A Dream Come True
The girls’ team had built up a loyal, enthusiastic band of supporters – but why was Martha so keen to help out?
As usual, Martha was the first to arrive at the pavilion. She’d already filled the kettles, set out the mugs and put the sausage rolls in the oven before the others started filing in – and chaos reigned.
“Mum, I thought you said you’d fixed the elastic in my shorts. I’ll need a safety pin to hold them up.”
“Will you put some money on my phone, please, Mum? I’ll pay you back as soon as I get my pocket money from Dad. Promise.”
“Can someone lend me a scrunchie to tie my hair back, please?”
And then Carrie’s voice broke through the mayhem.
“Right then, ladies, let’s get on with it,” she yelled, heading for the door that led on to the pitch.
Silence descended inside the hut as the girls followed their captain en masse, leaving only Martha and the handful of mums whose turn it was on the rota, to pick up the discarded jackets, shoes and bags and place them in neat bundles on the benches that ran the length of the hall.
“The kettle’s boiling,” said Martha. “Time for a cuppa and a biscuit while it’s quiet. Help yourselves.”
“You’re an angel, Martha,” said Susan, stretching over for one of Martha’s home-made custard creams. “You’ve always got everything sorted before we even get here.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” said Martha. “I only live five minutes away and I just have the cat to see to. You all have families to take care of.”
Susan smiled.
“I thought when I had a daughter, I’d spend my time taking her to ballet classes and recorder lessons. I didn’t imagine I’d be up to my neck in dirty football kits and sitting in a stark wooden hut listening to arguments about the off-side rule.”
“My youngest has taken up the recorder,” said Jane. “Believe me, sometimes coming here for football training is a welcome escape.”
The others laughed.
Martha smiled as she listened to their banter. For all they moaned about the early Saturday mornings, the long car journeys and the muddy boots, she knew they were all very proud of their daughters.
They’d fought hard with the local authorities to allow the girls access to the pavilion, which until a couple of years ago had been the sole domain of the male teams.
Sometimes the dads pitched in and did their bit to help. But it was mostly the mums who were involved.
As she listened, Martha realised they’d formed a close-knit team of their own.
They drove the girls to their matches, offering lifts if someone else couldn’t make it that week, and helped out if someone was feeling under the weather. It was the mums who jumped up and down on the sidelines and cheered their girls on, even on the coldest, wettest days.
They ran coffee mornings and car boot sales to raise funds, and they’d welcomed Martha with open arms when she’d offered to help, even though she had no children or grandchildren of her own.
They were planning the driving rota for the next few weeks when the door of the pavilion banged open and let in a blast of icy air.
Fifteen cold, hungry, muddy teenagers bundled in, shattering the peace and quiet.
“Sit down girls,” said Martha. “Your supper’s all ready. You must be starving.”
“Thanks, Martha,” they replied as one. Before long they were tucking into sandwiches and sausage rolls, home-made scones and jam.
“Marsden Park Women’s Juniors might not be the best football team in the league,” said Carrie, “but we definitely have the best post-training supper.”
“If they gave out trophies for scones and cakes, we’d win every time,” Lucy agreed with a nod.
“It’s all thanks to Martha,” said Susan, refilling her daughter’s cup. “If it was left to the rest of us, you’d probably have to make do with a cup of tea and a digestive biscuit.”
“That’s teamwork,” said Martha, modestly. “We all play to our strengths.”
Their hunger satisfied, the girls began discussing tactics for Saturday’s match against St Catherine’s Under-15s.
“They’re really good,” said Lucy with a wistful sigh. “They’re unbeaten so far this season. And that new girl who plays in goal is amazing.”
“It’s going to be a tough one, that’s for sure,” said Carrie.
The others nodded and an air of despondency descended on the room.
“Then you have to work out what their weaknesses are and think of how you can put some pressure on them,” said Martha.
“How are we supposed to do that?” asked Lucy.
“Well,” said Martha, putting the teapot down on the table and pulling up a chair, “here’s what I would do…”
While the other adults began clearing up, Martha and the team discussed tactics and strategies for the forthcoming match. Martha used teaspoons and cups and twisted napkins as aids, manoeuvring them around the table to illustrate her points.
“How come you know so much about football, Martha?” asked one of the girls.
“Well,’ said Martha, “I grew up with three brothers. They all played in junior teams.” She grinned. “I didn’t really have a lot of choice.”
“Did you play in a team yourself?” asked Lucy.
“Heavens, no,” said Martha. “There weren’t any women’s teams back then. Not serious ones anyway. The boys got to play football and rugby and cricket. And the girls got hockey and netball.”
A chorus of “That’s not fair” echoed around the hall.
