The Lost Guide to Life and Love by Sharon Griffiths Page A

capers, pigeon and celeriac, pumpkin gnocchi or sea trout…I would have liked to ask for a copy to show to Bill. Clayton hardly seemed interested. ‘Just bring me some grilled chicken with lots of vegetables,’ he said to the waiter, but then spent ages poring over the wine list.
    ‘I know, Miss Foodie, who cares about every mouthful,’ he said in a laughing, mocking tone, ‘but food is just fuel to me. Yeah, I can see what the club dietician means about not too many pies and pizzas and all that, but food is just there to keep you going. But wine…well, wine is something else. Do you know,’ he asked as he finally made his choice, ‘I was seventeen before I first tasted wine? I thought it was for poofs and posers. Then Denny Sharpe, themanager at my first club—he was a bit of a wine buff—he gave me a glass of Château Laf ite. “Just shut up and drink that slowly,” he said, and I was like, wow, why didn’t anyone ever tell me about this before?! I was hooked. It is just so-o good.’
    ‘Clever Denny.’
    ‘Yeah, he was. Not just about the wine. I was a bit of a smart-arse street kid, I guess, thought I knew it all. I knew nothing. Absolutely rock-all. But Denny was good. He was good with all us young lads. Tried to keep us in order—I say tried, because we were a wild bunch all right. He and his missus took us out to places like this, proper places, you know what I mean, taught us our table manners and stuff. He even had us doing exams.’
    I looked at him, enquiringly.
    ‘Bunked off school too much to do exams, didn’t I? Too busy playing football. Reckoned I didn’t need exams. But the club—well, Denny really—said there was an awful lot of life once our football days were over, so they got this tutor guy in. And me and a couple of others got some exams. I’ve got English, maths, PE and geography,’ he said proudly. ‘I’d have done some more but then I moved into the Premiership and it was all different then. And I was nineteen by then, so they reckoned I was all grown up, couldn’t tell me what to do.’
    ‘Must have been hard studying after you left school.’
    ‘No, it was all right really. Sort of interesting. There was just four or five of us and the teacher was pretty good. Didn’t treat us like kids. Couldn’t really. Even then we were earning shed-loads more than he was. But it was pretty cool. Never done anything like that before. My mum didn’t do books. Too busy trying to survive. She was only a kid herself when she had me.’
    I was trying to remember what I knew about ClaytonSilver. A tough childhood, on a council estate where gangs and guns were commonplace. He was always being held up as an example of how sport could make a difference, provide a way out for a lad with talent and determination.
    ‘No dad?’
    ‘He skipped off when I was still in nappies. Turned up again when I signed for the Premiership and said he wanted to make up for lost time. Yeah, right. Just wanted a slice of my money, more like. Told him where to go.’
    For a moment his lively face looked bleak, far away. So I told him about my father and the drunk driver.
    ‘So we’re both half-orphans then,’ he said. ‘Not easy, eh? But I had lots of dads. Different one every few months. Mum would get lonely. Not surprising, she was only young. Then some bloke would move in, start throwing his weight around and then there’d be a row and in the morning he’d be gone too. There was a lot like that. Losers, most of them, absolute losers. Except for Travis. Travis was all right.’
    ‘What made Travis special?’
    ‘Well, for a start he stuck around longer than most. He could cope with my mum’s moods and tempers—which took some coping with, trust me. She had a mean temper on her. And he used to take me to the park, so we could both get out of her way. He’d kick a ball about with me. He was sound. It was Travis who took me to the Lions Boys’ club. Knew the guy who ran it. Told him I had talent. That