Chapter Seven: Family

With no idea how she’d gotten back to her apartment, Eve woke up to a blazing sun that was streaming in through bedroom blinds that she hadn’t been sober enough to close the night before. Her head was banging and her feet were sore. Her phone, when she picked it up to check the time, had dozens of notifications that she chose to ignore. None of them looked important and she didn’t want to see the clubbing pictures that were being sent to the team group chat. The flashbacks in her mind were enough to embarrass her; photographic evidence was too much to cope with. She spent a full half-hour in the shower, ate some strange Spanish cereal for breakfast, then donned her bikini and a pair of denim shorts before wandering, bag over her shoulder, down to the beach, where she fell upon a towel. Dehydrated and nauseous, she sunk into the sand. If it had been quicksand and wanted to swallow her up, she wouldn't have had the strength to resist it. 

It was difficult to get comfortable though. She tried reading then sleeping but failed at both. Her mind was buzzing from topic to topic and from worry to worry. Around her, families began to arrive. They spread out large, thin, colourful, blankets, and set up chairs and sunshades in well-rehearsed ways that suggested they'd been doing it for decades. They were clearly here for the whole day. Children ran around nearly naked, dashing in and out of the waves, bickering and laughing. In each of these big gatherings were four or five matronly women, likely grandmothers and aunts, who dictated everything and kept possession of the comfortable chairs while the men and younger members of the family sat on the blankets below them. Eve lifted herself up on her elbows to watch as one of the older women grabbed a small boy who was being rough with a girl; probably his cousin or sister and gave him a finger-waving warning. The boy nodded immediately, did not sulk or rebel, and ran off with the other children as soon as the admonishment was over.  

Eve watched their interactions through her sunglasses, which was just as well because her eyes were tearing up a little. It was not like she and Patrick had never gone to the beach as children, of course they had, but it had only ever been the three of them. They had gone on the train, which had taken ages, so, their actual time on the beach had been limited. They had dug holes, built castles, then argued about the castles which had resulted in them being kicked down. Patrick would have gone off somewhere in a huff and found a load of boys to play with, while their mother would have her head buried in a Mills and Boon novel. Eventually, after much begging, the picnic would have been brought out, which would consist of sandwiches and sausage rolls with added crunch as they inevitably got caught up in the sand. After the food, Eve would beg again for an ice-cream and eventually be given money for a simple one-scoop cone, no flake. Then she would wander around, aimlessly, dipping her toes in and out of the water, too shy to make friends in the way that Patrick did instantly. He would usually be playing cricket or rounders some way away, while she would sit on a dune or a rock, counting bugs or shells.  

Oh yes, there had been football games going on, both on the beach with light air-filled balls, and behind the beach, where angry looking lads kicked a bald leather football around in a metal caged tarmac pitch. She would never attempt to join them because she had done so before and paid the price. If she showed a bit of fancy footwork, or nutmegged them, or scored a screamer against their goalie, they would turn on her. The off-the-ball ankle breaking tackles would come in, the shoulder barges, and the elbows in the face and ribs would start. Football had been a talent she’d had to hide - until the Academy at Hanmore had found her and given her the chance to play alongside a whole team of girls, and against other girls. 

Eve almost gasped when Lucia arrived. She watched as her teammate walked confidently across the sand and was brought into the heart of the family that Eve had been watching. She was kissed and hugged, shook hands and cuddled children, was effusive and jovial, and then sat down to begin a conversation with one of the older ladies, that at first seemed tense and then become more light-hearted. Lucia suddenly stood up and Eve ducked her head and turned away, not wanting to be caught staring and desperately hoping she hadn’t been spotted. She probably looked awful; pale and bloated from all the alcohol she had consumed the night before. There were probably bags under her eyes.  

She dug into her bag and retrieved the paperback she had earlier discarded. It made a good shield. She held it up close to hide her face, though she found it impossible to ignore Lucia's family completely. She was drawn to them, and after a while, she lifted the book up slightly so she could watch them, underneath it, with one eye. A game of beach volleyball had started that didn't seem to have rules but looked to be lots of fun had begun. Squealing children were thrown into the sea, and every play was argued about in a good-natured way. There was no net or court but somehow Lucia’s team won. Clearly a hero to all her cousins, nieces and nephews, after she had put away the winning shot, they surrounded her in celebration and then followed her back to the blankets where they all collapsed down for a lunch that involved not a burger or chip, or a sausage, or a crisp. The children wolfed it down, refueling, before running off to play again. Eve was by now starving, the cereal hadn’t been filling. But if she got up, she’d likely be seen, and if Lucia saw her then she’d know that she’d been sitting thirty feet away from her the whole time without saying hello. It was all a bit embarrassing.  

Eve shifted, still holding up the book, and picked up her phone to check the time, wondering how long she had been here and how long she might be stuck in the same spot. Without thinking, she clicked on Instagram. One of the big women’s football accounts had re-posted the clip of her arguing with the Real Martinez coach. Yesterday, it had seemed confined to followers of the Spanish league, but now it was attracting loads of comments from all over the world. 

She read a few, which were just asking what happened, and then scrolled down to see one that was particularly vicious. 

Who does she think she is, telling the manager off. She’s such a bitch, no wonder Kate Stanland left her skanky arse. 