Martha sighed. “It’s just how it was in those days. My brothers always included me in their kick-abouts at home and I learned a lot from them. But I would have loved to play in a proper match. I was the best penalty taker in my family.”
The mums had been listening to the conversation through the open kitchen door, and perhaps sensing that Martha was feeling a little emotional, Susan came into the hall, clapping her hands and announcing it was time to head for home.
“By the way, Martha,” Susan said as they were doing a final check to make sure all the appliances had been switched off and the windows were secure, “a little bird told me you’ve got a special birthday coming up in the next few days.”
Martha nodded, embarrassed. “I’ll be seventy-five next week.”
“If you’d like to take next Thursday evening off, then the rest of us will be quite happy to hold the fort here. I’m sure the girls can make do with tea and biscuits for one week.”
She wasn’t surprised when her suggestion was received with a firm shake of Martha’s head.
“Not at all. It’s perfectly OK. I’m not doing anything special anyway.”
“Won’t you want to celebrate with your family?” asked Susan.
“They all live too far away now,” said Martha. “But they’ll probably phone me to wish me a happy birthday.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” said Susan, giving the outer door a final shove to make sure it was locked, “we’ll see you next week as usual. Goodnight, Martha, and thanks for all your help.”
Martha turned up at the pavilion the following Thursday at her normal time. But for once, she wasn’t the first to arrive.
The kettles were already boiling, the tables actually had covers on and were spread with plates laden with sandwiches and sausage rolls and cakes. The stark, scuffed walls were festooned with shiny banners and balloons.
“Happy birthday, Martha!”
Martha blinked and refocussed her eyes. They were all there. The whole of Marsden Park Women’s Junior Football Team, and all the mums. Even those who weren’t on the rota for that evening.
“Sit down, Martha,” said Susan. “Tonight, we’re going to wait on you.”
“We’ve got you a present,” said Carrie, handing Martha a parcel.
Martha gasped when she opened the box and saw the red stripy training top and bottoms, exactly the same as the girls wore every Thursday evening.
“Why don’t you try it on?” said Jane.
Urged on by the others, Martha disappeared into the changing area and came back grinning. Everyone cheered when she strutted across the hall in her new apparel.
“Oh, and there’s something else,” said Susan, handing Martha another gift. This one was spherical.
“I wonder what on earth it can be,” said Martha, tearing off the paper.
She almost cried when she looked closely at the football and saw that all the girls had signed their names on it.
“Time for a team photo,” said Susan. The girls sprang to their feet and started rearranging the chairs.
Soon everyone was settled, with Martha, of course, in prime position in the centre of the front row, clutching her new football.
It took a while as all the girls asked their mums to take photos on their own phones, but eventually, Carrie, in her best captain’s voice called out that it was time for training.
“Let’s go,” she yelled through the excited squeals of laughter. “You know what you have to do.”
Martha was taken aback then the girls surrounded her and gently nudged her from her chair and guided her outside with them.
“You will remember to be careful, won’t you?” Susan whispered in Lucy’s ear as she watched Martha disappear with the throng.
“Yes, Mum, we’ll take good care of her, I promise. We’re a team, remember. We look out for our own.”
“I hope they don’t let her overdo it,” said Susan once they’d gone. “Maybe we shouldn’t have agreed to this part.”
“It’ll be fine,” replied Jane, trying to sound reassuring. “They’re sensible girls, and they’re very fond of Martha. They won’t let anything happen to her.”
An hour later they were back. Cold, muddy and hungry. And extremely happy. Martha included.
Relieved to see their friend was still in one piece, and breathing, the mums were keen to hear how it went.
“It was wonderful.” Martha beamed. “It was the best time I’ve ever had.”
“I hope they didn’t tire you out too much,” said Susan.
“Are you kidding, Mum?” said Lucy. “Martha could run rings round us.”
“That was a brilliant penalty you scored, Martha,” said Carrie. “I can see why you were the family champion. Thanks for all the tips you gave us.”
They began demolishing the food. Eventually, when everyone said they couldn’t eat another thing, someone turned out the lights and one of the mums appeared from the kitchen carrying a huge birthday cake in the shape of a football pitch, complete with green icing and a tiny marzipan figure with the number seventy-five emblazoned on the back of her shirt.
At last it was time to tidy up and head for home.
“So Martha, will you be leaving us to fend for ourselves in the kitchen every Thursday from now on while you go training with the girls?” Susan asked as they were walking out of the door.
“Somehow, I don’t think so,” said Martha.
“I had a lot of fun tonight. The girls were so kind, putting off their proper training session to accommodate me. It felt as if I was part of a real team at last. It’s a dream come true.
“But I think I’ll stick to making the tea and scones.”
“I’m very pleased to hear it,’ Susan replied with a smile. “Because when it comes to the post-training suppers, you’re definitely our star player.”
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