Author: Dougie Brimson
Category: Thriller
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/dougie-brimson/page,19,58377-wings_of_a_sparrow.html
‘That’s correct.’
‘So in effect, the fans now own this football club?’
Rob smiled, as much to himself as to anyone else. He could almost hear the screams of rage coming from the boardroom.
‘Yes,’ he said directly into the camera. ‘As far as I am concerned, the City fans now own this football club.’
‘So what’s to stop them sacking you?’
Given that he was some six inches shorter than the club secretary, it was all but impossible for Rob to get nose to nose with Keith Mayes but he was certainly doing his best to lock and keep eye contact.
‘I didn't know anything about it. You have my word on that.’
Rob kept his eyes locked on, looking for a flicker or anything which might suggest guilt, but after a second or two he nodded and relaxed. He pulled out his phone which was buzzing constantly, glanced at the screen and cancelled the call.
‘Good. I didn’t think it was your style. So what happens now?’ he asked as he stuffed his mobile back into his pocket.’
‘My guess is that even as we're standing here they’ll be trying to sell their shares and get out.’
‘Not those dickheads,’ said Rob. ‘Look, I've been a prat, OK? I know it, you know it, everyone knows it.
‘That’s true,’ said Mayes with a nod.
‘So? What do we do to save this?’ Rob pulled out his phone which was ringing again - and again, after looking at the screen he cancelled the call. This time, he switched it to silent.
Only when he had finished messing around with his phone did Rob return his attention to Keith Mayes, who was standing staring at him with an indifferent expression fixed to his face.
‘That largely depends what you mean by this, Mr. Chairman.’
Even before Rob had closed the front door, Jane was in the entrance hall. Her face the very picture of rage.
‘Why the bloody hell haven’t you been answering my calls?’ she screeched as he walked past her into the living room.
‘I’ve been busy,’ he muttered as he sat down on the sofa, grabbed the remote and turned on the TV in one well practiced movement.
‘Yes I know, giving away a bloody fortune!’
‘You don’t understand,’ Rob said quietly, not even attempting to disguise his lack of interest in discussing it.
‘How dare you do something like that without talking to me first.’
Rob looked up at her. He didn’t know if he were shocked or angry.
‘You what?’
‘Half of that is mine. You can't just give it away because you feel like it.’
‘And again… what?’
‘You heard me,’ Jane said angrily. ‘I want my half. Vicky told me I’m entitled.’
‘Vicky! What the bloody hell has this got to do with her? That mad bint is starting to get right on my tits.’
‘I mean it Rob. Half of those shares are mine. You can’t just give them away without asking me first.’
Rob let out a wry laugh and turned his gaze back to the television.
‘Well Jane, unless I can perform a bloody miracle, the sum total of your half will be fuck all. And that’s a fact.’
Chapter Thirty Eight
Having stayed away from the ground the previous day, Rob was struck by the astonishing change in the atmosphere as he drove into the car park on the Friday morning.
It wasn’t simply that the quantity of abuse thrown at him from the small group of fans who seemed to inhabit the small patch of grass outside the main gate was less than usual, it was that the almost tangible hatred which had welcomed him for months had all but evaporated. The mood wasn’t simply lighter, it was buzzing. In fact the last time Rob had felt anything like it had been during the build up to United’s first game in the premiership some years previously. Mind you, it had gone swiftly downhill soon after that.
Inevitably, the number of press waiting in the club foyer had grown, but if they expected his relationship with them to be any different in the wake of his announcement regarding ownership of the club, they were sadly mistaken. For as normal, he simply swept past them and headed for his own office.
‘Good morning Mr. Chairman,’ beamed Joanne from behind her desk.
‘Mr. Chairman,’ said Rob with a questioning frown. ‘That’s a bit formal. Still, best I enjoy it while I can. Please tell me I have a nice quiet morning ahead.’
‘I could,’ said Joanne as she followed him into his office and dropped a pile of messages onto the desk. ‘But I’d be lying.’