It sounded, in tone, a lot like the horrible DM Eve had received the night before. Was it the same person, or did loads of people now hate her? 

‘Ola’ 

Eve jumped in surprise and then blinked to looked up at Lucia who was now standing over her, a finger pushing down the top of the book that Eve had been trying to hide behind. 

‘Hi,’ she stuttered and then tried to look surprised. ‘Fancy seeing you here?’ 

‘Sunday. The whole town here. Is what we do.’ 

Eve nodded. 'How are you?’ 

‘Better than you, I think. I see pictures. You have fun night?’ Lucia asked with a raised eyebrow. 

‘Oh, fuck off.’ Eve bristled. ‘I was no more drunk thank anyone else.’ 

Lucia let out a snort of laughter. There was some talk behind her, some shouts and waves. She turned to acknowledge them before looking back at Eve. ‘You must come over now. They know you are on team. I will get...’ Lucia made a bird shape with one hand and moved her fingers up and down beside her ear. ‘This, they do not stop at me...you come...there is food left from this lunch.’ 

‘I’m fine. Really not hungry.’ 

‘You are, I think, you hide here for long time.’ 

Eve’s eyes narrowed. ‘When did you notice me?’ 

‘When I get here, but you did not look like you want to see me. But now I worries that you will starve or get the stroke from the sun. And we will need you, we play Barcelona next week.’ 

There was more noise from behind Lucia.  

‘You must come say ‘ola’, or they calls me bad person with no friends. Come.’ Lucia surprised Eve by gathering her bag in one hand and holding out the other to help Eve up. Her hand was warm when Eve took it and she pulled her onto her feet like she weighed nothing. When Eve bent back down to grab her towel she had to let go of Lucia’s hand and immediately missed its strength.  

Once they had crossed the short distance over to Lucia’s family, Eve was swamped with people wanting to practice their English by offering her bread and olives and cooked meats. Eve accepted a plate and took everything they held out. Lucia then pressed a bottle of open low alcohol beer upon her. ‘I think you need this, the dog hair. But only this one, then back training. No more argue with Mikel. It does not go well with him.’ 

‘I just want to play,’ Eve said, after a pause. 

Lucia nodded and pointed to the older lady who had earlier told the boy off. ‘This my madre.’    

‘Your mum.’ Eve replied getting up insbtantly. She almost bowed before this woman, who was obviously the matriarch of a large Spanish family. Lucia’s mother didn’t look well, her eyes were watery, dull and yellow. She was pale, and her skin hung off her in a way that suggested she had recently lost a lot of weight. ‘It’s lovely to meet you.’ 

‘She does not speak English,’ Lucia said, quickly. 

Lucia’s mother let out a long burst of Spanish and then caught Eve by the arm. She dragged Eve’s face down towards hers and planted a kiss on her cheeks before waving her away again. Eve sunk back down onto the sand. 

‘I must go,’ Lucia said but she sat down beside Eve anyway. 'She is tired.’  

‘You’re from here?’ 

‘Si, down the road, we have farm.’ 

‘But you played for Barcelona?’ 

‘Real Martinez is new team. When I grow up, was not here. My dad, he big Barcelona fan, so...I always want play with them.’ 

‘Right.’ Eve took a sip of the beer. ‘Is your dad here?’ 

‘He die, six year ago,’ Lucia said with a shrug that didn’t invite sympathy.  

‘I'm sorry. That’s tough. I don't really know my dad. He pissed off. Walked out the door when I was eight, never came back.’ 

Lucia nodded and stared into the distance for a while. ‘You see him now?’ 

‘No,’ Eve replied, wondering how they had gotten onto such a deep subject so quickly, and on such a bright day. ‘He tried to get in touch, when I started playing for England. We won the Euros and I was suddenly worth his attention again, but I was still angry, so I didn't reply.’ 

‘Your story is more sad, I think. My dad, he get to see me play for Barca, at the Neu Camp, he see me win some trophy, was so proud.’ 

Eve yawned against her will. Her beer was gone and her belly was full but she had no desire to leave her spot on the sand beside Lucia. 

‘You need siesta and so does Mamma. I take her home.’ 

‘Let me help.’   

Lucia’s mother protested initially about her day on the beach being cut short but then gave in with a sigh and allowed Lucia and Eve to start packing her things up while she said her goodbyes to her large family. with her towel slung over her shoulder, Eve walked with Lucia and her mother slowly up to Lucia’s car that sat waiting in a spot above the bay. 

The elderly woman sank into the passenger side with a long sigh of relief. Lucia shut the door gently and then turned to Eve and looked at her intently. ‘You must play, next week, we have Barcelona.’ 

‘I don’t have any control over that.’ 

‘Mikel knows you are good, like all men he just want to feel important, huh?’ 

‘You want me to suck up to him?’ Eve asked. 

‘I do not want to be embarrass, is all. We will not win.’ 

Eve understood, she would feel the same if they had to face Hanmore. ‘We might win,' she said. 'Nothing's impossible.’ 

‘Sure,’ Lucia laughed. ‘I be happy if we do not let in ten goals. You good defensive player, Eve, you control in the midfield we need this.’ 

As Lucia got into the driver's seat of her car and pulled away, Eve wondered if it was the first time she had heard Lucia say her name, maybe she had shouted it on the pitch but never off it.