6. Round 6

6

ROUND 6

Paige

“ M orning, Paige.” Debbie throws her bag down on my desk and leans against it as she enters the office. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“Yeah, I did,” I reply with a confidence I haven’t felt in a while.

The weather is cooling, and I spent Saturday shopping for winter clothes. It’s not something I usually enjoy, but I found a shop with a salesperson I clicked with. She convinced me to buy things that were right outside my comfort zone, like jeans that hug my curves, and a purple sweater that I thought was a few sizes too small, but she persuaded me looked amazing.

“Love your sweater.” Debbie rubs the cuff between her fingers. “Is it new? Please tell me I don’t have to go to New York to get one.”

“I got it at the mall on Saturday,” I explain. It’s affirming that a colleague likes it, too.

“You’re off after lunch to do the podcast, aren’t you?” Debbie asks as she makes no attempt to move to her own cubicle.

I am. The excitement has been building. I get to see Willo again. Yesterday, I spent a little too long going through the Monarchs’ social media pages. I found photos of him from almost five years ago when the club announced Willo and his wife had welcomed their third child.

Willo looks ecstatic, holding the little bundle who is wrapped in a blanket emblazoned with the Monarchs’ logo. His wife was gorgeous. She had an olive complexion and dark hair that was beautifully styled into a ponytail. I’ve got no idea if she straightened it, although it wouldn’t surprise me if it was naturally straight and silky. Unlike mine.

I spent longer than I should have comparing myself to her, a dead woman. I read several news articles that told how she and Willo’s sister had been killed in a farm accident at the family property at Lovemore Gap, leaving him with a baby and a seven- and a three-year-old.

The thought of Willo being a father and having sole responsibility for three kids is not something I can relate to at all. Early on, I decided I would never have kids. I don’t feel the need to pollute the world with my DNA. The thought of a guy who wanted to be with me long term also never crossed my mind. I’ve never thought about weddings or honeymoon destinations or even designed a dream house where I’d live out my happily ever after.

Women like me don’t get happily ever afters.

I really thought things would be different when I came to Australia and started working for Hooray FM. This was my big break. I was no longer Paige Larson, country bumpkin nobody, and I was now Pee, co-host of a large breakfast radio show.

“Yeah, podcast recording today,” I reply.

“I’m glad someone makes Willo laugh again.” Debbie sits her purse on her lap, still leaning against my desk. “He’s our neighbour. I know he misses Cara so much. I mean, she was just gorgeous, both inside and out. Typical country woman who thought nothing of bringing a casserole when she found out someone was sick. And she was born to be a mother. She told me what a shock it was to find out she was pregnant at seventeen, but she and Willo took it in their strides. They’re lovely kids, too. ”

“She sounds amazing,” I offer, feeling a tightening in my chest. Surely I’m not feeling jealous of a dead woman.

“Oh, yeah. Now, we need to go over some of this Field Day stuff this morning. I’ll grab a cup of tea and meet you back here.”

Debbie moves towards her own cubicle. Willo is everything I’ve said I don’t want out of life. He lives on a farm, and he has children. I remind myself that I’m not likely to have a forever kind of relationship with anyone, and besides, Willo has given no indication he fancies me. He’s been single since his wife died, according to the ladies at the football on the weekend. He wouldn’t want anything to do with an emotionally stunted woman from the other side of the world who is only here for a year.

When I spoke with Brittany yesterday, she said that this year can be my year of growth. She’s beginning to sound like Marj. Brittany was so excited to hear about the football and meeting Bel, Jenna, and Angelique. She’s been googling the players and seems to know more about the Monarchs than I do.

We discovered that they’ve been on the periphery of major success for almost ten years, playing in the finals series each year. They’ve made the Grand Final on three occasions but have only won the one Premiership. I figured this might be something to talk about on the podcast this afternoon.

I haven’t heard from Willo since the game. He texted me late Friday night and asked how I found it. I was half-asleep and wasn’t up to a long text chat. This reminds me that I think he sent me a message that I haven’t responded to. Picking up my phone from my desk, I open the message app.

Willo

Glad you enjoyed meeting the WAGs. Any plans for the weekend?

OMG. So sorry I didn’t reply. I think I fell asleep. Not that the game made me sleepy, but work’s been kicking my butt. I had an enjoyable weekend. Went shopping and then spent hours chatting with my friend, Brittany, yesterday.

