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 the blinds she hadn’t been sober enough to close. Her head was banging and her feet were sore. Her phone, when she picked it up to check the time, had dozens of notifications displayed that she chose to ignore. None of them looked important and she really didn’t need to see the pictures of the night before that were being sent to the team group chat. The flashbacks in her mind were enough to embarrass her. She spent a full half-hour in the shower, ate some strange Spanish cereal for breakfast, then donned her pink bikini and a pair of denim shorts before wandering, beach bag over her shoulder, down to the sea, 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 would have had neither the power or inclination to resist it. 

Getting comfortable was difficult 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, Spanish families began to arrive. They spread out large, thin, colourful, blankets, and set up chairs and sunshades in well-rehearsed ways. It was obviously a Sunday tradition and they were clearly here for the whole day and were staking their claim to their favourite part of the beach before the tourists arrived. 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, 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 screaming small boy who was being rough with a girl; likely his cousin or sister and gave him a finger-wagging warning. The boy quietened and nodded immediately, did not sulk or rebel, then ran off with the other children as soon as the admonishment was over.  

Eve continued to watch their interactions, discreetly, through her sunglasses, a little fascinated. 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 two of them and their mum. They had gone on the train, which had taken ages, so their actual time on the beach had been limited. They would dig holes, build castles, then argue about the castles which would result in them being kicked down. Patrick would storm off somewhere in a huff, while her mother had her head buried in a Mills and Boon novel. Eventually, after much begging, a picnic of sandwiches and sausage rolls would be opened. Sandwiches with extra crunch because they had gotten caught up in the sand. After the food, Eve would beg 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 so easily did. He would eventually be found playing cricket or football some way away while she looked on enviously.

She would never attempt to join in if it was football, was already aware, from the games she'd played on their estate, that if she showed a bit of fancy footwork, nutmegged them, or scored more than once, then boys she didn't know would turn on her. The off-the-ball ankle breaking tackles would begin; the shoulder barges, the elbows in the ribs would start. The bare-chested estate boys had eventually, grudgingly accepted her and allowed her to play, sometimes even fought to have her on their team, but these strangers didn't know her and so she would never risk it.

As Eve was musing over the past, Lucia arrived. Eve watched, in shock, as she walked confidently across the sand and was brought into the heart of the family that Eve had been watching. She was kissed and hugged, she 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 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. 

She dug into her bag and retrieved the paperback she had earlier discarded. It made a good shield, and she held it up close to hide her face. Though, she found it impossible to ignore Lucia's family completely. She lifted the book up slightly, after a while, so she could watch them from underneath it. A game of beach volleyball had begun that seemingly had no rules but looked like lots of fun. Squealing children were thrown into the sea, and everything 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 put away the winning shot, they surrounded her in celebration then followed her back to the blankets where they all collapsed down for a lunch that involved not a burger or chip, not a sausage or a crisp. The children wolfed it down, refueling, before running off to play again. Eve was 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 anything. 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 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 Slater left her skanky arse. 

It sounded so much like the horrible DM she’d had the night before. Eve wondered if it was the same person, or did loads of people now hate her? 

‘Ola’ 

Eve jumped in surprise and then blinked to look up at Lucia who was standing over her, a finger pushing down 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.’ 

‘Right. 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 will not stop at me...you come...there is plenty of food .’ 

‘I’m fine. Really not hungry.’ 

‘You must be, I think, you have been hiding 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 worry that you will starve or get the stroke from the sun. And we 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 ham. Eve accepted a plate and took everything they held out. Lucia then pressed a bottle of low alcohol beer on 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’ll try,’ Eve said. ‘Can’t make any promises. I just want to play, you know?’ 

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

‘Your mum.’ Eve replied getting up. 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 will need to go soon,’ Lucia said, but she sat down beside Eve anyway. 'She is tired.’  

‘You’re from here!’ Eve exclaimed in realisation. 

‘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.  

‘That’s tough. My dad 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. When I started playing for England. We won the Euros and I was suddenly worth his attention again. But I was still angry, so no.’ 

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

Eve yawned. Her beer was gone and her belly 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. 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 sigh. Lucia shut the door gently and then turned to Eve and grabbed her forearm with a sudden urgency. ‘You must play, next week, 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. 

Lucia sighed. ‘I do not want to be embarrass, is all. I know we will not win.’ 

Eve understood, she would feel the same if they had to face Hanmore. ‘Okay but we might win, nothing is impossible.’ 

‘Sure,’ Lucia laughed. ‘I be happy if we do not let in ten goals. And this is possible if you in team. You good defensive player, Eve.’ 

‘Thanks,’ Eve replied, unsure whether it was the first time she had heard Lucia say her name, maybe she had onthe pitch, but never off it. Lucia gave her little half wave half salute goodbye, got into the drivers side of the car and drove away.

.