Chapter Five: Chicken  

Eve's nerves increased as the cab she'd ordered neared the address Greta had sent her. She’d almost backed out of the dinner with her teammate, her teammates husband, and someone called Mateo. She and Greta had only exchanged a few words before. Football was probably the only thing they had in common, and she wondered if they would have enough conversation to fill a whole evening.

She also wasn't in the best of moods. When she'd got back to her apartment after the game, Eve's phone pinged with notifications, all wanting to show her a worldie of a goal scored by Kate in Hanmore’s league cup game which had been going on at the same time as the Real Martinez’s friendly. Hanmore’s stands looked full. High praise was being rained down on her ex-girlfriend. The way Sam jumped into Kate's arms during the celebrations made Eve both nauseous and shaky. It was on every post, tweet and reel. She had put her phone in a drawer and ignored it for two full hours. She'd also had a little cry on her small balcony. 

Eve considered faking an illness or emergency, but Greta had probably cleaned, shopped, and cooked for her. It wouldn’t have been fair to cancel so late. And so, she'd begun to get ready, unenthused. Her wardrobe was limited. Luckily, when she'd stopped at the Supermercado for wine and flowers on her way home, she’d also found a white shirt that looked okay over a vest top. She paired it with the jeans she’d worn on the flight over.    

After a twenty-minute ride, she was dropped outside a smart one-story, terracotta-roofed house. She forced herself to smile, took a deep breath and tried to feel happy. You could only show up on someone's doorstep in a miserable state if you knew them very well.

She knocked then worried that the flowers were a bit much, but when Greta answered the door, the bouquet was taken off her with much enthusiasm and thanks, as was the wine. She was ushered into an open plan living area that was somehow cosy and smart at the same time. There were cushions and rugs and lots of photos. A glass of cold, crisp white was pressed into her hands before she and Greta wandered out onto a deck in a small garden that had a distant view of the sea. 

‘Wow. This is lovely. Why didn’t I think to demand this kind of place from the club?’ 

Greta laughed and clinked her glass against Eve’s. ‘This is ours, me and Eduardo, nothing to do with the club. They put me in one of those high boxes you have now when I first came, but I met him and everything changed.’ 

Edwardo was behind them in their stylish minimalist kitchen area, a tea towel slung over his shoulder, preparing something that smelled delicious. He was young, bare-footed, mustachioed and friendly. Eve watched as he paused in his stirring and chopping to admonish a toddler who bounded, squealing into the room with a miniature foam football clutched in his chubby arms. 

‘And this is Matteo,’ Greta said, as Mateo ran around his father, giggling at being chased. He headed straight to his mother who gathered him up in her arms. ‘Matteo, say hello to Mama’s new teammate, Eve. She is not here to play football though, no balls in the house.’ 

Matteo smiled shyly and ducked his head into his mother’s neck. He was dark haired, dark skinned, and as cherubic as any toddler Eve had ever seen. His mother took the ball from him and put it away in a box of toys on the corner of the deck. 

‘He thinks you are here to play football. We’re still working on the English,’ Greta told her. ‘He’s got the Spanish and German down though, if you speak any of those?’ 

‘I'm bad at languages. I struggle with English,' Eve said. So, you had a baby, and came back to playing? That’s amazing.’ 

‘People do it,’ Greta laughed.  

‘Not many. It’s incredible.’ 

‘What is incredible is the female body,’ said Greta, 'and all it can endure.’ The doorbell rang and Greta held a finger in the air. ‘Ah, this will be Lucia.’ 

Eve’s heart sank. Since arriving, she'd relaxed a bit. She’d started to imagine an evening of polite conversation, eating some good food and saying goodbye to this very nice couple at about ten o’clock. She hadn’t counted on there being other guests, especially not Lucia, who she unwittingly managed to annoy at every turn. 

