Are All Brothers Foul? Read online




  To Phil Hugan for all his time and invaluable help

  The Team

  Megan “Meggo” Fawcett GOAL

  Petra “Wardy” Ward DEFENCE

  Lucy “Goose” Skidmore DEFENCE

  Dylan “Dyl” or “Psycho 1” McNeil LEFT WING

  Holly “Hols” or “Wonder” Woolcock DEFENCE

  Veronika “Nika” Kozak MIDFIELD

  Jenny-Jane “JJ” or “Hoggy” Bayliss MIDFIELD

  Gemma “Hursty” or “Mod” Hurst MIDFIELD

  Eve “Akka” Akboh STRIKER

  Tabinda “Tabby” or “Tabs” Shah STRIKER/MIDFIELD

  Daisy “Dayz” or “Psycho 2” McNeil RIGHT WING

  Amy “Minto” or “Lil Posh” Minter VARIOUS

  Official name: Parrs Under 11s, also known as the Parsnips

  Ground: Lornton FC, Low Road, Lornton

  Capacity: 500

  Affiliated to: the Nettie Honeyball Women’s League junior division

  Sponsors: Sweet Peas Garden Centre, Mowborough

  Club colours: red and white; red shirts with white sleeves, white shorts, red socks with white trim

  Coach: Hannah Preston

  Assistant coach: Katie Regan

  Star Player

  Lucy “Goose” Skidmore

  Age: Almost ten

  Birthday: 14 October

  School: Mowborough Primary

  Position in team: defence

  Likes: most sports, but especially football, netball, tennis and athletics

  Dislikes: when there’s a match for the Parrs Under 11s and one for school at the same time, and I have to choose between them

  Supports: Manchester United, England and England Women

  Favourite player(s) on team: Gemma for skill. Nika because she works so hard.

  Best football moment: All of them – I just love playing!

  Match preparation: I get to the ground early to do extra warm-ups.

  Have you got a lucky mascot or a ritual you have to do before or after a match? I have to put my left sock on first every time. (Sad, but true.)

  What do you do in your spare time? I play sport most evenings or watch it on TV.

  Favourite book(s): the Tracy Beaker books by Jacqueline Wilson

  Favourite band(s): The Killers

  Favourite film(s): Chariots of Fire – it’s an old one, but my dad loves it, so we watch it together.

  Favourite TV programme(s): Dream Team and Tracy Beaker

  Pre-match Interview

  Hi! My name is Lucy Skidmore and I play in defence for the Parrs Under 11s. Megan has given me the task of carrying straight on from where Petra left off. Well, not straight on, as it was the summer holidays and we didn’t have any more matches or practices for a few weeks, and I’m guessing Megan doesn’t want me to tell you that Holly went to Disneyland Florida, or that Nika went back to see her grandparents in the Ukraine, or that I didn’t have a holiday because everything was a bit upside-down with Dad moving out.

  Anyway, my target is to tell you about the start of our first season in the Nettie Honeyball League. Yes, the Nettie Honeyball League! I bet you can guess how excited we all were. This was the real deal, with fixture lists and home and away matches and cup runs and league tables.

  Bring it on!

  Truly yours,

  Lucy

  P.S. I’ve included a copy of the fixture list (see next page) to show the matches I cover. You can fill in the results after you’ve read each match report if you like!

  The Nettie Honeyball Women’s Football League junior division

  Parrs U11s (Parsnips) Fixture List

  All teams will play seven-a-side

  All matches will be sixty minutes in duration with ten-minutes for half-time

  There is no limit to the number of substitutions (roll on/roll off)

  Nettie Honeyball Women’s League Code of Conduct applies at all times

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  Final Whistle

  MATCH ONE

  Pre-season Friendly

  Teams:

  Parrs U11s (Parsnips) v.

