A short story
“Good shot Robert – if that’s not a six I don’t know what is.”
Dan Rawson stopped to draw breath, hands on hips in the late evening light, glad his grandson had run to retrieve the cricket ball from the edge of the field. Back it came, fast as a sling shot, the way Dan had taught the boy so many evenings before. As he stepped back to take the catch he looked across to the seat by the wooden pavilion. His wife Jenny and daughter Sue were deep in conversation. He often teased Jenny by saying she could talk for England. But tonight seemed a longer session than usual.
“Catches Granddad, please. You know, really high. I’ll go deep.”
Fourteen year old Robert ran towards the sycamores by the road. Dan nodded approvingly, glad his grandson was an all rounder. He could bat and bowl well, and he was an excellent fielder.
“Just like his grandfather,” Jenny would say, when she felt like making a compliment. “Come on Dan, that’s what you’ve trained him for, haven’t you?”
Dan hit the ball high, then hoped he hadn’t clouted it all the way to the river behind the field. But Robert was there, sighting to carefully against the sky, backing until he was right underneath.
“Well done, lad. Very well done indeed. You’ll play for Yorkshire yet.” “England,” came the shout from the trees. “Six more please.”
“All right, but after that it’s finish”, called Dan, conscious of how quickly the light was going. And those women were still talking. The boy took almost all the catches cleanly.
“Five out of six Robert.” Dan swatted midges from his head, picked up the cricket gear and walked quickly to the pavilion seat. Robert raced him, diving to a stop as they arrived.
“Just look at those trousers,” said Jenny.” There’ll be a green stain down the side, you mark my words.”
“Don’t worry Mother,” said Sue. “The washing machine will sort it out. Come on Robert, we must go straight home. Your Dad will be back from his meeting by now, and I’m not sure you finished all your homework…”
“Mum, don’t fuss..”
“See you Wednesday Robert,” said Dan as he closed the car door. “Junior practice at seven, as usual.”
Then the car set off on its journey up the Dale. It would climb the lonely road up to the dale head, go on the flat for a mile, then wind all the way down to the market town where Sue and her family lived. Dan and Jenny paused, as always, at the ancient stone bridge to watch the tail lights crawl like two insects round the hairpin bends, then disappear into the dark moor.
“You and your practice,” said Jenny. She put her hand in Dan’s as they walked home in the gloom. “It’s a long way for Sue to come on a Wednesday you know. It’s wild up on those moors, and if she gets a puncture.
“Rubbish. She’s a Crossdale girl, born and bred. She can cope with punctures, sheep in the road, snowdrifts in winter…”
“Maybe she can,” said Jenny as she opened the iron gate in their garden wall. “But you really must n’t take things for granted. Now come inside, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Dan thought about going into the garage to check oil and water in the van. But something in his wife’s voice told him that should wait for now.
“You’re not serious. I’ve never heard such nonsense in all my life.”
“Just calm down, Dan. They haven’t decided yet. They’re thinking it over, that’s all.”
“I’m sure our Sue wants none of this.”
“That’s where you’re wrong Dan. It’s a great chance for both of them. David’s been offered a wonderful job as a radiographer in a hospital in Melbourne. An Australian he worked with in Leeds recognised how good he is. Now he’d like David to work with him over there. And Sue may go back to nursing for a while. She’ll be really well paid over there, and it will be wonderful experience. Anyway, they may well come home after a couple of years. Come on, don’t be so negative. You want them to get on, don’t you?”
Dan stood with his back to the old open kitchen fireplace, one hand on the mantle-shelf. He remembered his father standing like that when he had problems on his mind. With his toe he explored crevices between the worn quarry tiles.
“But why Australia? If they have to go abroad, they couldn’t go much further, now could they?” He stared angrily at Jenny.
“Don’t blame me,” she said. “D’you think I’m pleased about it? I know you’re very fond of Robert, but remember you’ll still have other grandchildren living not too far away. I know they’re younger, but in time.
“If Sue and her lot go, they won’t come back. Once that daughter of ours has made her mind up, things won’t change.” Dan recognised himself in his daughter.
“You don’t know that Dan. I know you’ll miss Robert, but what about little Kirsty? We see both of them most weekends, and Kirsty and I are getting really close. Last weekend she even tried some sewing.”
“SEWING! Good gracious woman, our grandson’s shaping up to play for the county juniors next year, and you bring up sewing! That’lI come to nothing if they go on with this crackpot scheme. Is there no way they’ll be persuaded?”