While Greta was opening the door, Eduardo left his kitchen duties to come and top Eve’s wine glass up, even though she’d only taken two sips. ‘My wife, she must welcome all the new players,’ he said. 

‘That’s nice. It's really kind of her.’ Eduardo was spectacularly handsome. Even she, a woman who had never craved a man, never even been tempted by one, saw his appeal. ‘She’s a good player.’ 

‘Yes, I like watch, Matteo, me, we go the matches, but I have restaurant too.’ 

‘Oh, you’re a proper chef, with a restaurant?’ 

He laughed. ‘Yes, corner.’ He gestured, in such a way that Eve immediately understood. 

‘Oh, the place on the corner, by my apartment. I haven’t been there yet.’ 

‘This how I meet Greta.’ 

‘That makes sense,’ Eve said nodding. ‘I should try it. I am not a good cook.’ 

‘First meal free, no more, then I charge, my family, yes, I provide?’ 

Eve laughed and took a sip of wine before her gaze was drawn to Lucia, who was now in the lounge area. Rather than bearing wine, she had brought a fluffy green dinosaur that she held out to Matteo. He snatched it up gratefully. Lucia crouched down to his level and asked him lots of questions in Spanish before they eventually high-fived. 

Lucia declined wine at first, before a sideways glance at Eve, and then changed her mind. She accepted a huge glass of red. Eve sank into one of the comfy deck chairs, feeling deflated. Obviously, she was the kind of person that another person needed alcohol to endure an evening with. She looked away when Lucia came out onto the deck, wondering what they would say. In the end though, there was no need for anything more than a quick hell and a nod, because Matteo bounded out behind Lucia and stuck to her like glue, leaning against her, bringing her out toys and puzzles for her to admire. Greta and Eduardo flitted between the kitchen, the dining table and the deck, before announcing that it was Matteo’s bedtime. 

The small boy did not complain and was whisked off to brush his teeth and was not heard from again.  

‘He is tired from running on the sand all day,’ Greta said when she re-appeared from his bedroom. ‘And you are very good with him,’ she said to Lucia as they sat down to eat. Eduardo laid the starters in front of them. Prawns in garlic butter, and fresh bread. It was such a rich smell, but pure because it's ingredients were.  

‘You must want children?’ Greta asked Lucia. 'The way you are with Matteo.' 

‘Si, who does not?’ 

‘Loads of people don’t.’ Eve added, which earned her a look from everyone at the table. 

‘Is not so easy, maybe, for me to have,’ Lucia said, ‘but I would like. In Spain, family is everything.’  

Eduardo nodded. 'The Abuelas kill you. Ask and ask for babies to appear.'  

It suddenly occurred to Eve that they were all speaking English to appease her. She imagined Greta, after so many years in Spain, could have chatted away in Spanish to Eduardo and Lucia easily. All the international players who had come to Hanmore over the years had arrived with at least a smattering of English, and had then gone on to learn more, until they were practically fluent.    

‘He wants another, a brother or sister for Matteo,’ Greta pointed to Eduardo, ‘but I if we do that now then football is done for me, and i am not quite sure I am ready to give it up yet.’ 

‘No is rush, my love.’ Eduardo said, easily. He smiled at his wife before leaving the table and returning with a main dish of chicken and vegetables in a big earthenware pot and a side dish of spicy potatoes. It was tasty that Eve reckoned she could have finished it all on her own on a particularly hungry day. They talked of football, of Spain, and of Germany and England, until the plates were empty and the sun had gone down on the deck.   

Eve’s offer to help clear up was waved away. ‘Go outside, with Lucia, we will be out in a bit.’ 

Pretty little solar lights had come on in the garden now that darkness had descended. Lucia was staring out at them, or into nothing, with the same intense expression that Eve had seen her wear that first night in Spain, when she’d been out on her balcony, and Eve had been on hers. 

‘Hanmore they win today,’ Lucia said as Eve approached, without turning around. 

‘Yep.’ 

