Rob’s office. Each had a glass of champagne in their hands. The women had tears in their eyes.

  ‘I just wanted to say that whatever happens today, I've learnt a lot these last few months and that's thanks to you three. I know you all hate me but-’

  ‘We don’t hate you,’ came a half-hearted chorus.

  ‘Hated then,’ said Rob, ‘and with good reason I have to say. But I just wanted to thank you for your help, even you Keith.’

  Keith Mayes stepped forward and shook Rob’s hand.

  ‘It's been an experience Mr. Chairman. One I'll certainly never forget.’

  ‘I bloody hope not. You’re in charge from five o’clock.’

  Rob released Keith’s hand and then hugged each of the women in turn, Joanne last of all.

  ‘OK,’ sniffed Rob eventually. ‘We do have a game on today and I’m sure you have things to do. So let’s go and see what fate has in store for us, shall we?’

  Everyone made to leave but as Joanne headed for the door, Rob tapped her on the shoulder.

  ‘Have you got something for me?’

  The ground was rammed solid. Every seat sold, every press pass taken, every box full. Even all of the stewards had turned up. At first sight of Rob, it erupted.

  We want one

  We want one

  For once Rob not only looked around and smiled at the people seated around him, but he waved in the direction of the home end. As he knew it would, it cranked up the volume even further.

  You ate all the pies

  You ate all the pies

  You fat bastard

  you fat bastard

  You ate all the pies

  ‘What’s that saying about into the lion’s den?’ shouted Keith Mayes.

  ‘At the moment,’ Rob shouted back. ‘I’d rather be in the Old Den at Millwall wearing a West Ham shirt!’

  Keith laughed and patted Rob on the back as the players appeared from the tunnel to rapturous applause.

  ‘Oh well,’ he said. ‘As they say in Rome, let the games begin.’

  For the second game in succession, Rob sat in his seat and stared into space.

  Like any football fan, nothing wound Rob up more than a player going through the motions - and for forty-five minutes, he’d been watching eleven of them doing just that. Well ten, the keeper had at least been forced to bend down and pick the ball out of the net.

  As if that had been bad enough, they’d been encouraged by almost everyone in
the ground with a seemingly neverending rendition of;

  We want one

  We want one

  Or was it none? Rob wasn’t quite sure.

  ‘That was shameful,’ he said to Keith, ‘they're not even trying to look like they’re making an effort.’

  Keith Mayes shrugged his shoulders and headed for the directors’ lounge.

  Rob watched him go, then stood and walked swiftly toward the exit.

  Gary Rogers was drinking tea and talking to his coaching staff as around him, players milled about, seemingly indifferent to the fact that they were losing. They actually looked quite pleased with themselves.

  So the sudden appearance of their chairman in their midst was greeted with shock. To say he looked pissed off would have been putting it lightly.

  For his part, Rob didn’t actually feel angry, he felt cheated. And the longer it took for the room to fall silent, the worse the feeling became.

  ‘Right you lot, I’ve got something I want to say,’ he finally shouted, suddenly aware that the bell would sound to signal the players back out onto the pitch at any moment.

  Almost instantly the room fell silent, all eyes fixed on Rob. Some showing curiosity, others showing disdain.

  ‘I've done some shit things this season, and I'm not proud of myself, but-’

  Rob was stopped in his tracks by the door bursting open and his wife suddenly appearing beside him. She looked angrier than he had ever seen her.

  ‘What the bloody hell-’ he began.

  ‘You lazy bunch of twats!’ screamed Jane. ‘What the fucking hell do you think you’re doing out there?’

  ‘That’s enough!’ shouted Rob as he grabbed her and pushed her toward the door. ‘Out.’

  ‘Don’t push me, you wanker. Thanks to you and these lazy bastards I’ve got to go back and live on some poxy fucking-’

  However before she could finish the sentence, Pete MacDonald walked forward and to a gasp from the assembled throng, threw a cup of water in Jane’s face. She stopped talking instantly.

  ‘Sorry Mrs Cooper, but your husband was talking. If you don’t mind.’

  The room fell into a stunned silence for a second, then Rob exploded.