Dan slumped into his father’s ancient farmhouse chair, suddenly feeling the weight of his own years. Years that had seen him survive redundancy as manager of the furniture factory in the market town, pick himself up to start a successful little business on his own, restoring antiques in the barn behind the house. Jenny had gone back to full time as teacher, and somehow, between them, they had got al their three children, including Sue, through education and into good jobs. And he’d been the one person to keep Crossdale’s little cricket club going through all its ups and downs. Like his father and many of the family before him he’d been secretary, treasurer and then president for years. He was the one who got a grant for the new pavilion. Most important, he’d run the coaching for the juniors for so long that no-one could remember a time when anyone else had been in charge.
“After all we’ve done for them…”
“Now Dan, that’s quite enough. Don’t let me ever hear you say that again. It’s just
not worthy of you, and you know it. Pul yourself together man, for heaven’s sake.
Nothing’s been decided yet.” Jenny got out of her chair and started up the stairs. “And where are you off to?”
“A bath, Classic FM on my radio and then a book. You needn’t come up until you’ve calmed yourself down.”
“I won’t.” said Dan.
He went out into the back garden, then down to the barn. He’d measure up for that table leg he was to start on tomorrow. But when he got in there he couldn’t seem to make sense of the measurements, even though he’d done the same sort of thing so many times before.
After a few minutes he gave up and sat down, listening to the noise of the river tumbling and gurgling beyond the barn wall. He knew he hadn’t a hope of sorting out those measurements tonight. It wasn’t just the cricket he was worked up about; that was a convenient front which helped him hide some very private feelings. Never mind the cricket: he hated the thought of being without his daughter and her family. But he must do nothing to stop them if they really meant to go. Six months later, Dan was busy french polishing in his barn. It was a bright April Saturday morning. He had the door open so he could catch the view of the fells from time to time. The sound of lambs was everywhere. Blossom was starting on the hillside hawthorns. Clumps of the little trees were patchy as old mens’ beards where the white began to show. Dan made a note to get the cricket club gang mower out and give the ground a going over before the outfield got to long. The postman had just called and Jenny hurried down the path to the barn.
“Dan, there’s another letter. and some lovely photos. Here, have a look.” “Later, if you don’t mind. I’m in the middle of polishing this sideboard door. If I stop now it’ll never be right.”
“Dan, we really ought to renew our passports sometime. I mean, we will go and see them when I finish teaching in the autumn, won’t we? I’ve got the forms in the house. Maybe one night this week? We need time to allow time for visas as well… “Maybe.” Dan continued with his polishing. Jenny noted he had the same rhythm as his father with the scythe long ago, meticulously covering an area, then, only when satisfied, moving to the next. How like his father Dan looked these days. But the resemblance wasn’t just physical, she reminded herself, a little ruefully.
“Oh Dan, look, there are pictures of Robert at his cricket club’s presentation night.”
Dan put down his work a once, hurriedly wiping his hands on his clean white apron, something he never normally did.
“Here woman, let me see…”
And there was Robert, a little fuller in the face and browner than Dan remembered. But Robert it was, grinning widely in the flashlight, holding not one, but two trophies. Jenny turned the pages quickly.
“It was the end of season presentation. Robert only played part of it, seeing they
arrived ni November. Funny to think that’s their summer, isn’t it? But even so, he had top average in batting.”
“What’s the second one for?”
“Fielding. Even though he’s only rising fifteen, listen to this, they’re sending him for special coaching and if all goes well. they think he might play for the State juniors next year!”
“I knew he was good enough for Yorkshire!”
Dan went to stand in the doorway, staring up at the road over the moor to where his daughter’s family used to live.
“Don’t spoil it Dan. Listen to this.”
Jenny held up a press cutting, squinted at the small type. After a while she read aloud again.
“When asked by our reporter how he attained such a high standard so young, and adapted so quickly to Australian conditions, young Robert said. ‘It’s all down to one thing really. I’ve always had good coaching, and I’ve been encouraged, and given confidence all the time. No-one here in Australia, or in England, could have had a better start than me. Who was my coach? My grandfather of course…”
After that, there was silence in the barn for a while. Dan went to stand on the river bank listening to the jubilant Spring birdsong, and the turbulent little river, rather than try to talk. After a while Jenny came out and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Dan love, I know it’s hard, but some people never have anything like that said about them, even if they live to be a hundred. You have to see the whole picture, not just the Dale, and Yorkshire. Your grandson is carrying on al that’s best in you, on the other side of the world. Even though you’re disappointed, your best goes on. It’s like a second innings for you – don’t you see?”
Dan went back to his bench, picked up his cloth and began the circular polishing all over again.
