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I glanced at the calendar without needing to. The date had been burned in my memory with a searing white needle. Well, not literally of course, but you get my meaning. I had tried to blank it from my memory, but every year when the day got nearer, it all came rushing back. It felt even worse this year, probably because it was the fifth anniversary of her death. It sounded wrong every time I said it, but I had gotten used to people around me using the word so much, that I’d come to terms with it. Time heals all wounds and all that crap, I guess.
I got up from the chair and donned my suit jacket. A last look at the calendar before taking the roses off the table with my right hand, while grabbing my shades with the left. It was time. I got out the door and started walking in the afternoon sun. Next stop, Nazeing cemetery.
It was a two-and-a-half mile walk to the cemetery, which usually took me just under an hour. I always walked to the cemetery, although I have no idea why. Just one of those things I guess. After my quiet stroll through Nazeing, I arrived at my destination. I nodded at the vicar tending his garden and he waved his hand in return. He probably knew why I was here, which meant he wouldn’t disturb me. Just as well. I entered the cemetery through the big iron-wrought gates and turned right at the first path, following it until I stood in the shade of the great old oak on the south side of the cemetery. Thankfully, the place was quiet, deserted even, apart from the vicar across the road. Mustering the last bit of courage I needed, I spoke softly at the black marble gravestone.
“Hey there sunshine.”
As usual, the gravestone didn’t talk back. Not that I expected it to do so, mind. You’d have to be pretty daft to expect a gravestone to reply to your mumblings. I knelt down and lay the roses against the marble.
“I’m sorry sunshine. You know I am. You know I think of you every single day. And that I can’t forget what happened. But this year is different. I have to move on with my life. My visits will not be as frequent as they have been. But you know I won’t forget you, don’t you sunshine? Because I won’t. You’ll be on my mind forever. I just wish things had worked out differently and I’d be talking to you instead of making a fool out of myself taking to a marble gravestone.”
I imagined her smiling at my last remark. She probably would have.
“Farewell sunshine. I’ll be back someday. I just don’t know when. See ya, Jen.”
I put my hand to my lips and then rested it on her name in the black marble for a few seconds. The black suit groaned in agony when I got up. When I turned around to leave, I just caught a glimpse of a similar black suit before something crashed into the side of my head and everything went black as night…
04-03-2006, 10:18 AM
"What do you mean, this is an unimaginative title. It looks fine to me” Post #2
I woke up a few hours later, my head feeling like someone had taken a shovel to it. I tried to get up, but a calming voice advised against it.
It’s better if you lie down, Chris. You took a nasty beating.
I recognised the vicar’s voice. I tried to speak, but my throat was so dry I couldn’t.
“I’ll get you some water” the vicar said.
He left and returned a few seconds later with a glass of water. After taking a few sips, I managed to speak.
“What the hell happened?”
“Someone must have attacked you in the cemetery. I noticed you coming in, but I didn’t see you leave so I went to check. I found you next to Jennifer’s grave, lying on the ground. Whoever it was, they got you good. The doctor should be here shortly, he’ll check you out.”
“Did you see who it was?” I asked.
“I didn’t see anyone else enter the cemetery, if that’s what you’re asking..”
I had no enemies in Nazeing and although I wasn’t on the best of terms with Jennifer’s family, they weren’t violent people and I couldn’t imagine any of them actually trying to hurt me. Just then, the doorbell rang. The vicar got up from his chair and went to answer the door. He returned shortly after, with the doctor in tow.
“How are you feeling?” the doctor asked.
“Like hell” I replied.
“Let’s have a look then” he smiled before subjecting me to a series of examinations. When he was finished, he took off his glasses, removed a handkerchief from his pocket and started polishing them.
“Well, you don’t seem to have sustained any broken bones or gaping wounds. Quite a few cuts and some bruises to your face and a mild concussion though. You’ll probably suffer from headaches for a few days. Do you still live alone?” he asked. The question hurt, like it had before, but everyone in Nazeing knew what had happened.
“Yeah, why?”
“You’ll need someone to wake you up a couple of times during the night, to make sure you stay conscious, so it would be best if you could stay with someone, or go to the hospital” the doctor continued.
“You know how I feel about hospitals, doc” I replied. “I’m sure I can stay at Nick’s if I asked him” I turned to the vicar. “Could you ring him for me? Ask him if it’s all right?”
“Sure, no problem” the vicar replied. He left the room to make the phone call.
“Do you have any idea who attacked you?” the doctor asked when the vicar had left the room.
“No idea. All I remember is visiting Jenny and then everything goes black”
“Best take it up with the police, Chris” the doctor advised me. The vicar returned to the room a few minutes later.
“Nick is on his way over, he said it wouldn’t be a problem”
“Great, thanks”
The doctor left and about ten minutes later, the doorbell rang again. It was Nick.
“Christ, you look like hell” was the first thing he managed to say, which earned him a stern look from the vicar.