Rob looked down at the mound of paper and dumped himself into his seat.
‘Coffee?’
‘The itinerary for the players’ break in Cyprus next week is here,’ she continued, handing him another folder. ‘And Keith told me to tell you that the supporters’ club will be open for business in time for the game on Tuesday night.’
‘Good.’
‘He did ask if you’d be interested in going along to the opening.’
Rob looked up and raised an eyebrow in mock admonishment.
‘I thought that might be your response, but you can tell him yourself. You have a meeting at 11 o'clock in the boardroom.’
Rob watched her as she moved toward the door and smiled when she stopped and turned around. He knew there was one last thing. There always was.
‘Oh, and just to let you know that all your team shirts have been removed from the club shop. You know, the ones no one bought.’
‘Yes, thank you Joanne,’ he said. ‘Now, could I have some coffee?’
Rob stood in front of the whiteboard and stared at the four names he’d written on it in large black letters. York(h), Northampton(h), Wycombe(A), Oxford(h).
Three home games out of four. He couldn’t have asked for more than that.
With a sigh he sat down. There was little or nothing he could do now, other than trust to hope. And in reality, hope was all he had.
He needed seven points from the four games. Seven stupid points. It was certainly doable in any normal circumstance but this was far from normal. Truth is, he was wholly reliant on a team who not only hated him, but who knew full well that with the way the teams below them were playing, four points was almost certainly all they were going to need to secure their league status. Rob was in little doubt that that was all they were going to be playing for, irrespective of what he might do or say. He did hope the offer to send them off on a few days in the sun ahead of the final game of the season would give a boost to team spirit and maybe even get them fired up for the last few games - but who knew how they were going to react?
The idea had actually come from Keith Mayes and Rob had agreed instantly. But it had also struck him that it would be an excellent idea to get them away from the media scrum which seemed to be increasing by the hour and showed no sign of abating. However, the success or failure of that was largely dependent on Gary Rogers and Rob had spoken to him at length in an effort to smooth the waters. He didn’t know if it had worked, but he’d tried his best.
Keith Mayes entered and Rob stood to greet him.
‘How’re things going?’ he asked nervously.
‘Hard to say,’ replied Mayes. ‘It’s only been a day but I think you can sense a change. Everyone seems a bit more upbeat.’
‘Any news from the board?’
‘Not a word,’ said Mayes with a shake of his head. ‘I think they’re licking their wounds. Bastards.’
Rob smiled. That was the first time he’d ever heard the club secretary swear.
‘I spoke to Lee England. He’s started the ball rolling with regard to the transference of shares. I also asked him to name you as interim chairman once I depart.’
‘Yes, he called me today, and I spoke to Gary earlier, he said you’d talked.’
‘So that’s that then,’ said Rob. ‘Not much else I can do but wait and see now is there? What do you think?’ he added with a nod in the direction of the board.
Keith Mayes looked at it for a second and walked o
ver to it, picked up a red pen and wrote 3-1-1 beside the first three names. After a lengthy pause he added a large question mark beside Oxford.
‘That would do me,’ he said wistfully.
‘Thanks,’ said Rob sadly. ‘That doesn’t help me though.’
‘I'm not even thinking about you,’ said Mayes thoughtfully, ‘I just hope to Christ we don’t go into the final game needing something to escape the drop.’
‘Funnily enough, I’m not exactly keen on the idea either,’ replied Rob.
Chapter Thirty Nine
Despite the stand around them emptying rapidly, Charlie and Mick remained firmly in their seats, their eyes fixed on the big screen in the corner of the ground to the right of where they were sitting.
‘Jesus wept,’ groaned Mick. ‘They must have had five minutes extra time by now.’
Even as Charlie began to reply, Chris Kamara came onto the left hand side of the screen and began talking excitedly above a blue bar bearing the words; City 2 – York City 1.