‘I see goal, Kate Slater, nice shot.’ 

Eve chewed on her bottom lip. Was Lucia deliberately taunting her? Did she know about her and Kate, and the whole Sam saga? If so, it seemed especially mean to bring it up. ‘Yeah, it was a worldie,’ Eve said, her voice breaking a little. 

‘Not as good as my butt goal.’ 

Eve laughed, despite herself. Lucia’s shoulders relaxed and she turned. Her handsome face softened into a smile. 

‘At least you got to play today, I don’t think the coach likes me,’ Eve said. ‘I don’t think you like me,’ she added.  

Lucia’s face darkened and her jaw tensed up. ‘Not all things are about you.’ 

Eve frowned in confusion, but Greta appeared again before she could respond, and the conversation turned to lighter subjects. They swapped funny football stories until it got late, until Greta let out a yawn.  

Lucia said something to her in Spanish, and Greta nodded. ‘Yes, a busy day but I am not rushing you.’ 

‘I should order a taxi,' Eve replied. ‘Doing all this for us, the kid, the match and everything. You must be knackered.’ 

Everyone laughed and looked at each other in confusion.  

‘What’s this word?’ Greta asked. ‘I never heard it before.’ 

‘Knackered? You know like proper tired, brain tired, bones tired, all done.’ 

‘Okay, and you got an Uber, to here?’  

‘Yeah, why?’ 

‘He scam you. Is a walk, ten minutes,’ Lucia said, getting up out of her chair. ‘Come, I show.’ 

After saying goodbye to Greta and Eduardo, they left, and she and Lucia walked silently to the end of the road. Then they ducked between two houses where a narrow path took them to some steps. Eve realised it was a shortcut right through the heart of the town. When they reached the top of them, she turned to admire the warm yellow moon that had settled over the  brown tiled rooftops.  

‘So, the apartments are that way, right? I can see that church from my balcony.’ 

‘Si,’ Lucia said. She pointed to another set of steps a few yards in front of them. ‘We go up here and be back.’ 

‘No! You mean I'm actually living that close to the sea? I could have walked there any day since I've been here, to the beach, that quickly?’ 

‘Si. Where you been walking?’ 

‘The Supermacardo.’ 

Lucia’s gaze dropped down to Eve’s shirt. ‘Ah yes, I have this.’ She tugged at the end of Eve’s shirt. ‘Was in with the toast makers and bats and balls.’ 

They started up the next set of steps.  

‘Why you here, Eve Middleton? Why Real Martinez?’ Lucia asked quietly. 

Eve felt a rush of anger, and then just sadness. Ninety-nine per cent of women’s football knew what had driven her away from Hanmore, that this girl didn't seemed unlikely. She stopped and studied Lucia’s earnest face. Maybe she wasn’t fishing for gossip; maybe she genuinely didn’t know. ‘Kate Slater was my girlfriend. She’s now Sam O’Brien’s girlfriend.’ 

Lucia stopped walking immediately, was still on the steps and let out a low whistle. ‘Same team!’ She was clearly shocked.

‘I’m not the first person in the world to be dumped, won’t be the last,’ Eve said with a shrug and started walking again.

‘They cheat?’ Lucia asked as she followed her. 

'No.' The stairs were steep. Eve didn’t say anything else until she’d reached the top. She was blowing a little. They were on their street now, almost at the complex where they would part ways and disappear into their separate but identical apartments. ‘Maybe they did, they probably did.’ She shrugged. ‘Does it matter? Same result in the end. A bit like football, you can argue about bad decisions, missed chances, and fouls, but you either win or you don’t. And I lost.’ 

Lucia looked thoughtful and for a moment Eve wondered if she'd understood what she’d said, but then Lucia cocked her head to the side. ‘Sometimes, you has to lose to know how beautiful it is to win.' Then she made a little motion with her hand that was half wave and half salute and walked away into the darkness.