Balls Fore (Ball Games #4) Read online

  Contents

  Title page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Yorkshire Slang Guide

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  A familiar face...

  Also by Andie M. Long

  About Andie

  BALLS FORE

  BALL GAMES BOOK FOUR

  BY

  ANDIE M. LONG

  COPYRIGHT

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Copyright (c) 2016 by Andrea Long

  All rights reserved.

  Cover photo from One Dollar Photo.

  DEDICATION

  To Beth Ashworth.

  Fellow member of the Camel Ball Author Group.

  A fab friend brought my way via the book world and Birmingham meet-ups.

  This book is for you. Hope you like your namesake!

  Yorkshire Slang Guide

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the fourth novella in the Ball Games Series. You do not need to have read the other books in the series to enjoy this novella, although if you want a giggle, you may wish to reconsider. Now you may be reading this novella from outside of South Yorkshire, England. This story is centred around the Turner family, who I hope you will become familiar with as I write further novellas in the series, all complete stand-alone stories. While I refrained from writing in the broad Yorkshire style of ‘Where’s tha bin?’ (Where have you been), I did want to leave in some British and Yorkshire words as I love providing an opportunity to learn new rude words, (I’m naughty like that.) So what follows is a list of what you will come across in the novella. If I’ve missed any feel free to contact me and I’ll teach you what they mean. I hope you have fun reading the Ball Games series. It came about after a meeting of like-minded book readers in Birmingham. We happened to visit a sweet shop that sold Camel Balls (you can Google them if you don’t know what they look like). As some of the meet-up were bloggers who had formed an alliance called All for the Love, myself and fellow author Beth Ashworth joked that we would have our own group, The Camel Balls.

  Such is a writer's imagination that a few months later when I saw some e-books with rude titles I thought it would be fun to write one called Balls. After that book was written, the rest of Camille’s family and friends told me their stories…

  Love Andie.

  5 April 2016

  British/Yorkshire Slang.

  Arse - bottom/rear/backside.

  Biscuit - cookie.

  Busted - found out.

  Buster - affectionate term, friend.

  Calm your tits - calm down.

  Chips - fries. Chips from a van are what you buy when you are drunk. They taste extra delicious.

  Dickhead - stronger use of idiot, used with disdain when you really want to insult someone.

  Even Stevens - equal.

  Fogey - old person.

  Fucked up - messed up.

  Fucktard - an imbecile of the highest order.

  Gob - mouth. Also used when you spit on someone maliciously (Sorry if I just made you feel sick there).

  Heaving - extremely busy.

  Lazy oaf - idle person.

  Lopper - dirty person. In the book used when crumb dropping. Can also be used for the unwashed or flatulent, ‘Ew, you stink you dirty lopper.’

  Mate - friend.

  Mardy - sulking.

  Oi - hey.

  On your toes - be aware and careful.

  Pee - see Wee.

  Pint - a size of glass, but used when having it full of beer.

  Piss off - go away.

  Pissing me off - making me angry.

  S’ - placed before a word like s’okay. It’s okay. Sometimes Yorkshire people can’t be bothered to say the whole word.

  Sad, also Saddo - Someone you pity for being a moron. ‘They’re sad.’ ‘What a saddo.’

  Shag - to have sex.

  Thwack - hit, used as that’s the noise it makes. (please do not hit your own ear to check. Oh you have already? See Saddo.)

  Tits - breasts.

  Toilet - lavatory. Bathroom. The thing you wee in (see Wee).

  Tonsil Tennis - Kissing passionately.

  Twat - a word for vagina, used to say a person is a despicable person or idiot if proceeded by daft.

  Wanged - waved in your face.

  Wee - urinate.

  Chapter One

  Beth

  It’s not every day a chocolate penis is wanged in your face.

  ‘Mum. Stop it, you’re in a children’s play centre,’ yells my best mate, Camille. Her shouting only has more people turning towards us.

  ‘Oh, Camille. How do you think all those children were made? If it wasn’t for willies, there wouldn’t be anyone in your business.’

  ‘Talking about business, leave Beth alone.’

  ‘But she’s an expert.’

  ‘Not with penises I’m not.’ I sigh. ‘But chocolate, yes. Cam, go make us a drink so I can have a proper conversation with your mum.’

  Camille huffs and goes off, giving her mother a sly look.

  ‘What can I do for you, Dora?’

  ‘I’m giving up my cleaning job, with Tim’s permission, and I’ve had a good think about what I could do instead. At first, I was thinking of taking a job in a supermarket but then I read a book about careers and it asked what I enjoyed. Well, that’s my baking. Then my thoughts went on and before I knew it, I was making chocolate willies. But as you can see, mine needs some work.’

  I appraise a penis. It is a little wonky.

  ‘You need a good mould, and you have to learn the process of tempering chocolate.’

  ‘Would you mind if I sold willies and boobies, Beth? I don’t want to take your trade if you were thinking of expanding.’

  I sell children’s chocolate bars. As a single mum to my three-year-old son, Trey, it’s a business that fits around nursery runs.

