Just for Fun (35 page)

“We’ve got quite good at it,” Nic told his mother. “Become a
team, haven’t we, as she doesn’t have a dishwasher.”

“Oh, that takes me back,” Ellen said sympathetically. “I can
still remember when I first got one. And the old days without it, when it
seemed like I spent half my life with my hands in the suds.”

“Well, it isn’t that bad,” Emma said. “It’s just Zack and
me. And Nic, sometimes, but he helps, so that doesn’t count.”

“Hope you don’t mind,” Nic said when they were alone in the
cozy kitchen, filling up that same dishwasher and scraping out serving plates.

“Of course not,” Emma said. “It gives me a chance to talk to
you. Your mum’s really nice, but I can’t help being a little nervous about what
she thinks of me, after Claudia.”

“You’d never get her to compare,” Nic said, “but if you
could read her mind, I’ll bet any money that you’d win.”

“Really?” Emma asked doubtfully.

“Really,” he smiled down at her. “Besides, you come with a
ready-made grandchild, don’t you. Contest’s over right there.”

She laughed. “You could be right about that. You’ll notice
Zack’s perfectly happy to be left with her.”

“He’s no fool,” Nic agreed. “Bet he’s getting an extra
chocolate out of her right now.”

“And one more thing,” he said when they’d finished and were
wiping down surfaces. He brought his dishcloth around to her side of the room,
stealthily wiping closer and closer. Finally gave up the pretense, set it down,
and put his arms around her from behind, pulled her into him. Bent his head to
the side of her neck and kissed her there. “Have I mentioned that you’re
pretty?”

“Mmm,” she said, leaning back into him. “I don’t think you
have. Maybe you could tell me now.”

“Yeh,” he sighed, turning her around and pulling her close
for a proper kiss. “You’re pretty, and you look so cute twitching round in that
little skirt. If we weren’t quite so well chaperoned, I’d be flipping that
skirt up right now and showing you a thing or two.”

He was working on telling her a few more things when the
kitchen door opened with a bang to admit Dan. “Whoops,” his brother said with a
laugh. “I didn’t realize there was so much action in here. I’ve clearly been in
the wrong room.”

“What d’you want?” Nic asked, turning his head but not
releasing Emma. “I’m busy here.”

“Yeh, bro. I see that. Came for a beer. And one for Dad as
well.”

Nic stepped away from Emma reluctantly, opened the
refrigerator and pulled out two beers. “Here. Go.”

“Geez, Nic. Have a heart. Let me at least
talk
to
her. Some of us poor lonely blokes don’t even
have
a girlfriend, never
mind a hope of landing one this pretty. What could possibly have interested
someone like you in this ugly bugger?” he demanded of a laughing Emma. “When
there are so many better choices out there, like, say, me?”

“Get your own girl,” Nic told him with a mock-scowl. “This
one’s mine.”

“Afraid so,” Emma said, her eyes dancing. “Nic was right—you
are
the handsome one. Too bad he’s got me under his wicked spell.”

“Tell me you have a sister,” Dan begged.

“I have a sister. And she has a partner too. So I’m afraid
my family’s out.  It
is
a pity that you don’t have any looks or charm of
your own to rely on. I guess you’re destined to remain lonely forever.”

Dan heaved a heartfelt sigh. “Well, if he doesn’t treat you
right, you know where I live.”

“Sorry. I make it a point these days not to fall in love
with more than one brother at a time. I find it makes my life so much less
complicated.”

“Out,” Nic said sternly, opening the door and giving his
brother a shove. “Let me finish kissing my girlfriend in peace.”

Pity he couldn’t do that for the entire evening, Nic
thought. Luckily, Dan stayed another hour, and kept the conversation lively. At
last, though, he got up to leave.

“I’ll walk out with you,” Nic told him. He waited while Dan
said goodbye to Emma with a brotherly kiss on the cheek and a laughing glance
in his direction. Emma took the opportunity to whisk Zack off for a bath, and
the two brothers walked out to Dan’s car.

“Thanks for coming by,” Nic said with real gratitude. “I
already had a moment today when I was ready to load everybody up and head back
to Auckland. You saved me for another day. Wish I could laugh it off like you
do, but . . .” He shrugged. “Can’t, that’s all.”