A reply hits my phone straight away.

Willo

All good. I’m about to hit the weights. See you at 1, unless you want to come at 12 and have lunch at the bistro again.

This was tempting. I had brought nothing for lunch.

I could do with one of those amazing coffees. It’s a date.

As soon as I sent the message, I wanted to recall it, but Willo had seen it. The three dots were bouncing, and I knew I had to get in first.

I mean, not a date, date, just a turn of phrase. Shit. Sorry.

Willo

All good. I won’t expect a kiss at the end.

At this moment, I hated text messages. What did he mean? Did he want to kiss me? Did I want to kiss him? I mean, who wouldn’t? The guy was amazing.

Willo

Fuck. Sorry. Silver grabbed my phone and sent that last message. I’ve got to get to the gym. See you at 12.

“So, I’ve been thinking. Move the times for the social posts from evening to morning. Catch the farmers as they wake up.” Debbie has again approached my desk wanting to talk about Field Day. I need to focus on this and stop thinking about sexy footballers.

“Good morning, love.” Maz greets me after once again I try to enter the Monarchs’ sanctum by pushing the door rather than pulling it. One of these days, I’ll get it right.

“Hi, Maz isn’t it?” Internally, I’m shaking, but I’m trying to stay calm. I’m concerned this week’s podcast will be a flop, and our first episode was a fluke.

“Excellent memory.” The older woman’s eyes shine as she pauses whatever she’s been doing to pay attention to me. I hardly felt worth the attention. “Now, Willo said he was going to meet you at the bistro. So, if you head around to your left, you’ll find a lift, and it will take you straight up.”

Last time I was here, Kim took me through the part of the stadium you need swipe access for. This time, I’m taking the public route. I haven’t been around this part of the stadium before. It’s well-signposted, and Maz’s directions were spot on. My toes tap as I wait for the elevator to arrive and then again once I was in it. Was it the slowest elevator ever?

Upon exiting, I gather my bearings and make my way to the restaurant. Willo is already there chatting to Ferdi as he leant casually against the coffee bar. Once again, his shorts show off his amazing leg muscles, however, today, he wore a simple tee that allows me a closeup view of his forearms. Holy arm porn, Batman . These are also magnificent. Tanned and sprinkled with hair, they give off the impression of utter strength.

“Hey.” Willo’s greeting is warm, and a zing travelled through my body as he grips my upper arm in greeting. Talk about swoon-worthy.

“Hey, yourself.” I smile, my heart racing. I can feel my palms becoming sticky and want to wipe them on my pants, but figure it will be too obvious. My sweater may be light, but it was suddenly boiling in here.

“Caramel latte, right?” Willo asks, dropping his hand. I want it back on my arm.

“That would be great.”

“Now, Ferdi has made his legendary lasagne. It’s on par with my Italian mother-in-law’s version, and that’s high praise indeed,” Willo enthuses.

“Sounds good.” The way Willo refers to his late wife’s mother with affection reminds me that Willo is already taken, albeit by a dead woman. After my mom left, my dad never brought anyone else home. I assume he met and probably still meets women from time to time, but I knew he distrusted them on the whole. I wonder if Willo was similar. It isn’t something I feel comfortable talking about with him.

Willo orders two servings of the lasagne, and we make our way towards the same table we sat at the last time we were here. His phone rings, and he pulls it out of the pocket in his shorts.

“It’s the school,” he tells me, not that I needed to know. “Hello. Yes. Is she okay? Yeah, give me a minute, and I’ll get back to you.” He hangs up and looks at his watch. “Luna’s in sick bay with a tummy ache. I’ll ask Moira if she can grab her.”

“If you need to go, go,” I say, trying not to let the disappointment that we might not get to record our show come through in my tone.

Willo has never really talked about his kids with me, but I know they exist. It is yet another reason to stop any fantasies I might have that he and I might… what? I’m not sure. I know I don’t want a relationship or casual sex, but there was a draw towards this man I can’t explain. He makes another call.

Willo sighs. “Moira’s at the doctor’s with her husband. How would you feel about coming out to my place and recording there this afternoon? I could drop you home after.”

I honestly can’t decide if this is a good idea or not, but before my brain has thought through any potential consequences, I agree to Willo’s suggestion .

He asks Ferdi to box up our lasagne to go, and I wait for it whilst Willo goes to grab the laptop and microphones we need. Ferdi brings me my coffee in a takeout cup.