  ‘Dora, you’re absolutely fine. I can’t sell sexy stuff alongside children’s chocolate. It wouldn’t be right.’

  ‘Well, my thought is to set up for hen nights and weddings. I’m fantastic at baking so I could do wedding cakes and cupcakes for brides and the naughty stuff for their hen nights. I’ll do Camille’s when she and Dylan eventually set a date.’

  ‘They’ve only been engaged a week.’

  I take a bite of the penis. ‘Mmm, this tastes good, though.’

  Dora beams.

  ‘So would you teach me that temper thing and how to do the books? I’m really keen to get underway.’

  I can imagine. If there’s one word you can assign to Cam’s mum, its enthusiasm.

  ‘Sure. Come round this evening if you like. I’ve no plans.’

  Dora appraises me. ‘Still no man in your life then?’

  ‘Just Trey. He’s all I need.’

  She hands me a packet full of chocolate penises. ‘Here, you need to remind yourself what you’re m
issing.’

  When you’ve been with Dora for half an hour, you feel like you’ve been in the path of a tornado. She has, however, been a second mum to me since I was young. Camille and I were at school together, so I’ve been round their house for many a meal after school. While my parents have always been dependable, they were, and still are, set in their ways. Going to Cam’s house was always an adventure. You’d never know what her mum had been up to, plus I had a crush on her brother until I grew up and realised what a lazy oaf he was. Tyler’s all loved up now, and I only have brotherly feelings towards him. I sometimes miss the fact I’ve grown up and don’t go to the Turners for tea anymore.

  With Dora now gone, I spend some time with my son in Kid Zone, watching him make friends with the other children. He’s a very contented child, and that’s how I hope he stays. I’m proud of the son I’ve brought up single-handed. His contentment shows he’s not missing having a father in his life. He has a significant male in his grandad, a man who idolises him, albeit from his comfy armchair.

  Lunch rush over, Camille places two hot drinks on a nearby table and sits down rubbing her lower back.

  ‘God standing up for long periods plays havoc with my back.’

  She opens a packet of chocolate chip cookies and places them on the table. ‘Snacktime.’

  Trey’s eagle eyes to anything junk-food related home in on the biscuits and he runs out of the ball pool. ‘Aun Cam, bic-bic.’

  Cam looks at me. I nod my head to answer her silent question.

  ‘Auntie Cam spoils you, young man.’ I rub the top of his head. His brown curls spring back from under my fingers.

  Cam stands up, gathers Trey in her arms and cuddles him. ‘You’re my very favourite boy, you know that?’

  ‘Don’t let your fiancé hear you say that,’ I reply.

  ‘Fiancé. Gosh, that word is going to take some getting used to.’ She looks at her finger where an emerald and diamond ring now sits. Her fiancé, Dylan, proposed a week ago, but she only got her ring on Saturday and can’t stop staring at it. I don’t blame her, it's beautiful, with a large rectangular emerald in the middle and diamonds either side.

  ‘Your mum’s wondering when the big event is taking place I gather?’

  Cam rolls her eyes. ‘Not for the reason you’re thinking. She wants to put the date on the calendar so she knows when not to A: Take a holiday with Dad, and B: Not book other baking business for that date. She’s only made one batch of chocolate willies and is already seeing herself on Dragons Den.

  ‘Well, that’s your mum for you. I’ll have a chat with her about perfecting her craft and then offering samples before she books herself up for the rest of the year.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Do you have any idea when you’ll get married though?’

  ‘Not really. Things get booked up so far in advance that I don’t know whether to say 2017 or 2018. We need to chat about what sort of wedding we want and then go from there. I’d like to go abroad but that has financial implications for everyone.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be able to afford it, but I wouldn’t stand in your way. You need to have the wedding you want. Don’t you forget that when Dora starts being the Mother of Bride-zilla.’

  ‘I can’t see Mum being like that. She’s not interested in getting married herself.’

  I shake my head. ‘You have met your mother, haven’t you? Your wedding is so going to be a project.’

  Cam’s eyes widen. ‘Fuck. We’ll have to elope. Gretna Green’s sounding good about now.’

  I chuckle. Then turn to see Trey stuffing another biscuit in his gob. I grab the packet. He’s eaten about four. ‘Oh my God, I’m such a bad mother. Trey, no more biscuits.’

  ‘That’s my fault. Here let me move them,’ says Cam, taking the packet from me. ‘I can’t say I enjoyed them as much as Trey is. Packet biscuits are boring.’

  An idea comes to mind. ‘Hmm, interesting you should say that. I’ve had an idea. I’m going to run it past your mum tonight and see what she thinks.’

  Cam falls to her knees in a prayer pose. ‘Please don’t get infected by projectitis, I beg you.’

  ‘Get up you lunatic.’ I laugh.

  Trey falls to his knees at the side of Cam and grins at me. His cute face dimpling as he giggles along at a joke he doesn’t understand.

  ‘Your son is the cutest thing ever,’ Cam says.

