Page 85 of One Last Try

MATHIAS JONES

REMATCH

Mathias whacks each word with the pointer. Then taps the word rematch about twenty times.

And I’m truly speechless. My jaw hangs open, eyes flicking between the screen, Mathias, Daisy, and everyone else.

“It’s not just going to be a game of rugby, we’re gonna make a big day of it,” Mathias says. “There’s gonna be a community fair. Harriet from the farm between here and the club said we can put some bouncy castles and food wagons and all sorts in the fields. But the main attraction is going to be this.

“We’ll sell physical tickets for the match, but we’ll also live stream it and people can pay to watch. We figured since everyone hates me anyway, and they’re all desperate to see you get your revenge on me—”

I wince at his words. “Nobody wants to see that.”

“Dad, of course they do. I mean, obviously they don’t want Mathias’s leg to get broken—” Daisy grimaces, she see-saws her hand. “Theyprobablydon’t want to see that, but it’s gonna be huge. They just wanna watch you get one last try over Mathias fucking Jones.”

“Language, Daze.”

“She’s right,” Mathias adds. “They already have this perceived rivalry between us. We might as well milk it. Make it pay.”

“If you can’t beat ’em,” Viv says.

“Then you’re not hitting them hard enough,” Roger finishes.

Mathias shrugs. “Fair point.”

“Who’s playing in this game, then?” I ask.

“Us, obviously. Plus Tom, Bryn, Lando, the sevens lads, and some of the Cents. We’re aiming to get an even split between the old boys’ league and the pros. I have all the equipment we need to stream it. Lando’s dad knows a guy who rents out bleachers for events like this. Tyler knows a bunch of street-food type people. Daisy’s on social media—”

“And reffing,”she adds.

“And reffing,” Mathias corrects. “Viv’s going to sort out games and activities for the fair. Harry Ellis’s mum runs a security company and said they can provide security at a cheap price. It’s a group effort. Daisy said you need the deposit paid by July, so we’re thinking of doing it the week before. End of June.”

“But . . . what if we don’t make the money back that we’ve spent on bouncy castles and food wagons?” I ask. I’m desperately trying to keep the stroppy teenage quality out of my voice.

“The food wagons and vendors pay us. We’re bringing the customers to them,” he replies.

“But what if nobody turns up?”

Mathias places his hands on his hips. “They will. Trust me. I’ve done my research. I don’t gamble unless I know I’m going to win.”

“But this might make people hate you even more?” I’m getting desperate now. I didn’t mean to drop the H word, and Mathias doesn’t bat an eyelid, but I can’t help feeling as though I’m not articulating my thoughts properly.

This feels like a bad idea and I cannot for the life of me figure out why. It’s not just about folk disliking Mathias more than they do already.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to change their minds about me, but they love you—everyone does—and they love the drama. If we don’t do this, we’re throwing away a big opportunity,” he says.

“But . . . but . . . end of June will be after the season finishes. You won’t be around any longer.”

Mathias’s hand finds mine, envelops it. It’s agonisingly warm. “I’ll stay an extra few weeks. I can’t think of a better way to say goodbye.”

I suck in a lungful of air and hold it there, at least until the threat of further tears has passed. “No, you’re right.” It is the best way to say goodbye. The most fitting, and the most celebratory. Doesn’t stop it from feeling like a dagger to the heart, though. “Okay, let’s do it. Let’s have this rematch. Let me know what you need from me and when.”

Over my head, Lando pulls a party popper. “Yay, Mr B saidyes.”

Everybody else takes this as a sign to cheer. Daisy wraps her arms around me, and I paste on a smile.

After a few moments, when the room has calmed down, Roger pipes up. “We still doing this quiz or what?”

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