“Yeh, nah,” Dan said, leaning against the car and tossing
his keys in his hand. “It’s easier for me, that’s why. All the expectation’s on
you, isn’t it. He’s so proud of you, that’s what makes him push so hard.”

“Is
that
it,” Nic said wryly. “And here I thought it
was the opposite. Seems like nothing I do is ever good enough. If I score a
try, he wonders why I didn’t score two. Good job Drew’s got the captaincy
locked up, and they’d never select a back anyway, or he’d be wondering how I’d
failed at that.”

“I don’t know why he thinks he has to keep on like that,”
Dan agreed. “Not much further for you to go, is there.”

“Yeh,” Nic said. “Anyway, good to see you.”

“I’ll be barracking for you, next couple months, you know
that,” Dan told him. “Good luck over there. You’re a bloody hard act to follow,
but you’re not bad as a brother, all the same.”

“Cheers,” Nic said with a grin.

“And all joking aside,” Dan added. “Zack and Emma? You’re a
lucky man.”

“All joking aside,” Nic said, “I know it.”

“When’s the announcement of the squad for the Cup?” George
asked the next morning as they sat over a cup of tea.

“Tomorrow,” Nic answered.

“Has Pete talked to you?” George pressed.

“Yeh. Anyway, I’m in form. I wasn’t expecting to be left
behind. Doesn’t mean I’ll be starting every game, though.”

George grunted. “I would’ve felt better about it if you
hadn’t started from the bench those first two matches after you came back.”

“Resting my ankle,” Nic explained. “Giving me a chance to
ease back in. I wasn’t the only one rested, and I won’t be the last. It’s a
matter of rotation, giving the new caps, and the boys without much experience,
a chance to get a feel for the pace of test footy, in case they’re needed. The
World Cup, on top of the Championship—that’s a big ask. You’ll see the Skipper
rested, is my guess, during one or two of the pool games, the ones against the
minnows. And that almost never happens.”

 “Want to go into the back garden, kick the ball a bit with
me?” he asked Zack, changing the subject. He was feeling tense and edgy, the
way he always did after a day with his dad. It was even worse this time,
because he could tell Zack was feeling the same way. He was subdued this
morning, and had been slow to eat his Weet-Bix at breakfast, a sure sign of
distress. Running around would help both of them.

“Yeh,” Zack said with relief.

“Run get a warm jersey on, then,” Nic instructed, getting up
and putting his teacup into the dishwasher. “Want to join us, Emma?”

“No thanks,” she smiled. “I think my kicking’s beyond hope. Anyway,
your mum thinks she can teach me to make an apricot slice. I’m not much of a
baker, but I’d like to learn.”

“I’ll come,” George said, wiping his mouth and standing up
from the table. Ellen whisked his cup away, and Nic wondered for the thousandth
time if it would kill his dad to help out a bit around the house. And then
realized with dismay what he’d said. So much for his plan to get himself and
Zack out from under that critical eye for a bit.

“Run on down to the end of the garden,” Nic instructed Zack
once they were outside. “And we’ll give you a bit of work under the high ball.”

“Your technique’s looking a bit dodgy off the right foot,” George
commented after watching a number of Nic’s easy kicks back to his son. “I was
noticing it looked different, these last games.”

“I’ve changed it a bit,” Nic agreed. “Lets me get the ball
away faster.”

“Sure it’s a good idea to change up now?” George asked.

“If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be doing it,” Nic answered
shortly. Despite his best efforts to control it, his temper was beginning to
fray.

He called Zack back. “Passing practice,” he told him. “Want
to help out here, Dad?”

“I don’t mind,” George decided. The three of them set off,
tossing the ball behind them, then letting the ball carrier run ahead to pass
back in his turn. All went well for a while, until Zack’s pass to George went
awry. The older man reached for it, but couldn’t pull it in. He stopped running
with a curse, went back for the ball. “Got to look where you’re passing it,” he
snapped to Zack.

“Sorry,” the boy said, looking chastened at the tone.

“Never mind,” Nic said. “Start again.” This time, Zack was
the one who missed George’s pass, which had been a bit high for his
six-year-old frame.

“Focus!” George barked. “Watch the ball! Watch my arm!”

Zack’s lip was trembling, and Nic quickly started him
running in the opposite direction, caught his wobbly pass with ease, then sent
it back to him again. If his dad was going to be that much of an arsehole, he
could just stay out of it. Zack, though, was thoroughly rattled by now, and his
return pass to Nic was far off the mark. Nic got a hand on it, but couldn’t
pull it in, had to jog over to pick it up out of one of the flax plants at the
edge of the wide expanse of grass.

