Page 32 of Playing By Ear

As Perry battled with a Dundee player against the far kickboard, Jamie’s hands formed nervous, shifty fists. He pressed them to his chest, knuckles together.

The Dundee player lost his balance. His elbow came up, skelping Perry under the nose. Jamie gasped. Perry backpedaled, then went down on his arse.

The whistle blew, stopping play.

Perry got to his feet and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. A streak of blood painted his wrist. Jamie’s body tensed with the urge to run to him.

The Glasgow goalkeeper trotted over to guide Perry back to the bench, where a physio had him remove his black eyeshade. With the white gauze eye cover visible, Perry looked more vulnerable, but he didn’t flinch as the physio examined his nose.

As a result of the foul, Glasgow had been awarded a penalty, which Brian was preparing to take. The guide coach behind the goal banged a metal rod four times up the length of the far post, then did the same at the near one, creating a mental picture with the sound.

Sarah raised her phone and started recording, her other hand lifted with fingers crossed.

Brian bent in a lunge position, touching the ball, which sat beside his front foot.

The whistle blew. Brian’s back foot blurred as it struck. The ball zoomed into the net with an emphatic zing.

“Yaaaaaaassss!” Jamie leapt to his feet and hugged Sarah, then high-fived the nearby Glasgow fans. Dodger bounced on his forepaws, tail whipping. On the touchline, Perry waved his mask in the air, still holding an ice pack to his nose.

Soon the final whistle blew, and the Glasgow fans’ rejoicing began afresh. Jamie’s cheeks ached from forcing a smile as he bid farewell to the other supporters. If Perry didn’t take him back, he’d never see these lovely people again.

Below, the opponents exchanged handshakes and back-pats. Perry’s smile was luminous as he peeled off the gauze over his eyes, his nose no longer bleeding. The Dundee player who’d accidentally lamped Perry gave him an apologetic hug.

At last Perry turned toward the spectators. Jamie called his name and met him halfway. “It’s me. Jamie.”

“I know.” Perry toweled off his face, which still bore the outline of his mask, plus a few scraps of white adhesive. “I heard you cheering.”

“I couldn’t stop myself.” Jamie’s words gushed forth on a stream of adrenaline. “That was amazing. You’re amazing. I cannae believe that was your first goal. You seemed such a natural, like⁠—”

“Why are you here?”

Jamie swallowed. “Warriors had training session in the venue tonight.”

“But why are you still here?” Perry’s face was hard, his jaw set as he twisted the towel between his hands. “Why did you want to see me?”

Jamie glanced over at Brian and Sarah, who were hopefully too far away to hear.

“I wanted to say sorry,” he told Perry. “That last text, it was the opposite of what I felt.”

Perry rubbed above his brows and frowned when his fingers found the bits of tape. “Was it?”

“Truly.”

“Then why did you—” Perry grimaced. “No, first I should say I’m sorry too. I pelted you with intrusive questions while you were dealing with…well, you don’t have to tell me⁠—”

“My dad has brain cancer.”

The wariness dropped from Perry’s face. “God. I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.” Jamie wanted to reach out and pull off the last scrap of white tape on Perry’s cheekbone. “It’s glioblastoma, they tell me.” Somehow the clinical name was easier to bear. “Cancer people call it ‘The Terminator,’ cos it’s relentless and always gets you in the end. Dad’s isn’t operable. It’s too much a part of him to take out. They could do chemo or radiation to give him more time, but he didn’t see the point of suffering through side effects if it wouldn’t cure him. He said he didn’t want to be weak any sooner than necessary.”

“Ooft.” Perry let out a long breath, his cheeks puffing. “How do you feel about that?”

“I believe him. I think he’s more feart of illness than death.” He stopped himself from further rambling. “Anyway, he’ll need help with loads of things. That’s why my sister reached out. I’m to pitch in.”

“You and your dad don’t get on, right?”

“Before yesterday we’d not spoken in ten years. But I’m gonnae try and make it work.” Jamie thought of the fury in his father’s eyes, and how it had made him long for someone to look at him the opposite way. “When you texted me Sunday, I was still getting a grip of it, and I-I guess I panicked?” Every word was the truth. “I thought I couldn’t handle it all at once. Which I know is a fucking poor excuse.”