  ‘Don’t I know it. You’re going to be a heartbreaker, aren’t you?’ I stroke my son's cheek.

  ‘I not break anythin’, Mummy.’ He shakes his head; a frown appears that makes him look even cuter.

  ‘I know precious. Go off and play,’ I tell him.

  Cam’s face turns serious. ‘So at a guess, I’d say his father must have been a good-looking guy, because although I can see his resemblance to you, he seems a large part of someone I haven’t met.’

  ‘There’s no doubt about it. Trey looks a lot like his father.’ My lips purse.

  ‘Well he might have a physical likeness but at least you’re teaching him to not be a twat.’

  I nod, because that way, I don’t have to verbalise another lie. Camille has always been very patient as a friend. She’s never pushed me into telling her the story of Trey’s father. That story being that Trey’s father was a dickhead who didn’t want to know when he discovered I was pregnant.

  It couldn’t be further from the truth, but that’s the decision I made and the one I live by. It was for the best. At least that’s what I tell myself.

  Chapter Two

  Dora

  I’ve never been to Beth’s house before today. It still seems strange to me that Cam and Beth are all grown up, and Beth has a child of her own now. These are the two girls I’ve watched play together in my house, moving from dolls to make-up. Going from glasses of milk to being drunk on alcopops in Cam’s bedroom. Although they were apart while they went to University, Cam choosing Liverpool while Beth went to Manchester, they stayed in touch. Then, of course, Beth returned home without completing University as she’d started something else - growing a baby. The girl who used to talk endless loads of shit with my daughter returned to Rotherham a friendly, but private woman. No doubt the result of Trey’s father, who by all accounts was a complete fucktard. She’s closed off her heart to all men but her son. It’s a shame as she’s a beautiful person inside and out.

  Beth invites me into her terraced house. It’s on a busy street. The area around is noisy with teenage children hanging out and there’s a lot of passing traffic. I walk through the small hallway into her lounge. I’m expecting a huge basket of ironing and an explosion of children’s toys. Instead, I find myself in a spotless room. Trey is playing with mega blocks in the bay window, but other than that, you wouldn’t know a child even lived here.

  ‘Can I have a nosey around your home?’ I ask her. ‘It’s dead strange you having your own place. I feel very old right now.’

  Beth laughs. ‘Of course. Come have a tour. I find it hard to believe I’m a grown up with a child myself most of the time.’

  The rest of the house is in the same immaculate order. You could eat dinner in the bathroom, it's so clean. The bedrooms are minimalist. Trey’s room has a couple of framed prints on the wall, a wardrobe and chest of drawers and another wall full of shelving with coloured storage boxes. Again, there’s not a single toy to be seen, except for a teddy bear on his pillow.

  ‘It’s a lovely house, Beth. You keep it immaculate.’

  She nods and smiles.

  It wasn’t all a compliment.

  I follow Beth downstairs and into the kitchen where she makes me a drink. She rewashes the cup from the cupboard before she puts a tea-bag in it. Though it’s none of my business, I can’t keep my observations to myself.

  ‘Beth. Where are Trey’s toys?’

  She looks confused. ‘You saw them in his room, in those boxes.’

  ‘Yes, but where are the ones he plays with?’

  ‘He chooses what he’s
playing with and then he has to put them away if he wants something else out. He has his mega-blocks right now.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘I can’t afford to trip over a toy.’ She bites on her lip. ‘It almost happened once. I was near the top of the stairs. I need to be careful because there’s only one of me.’

  Ah. Now I see where all this cleanliness is coming from. The girl’s too nervous to relax in her own home.

  I wave a hand around. ‘And all the cleaning? Or are you just a tidy person?’

  ‘I can’t afford to get ill. Who would look after Trey?’

  ‘Your mum and dad?’

  ‘They wouldn’t cope. They moan they’re tired after they have him on a Friday.’

  I smile. ‘Beth, that’s what grandparents do. They brought you up. They’d be able to look after Trey. We all like to moan when we reach middle-age.’

  ‘Well, I’d rather be careful. It’s not a crime to be clean and tidy is it? Plus, what if someone comes to inspect my workspace?’ She points to the side of her kitchen dedicated to her chocolate business.

  I can see and hear I’ve hit a nerve so I move the conversation onward.

  ‘Of course.’ I hit myself in the forehead as if it’s me being stupid. ‘It wouldn’t do to have a dirty workspace, would it? I have to admit, I like a clean kitchen and bathroom myself, and now Tyler’s gone I get to have them.’

  ‘Right, well, if you’re ready I thought I’d show you how to temper the chocolate properly first. Then I’ll go over the business side of things.’

  I extract my notebook and pen from my bag and take notes while Beth shows me how to temper the chocolate. I’d not realised how serious little Beth had become. Where’s the fun in her life? Trey wanders through to show us his blocks. He’s a studious little soul.

  ‘Choc-choc, Mummy?’

  She reaches in a packet for a small chocolate drop and hands it to him.

  ‘It’s time for bed, Trey, soon.’