It Started With A Tweet(112)

‘Yes, thank you,’ says Will.

He glances at his wrist and looks in shock at the time, as if he hasn’t been checking it every few minutes since we got here.

‘The football’s just kicked off,’ he says, turning to my dad. ‘Do you fancy going to the Swan round the corner to watch it?’

‘Football? On a Tuesday?’ I say, exasperated.

‘Champions League,’ says Will without missing a beat. ‘Real Madrid vs Man City.’

So that’s why he’s been checking his watch all night. Not because he wanted to get away from my mother, but because he didn’t want to miss the game. Honestly, him being that anxious and jumpy about two teams that he doesn’t even support is just typical. My boyfriend is so sports-obsessed that he’d watch tiddlywinks if Sky Sports broadcast it.

‘Oh, I’d forgotten that was on,’ says my dad.

Although he’s a big Southampton fan, he’s not as addicted to watching sport as Will is.

‘We could go to the pub to watch it, and Lexi can take Jean back to ours for a cup of tea until we’re finished.’

My mouth drops open.

‘Um .?.?.’ I stutter, as the house is definitely not tidy enough to have my mum over. I can’t remember the last time I hoovered and I don’t even know if I loaded last night’s dinner plates into the dishwasher. ‘Why can’t we come to the pub too?’

I’m not a football fan, and I couldn’t think of anything worse than going to the Swan to watch the game, but I feel a bit affronted that we’re being farmed off like good little women to drink tea at home while the men go to the pub.

‘Because you hate the Swan and you hate football. You’ll be much more comfortable at home.’

Really? With my mum turning her nose up at the state of my house? But I can’t say that out loud – I wouldn’t want her to know how we really live in a pigsty.

‘But .?.?.’

Will is glowering at me with a look so severe that I stop myself from saying anything else.

‘Actually, Will, as kind as your offer is,’ says my mother, ‘I’ve booked tickets to the cinema for eight o’clock. That’s why we’re eating so early – it’s not just because your dad is tight, Lexi.’

She laughs a little, and my dad even raises a smile.

‘Thanks, Will. Some other time, yeah?’ he says almost hopefully.

‘OK,’ says Will, looking crestfallen.

He obviously really wanted company to watch the game. He would usually go with his best mates Aaron and Tom, but they must be busy.

‘I’ll go with you,’ I say, trying to plant an enthusiastic smile on my face.

He narrows his eyes as he looks at me.

‘You don’t have to.’

‘No, I want to. You clearly really want to go and see it.’

‘That settles it, then,’ says my mother. ‘Alan, get the bill, will you?’

My boyfriend smiles, and I see the anxiety fade away. All he wanted was someone to watch football with him. This way at least we can go and have a nice glass of wine together and shake off the dinner with my mother. It’s not like I have to watch the football anyway as I’ve got my trusty Kindle in my bag – one of the many tools I have in my arsenal as a sporting widow. I’m always prepared for being on the sidelines of some sort of sporting activity.