  Cuddlethorpe Tigers

  Date & venue:

  Saturday 1 September

  at Cuddlethorpe Playing Fields,

  Cuddlethorpe

  Kick-off:

  10.30

  Attendance:

  0

  1

  Sorry, but I can’t write about the first match because it was cancelled. Great start, huh? Hannah and Katie had to phone round everyone on Friday to tell us. She said two Tigers were still on holiday in Ibiza, one had a broken wrist after falling off a water slide in Menorca and one had moved out of the area without letting them know until that morning.

  So at half-ten, which should have been kick-off, I opened the door to my dad to start a match-free Saturday. He had just arrived from Bicester, where he now lives, to take my brother, Harry, and me out. Bicester is a hundred and two miles away and over an hour and a half’s drive, so he looked tired. A hundred and two miles is a long way to drive to pick your kids up – but Dad can’t sleep here now or have meals with us or even watch Gillette Soccer Saturday. “It wouldn’t be appropriate,” was how Mum explained it when I asked why not.

  Anyway, we were in the sitting room, waiting for Harry to get ready. Dad was reading the Parrs newsletter Hannah had given to everyone last week after we’d returned to training. Believe it or not, by twenty to eleven he still hadn’t got further than the heading! “The Nettie Honeyball League? Who or what on earth is a Nettie Honeyball?” Dad asked.

  That’s the trouble with having a dad who’s a history teacher and pub-quiz captain; he gets distracted by names and places. You do not want to go on a visit to somewhere old like Cambridge or Lincoln with him. It takes three years to get down one street. Mum’s a teacher, too, but she teaches PE, so visiting new towns with her isn’t such a problem – unless you’re in a school minibus and late for a netball match; then she gets well stressed out, I bet.

  “I don’t know who or what on earth a Nettie Honeyball is either, Dad,” I said. “I just want you to check the dates, please. Can you come to all the matches? Apart from the Thursday night one?”

  He didn’t answer; he just kept banging on about Nettie Honeyball. “Nettie Honeyball, though. What a fantastic name! That beats some of mine. Did I tell you about that time I taught a girl called Chelsea Bunn?”

  “Dad, the dates!”

  “Chelsea Bunn! Honestly. Lovely girl, though. Very bright.”

  “Dad, pleeeeease…”

  He winked at me then, to show he was only winding me up. “Of course I can come! When have I ever missed you playing football?”

  I let out a huge sigh of relief. So many things were going to be different from now on; it was good to know I could rely on that, at least. “Shall I go and see where Harry is?” I asked.

  “Yep. You do that while I google Nettie Honeyball.”

  But just then Mum, who was supposed to be keeping out of the way until we’d gone, strode into the sitting room, quick as a flash, as if she’d been listening to every word. “Rob, you can’t,” she told him.

  He tensed round the jaw. “Can’t what?”

  “Google anything. You’re going out, remember. The deal during term time was that I have the kids five days a week, you do the weekends – i.e. two days.”

  “Understood. Though I’d happily swap places and have them the entire seven days a week if you wanted to go and live and teach in Bicester instead, dearest.”

  These days Dad says “dearest” to wind Mum up, but she wasn’t distracted; she of
ten umpires netball and hockey matches, so she knows how to focus. “Two of the seven days; apart from the next two weekends, when it’s one day because you’re spending the Sundays decorating.”

  “Again, if you want to swap places and do the decorating while I have the kids, be my guest.”

  “Oh, very funny.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  Mum gave Dad a look that said “Don’t start” and he gave her a look that said “Give me a break” and I ran upstairs to find Harry and tell him to get a move on quick.

  He was in the bathroom, gelling his hair, just as Dad had predicted. He frowned at me, and when I asked him to hurry he shoved the bathroom door shut, but he was downstairs soon after and the three of us were ready to go.

  “See you at teatime.” Mum smiled, relaxing now the new rules were working.

  “Will you be all right on your own?” I asked her.

  She rolled her eyes. “With the amount of planning for school I’ve got to do? You bet.”

  “OK,” I said and took Dad’s hand.

  We spent the day in Mowborough. I enjoyed it, mainly because we did what we always did, more or less. We changed our library books, then stopped off at W. H. Smith’s and bought a Guardian for Dad and a Match for me and an SFX magazine for Harry.

