Page 6 of Try Hard
“So,” she said, smoothing down her clothes as she stood in front of the camera, “enjoy your morning of old man activities.”
I laughed. “It’s not all old men!”
“Honey, it’s plane spotting on a Saturday morning…”
“I’ve seen at least one woman walk by while I’ve been talking to you.”
She shot me a look and I could read every word she was thinking.
I laughed. “Enjoy your interview.”
“I am sure I will. Maybe I’ll order beans for breakfast.”
“You will not.”
“How do you know?”
I shook my head, gathering my things up as I got ready to actually leave the car. “Aside from the fact that you called me to complain about being served them for dinner?”
“On a date,” she pointed out.
“Row, when was the last time you just… ordered beans?”
“At that Mexican rest—”
“Doesn’t count. Baked beans. When was the last time you ordered the kind of baked beans you’d be served at breakfast?”
“Ugh. Go spot some planes.”
I didn’t even attempt to hide my amusement. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
She hung up the call, fondly annoyed with me, but that had been our dynamic—at least outside of work—for a long time so I wasn’t worried.
And, while she went off to have a fairly fancy breakfast with a group of journalists, I pulled on a hat and gloves, and stepped out of the car into the chilly morning air.
I wouldn’t normally join my dad for a Saturday morning plane spotting, but I was on the way home for a few days and he’d asked. I was pretty sure it was part of his effort to keep me involved in his new life. He hadn’t been as secretive as I think he’d have liked over the fact that he was worried about losing me and Soph after the divorce, so, when he asked and it was convenient, I’d come. Besides, I was interested in the hobbies he’d been picking up. Sure, plane spotting wasn’t really my thing, but this group had been good for him, and I wanted to see him happy. So, he’d gotten a lift to Gatwick this morning with one of his buddies and I was driving the two of us back to Eddlesworth once they were done for the day.
It really was a lot chillier than I’d been expecting. Dad had told me to wrap up, and I had some decent gear from my time in the States, but I suddenly wasn’t so sure how many hours I’d actually stay warm for. Perhaps it was a good thing that I’d been later than everyone else. While it would be a funny story, it wouldn’t be quite the bonding experience my dad had been picturing if I’d ended up huddled back in my car for warmth after only an hour.
Finding the group wasn’t hard. A startled laugh burst from me when I spotted them. I had massively underestimated how professional this whole thing was. I had been imagining five guys with binoculars sitting in those brightly coloured deck chairs my grandma and mum used to bring to the beach when we were kids. But that was not this. Therewerebinoculars, but there was so much other equipment too. A whole laptop setup for streaming—and its generator. My dad was a streamer. Wild.
He turned, lighting up at the sight of me. “Eve, you made it.”
“I did indeed,” I replied with a massive grin, gesturing to the equipment. “You didn’t tell me you were an internet celebrity.”
He waved me off but I could see the way he glowed just a little. “Only one celebrity in this family, Eve, and it isn’t me.”
He wrapped an arm around my neck, something akin to an affectionate headlock, and I wondered when the last time I’d seen him so happy and relaxed was. It might have been on one of those deck chairs when I was a kid…
We joined the group and he set about introducing me to everyone. One guy, Burt, was exactly the kind of old man Row had probably been picturing—especially as he launched straight into telling me that Gatwick had once been the busiest single-use airport in the world and proceeded to give me reams of stats for the place. I’d known plenty of people who carried sports stats in their heads, but Burt gave even them a run for their money.
He also introduced me to Margot—awoman, I mentally sent out in Row’s direction—who turned out to be a women’s rugby fan. I wasn’t an A List celebrity by any stretch, but she gave me that look I’d gotten more than once; the one where someone is more than a little starstruck. It still amazed me that I could cause people to feel like that—especially now that I was a few years out from my professional rugby career.
And, finally, Dad introduced me to Alistair, a man I actually recognised. I’d seen him at plenty of school events back in the day and his daughter had been Sophie’s peer mentor for a long time. She’d been one of the only things at school Soph had any patience for. I’d totally understood that from my interactions with her, from seeing her in classes, so, of course I knew who this man was.
He grinned, wide, warm, and welcoming. “I see Big Jezzer’s getting in on bring your kid to work day.”
“Big Jezzer?” I laughed. “Dad, do you have a nickname?”
