CHAPTER TWENTY

Ella sat in the plush change rooms at Chiswick College, on a gorgeous Saturday morning, listening to Jake and Pete give their pre-match talk to the Demons. She could see the impossibly green, manicured field through the open louvers.

It looked as if a team of trained leprechauns had individually trimmed each blade of grass.

Occasional shouts from the already strong crowd filtered in. The aroma of sweat and Deep-Heat infused her senses.

Her stomach felt like a kaleidoscope of butterflies had swallowed elephants and were trouncing around inside her. She wanted to win. Not for her or for Jake or for Hanniford, but for Trish and women like her.

She wanted to see Tony Winchester go down.

“Ella?”

Jake and Pete were looking at her expectantly and Ella guessed it was her turn to speak. She enjoyed the tradition of her principal pep talk more and more each time and so, she thought, did the team. Or at least, it was a ritual they’d dare not buck in case any deviation from routine brought them bad luck.

And they called women flighty!

She looked at each of the boys in turn. She could tell they were a little awed by their surroundings. Chiswick College was a physically impressive campus - landscaped gardens, space age classrooms and intimidating sandstone buildings that reeked of wealth.

And they were looking to her to tell them it didn’t matter.

That how you played the game and the size of your heart trumped money and tradition.

But today she was reluctant.

Today she wanted to say things she never thought she’d ever think, let alone contemplate giving voice to. She wanted to say kill them, smash them, play dirty if you have to, gouge their eyes, punch them in the kidneys, spear their rich little heads into the ground if needs be — just win.

At any cost.

It went against everything she believed in but it was right there on the tip of her tongue, waging a battle against her political correctness to be heard.

“Ella?” Jake prompted.

She glanced at him. He was frowning and nodding at her to get on with it. She stood on shaky legs, her gaze falling on Cameron. He was sitting so tall. So confident. And when he smiled at her she knew she’d come too far with him to take him backward.

She cleared her throat. “I’m not going to say much,” she said. “You guys have already done me and Hanniford and Jake and Pete so proud. You’ve come a long way and earned yourselves a fearsome reputation. I know you want to win today. Well, guess what? I want you to win today too.”

The Demons glanced at her with confused looks. Usually Ella spoke to them about might and heart and spirit. Her words to them now slowly dawned on them and, one by one, they grinned and then clapped and then stomped their boots on the ground, filling the change rooms with an almighty clatter.

“So go on now,” she called out above the din, holding up her hand and waiting for the racket to die down. “Let’s get our names on that damn cup.”

The team sprang to their feet, cheering and clapping and Ella laughed, caught up in the heady mix of exuberance and testosterone.

“Way to go, Ms. Lucas,” Jake murmured as the boys filed out of the room.

Ella favoured him with a steady stare. “Annihilate him.”

Jake smiled before lowering his lips to hers, bending her head back with a kiss full of passion and revenge. “I love it when you talk dirty,” he whispered, flicking a towel at her butt as he followed his team out.

Ella was the only one left in the change room and she took a moment to centre herself. It was in times like these she wished she believed in God. Not that it was appropriate, she supposed, to ask a benevolent God to orchestrate a slow, painful death, but it’d be nice to have faith that Tony Winchester would get what was coming to him.

She stepped out into the cool darkness of the tunnel that lead from the change rooms to the oval, surprised to see Cameron lingering. “Cam?” She frowned. “Everything okay?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Ella heard his boot scraping against the concrete floor and wondered what on earth he was doing. “Cam, shouldn’t you be on the field?”

“I just want to...I’d like to talk to you for a moment.”

She frowned again, peering at the light at the end of the tunnel, relieved to see the game hadn’t yet started. “Okay.”

Cameron took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for being such a jerk.”

Ella blinked, completely taken aback by his apology, the only one she’d ever heard come from his mouth. “About our argument a few weeks ago?”