  At lunchtime we tried to get into Pasta Roma, but it was full so we went next door to McDonald’s instead. Of course most of Mowborough High, where Dad used to teach and Mum still does teach, hang out there, so every two seconds someone came up to Dad to say “Yay, Mr Skidmore” or “Wotcha, Harry.” Harry cringed when a bunch of girls waved and blew kisses at him, and Dad didn’t help by teasing. “Bit of a babe magnet are we, son?”

  In the afternoon we went to the Odeon and saw the new X-Men film, which was wicked. Harry had already seen it mid-week with his friends, but he didn’t tell Dad that.

  After all that we came home. It felt different then, because instead of driving the car up to the garage we parked on the road. “Shall we listen to the results on the radio first? See if United won?” I asked. (Dad and me both follow Manchester United.)

  “No, I’d best set off. I’ll wait until Match of the Day tonight.”

  “OK,” I said, and gave him a massive hug. He hugged me back, really tight, and I might have cried but I felt the fixture list crackle in his pocket and that helped because I knew I’d see him again soon. “Love you loads,” I said, planting a double whopper of a kiss on his cheek.

  “Love you, too, Lucy.”

  “Don’t forget I’ll need to be at the ground for ten next week. Can you be here at half-past nine?”

  “God and the M40 willing.”

  From the back seat, I felt Harry tap me on the shoulder. “What time’s it finish?”

  “Twelve.”

  “Twelve? Yes! Nice one, sis. That means I get an extra long lie-in. Ta muchly.”

  Dad twisted round to look at him. “What do you mean?”

  “You go do the football thing and pick me up after. Sorted.”

  “That’s not part of the deal I’ve got with Mum, Harry,” Dad said softly. “You’ve both got to be with me to give her a break.”

  “But I don’t want to watch football,” Harry said. “I hate football; it’s lame.”

  “Oh, come on, it’s only for an hour,” Dad said. “We can go to McDonald’s straight after.”

  Harry scowled. “How is setting off at half-nine and finishing at twelve an hour?”

  “I’m sorry, Harry,” I said, feeling guilty because I hadn’t really thought of that – him having to come and watch me play because of our new routine.

  “This stinks,” Harry snarled, and got out of the car.

  MATCH TWO

  Teams:

  Parrs U11s (Parsnips) v.

  Grove Belles

  Date & venue:

  Saturday 8 September

  at Lornton FC, Low Road,

  Lornton

  (home match)

  Kick-off:

  11.00

  Attendance:

  29

  2

  My alarm rang at eight o’clock. I jumped out of bed, had a quick wash and put on my shorts and shirt. I was so excited for this one! At last! The first match of the season! I just couldn’t wait. I sat on the edge of the bed to pull on my socks – left foot first every time. It’s my ritual. Every decent player has one. After that I checked my boots were clean, dropped them back in my kit bag, threw on my comfy trainers and clattered downstairs for breakfast.

  Dad arrived at 9.28. I gave him a cuddle and thanked him for being two minutes early.

  “The roads aren’t bad this time on a Saturday morning,” he said. “Everyone’s still in bed.”

  “Oh.”

  “Including your brother, no doubt.”

  “’Scuse me! Brother in the room!” Harry said, suddenly appearing and heading straight for the fridge. He peered inside, grunted, then slammed the door shut again. “What?” he said when he saw us staring. I admit I was surprised he was up and dressed. I think Dad was too. “What?” he asked again.

  “Nothing,” Dad said.

  Harry gave a sly grin and patted his back pocket. “Twenty quid’s not a bad incentive to get out of bed.”

  “Your mum actually paid you?” Dad asked in disbelief.

  “Bribery and corruption. Works every time,” Harry said cheerfully, then strode to the back door. “Come on, then; it’s gone half-past. What we waiting for?”

  In the car, Harry said I could sit in the front, even though it was his turn. “You two can talk football while I get some kip,” he said.

  “I’d rather you sat next to me so we can talk about your little extortion racket,” said Dad. He sounded a bit cross.

  “Nah, you’re all right,” Harry replied, sliding into the back without a second’s thought.

