19. Julie

I ripped open the box and pulled out the scarves and hats. They were almost an identical match to the colour of the school jerseys. A tiny bit brighter, maybe, but close enough. There was a letter inside thanking me for supporting the local business and wishing the team all the best for the season. I bet I wouldn’t have had that personal touch from Atelier de Cashmere.

I wrapped a scarf around my neck. If I was being totally honest, the scarf did feel a bit itchy, but it was warm and it looked good.

Marion came in. ‘Ah, they arrived.’

‘Yes, what do you think?’

‘They look great, really cosy.’

She put one on. ‘Oh, hellooooooo , my name is Jemima Stockport Aitken and Jones, and my son is the staaar of the team.’

We burst out laughing.

‘Do you think Victoria will be happy?’ I asked.

‘Fuck, no. These are proper woolly sheep scarves, not soft baby’s arse scarves. She’ll hate them.’

She was right, but I no longer cared. I pulled out my ‘Rugby’ notebook and ran through all the orders. Marion helped me package them up and wrote the family name on each individual bag. Honestly, it was like running a business.

‘Who are the McAndrews? They’ve ordered ten scarves and hats. How many kids do they have?’

I grinned. ‘Six kids and they want one each for the granddads. They’re a lovely family. No airs and graces.’

Marion shook her head. ‘It’s all a bit mad, but in another way I kind of envy you. I know it’s over the top, but there is a real sense of community and coming together about it all. You’re in a kind of bubble and there’s an in-it-all-together kind of vibe.’

She was right in a way. Aside from some of the nonsense and a few annoying parents, most people were really nice and there was camaraderie and team spirit among the boys.

‘I just think because Harry and I didn’t go to private schools and aren’t used to all this hot-housing, fuss and hoopla, we find it a bit uncomfortable. But I do see how much the boys are getting out of it and for that reason I’m going to try to embrace their first cup match today.’

‘You should. The boys will remember this time in their lives for ever.’ Marion stood up. ‘Right, I’d better go. I’ve to bring Molly to the dentist to get a letter from him saying she desperately needs braces. Her prick of a father is saying her teeth are fine because he doesn’t want to pay for them. She looks like Bugs fucking Bunny. I wish he’d just be a decent father and not fight me on every penny. I never overspend, buy nothing for myself, just want our daughter to have some hope of finding a lad and not end up living alone gnawing on fucking carrots.’

‘It’s awful for you to have to go through all this hassle. You know I’d be happy to –’

Marion held up her hand. ‘Stop. I know you’d pay for the braces in a second, but our friendship is not going to be you looking after me financially. I really appreciate that you let me stay here once a month. I will never let you pay for anything else. But thanks for the offer.’

Marion had been adamant since the day we inherited all the money that I never give her a penny. She wanted our friendship to stay as it was and I admired her and loved her for it.

‘Right, go to the match and good luck to the lads.’

‘Thanks.’ I headed off with a boot full of woolly goods.

Victoria sat in the centre of the parents’ section of the stand, dressed immaculately. The woolly hat and scarf rested on her lap. She had turned up her nose when she’d taken them out of the bag.

The other parents duly put theirs on, although I did see a few mums scratching their necks.

I sat surrounded by Harry, Sophie, Louise, Dad, Jack, Jess, Robert and Clara. Tom was on the sideline with his classmates, proudly wearing his hat and scarf.

When the team ran onto the pitch and I saw my three boys all kitted out in the school colours, slapping each other on the back, I felt a huge surge of pride.

I looked at Harry. His eyes were shining with tears. I grabbed his hand. ‘Wow,’ I said.

‘Unreal,’ Harry croaked.

‘Big day.’ Dad beamed. ‘Three grandsons playing. This is a momentous day.’

‘At least it got him away from Dolores,’ Louise whispered.

‘Sorry I’m late.’ Gavin plonked himself down beside us.

‘What is that?’ Louise pointed to the bright multi-coloured wrap Gavin had around his body.

‘It’s a traditional African papoose.’

‘Is the baby in there?’ Clara said, peering in.

‘Yes, she’s snuggled up.’ Gavin pulled down the side of the papoose so Clara could see her.

‘Christ almighty.’ Dad groaned.

‘Can she breathe?’ Sophie asked.