“Thought you’d been working with him,” George accused. “You
had a more accurate arm than that by the time you were five.”

“You’ve got him doubting himself, is why,” Nic shot back.

“He needs to harden up, then,” George insisted, “if a
suggestion or two can do that to him. Because he’s bloody useless this
morning.”

“Dad. He’s right here,” Nic warned.

“So?”

“So quit telling him what he’s done wrong, or to harden up!”
Nic snapped, completely exasperated now. “You’re not helping!” He put an arm
around Zack, who was openly crying by this time.

“Big kids like you don’t cry,” George told his grandson.
“And why shouldn’t I coach him, just like I did you? I try to give you both the
feedback you need, and all I get is agro for it. When did you get so soft that
you couldn’t take a bit of criticism?”

“Right. That’s it. That’s enough,” Nic decided. “Mate,” he
told Zack, handing him the ball. “Go on back inside and see your granny. Maybe
she’ll give you a bit of that apricot slice, when it’s done.” He reached a
thumb down, wiped the tears from Zack’s eyes. “Oi,” he said softly. “It’s OK.
Just give me a sec, and then I’ll be coming in too.”

Zack nodded and trudged off with the ball after one final
scared look at his grandfather. Nic turned back to his dad. Time to put him
right. Well past time.

“When I’m out there on the paddock, under the high ball,” he
began. “That’s a pretty lonely place. I have to back myself. The last thing I
need out there is doubt. I have heaps of people to give me advice. I don’t need
an earbashing from you after every match. Or to have your voice in my head
every time I miss a tackle, telling me I’m not good enough.”

“Watch how you’re talking to me,” George began to bluster.

“Nah, Dad.” Nic interrupted his father again. He’d never
done that before this weekend, and now he wondered why not. Because it felt
damn good. “Watch how you’re talking to
me.
And how you talk to my son,
if you want to keep seeing either one of us.”

“I spent half my life with you telling me to harden up,” he
went on. “Right, now I have. And if I think Zack needs any help learning how to
be a man, I’m here to give it to him. He doesn’t need your criticism. He
doesn’t need your disapproval. What he needs is your love.”

“What kind of a pussy are you trying to make him?” George
asked incredulously. “How’s he going to turn out with that kind of soft
attitude?”

“Like a decent man, I hope. A good New Zealander. A loving
son to his mum. A good mate. And yeh, he’ll harden up. Heaps of time in his
life for him to learn that, and for me to teach him. It’s not your job, and I’m
not going to let you do it. Because the way you do it hurts. And I’m not going
to let you hurt my son.”

“You’re telling me I
hurt
you? That’s your gratitude
for everything I’ve done? If it hadn’t been for me pushing you, you’d never
even have made the Super 15, let alone the All Blacks. Have you forgotten all
the times I worked with you? How many hours I spent practicing with you?”

“Nah, Dad,” Nic sighed. “I haven’t. And I’m grateful for it.
Just like I know that you did the things you did, said the things you said,
because you thought I needed to hear them. That you were trying to make a man
of me.”

“Too right I was,” George grunted, barely mollified.

“But I
am
a man now,” Nic went on. “Time for you to
see it. I’m a pretty damn good footballer, too, and I know a hell of a lot more
about rugby than you do. And I’m a father as well. I can take care of myself, and
I can take care of
my family. I don’t need you to tell me how to live my
life, how to do my job, how to choose a woman to love, how to raise my son.”

“I want you in my life, Dad.” He saw the danger signs, the vein
bulging in his father’s temple, his face reddening, and plowed on regardless. “I
want you in Zack’s life. But it’s going to be on my terms, or it’s not going to
happen. And here’s what they are. You’ll treat Emma with respect. Not asking
you to love her, though I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t. She’s a bloody
fantastic person, and she’s done a damn good job of raising her son, without
any help from me. The help she should have had. I’m going to do everything I
can to make it up to her. Because she deserves it.”  

“And Zack. You can either be a decent grandpa to him, or you
can not see him at all. Your choice. No telling him to harden up. No suggestion
that he isn’t good enough, strong enough, tough enough for you. If he needs any
criticism, or any discipline, that’ll come from his mum, or me.”