Page 37 of The Game

We pulled up at the local cricket pitch, and I pulled the cap down lower over his eyes, leaning over into his space until was sure I could feel the heat from his body radiate towards mine. He looked ridiculous in the old boy's sweater, and I'd chuckled most of the way.

"So you play here?" He looked through the windshield at the sun-bleached green, and the pub stood next to it. It was one of those old-fashioned cricket grounds, conveniently located next to a watering hole which provided a balcony for spectators and players to sit in, overlooking the field.

"I grew up playing here, and they still let me join in, especially now I'm around a bit more.”

"But you're a girl."

I burst out laughing. "You are the most sexist man I've ever met."

He chuckled too, and the sound of both our laughter mingled in the confines of the car. "I work hard on it."

Narrowing my eyes, I stared long and hard. "It's an act thought, right?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he pulled the handle on the car door and stretched his long legs out onto the ground.

Yanking the cap down further over his trademark bright hair he dropped his shoulders and kept his walk as average as I believe he could make it as we trailed towards the umpire. "Hi, Bert," I leant in and gave him a kiss. The Lion coughed like he had something stuck in his throat. Bert is eighty and hard of sight. He makes a solid umpire if ever there was one.

The rest of the teams were a mix of young boys, middle-aged men and the old pensioner.

"Bert, I've got a friend in town, do you mind if he joins in?"

Bert looked through rheumy eyes at the Lion, but if he noticed anything through his failing vision, he didn't look on. The Lion kicked the floor with the toe of his trainer and looked mighty uncomfortable. Honestly, I was enjoying this more than I thought.

Bert pulled out his clipboard. "Name?"

"Uh." I hadn't planned this bit.

"Jonathan." The Lion said, filling the awkward space.

"Jo-a-the-an," Bert spelt out onto his sheet. I winked at the Lion, and his lips twitched.

The sun was beating down, the sky an endless blue, and the heat was already immense. I felt sorry for him wearing that pullover, but then at the same time, I didn't. Ha. I was glad I'd arranged a playdate for the little guy, though, he would have sizzled sitting out under the sun for hours.

"I haven't played cricket like this in a while." The Lion growled into my ear as we made our way to the centre of the field where teams were being picked. As soon as I drew up, Davies one of the younger players grabbed me and linked his arm tightly through mine.

"She's mine, she's mine, everyone else back off."

I laughed. "Okay, I'm on your team."

Davies glanced his dark eyes over England’s greatest cricketer. "How's your friend's skills?" he asked. He stared a little closer, attempting to see under the cap Jase had pulled so low it sat tight across the top of his head. It was impossible to see anything above the stubble on his top lip.

"Meh, he's just starting out."

Davies grimaced. "You can have him," he told the other captain who groaned in response.

"Bitch," The Lion whispered as I went off with my team, I gave him a cheery wave and turned my back.

We fielded first. Good god, bowling at the Lion was something else. Apart from the fact the bastard actually hit that ball out into the road on many occasions. At one point, it landed on the balcony with the spectators drinking beer. "That's a six." He shouted with more glee than I'd ever heard in any of our T20 matches.

And then I caught him out, and he sulked the whole way to the deckchairs that made the team benches, his hat pulled low shielding his face. I was just relieved he had managed to keep his temper in check. More than anything his fiery disposition would give away his identity more than his eyes or his hair.

When the batting innings were over, the team waltzed off with an unprecedented two hundred and fifty runs, most of them from the bat of the former number one until I snatched his ball in my hands—ooh that sounded quite rude. We stepped up, and he jeered at me as I adjusted my helmet.

I knew he was going to try to take me down.

With horror, I watched as he offered to bowl first. Was he having a laugh? If he wasn't, I wasn't going into the situation with mirth.

What would I do if he became even more injured for training tomorrow? I couldn't possibly hope to cover it.