Lemon’s head did look a bit squashed against Gavin’s chest.

‘Duh, like, obviously. It’s the most natural way to carry a baby. African mothers have been doing it this way for, like, millions of years.’

‘How’s fatherhood going?’ Jack asked.

‘It’s awesome. I just want to be with her all the time. Shania, Lemon and me are a love bubble, a little unit. I can’t believe how amazing it is. She’s such a good baby. She never cries and she sleeps a lot.’

‘That won’t last,’ I muttered.

‘Definitely not,’ Harry muttered back.

Jack held Robert up so he could see Lemon.

‘She’s teeny tiny, Daddy,’ Robert said.

‘She’s not actually. She’s the normal size for a three-week-old baby,’ Clara corrected him.

‘She’s perfect,’ Sophie said.

‘I see you got your cast off, Robert,’ Dad said, nodding at his arm.

‘Yes, I did, and I have to do lots of exercises to make it strong again. Jess is helping me. Look.’ Robert flexed his skinny arm.

‘My goodness, you’re nearly as strong as your cousins.’ Dad ruffled Robert’s hair.

‘How’s Shania?’ I asked Gavin.

Gavin gently stroked Lemon’s head. ‘Crazy busy. The US sales of her tan have gone nuts. She’s on Zoom calls all day, trying to sort out production to meet the demand.’

‘Good for her,’ Sophie said. ‘But I hope she’s minding herself too. A C-section is a big procedure.’

‘I’m looking after her, don’t you worry.’

‘You’re a lucky man,’ Jack noted. ‘A gorgeous and successful wife. Happy days.’

Louise nudged me. I knew what she was thinking: did Jack have a death wish?

Sophie glared at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘What? I just mean it’s great for Gavin.’

‘I work my butt off, Jack, and I look bloody good for my age.’

‘I know you do.’

‘So do you consider yourself lucky too?’

‘But you don’t, Sophie. You still have a big bottom,’ Clara said.

Oh, dear God.

‘Yes, I am lucky, very lucky.’ Jack pulled back from the brink.

‘It’s just an expression, darling,’ Louise told her daughter. ‘To work your butt off means to work very hard. You don’t actually get rid of your bottom.’

‘Do I have a big butt?’ Sophie looked affronted.

‘No, you have a perfect one,’ Jack said.

I made vomit noises.

‘Are you going to vomit, Julie?’ Clara asked.

‘No, sweetie. Jack is just being smarmy so I’m making fun.’

‘Is vomiting fun for you?’

Gavin stepped in. ‘Julie is just being silly, Clara.’

‘Yes, she is.’

Louise and Sophie started laughing.

‘She’s been silly all her life,’ Jack said, grinning at me.

‘ Touché ,’ I said, sticking out my tongue at him.

We heard loud singing from the school supporters beside us.

Louise held out Clara’s earphones. ‘Put these on, sweetie. The cheering is going to get very noisy.’

Clara put them on.

Sophie leaned in to me and said, ‘Is my bum big?’

‘No, it isn’t. It’s half the size of mine,’ I told her.

‘For the love of God, will you all pipe down? The match is about to start.’ Dad was getting wound up. He always got uptight when there was a sports match to be watched. We had spent most Saturdays of our childhood being shouted out of the TV room for ‘ruining the game’.

At half-time Castle Academy were six points ahead. I thought the triplets were playing brilliantly. But Dad had quite a bit to say about Leo.

‘He needs to work on his upper-body strength. He’s missed a few key tackles.’

‘I thought he was great.’ I defended my son.

‘He’s the weakest link. He’ll have to up his game or he’ll get dropped. Liam’s kicking is off too. Luke is the only one playing well.’

‘Do you really think so, George?’ Harry looked panic-stricken.

‘Dad,’ I eyeballed him, ‘I only want to hear positive comments, okay? Keep your negative thoughts to yourself. I think they’re all playing fantastically well and I’m very proud.’

He huffed, ‘I’m only saying I’ve seen them play better. Sure all I want is for them to shine like the stars they are. Besides, you’ve barely watched the game, between cooing at the baby and chatting to your sisters.’

‘I agree with Julie. I think they’re doing really well,’ Sophie said. Considering she’d spent most of the match watching Jess and checking Instagram, I wasn’t that confident in her opinion.