‘Yes!’ hissed the old man as he clenched his fist in muted celebration before turning to his grandson and swiftly adding ‘bloody scummers.’
Charlie smiled in response.
‘I never thought I’d see you happy to see the scum win, granddad.’
‘Me neither mate,’ laughed the old man. ‘But your dad needed that. Come on, we best get a hurry up on. He’s supposed to be picking you up in an hour.’
Rob stood beside the Bentley and watched his son dump his bag in the boot and climb into the passenger seat. Since Charlie was already wired into his iPod, he guessed that conversation on the drive to Sheffield was going to fairly limited.
‘You smoke too bloody much,’ admonished Rob as Mick took out his tin and pulled out a roll up. ‘Them things’ll be the death of you.’
‘Too late to worry about that now,’ the old man said as he fired up his lighter and drew in a lungful of Golden Virginia. ‘Good win today.’
‘Yeah. Two down, three to go.’
‘I was talking about United,’ said the old man.
Rob looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
‘You bloody liar,’ he laughed.
Mick exhaled slowly and smiled as the smoke crept out and vanished into the late afternoon air.
‘What d’you reckon to Tuesday? That’s gonna be bloody massive.’
‘Fuck knows,’ said Rob. ‘Here, why don’t you come? I could do with the moral support.’
Mick threw a horrified look at his son before stepping forward and tapping on the car window which after a few seconds, slid silently downward.
‘Your dad wants to know if we fancy going to watch City on Tuesday night.’
Charlie flashed a blank look at Rob who smiled down at his son. Unsurprisingly, within a matter of seconds the window was moving effortlessly upward.
‘Smart arse,’ said Rob before it could close shut. ‘And get your bloody feet off my dash.’
‘How’re things at home?’ asked Mick once he was sure the boy was back in his audio world. ‘Any better?’
‘She’s driving me mental,’ said Rob softly. ‘Her bloody mate ain’t helping either. She’s a fucking nightmare. Chattering away in her ear like some barrack room bloody lawyer.’
‘Maybe she needs a good dicking,’ said Mick. ‘I could-’
‘Don’t even go there,’ said Rob. ‘A knackered old twat like you wouldn’t last five minutes.’
‘I wasn't going to say that.’
‘Yeah well don't say that either. I don't need reminding that I got myself into this bind.’
‘I wasn’t going to say that either.’
‘So come on then. What were you gonna say?’
Mick sucked on his cigarette and then flicked the butt into a nearby drain.
‘It don’t matter. Go on, piss off. My programme’s on in five minutes and I need a slash first.’
‘Get in there!’
Rob raised his arms above his head as the brightly coloured figures on the small screen in front of them began dancing around in pre-programmed celebration.
‘You’re shit arrrggghhh,’ he gloated.
‘Do you have to use that kind of language?’ admonished Jane as she entered the room carrying a variety of bags which she dropped on the floor by the door. ‘Charlie! Sorry I wasn’t here when you got back. I’ve been sitting in traffic for ages.’
‘Hi mum. You ok?’ he asked barely taking his eyes off the screen.
‘I’d be a lot happier after a cuddle from my son,’ she replied.
Charlie dragged himself to his feet and, clearly reluctantly, wrapped his arms around his mother. Even as he was doing so, Rob let out a yelp.
‘I do believe that's 2-0.’
‘That don't count,’ said Charlie as he released his mother and dived for his chair. ‘I was distracted.’
‘Thanks,’ sighed Jane to herself.
‘I think you will find it does actually,’ continued Rob seemingly oblivious to the emotional knife which had just been twisted into his wife.
‘I see you won today,’ she said.
‘How many times,’ groaned Rob without taking his eyes off the screen. ‘It's not you, it's City.’
‘Whatever. So where does that leave us? And that's us not City.’
‘Funny,’ replied Rob flatly. ‘City need four points from three games.’
‘And?’
‘And what?’