I sip my coffee, but my brain can’t focus on the amazing taste, as it’s too busy trying to weigh up if travelling to Willo’s home is a good idea. His daughter is sick, although I remember faking stomach aches at school to try to get out of things. Maybe she isn’t sick after all. What if she is, and she gives me germs? I know nothing about kids, but they carry germs, don’t they?

My body jerks when Willo returns and places a hand on my shoulder. Thank fuck for the lid on my coffee, or it would have gone everywhere. “Sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”

“I’ll forgive you.” Willo could advertise toothpaste with his smile. I almost expect the light to bounce off his teeth and flash in my face. I need to gather myself and remember that I’m only here for a short time and have sworn off men.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t say no to that smile. There’s no way for me to suggest I head back to work, and we record tomorrow.

Our lunch arrives, and I gather it up as Willo leads me from the bistro. He greets a few people as we pass them in the hallways, but doesn’t stop to talk. I remain silent as we walk through the bowels of the stadium and exit into the car park.

“This car is enormous,” I comment as Willo presses the handle to automatically unlock the doors. It’s bigger than my dad’s Jeep. It’s covered in dust, and someone has written ‘Wash me’ on the back windscreen.

“It’s a standard four by four.” Willo shrugs, hoisting his bag in the trunk before opening a camping fridge and retrieving a sports drink. “Want one?”

I shake my head, raising my half-drunk coffee towards him. Still not used to the passenger sitting on the left-hand side, I head to the wrong side of the vehicle. Eventually, I’m buckled in on the right side, and we pull out of the parking lot.

A podcast plays, and Willo leans over to stop it. “You can listen if you want,” I tell him .

“Nah. It’s good. It’s a sports psychology show I like to listen to.” He flicks on the local radio station. A Taylor Swift song plays, and Willo hums along. I suspect he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

We head out of town, but before we are in established farm blocks, Willo takes a turn, pulling up at Bayview West State School. “I won’t be long.” He puts the vehicle in park and pulls up the handbrake before jumping out and running inside.

He returns a few minutes later, a girl with light-brown hair perched on his hip and a pink backpack slung over his arm. “In you get, bubs,” he says after opening the door and lifting the girl into a booster seat in the back. “Luna, this is Paige. She and Daddy are working together and are going to do some work at home while you sleep, okay?”

Luna is pale, with a sheen of sweat on her forehead. Willo jogs around the car before jumping back in and heading away from the school.

“Is she okay?” I whisper.

“Yeah, I think she’s just tired. She hasn’t chucked up or anything.” Willo doesn’t seem too concerned. I suppose he should know his daughter, and maybe this is normal for her.

We drive in relative silence, pop tunes playing softly on the radio. It’s not long before we’re out of the city limits and into farming land. The grass is brown, and there are rolls of hay sitting in paddocks. We haven’t had a lot of rain. It’s getting towards the end of April, and the seasons are all back to front for me.

Willo turns down an unpaved road, and I can see why his car is so dirty. I glance in the side mirror and see clouds of red dust floating behind us. Willo slows and indicates a right turn into a driveway that is marked by two large gum trees and a stone fence.

We pull up in front of an old weatherboard home complete with a bullnose verandah that wraps around two sides, looking like it stops the house from catching the morning sun. The sound of cows mooing brings a visceral reaction that reminds me of where I grew up. I take a deep breath in and slowly force it out through narrow lips. I can only imagine the beads of sweat on my forehead mirror Luna.

“Come on, bubs.” Willo opens the back passenger door and lifts Luna out of her seat, placing her on the ground.

She’s tiny. I remember Willo saying she started school this year, so that must make her five or six. Her thumb is in her mouth, and only half her hair is contained in the ponytail that sits to one side of the back of her head.

Her face brightens when a mangy-looking dog comes bounding around the side of the house.

“Duchess.” Luna’s thumb has left her mouth, and she smiles as she tells the dog to sit with little success. “She got out again, Daddy.”

“Yeah, she did.” Willo sighs. “Let’s show Paige inside, and I’ll get you into bed.”

“I don’t want bed,” the girl whines.

Willo glances skywards, and I hear him softly mumble as he counts to ten. I’m seeing another side to him, that’s for sure. He’s not the confident football player I’m used to, but rather a somewhat harried parent. The dog scurries off.

