2. Quit whining, John

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January 1957

It was pissing down with rain. He should be inside out of the wet and cold rather than watching a poxy hockey match shivering his arse off. Despite his layers of uniform, John could feel his nipples press against his white cotton school shirt. Fuck it was cold. Right, that was it, he couldn't bear it any longer. He let his navy duffle coat fall on top of his head, and he used his hands to wrap them around his arms, rubbing them rapidly. He needed to bring back the warmth to his veins before he passed out from bloody hyperthermia. Eric turned to look at John, who had started to shuffle his feet side to side.

"You need a piss or somethin', Lennon?"

John hadn't realised until now that he'd been moving around. Standing still would only make him colder.

"No," John huffed. "What I need is a ciggy and one of their hockey sticks to batter ya with."

John thought about his boys. They'd probably be in the bogs having a fag, if not there then in the hut having one. That's where he needed to be. And, god, did he need a ciggy more than they did. It would warm him up straight away. He was almost drooling at the thought of one. Lucky gits. They weren't the ones standing on a muddy field freezing their tits off.

Maybe he could have one now, I mean the umpire of the match was far away enough not to see or smell anything. There was no one else apart from him and his mate, Eric. Of course, there wouldn't be anyone around because no one was daft enough to stand outside in this weather. Surely he wouldn't get caught smoking one and if he did he'd just quickly stub it out and deny it like he always did. But he couldn't. That was the problem. That was the whole reason why he was out here. Because he'd run out of cigs and Eric promised to give him a brand new pack if he came with him to watch the girls play hockey.

Eric had started dating some bird over the Christmas break, and the boy was obsessed with her. Poppy, something or other. He couldn't remember her name; he didn't care enough to remember it. Eric was doing anything he could to impress this girl, and that included standing here watching her play in her daft match. Eric wasn't even cheering her on- some support he was. That was fine with John though. The last thing he wanted to hear was Eric yelling out shitty words of encouragement.

"Ah, c'mon!" Eric shoved John with his elbow. "It's not that cold."

John frowned at him.

"It is. Fuckin' borin' too," John sulked, lifting his coat back over his head. "Watching a bunch of lesbos run around a field 'n knocking their sticks together."

John hadn't even known there was a school hockey team until recently. He didn't think it was a sport taken seriously in England. You never heard about it in the papers or on the telly. He assumed it was more of an American game or a private school thing.

"How can Penny be a lesbian if she's dating me, yer divvy?"

"She will be once she'd done with you," John joked. Eric went to kick him, but John jumped out the way, laughing.

John knew the girl's name was something beginning with P. Poppy was close enough, wasn't it? John was surprised he couldn't remember Penny's name seeing as Eric hadn't shut up about her. Though not so much recently because John thought it would be funny to hit him in the balls every time he mentioned her name. Their other mates had started joining in as well, and they got a good laugh out of it too, except Eric with the bruised balls of course.

"Pack it in will ya? Anyway, they've got about fifteen minutes left."

John could've had two cigarettes in that amount of time.

"Quit whining, John."

John hadn't realised he'd said that last comment out loud. All he knew was that Eric had better give him that pack of cigs as soon as the game finished.

"Has she even seen you yet?"

"What?"

"Your bird," John said, nodding over to the girls. "Does she know you're here watching her."

"Of course she does!" Eric exclaimed like it was the stupidest question John had ever asked.

"Only, I haven't seen her even look at you yet La', not even so much as a wave."

Well, he didn't know for certain. John couldn't see a thing from where they were standing because he was as blind as a bat without his glasses on. But Eric hadn't even waved at her so she can't have spotted him.

"I swear, Eric if we've come out 'ere for no reason, I'm gonna-"

"No, no, she knows I'm here. I told her I would be. We're just standing too far away, aren't we?" He said it with a tinge of guilt in his voice.

They were standing so far away from the action; it almost seemed pointless them being there. The truth is, they stood at such a far distance on purpose. Eric had been going on about the match all morning, but he wasn't looking forward to it. There was something about a couple of guys standing on the sideline cheering on a bunch of girls. Not that they had been, of course- they had too much pride for that. If anything, it should be the opposite way round which is why it felt embarrassing them being there. Eric couldn't win- he wanted Penny to see him, but he didn't want to be noticed by everyone else. They'd stood far away enough not to feel stupid, but John could see in Eric's face that he was about to change his mind. He was frowning so hard John could see the creases in his broad forehead.

"Come 'ed then." Eric started to walk towards the girls. Just as John expected- and dreaded.

"Where are you going?" John groaned.

"Closer. Like you said it's pointless us standin' over 'ere."

John regretted opening his mouth now.

"Well, I'm keeping me feet right here," John scoffed. He hunched his shoulders and folded his arms to make his point.

"Fine, but don't expect a full pack of ciggies then," Eric said over his shoulder.

"Eric!"

Eric ignored him and walked even faster.

"Fuck sake," John cursed under his breath.

He took a big breath in and looked up to the sky, letting out a hefty sigh. He felt like battering the little shit. Was all this really worth a box of poxy American cigarettes? Eric's cousin had bought a few boxes back with him from his trip to America. Marlboro. You don't get those over here, not that John knew of. He'd never tried them before- they might taste like a pile of shit. Or they might be the best ciggies he'd ever had in his life.

John wrapped his coat around his head like a headscarf and followed Eric.

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