  I waited on the pavement, feeling tense in case it turned into an argument, but Dad just scowled at the bedroom window where Mum’s office was, then nodded to me to get into the front seat.

  We arrived at the ground at ten to ten. I dived out of the car immediately, keen to get going. Mr Cadogan, my teacher from last year, always used to laugh at me when it was the games lesson, because I’d be changed and doing star jumps while everyone else was still packing away their pencil cases. “Blimey, Lucy; pace yourself, girl! You make me exhausted just watching you!” he’d tell me, but I couldn’t help it. Sport. I just love it! As well as playing football for the Parsnips I go to football, netball and athletics practice at school. Athletics had finished now, and netball and football didn’t start again at school until next week, so I was doubly excited about playing today.

  I took a deep breath and glanced around. The seven-a-side pitch we used was hidden on the other side of the clubhouse by a row of garages. Shading my eyes against the morning sun, I squinted to try and see who had arrived, but the garages and bottle banks blocked my view.

  I could feel my stomach bubbling now, and my legs began to feel twitchy. Turning back towards the car to fetch my bag, I realized Dad and Harry were still inside. I opened the door and grinned. “Hey, people, let’s go!” I said.

  “Harry, for Pete’s sake!” Dad was saying.

  Harry’s face was like thunder. “Told you – I’m not budging! I’m here, aren’t I? What more do you want?”

  “I can’t leave you alone in the car.”

  Harry waved his hands around. “Dad, I’m thirteen and I’m in the quietest, most boring car park in Britain.”

  “I don’t care. I’m not happy leaving you here all alone. I need to be able to see you.”

  “Why? You don’t need to see me mid-week, do you? It doesn’t bother you then, does it? What’s the big deal now?”

  Dad’s voice cracked then. “Harry, that’s unfair,” he said and he sounded so hurt, but Harry didn’t seem to care.

  I wondered what I could do to make things OK, but just then Mrs Akboh, Eve’s mum, drove up, dumping Eve, Gemma and Amy in a no
isy heap next to me. I like Eve’s mum. She’s a nurse, like Megan’s mum, and always seems really happy and cheerful. If I were ever in hospital, I’d want her to look after me. “I’ll be back before kick-off!” she called out as she reversed away.

  “You’d better be!” Eve replied, waving like crazy.

  I closed our car door and waved too, hoping nobody would notice the argument going on behind me.

  Eve grinned, holding up her hand for me to slap. “Yo, Lucy-Lou! It’s so long since I saw you! Gimme some skin!”

  I rolled my eyes at her. Eve’s in my class so it was less than a day since she’d seen me. I high-fived her anyway, then high-fived Gemma and Amy. Neither of them goes to my school so I only knew them from coming here. Out of the two of them I like Gemma better. She’s quiet but really skilled – I mean seriously skilled. My mum had been at the summer tournament and she had said straight away, “There’s your natural.” I’m not so keen on Amy. She puts people down and I don’t like that. And she’s rubbish at football – but only because she doesn’t try. It’s well annoying having someone like that on the same team as you.

  “Hey, Lucy, check these out. How amazing are they?” Amy asked me. She pointed to her football boots, which were an immaculate white. “I can’t tell you how much they cost,” she said – then immediately told me.

  “No way!” I replied, not because I was impressed but because I knew what a rip-off trendy boots like that were.

  “Oh yeah.” Amy smirked. “Crazy price.”

  Behind her Eve made “big-head” signs with her hands. I pressed my lips together and tried not to giggle.

  “Er … Lucy,” Dad interrupted, winding the window down and leaning towards us, “I’m going to take Harry for a coffee. I’ll see you for the kick-off, if you’re OK?”

  I nodded, relieved they’d stopped arguing.

  The four of us joined the others who had already arrived – Hannah and Katie, our ace coaches, and Megan, Petra, Jenny-Jane and Holly from the team. Everyone started talking all at once – they all seemed as hyper as I was. “Why don’t you lot go for a jog round the pitch until the rest of them get here?” Hannah suggested.