“No. Well, yes...That too. But I mean, just...generally. I know I haven’t been very easy to get along with and you’ve been nothing but kind. It’s just growing up in Huntley was hard, you know? And I dreamed for years my big sister would come and rescue me and when you didn’t it was easier to...hate you.”

Tears needled her eyes. “Oh, Cam! I would have, if I’d known, I would have...”

She took a step toward him but he took a step back and held out his hand to pause her movement. “I know that now. I do. And I didn’t hate you, not really. Miranda reckons I’m lucky to have such a cool big sister. And so do I.”

His voice cracked and her tears threatened to spill. A lump in her throat grew bigger, stretching her chest to painful proportions. Cameron’s admission was shocking — he just didn’t do deep and meaningful. Maybe the counselling she’d insisted upon was making bigger inroads than she thought?

“I love you, Cam,” she whispered. “We may not have been brother and sister for long but we’re part of each other and I love you.”

Cameron looked at the ground examining his boot. “I love you too.”

“Cam!”

Ella jumped as Jake’s exasperated command ricocheted around the cavernous tunnel. “What are you doing? It’s twenty seconds to kick-off.”

Cameron looked at Jake then at her. “Go,” she said, giving him a quick, fierce hug. “Go!”

He ran toward the light, his cleats clacking on the cement. Jake slapped him on the back as he passed and ran beside Cameron, accompanying him to the field. Ella followed at a more sedate pace, her mind turning over the things Cam had said and their import.

Sure he’d taken steps before — baby steps. But this was one giant leap.

The whistle sounded as she emerged into the full light of the day. The sound of boot hitting ball rang like a shot around the field and the packed stands erupted into a hearty cheer. She noticed a large contingent of press roped off to one end with John Wells in the middle, a smug look on his face.

This simple high school football match had been significantly elevated in the press, egged on by Wells. It wasn’t about the Schools Cup anymore, it was about two old rivals squaring off against each other.

As though the pressure on the Demons wasn’t already bad enough.

She hurried to the sideline bench, ignoring the media. Rosie, Simon and Trish were already sitting, their devil-horn headbands firmly in place. Pete was standing off to one side watching the play, Jake prowled along the sideline, a bedevilled Cerberus at his heels.

She plonked herself between Rosie and Trish and grabbed their hands. “What’s happening?”

“Nothing yet,” Rosie said.

It didn’t take long for that to change. And it wasn’t a change for the better.

Chiswick wiped the field with the Demons in the first half with their superior ball skills, as though it was their God-given right to reclaim the cup. Ella, as per her usual position, spent half the time with her hands over her eyes, begging Rosie and Trish to tell her what was happening.

Tony Winchester spent the first forty minutes on the opposite side of the field yelling at his team despite their exemplary play. A slight fumble, a misstep, and he was hurling insults that would have made Rosie blush from the sidelines.

It was a shame really, because Ella had to admit, looking at him clinically, he was still a very impressive man. He wasn’t in Jake’s league — but then few men were (Richard Armitage and Hugh Jackman aside). On the surface Tony Winchester still had it. She could see why Trish had fallen for him.

But as far as she was concerned, his black heart and cruel tongue made him uglier than a hat full of assholes.

After a particularly awful tongue-lashing, Ella turned to Trish, whose fingers had curled around hers like a vice. “Is it hard for you to see him again?”

Trish shuddered. “He’s such a tyrant. Where the hell was my head?”

“Hmph,” Rosie butted in. “He’s a fricking mad man. Aren’t there rules against Adolf coaches in children’s sports?”

Ella placed her hand over Trish’s. “Time has a way of eroding facades.”

“And he’s just butt-ugly under his,” Rosie added.

Trish laughed. “Yes, he is, isn’t he?”

At half time, Chiswick led by sixteen points, with Hanniford only managing to get one on the board from a field goal before the whistle. The Demons trailed back into their change room followed by their entire entourage — Ella, Simon, Rosie and Trish.