“Mind your language, Mr. Young” he said sternly
“Yeah, yeah. C’mon Chris, let’s get you home.”
Nick helped me off the couch I was lying on, and then had to help me out of the vicar’s house as my legs were pretty wobbly. His car was an old Renault Five that was on its last legs. Once we got in, he fired the engine and backed out of the vicar’s lot. It was only a short drive back to Nick’s and he didn’t bother with any pleasantries. It was just as well, as I wasn’t really up for them anyway. Once we got to his place, I quickly checked into the spare bedroom and slept until well into the next morning. I don’t remember Nick waking me up throughout the night, but I’m sure he did.
04-03-2006, 10:44 PM
"What do you mean, this is an unimaginative title. It looks fine to me” Post #3
The next morning, I was feeling a lot better and it was decided that I would go back home. Nick wasn’t too certain about it, but I wouldn’t have it any other way, so after some mild objections, he agreed to take me back home. He drove his car over to my place and then used my keys to open the door. Once he did so, he was greeted by chaos. Someone had turned the entire house upside down, obviously in search of something.
“Well mate, I think your day just got worse…”
“Oh that’s just grand…”
Whatever they had been looking, they’d been very thorough in their search. A threatening note was left on the kitchen table.
We know you have it. Your life is in danger unless you hand it over immediately. We shall return shortly to claim it.
PS. Don’t go to the police. We will know if you contact them…
The note wasn’t signed and the handwriting didn’t look familiar to me.
“What the devil are they on about?” Nick asked.
“Beats me. Obviously someone’s pretty ****ed off about something.”
“Yeah, I’d figured that one out. Well, we can’t stay here, especially if they’re coming back and they’re as serious as they sound.”
“You think these are the same blokes that attacked me in the cemetery?” I asked Nick.
“No idea, could well be. They obviously know where to find you. And according to this, we can’t go to the cops either. Best go to Martin’s and figure out what the hell is going on here”
“Right” was all I managed to say.
A few minutes later, we were back on the road, towards Martin’s place. It was just a couple of blocks away, so we got there pretty quickly. Martin was a friend of ours, who used to be a sergeant in the SAS until he had a fling with the base commander’s daughter and got kicked out as a result. He seemed pretty concerned about what happened and decided to go and check out the house for himself. He returned after just fifteen minutes.
“Some blokes returned to the house just after I arrived. Good thing I was at a safe distance when they did. I don’t think they noticed me, but I think it’d be best if we left town as quickly as possible. These guys look like they mean business” Martin reported.
“But where’d we go?” was Nick’s reaction.
“My first thought would be to get out of the country. Especially if these people have connections with the police. An uncle of mine has a holiday home in Portugal. It’s in a small town, remote enough that no-one would notice us. We can lay low there for a few days, more if necessary. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to spend a few days on the beach and all this will blow over. At least until we figure out what the hell is going on…” Martin said.
04-03-2006, 11:29 PM
"What do you mean, this is an unimaginative title. It looks fine to me” Post #4
Two days later, we were sitting in the pleasant afternoon sun, next to the private pool of the holiday home. It was within spitting distance of the beach, on the Atlantic coast. The town was called Esmoriz, a place in the North of Portugal, just below Porto. It was a pretty popular holiday town and even though the holiday season hadn’t started yet, there were plenty of tourists and three sunburn-pink Brits weren’t entirely out of place. The cuts on my face were healing pretty quickly, although the scabs that were now forming made me look like something that walked out of a poor 50’s horror movie. Martin had contacted a friend of his to keep an eye on Nazeing for us, but we hadn’t heard from him yet. While Nick and myself were trying to enjoy this short holiday, Martin was nervous as hell. He was constantly walking around, checking the security he’d installed the previous day. It wasn’t anything hi-tech, just some basic tripwires made out of empty cans. But it did the job anyway.
After five days, we received the first message from Nazeing. Apparently, it was still a big mess back home. The amount of burglaries had tripled in Nazeing and my house was still being watched according to Martin’s friend. It left us with no choice than to stay in Portugal for a little longer. Not that I actually minded. I was starting to feel quite comfortable. My face was healing quicker than expected and the worst of the sunburn had disappeared. I even felt relaxed enough to take a trip to the beach with Nick. We scouted out the town and we found a pub to see the Champions League final in. And what a game it was. Although Liverpool weren’t my favourite side, Nick was a big fan of them and we cheered together as they battled their way past AC Milan.