“How about I put a movie on, then?” he asks Luna as he slides a key into the door and opens it.

He smiles apologetically at me as I enter. It’sa beautiful home. The front door leads past bedrooms, all with doors open and in varying states of disarray, before opening into a kitchen and large family area. There are large windows that look out over fields.

I place the lasagne I’ve been carrying on the island bench in the kitchen. It’s a stunning space with a homely feel. Memories of me of sitting with Mrs Williams after school as she cooked dinner for her family and the farmhands come to me. It was only after she died I wished I’d taken notice of some of her recipes. Her pork chops were always to die for, and she made a mean pot roast.

The French-doored refrigerator is covered in kids’ artwork, awards, invitations, and all manner of magnets. Some have witty sayings on them, others appear to be souvenirs with places from all around the world. I immediately see The Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, something I’ve always wanted to visit. There’s even one from what looks like another football club.

I’ve got no idea what to do or what to say. Should I be finding plates for our lunch, or getting the podcast gear out of the car?

“Sorry about that.” Willo rubs his forehead with two fingers as he leaves Luna lying on the couch with a Disney movie on. “I really think she’s just tired.”

“Does she need a doctor?” I ask, still wondering if she’s contagious.

“No.” He chuckles. “It’s the third time she’s done this since starting school.”

“Does she not like it?” I question as I remove the plastic lid from the container holding our lunch.

“She seems to. I mean, she’s the youngest in her class. I could have held her back, but I thought she was ready. Who knows? How about we take this and eat on the veranda?”

“Will she be okay in here?”

Willo takes a few steps towards the couch and looks over the back. “She’s already asleep.”

I plate up our lunch, ignoring the salad that has wilted from being stored with the hot food. No one ever made friends with salad after all. Willo leads me out a side door and into a wide space that also overlooks fields. There are sheep grazing on this side, but I can still hear the cows.

“Is this a dairy?” I ask, wondering how Willo would manage football, single parenthood, and milking twice a day.

“No. I run a few head of cows and the sheep. It’s mainly a hobby. Something to do outside of football. You grew up on a farm, right?”

I lived on a farm, sure. “Yeah. My dad was a farmhand on a dairy.”

“And you were, what, in the north?” Willo asks as we sit and tuck into our lunch. Even lukewarm, it is so tasty, and I can see why he recommended it.

“Yeah. Milking in freezing conditions is never fun, not that I was involved in the farm's running.”

Mr Williams didn’t want me working on the farm, and that was fine by me. He thought I’d try to seduce one of his sons. Even now, remembering those two boys fills me with disgust. I thought Perry was nice until he cornered me in the kitchen one day and started feeling my breasts. I was eleven, and he was fourteen. If Mrs Williams hadn’t come in, I don’t know what would have happened. I avoided him and his brother after that.

They made snide comments about how I was stuck up and thought I was too good for them. I overheard Perry telling the boys at school that I had sex with all the guys on the farm and was an easy lay, but they should be careful, as they might catch something. It didn’t scare off Perry’s friends like he thought it might, but sleeping with these boys did little for me.

Maybe I am a slut, like I was labelled at school. I found a Cosmopolitan magazine in the local library once that said sex was meant to be pleasurable for both parties. It’s never been that way for me.

Hence, I was eager to be rid of the farm and the small-town life I was raised in. I’m sure most people were lovely, but Mr Williams and his sons weren’t. Mr Williams never spoke nicely to his wife. He always complained that meals weren’t ready on time and that the house wasn’t clean enough. I always thought it was spotless. It was cleaner than our trailer, that’s for sure.

Bayview Cove is much bigger than the town I grew up in. Willo’s home is tranquil. Apart from the anxiety that showed its face when I heard the moos of the cattle, I feel rather relaxed sitting on the veranda looking at the trees and the sheep. There’s a lawn and some agapanthus, which have dead flower heads on them. There are a few old fruit trees lining the back of the house lot, but I couldn’t tell you what they grow.

Willo stands and reaches for my empty plate. “I’ll take these inside and grab the equipment, and we can record. It will have to be quick though, because I have to pick the boys up from school.”

“I’ll take the plates. You set up,” I offer.

Carrying the plates into the kitchen, I rinse them in the sink before loading them into the dishwasher. The machine is full, so I search for a tablet in the cupboard under the sink before inserting it into the slot and turning on the machine.

“Daddy?” a little voice whines.