‘Jack?’ I asked my brother-in-law, who had actually played rugby.

‘Look, there are always things players can work on, but they’re a solid team and the triplets are a key part of it.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I wanna be like the big boys,’ Robert said.

‘You will, buddy. We’ll send you to Castle Academy too.’

‘Really?’ Sophie seemed surprised.

‘Definitely.’

‘Aw, it’ll be lovely for him to be with his cousins,’ I said. ‘Is Pippa keen too?’

Jack sighed. ‘If I make it seem like it was her decision, we’ll be okay. Otherwise, she’ll just disagree for the sake of it.’

‘Mummy, how long more?’ Clara asked.

Louise, who had spent most of the game typing into her phone, looked up. ‘Actually, I have to go now. There’s a problem in work, another Zo? balls-up. God, I’m so sick of that girl. Clara, do you want to stay with Gavin and Granddad or come to the office with me?’

‘Quiet office, please.’ Clara was delighted to be going. ‘I don’t understand rugby. Why do boys want to hurt each other and fall down chasing a ball that isn’t even round?’

‘You have a point there,’ Louise said.

‘For the love of God!’ Dad was at breaking point.

We waved them goodbye.

The second half went well, I thought. Dad, however, continued to give out and curse and mutter throughout. When it was over, with a comfortable win for our team, he turned around beaming and said, ‘I’m a very proud grandfather today.’

‘You hid it well,’ I grumbled.

‘Ah, that was just me wanting them to do their best and stand out, Julie.’

‘Well, you can sit beside someone else at the next match. You totally stressed me out.’

Gavin rearranged his papoose. ‘Dad never praised me. He always told me what I did wrong in my football matches.’

‘I just wanted you to get better, and you did.’

‘A bit of praise wouldn’t have gone amiss.’

Dad pulled his gloves off. ‘I stood on the sidelines of every match you played, hail, rain or snow. Don’t give me that boo-hoo my-dad-wasn’t-there-for-me crap. I was there every single Saturday without fail.’

‘I know you were, Dad, and I appreciate it, but you were short on compliments.’

‘I was balancing out your mother, who told you the sun shone out of your arse every day of your life.’

Sophie and I giggled. ‘So true. You could do no wrong in Mum’s eyes,’ Sophie said.

‘Well, me and Shania are going to tell Lemon she’s brilliant every day of her life.’

‘You’ll need to build her confidence with that name,’ Jack muttered. Sophie stifled a laugh.

‘We all parent differently. There’s no right or wrong way,’ I said, wanting to shut the conversation down.

We went over to congratulate the team. The triplets all hugged me, which was a miracle. They were clearly on a high from the win. Dad clapped them on the back enthusiastically and congratulated them, keeping his criticism to himself.

Harry put his arm around me and we beamed at each other – we were bursting with pride but trying to be cool.

‘They were just …’ He couldn’t finish his sentence.

‘I know …’

‘It’s all just so incredible …’

‘I want to jump up and down and scream, “They are my beautiful sons.”’

‘Me too.’ He laughed and we hugged, ridiculously proud parents.

Over Harry’s shoulder I saw Sebastian approach Jess, whose face went bright red. He said something to her and she half smiled, but thankfully Sophie made a beeline for her and pulled her away. I still felt rage every time I looked at him. All I could see was him at the bedroom door, all swagger, and Jess on the bed behind him. I shuddered. I sincerely hoped she’d kept up her part of the agreement and broken all ties with him.

Harry went off to chat to the other dads and I was feeling all warm and fuzzy from the glow of the match when I heard, ‘She’s incapable of ordering anything. These scarves are appalling. They’ll give us all rashes. I’m ordering a set from Atelier de Cashmere tonight. These are going straight in the bin.’ Of course, it was Victoria.

I felt Sophie’s hand on my arm. ‘Ignore her. She’s a bitch.’ Then, loudly, she said, ‘These scarves are so cosy. It’s wonderful to support local Irish businesses. I don’t understand people who order from abroad when what we have here is such good quality. We need to support local to help businesses survive and thrive. Well done, Julie, for sourcing these home-grown and home-made products.’

A few of the parents murmured their approval. Sophie winked at me and walked off, her arm protectively around Jess.