‘For God’s sake Rob,’ Jane said angrily. ‘Are they going to do it or not?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Well you best make sure they do Rob. I told you-’
Before she could finish, Charlie had stood and was heading for the door. He’d heard this a hundred times over the past few months and he didn’t want to hear it again.
‘I’m going up to my room for a bit.’
Rob glared at Jane, who closed her eyes and sighed. She’d done it again.
‘Excellent work Jane,’ he said. ‘Fucking excellent.’
Jane sat quietly on the sofa as the two men in her life continued to ignore her, just as they had done for the bulk of the previous twenty-four hours. How had it come to this?
Ironically, when Charlie had called Rob on the Thursday and asked to come over for the weekend, she’d been optimistic that it was his ham-fisted way of trying to ease some of the pressure on his dad by injecting a degree of normal into their bizarre situation, maybe even allow her some scope to mend a fence or two.
Sadly, thanks to her and her big mouth, those hopes had been dashed fairly quickly and she baulked as she recalled the awkwardness of the hug he had been so reluctant to give her when she had arrived home. Disgust, shame, embarrassment, it had all been there. And it had torn her apart.
At least he’d been more like his old self with Rob which was something, but it had been their time and she had been little more than a spectator. An outsider. Unloved and alone.
Rob had hardly helped the situation with his own demeanour, for Jane had never known her husband to act so cold and unfeeling toward her. She suspected it had as much to do with the way she’d been behaving lately with regard to the will as it did toward the other thing, but since he would hardly talk to her how could she ever know for sure? And to be fair, since the only way she was seemingly able to engage him in anything like conversation these days was by moaning and complaining, what else could she do? After all, it wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to apologise for her indiscretion a million times.
And if ever Jane needed him it was now - because she was so scared. More scared than she had ever been in her entire life. Not of losing the money, but of losing everything. There was part of her which felt she had already.
Her heart sank when Rob suddenly got to his feet and announced that it was time for them to go. Time for her son to leave her again and time for her to be plunged back into the empty, lonely void that had become her life.
Every fibre of her being screamed at them to ask her if she wanted to go w
ith them, but if they heard, they ignored it because the request never came. So instead, with what remained of her pride stopping her from asking if she could go, Jane took what comfort she could from the half-hearted hug and the brush on the cheek and watched them leave. the closing of the door and the sound of the car starting signalling the start of the tears which she knew were going to last for hours.
By the time the gates closed behind the Bentley, Jane Cooper, wife and mother, was in floods.
Mick sat in his chair staring at the television and listening to his son rattling around in the kitchen.
‘Get the biscuits,’ he called. ‘Shelf above the kettle.’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ came the distant reply. ‘I’m a bloody guest.’
Mick turned his head toward the door through which his son appeared and thrust out his hand which was soon filled by a steaming cup of tea.
‘Guest my arse. You’re the one who wanted a drink,’ he said with a wry grin. ‘So? How was he?’
‘Not too bad I s’pose,’ said Rob with a sigh. ‘At least he spoke this time.’
‘How was he with Jane? I think he misses her more than he lets on.’
‘I don’t know dad,’ he said sadly. ‘It’s all pretty fucked up.’
‘Look, you’re not gonna like what I’m gonna say but - well, maybe you need to cut her a bit of slack. Not for her sake,’ he quickly blurted out before Rob could react, which is exactly what he had been about to do, ‘but for Charlie’s. I think he feels stuck in the middle of it all. That’s not good.’
Rob sat back on his chair and raised his eyes to the ceiling.
‘I know,’ he said sadly as he continued to stare heavenwards. ‘I do try but - well, she’s changed. She’s so bloody-’
He paused, struggling to find the right word.
‘Mercenary? Selfish?’ suggested Mick.
Rob looked across at his father and smiled. Either word was pretty close.
‘It’s times like this when I miss mum being around,’ he said sadly.
Mick fell into silent reflection for a few moments. Thinking of his wife always dragged him down and reminded him of his own situation.