Even Cerberus followed them in, finding Cameron immediately and collapsing on the floor at his feet.

Jake eyed his dejected team, struggling with finding the right words to encourage and empower. He glanced at Ella, who gave him an encouraging nod. He opened his mouth, hoping to God the words that came out were the ones the Demons needed to hear.

But before he said a single thing, a string of obscenities from the Chiswick camp next door echoed around the Hanniford rooms. Jake’s mouth shut automatically, stunned by the ferocity of Tony Winchester’s pep talk.

He was ranting about the field goal. How Chiswick’s strategy was to keep Hanniford off the board altogether and how badly they’d fucked up. He was screaming failure, failure, failure at them. Calling them morons. Calling them girls.

“Why is he yelling at them?”

Jake tuned back in to his locker room and saw the stunned looks on his player’s faces as Ned voiced the question that was obviously on all of their minds.

“They’re really good,” Ned said. “They’re all over us.”

Jake looked at Ella standing by the door, her livid face so rigid he was afraid she’d been struck with a case of lockjaw. Trish looked deathly pale and Jake wanted to go next door and punch the lousy mongrel in the head.

“Yes.” Jake cleared his throat. “Yes, they are. Their coach, however, is a monumental dickhead.”

A few of the guys laughed but Jake could see that most of them were still tuned into Tony Winchester’s verbal abuse of his team. He couldn’t blame them. It was ghoulishly compelling, like hanging around a crash site watching the victims being cut out of their cars; wrong in so many ways but fascinating nonetheless.

Jake belted on a nearby locker, the sound crashing into the morbid stillness and pulling everyone’s attention back to him.

“Don’t listen to him,” Jake said quietly. “Listen to me.”

He spoke to them about their struggle to get here. About their spirit, their heart, their triumphs - things that Ella usually talked about. He praised their individual strengths and applauded their teamwork. And gradually, Tony Winchester’s rant faded and he could see by the expressions on their faces that they were listening only to him.

“Whatever happens today, you boys have made me prouder than I’ve ever been. Prouder even than when I played for my country. And you have one thing that they don’t,” Jake said, pointing next door to the room where the rant continued. “Respect. For me. For each other. And you have my respect too. Which is why, despite what that scoreboard says, we’re going to win this.”

Jake finished and took a moment to look at each team member and shake their hand.

“Pete?” he asked. Pete declined the floor. “Ella?”

She looked at him and smiled with tears in her eyes. There was nothing she could add. Jake had said it all.

A loud rap at the door alerted them that halftime was nearly over. “Alright,” Jake said. “Let’s line up outside and run onto that field like we’ve already won.”

The boys sprang to their feet, cheering and high-fiving as they filed out and waited in the tunnel for the signal to take the field. The adults stood behind them. Jake slipped his hand into Ella’s and the full wattage of her you-were-so-hot-just-now smile hit him right in the groin.

The clatter of cleats, alerted Jake to the presence of the Chiswick team lining up behind them.

“Well, well, well,” a voice drawled from behind him. “If it isn’t the coach, the geek, the Goth and her lover.”

Ella flinched and Jake stiffened as he turned slowly around. He held her hand tight in case she decided smacking Winchester’s face was worth it.

Or he did.

He sensed rather than saw Rosie’s mouth open and placed a stilling hand on her too. He was not going to get into a slanging match in front of his team and the press snapping shots with a clear view into the tunnel mouth. He forced himself to be impassive and kept his voice low.

“It’s been a long time, Tony.”

Tony nodded. “That it has.” He flicked his gaze over Trish. “My, my, Trish. Unlike Jake, I see you’ve gotten better and better.”

Cerberus growled, a growl the much bigger Genghis would have been proud of, and Ella reached down to pat him.

Trish smiled. “How was community service, Tony?”

Tony’s laugh echoed in the tunnel, enhancing its creepiness. “Piece of cake.”

A figure appeared at the mouth of the tunnel. “Time to rumble,” it announced.