“Hi. Your daddy’s getting some things from the car.” I walk towards the couch, not sure what to say or how to act with Luna.

“You speak funny.” She smiles and bites her lip. There’s more colour in her cheeks.

“Do I?”

“Yeah. You sound like Elsa. Are you a princess?” she asks, blinking her eyes, eyes that have long lashes like her father.

“No. I’m American, though, which is why I speak different to you.”

“You okay, bubs?” The screen door crashes behind Willo as he comes in from the veranda.

“Yep. Can I have a yoghurt?” She bats her eyes at her father.

“Sure. There’s plenty in the fridge. Paige and I have work to do outside, so you’ll need to be quiet, okay?”

Luna nods and heads to the fridge as we once again make our way outside. Willo has a jacket on. It’s cool, but there’s no real breeze.

We sit down, and he counts us in before pressing record. I want to stop him, as we haven’t even discussed what we will talk about this week, but I know we are also in a rush.

Once again, Willo introduces us, but he also adds that next week he’s going to make me do the honours.

“And if there’s noise today, I’m sorry. Paige and I are out at the farm. I’ve got a sick kiddo, and I’m sure you can imagine we’re all busy people. Now, I haven’t told Paige this, but next week, we’re having Maz on the show. Few listeners will know Marylyn, but she has been working at the Monarchs for years and years. Too many to count. She takes most of the phone calls that come in and greets visitors at reception. And I know she has some stories.”

“That’s great Maz is coming on.” The excitement shines through in my voice. “She’s always been so sweet to me when I’ve come to the club. Great game again last week, Tank.”

It’s not the first time I’ve called Willo by his nickname, but it feels right, rolling off my tongue. “Yeah. I feel like I’m playing well. And you were there too, Yankee Girl.”

Yankee Girl? Where did this come from? It’s not something I hate, that’s for sure.

“I was.” My head bobs in agreement. “I sat with some wives and girlfriends. I met Bel and her sweet baby, Hugo, Jenna, and Angelique.”

“I probably should explain that Bel is married to Matty, as most people know. Jenna is with Wilson Marks, and Angelique is the long-suffering wife of Basha Leonardi.”

We talk about the game, and Willo explains more rules to me. The players can run a certain distance without touching the ball to the ground, and they can dispose of it by kicking it or punching it with their hand. They aren’t allowed to throw it. He spends several minutes talking about the way they tackle each other and the rules that are in place to ensure players are safe.

“So, yeah, some of our former players have had too many concussions and are showing signs of brain changes we won’t be able to diagnose until they’re dead. But today, we know to avoid players’ heads with all costs. The sweet spot is grabbing them around the middle and pinning their arms to their side so they can’t dispose of the ball. If they have had a prior opportunity to get rid of the ball, and they don’t, then that’s holding the ball and a free kick to the tackler.”

I think I’m beginning to understand more about the game.

“I think Jenna was trying to explain that to me. I didn’t know why the crowd yelled out ‘Ball’ all the time.” I laugh.

Our first episode was edited down to twenty-seven minutes, the length of a short quarter of football, Willo tells me. We’ve been talking for over thirty minutes when we hear the wire door creak as it opens.

“I think that’s our key to wind this up,” I tell Willo, who puts a finger to his lips, suggesting Luna stays quiet.

“Yep. We’ll be back next week. Until then, bye from The Tank.”

“And bye from The Yank,” I add with a laugh.

“And go Monarchs,” Willo almost yells into the microphone. I press the button to stop the recording as Luna climbs into Willo’s lap. “You look a lot better, Lunes. Shall we get your brothers and take Paige home?”

“I feel poorly, Daddy. Can Paige stay with me while you get the boys?” Luna even coughs for dramatic effect. “She can watch the end of Frozen with me.”

“Paige may not want to. She’s got things she needs to do.” Willo kisses his daughter on the head.

“Have you got a daddy and children, too?” Luna looks at me.

I must look puzzled. “No.” Willo shakes his head. “Paige lives by herself.”

“I can stay with her.” I have no idea where this comes from. It’s not like I know the first thing about looking after kids. I should get going and head back into town with Willo. I don’t want him to have to make extra trips.

“You sure?” Willo smiles at my offer. “I can easily take you back later or something.”

I’m not sure how easy it will be for him to take me home later with three children at home, but I know I want to spend more time with this man, even if that means spending time with his children, too.