“Of course I do. Maybe it was for the best. I’d taught the lad all I could. He probably needed to move on to someone else. I just wish. two things really. First, that I could have some more really good youngsters to train, like Robert.”
“And?” Jenny was eager for an answer, pleased Dan was opening up, at last.
“I wish someone could tell me how they train young players over there, seeing they’re so good at beating us, and everyone else for that matter. Maybe even a Yorkshireman could benefit from other ideas, sometimes.”
“You really think that, Dan?”
“I do.” He stopped to wipe his brow, then gave her a wink. “Phew, it’s warm for April isn’t it? What are we doing for lunch? I think we should go down to “The Flowers” for a bit of refreshment, you and me, and celebrate our grandson’s success, don’t you?”
“Yes Dan, Ido. I’I go and get ready.” Jenny hurried to the house, pleased at all these developments. If only she could get Dan to go with her and see the family in Australia. Surely he’d feel better if he did.
“Going out?” asked Jenny, a fortnight later, after supper. “There’s nothing in the calendar.”
Dan went to the door. “It’s just one or two of the cricket committee. They want a word “in private”. Something about “a few changes”. I’ve heard ti al before. But they needn’t think they’re changing anything as far as Im’ concerned…”
“Dan, don’t forget all those things you said a week or two ago. Remember?”
But the latch clattered shut and Dan was on his way. He walked the short distance to the club, pausing at the bridge to watch the water, full of memories of his own children, and Robert, trying to tickle trout in the shadows by the trees. No car lights on the road tonight. Just the owls screeching and floating up and down the last field before the moor. Of course Jenny was right. It would be good to go and see the family, but it meant leaving hte house, and the cricket club needed him most times of the year, one way or another. He just wasn’t ready yet.
“Don’t take it so personally Dan. And let us finish anyway. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions like this.”
Ted Appleby, club secretary, breathed deeply and gave a quick glance towards the two other committee members at the pavilion table.
“You’ve often said you’ve had a long stint as President, youth coach, groundsman, and everything else. We just feel that you ought to have some help with some of these things, and maybe, just a break.”
“A break! What on earth for? Cricket, and particularly this club, is a large part of my life, if you haven’t already noticed. Look at al those pictures behind you Ted. There’s hardly one which hasn’t got at least one Rawson in it, including me. And there should have been another one, probably the best of the lot..”
“Listen to us Dan. This is really what al this is about.” Ted took an envelope from his inside pocket. “We all know how well your grandson’s doing in Australia, but what a disappointment hte family’s departure has been. Now, at last, some good may come of it. Here, read this for yourself…”
Dan put on his glasses, read the letter, then said nothing for awhile. Eventually, he fixed Ted with a long, hard look.
“Who did this?”
Ted shook his head.
“None of us. Nothing, except your own reputation as a coach. And there was the article in the Australian paper. Someone in Robert’s town had the idea of swapping you for one of their young coaches for a month or two. Iv’e heard of the same thing with other clubs. They get the benefit of everything Robert and many others had from you, and we get a look at the way they train their youngsters for a season. The Australian benefactor pays the fares, but each club finds somewhere to live for its guest. No problem for you and Jenny, with your family, we imagine. Perhaps you might help put the young Australian up for some of the time he’s here? Dan, will you join in with this? It’s a wonderful opportunity for you, and for a little club like ours. Don’t turn it down – it’s the chance of a lifetime. It’s like. “A second innings?” Dan knew it was, after all Jenny had said two weeks ago.
“All right, I’lI think it over. But ifI do go, it’ll only be because of my grandson, and nothing else. Look, it’s getting late. Anyone for a quick one at “The Flowers?”
Dan left the three of them in the pub after a quarter of an hour, then hurried down the cobbled street. This time, he didn’t pause at the bridge. Yes, he would go and see his family now. He could begin to accept what had happened, take pleasure ni his grandson’s progress on a wider playing field than he’d ever thought possible before. What was more, he, Dan Rawson, had been acknowledged over there too.
There’d be an exchange of ideas at Crossdale Cricket Club while he was away. Then they could all decide whose methods were the best…
He was soon inside the house but Jenny was nowhere to be seen. From upstairs came the sound of an emptying bath, and music on her radio. On the kitchen table were some papers. Dan recognised two passport forms. He smiled when he saw that Jenny had done one for him as well, neatly completed in her teacher’s upright hand. He’d sign it in the morning. He went and locked up, turned off the lights, and made his way upstairs, the letter from Australia in his hand.
“Jenny love”, he called. “I’m home…”