Jake turned away and faced his team. “Let’s go.”

The Demons ran onto the field, followed by Chiswick. Tony stopped by Jake and together they watched their boys line up against each other. Tony’s gaze flicked to the Hanniford cheer squad and he smirked.

“What kind of cheerleaders are they?” he scoffed. “You can’t even look up their skirts.”

Jake gave Tony a hard look. “The minor kind.”

“What does it say on the backs of their shirts?”

“Hanniford Demons say no to violence against women. Not that you’d know what that means would you, Tony?” Jake was satisfied to see Tony’s jaw tighten.

“You always were a morally superior prick,” Tony spat.

“Better than being just a prick,” Jake said and walked

away before the urge to beat Tony to a pulp became impossible to deny.

The second half started and it was as if a switch had been flicked. Chiswick looked defeated from the whistle, making simple errors and not capitalizing on a host of opportunities.

Tony ranted. The more he ranted, the worse they played.

“I’ve made up my mind,” Trish said to Ella about ten minutes into the second half. “After the match, I’m going to the police to press charges against Tony.”

Ella gaped. She admired Trish’s guts but she’d didn’t think suicide was the answer. “Are you sure? This many years down the track it would be so hard to prove. Even with Jake’s evidence.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “If they throw it out of court, it doesn’t matter. Anything I can do to see to it that Tony Winchester isn’t allowed to coach minors again, I’m prepared to do.”

Ella grimaced. “That’s very noble of you but you know how messy these things can get. You may well live to regret it. What about Miranda?”

Trish shrugged. “You and Cameron are still here, aren’t you?”

Ella smiled. Yes, they were. And no doubt better for having all their dirty linen hung out to dry.

A cheer exploded from behind her and Rosie leaped to her feet, yanking Ella with her. Trish rose too and they all hugged and cheered as Hanniford ran in another try. When Ned converted it, his third in a row, the cheer became a roar and Ella grinned as a puce-faced Tony Winchester went apoplectic on the other side of the field.

Karma, baby. Karma!

Five minutes later, however, the high they’d been riding took a sudden nosedive. A collective gasp rang around the field at a sickening spear tackle perpetrated on Ned by two of Chiswick’s fullbacks. The referee blew his whistle as Ned lay crunched in a heap on the ground.

Simon flew to his feet. “They’ve targeted him.”

Jake and Pete were running onto the field, followed by a stretcher bearer and a medic. Ella twisted her head to locate Ned’s parents already making their way down, their faces screwed up into anguished masks. She turned in time to see Tony Winchester smiling and patting the shoulder of one of the Chiswick boys who’d been responsible for the dangerous tackle.

A minute later, Ned was on his feet but very groggy, being supported by the medic and Jake. The referee blew his whistle for a penalty but Ella knew that Tony Winchester’s mission had been accomplished — they’d taken out Hanniford’s best kicker.

They took Ned into the locker room and his worried parents followed. “Is he okay?” Ella asked as Jake joined her and play resumed.

Jake gave a stiff nod. “A little concussed. They’ll take him to hospital, probably keep him under observation overnight.”

Tactically it was the worst thing Tony Winchester could have sanctioned, because now the Demons were just plain mad and they played the remaining fifteen minutes like they’d been born with their boots on. With one minute to go, the Demons had passed the Chiswick score and knew they were unbeatable.

Ella and Rosie had tears streaming down their faces as the hooter sounded and Ella laughed as the cameras caught Tony Winchester mid-tantrum, stomping off the field in the worst case of bad sportsmanship since a well-known rugby league player had stuck his finger up an opposition player’s ass to put him off his game.

This time, Ella fought tooth and nail to get to Jake and Cameron in the scrum of well-wishers. Jake had done it. She’d asked him to annihilate Tony Winchester and he had. And with Trish’s second salvo, the man was going to be utterly destroyed.

“Let me through,” Ella called, elbowing and pushing, keeping Jake firmly in her sights. “Let me pass.”

Jake spotted Ella battling her way toward him and he surged into the crowd to meet her halfway. He grinned at her as she flung herself into his arms.

She smiled. “Let me be the first to kiss the coach.”

“I hate to disillusion you,” Pete said, “You ain’t the first.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ella cocked her eyebrow and pulled Jake’s head down for a full-on X-rated smacker.

“Okay,” Pete admitted. “You’re the first one to kiss him like that.”

“So, Jake, does it feel good to beat your old nemesis?”

Jake dragged his gaze away from Ella’s gorgeous flushed face into John Wells’s shrewd gaze. “I thought that was you?”

Wells laughed. “I think you know who I’m talking about.”

Jake smiled. “It felt fucking unbelievable.”

The reporter laughed again. “Can I quote you?”

Jake chuckled. “I’d be amazed if you didn’t.”

***

Later that night, Ella and Jake lay in bed in a post-coital drowse that was better than drugs.

“You suppose it’s always going to be like this?” Ella mused, stroking her fingers down his arm.

He smiled. “Honey, grand final sex is my forté.”

Ella laughed. “Well, I guess you’re just going to have to stick around and do it all again next year. Sex like that is definitely worth the wait.”

“For you, I’ll make a special effort every night.”

Ella’s hand stilled, revelling in the warm, solid muscle beneath her palm. “Thank you, Jake. For everything.”

He shifted, rolling up on to his side. “No. Thank you. You gave me a direction in my life. You have no idea how much I owe you.”

“Well, lucky for you,” she said, walking her fingers up his arm, “I have a payment plan.”

“I like your thinking,” he murmured as he nuzzled her neck.

Ella shut her eyes as his tongue lapped at her neck and short-circuited the nerve supply to her brain. She angled her neck a little further and smiled when Jake’s tongue seized the opportunity.

“The education department is talking about setting up a rugby league school of excellence at Hanniford. They’re talking full funding, new equipment, the works. I’ll be able to pay you. And Pete too.”

His lips, pressed to the steady beat of her pulse at the base of her neck, stilled. He raised his head and looked at her. “Well, look at you Little Miss Football,” he smiled. “You’ve certainly changed your tune.”

Ella gave him a playful slap on the arm. “I may not be football’s best advocate but I’d be foolish if I couldn’t see the change its spawned in my school. If it keeps the kids coming to Hanniford and getting them an education, then I’m all for it.”

Jake blinked at her, slowly easing off her into a sitting position. “You’re serious.”

Ella sat too, manoeuvring herself behind him, her thighs bracketing his as she pressed against the contours of his broad back, her breasts squashed against the hard curve of his ribs.

“You’re a marvellous coach, Jake. If you ever doubted it before, then surely you don’t after Tony Winchester.”

“I never thought about coaching. Not kids anyway.”

“Then you’ve missed your calling.”

Ella pressed kisses along his shoulder blade and his low growl buzzed her lips. “Is this coercion?” he murmured.

She smiled against his skin. “Incentive.”

“I suppose the pay’s lousy?”

“Yup. But the perks are excellent.”

He chuckled. “What about the pub?”

“You’re not a publican, Jake. You only bought it because it was something you knew. You’re not your father. Pete practically runs it anyway.”

The silence built around them for long moments. Her heart crashed in her chest while she waited for the verdict. Jake could no doubt earn serious money coaching for a professional team. In comparison she couldn’t offer him that much.

“Well,” she prompted when her heart was beating so hard he must surely be able to feel it. She couldn’t stand his silence any longer, “What do you say, coach?”

Still he didn’t speak until suddenly he was turning and in one swift movement she found herself flat on her back, his body pressing hers into the mattress. “I say -” His mouth hovered just above hers. “Drop and give me fifty.”

Her laughter was cut off by the hard press of his mouth.

He could have whatever he wanted.

Forever and always.