Weeks went by unnoticed. I quickly forgot about my problems back home. This pleasant little town was starting to get a hold on me. Little news came from Nazeing about what happened to me, or who was behind it. And once the scabs had healed, I quickly forgot about what had happened. Eventually, the news trickled through that two men had been arrested while trying to break into the vicar’s house. Apparently the police suspected them to be connected to the increase in burglaries. Certainly, they had dropped again after the arrest. But most importantly, Martin’s friend told us that my house was no longer being watched. Just to be on the safe side though, we decided to stay for a little while longer. Martin’s uncle didn’t mind, and neither did we. The trips to the beach became a daily event and the evenings were mostly spent in a local bar, discussing football or the Ashes series while enjoying a few beers. Like we did last night. But when we were getting ready to leave and putting money together to pay our tab, we came to the scary conclusion that we’d run out. There were just a few euros left in our pockets and not nearly enough to pay for the bill. Thankfully, the owner was a decent enough bloke and agreed to let us do a job for him to pay for the bill. We spent the following morning cleaning the bar, while discussing what the future held.
“I wouldn’t mind staying here actually. There something about this town I like” I said to the others.
“Yeah, but we can’t stay in Uncle Eric’s holiday home forever. He’s been very accommodating as it is.” Martin said.
“Yes and we’re grateful for his help, Martin. But if we can find a job here, we could afford a place for our own. A house here costs f-all.” I replied.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m not planning to clean up this bar every day” Nick objected.
“I agree, we have to find something that we all like, something we all have a passion for” I said thoughtfully.
“Well, that leaves three things: Drinking beer, watching cricket, or talking football” Martin laughed.
“There’s not much money to be made by doing that though” Nick observed.
“Hang on… Don’t they have a football team here?” I asked, leaning on my broom.
“There’s a stadium two blocks from the holiday home. Not sure what level they play at though. Or if they have a job opening for that matter.” Martin said uncertainly
“Only one way to find out” I said, putting my broom aside.
The others quickly followed me outside, leaving the bar half-cleaned and the owner fuming, sending all sorts of Portuguese niceties our way. I tried to flag a cab, but thankfully, there were none in sight. We didn’t have the money to pay for it anyway.
04-04-2006, 11:18 PM
"What do you mean, this is an unimaginative title. It looks fine to me” Post #7
A good forty-five minutes later, we arrived at the stadium. Well, stadium is a big word for the 1500 capacity Estádio da Barrinha. It was basically a patch of grass with a stand on one side and standing room on the other three. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in Nazeing to be completely honest. There was a small building on one side of the pitch that most likely contained the dressing rooms and whatever passed for an office. We headed straight for it.
When we tried to enter, a jumped up dwarf came running the direction of the stand. He was in his late forties, sporting a big moustache and a cigarette in each hand. He started gobbing off in Portuguese at first, but when it was clear we didn’t have a clue what he was on about, he switched to something that probably was supposed to pass as English.
“No enter! No enter! Izza private building” he shouted while waving his arms about.
“Alright, alright, don’t lose your pantyhose” I replied.
“Zhis is a private property. What you do here?” the dwarf asked us.
“Easy mate, we’re just looking for someone in charge here. We’re wondering if there’s a job opening here” I said calmly.
“I am charge. I am Salvador Lourosa, chairman of Sport Clube Esmoriz”
“Ah right. Well, I’m Chris Brown and these guys here are Nick Young and Martin Taylor. We were just wondering if you have some work for us. A place as coach, or scout perhaps?”
“You have coaching papers?”
“I have a British lower-league coaching badge in fact. Not sure whether it’s valid here, but it’s a start I guess” I replied.
“What about you?” Lourosa said, pointing at Nick and Martin.
“I have no coaching papers, but I am a qualified fitness instructor, as well as a medic” Martin replied.
“I don’t have any coaching papers I’m afraid” Nick said truthfully.
“Well, I have opening. Head coach has left for rivals Espinho last week. We are now without head coach. Perhaps you like to take job?” Lourosa said, pointing at me.
I was speechless for a moment, but I quickly recovered.
“I’d love to. But what about my friends?” I asked.
“We can make arrangement. Come watch, Luis is making practice now” Lourosa said, before jogging off again towards the stand. We hobbled off after him.
We observed the training from the stands, while Lourosa gave us some background on the club.
“We are small club, not a lot of money. Luis Campos is only coach. All good players go to rival Espinho, because they have mucho money. Most players here also have other job, working during day. Our only goal this season is surviving. It is difficult league”
Observing from the stands, I noticed most players were probably not good enough to make the Nazeing pub team, never mind play football at any decent level. It would be hard work to keep these blokes in the league. But what am I complaining? I’ve just been offered a job as football manager in sunny Portugal, how bad can life be?
04-05-2006, 12:39 AM
"What do you mean, this is an unimaginative title. It looks fine to me” Post #9
After the practice session, we were introduced to the players and the staff. Apart from Coach Luis Campos, there was a physio, a elderly gent by the name of Manual Barbosa and a scout, a middle-aged bloke by the name of Helder Machado. The players seemed sceptical about this bunch of Englishmen coming to take over their club, but Lourosa made it clear that he would tolerate no dissent within his club. With the formalities out of the way, we were shepherded back to the club house, where three sets of contracts were drawn up. Martin would join the club as physio, Nick would become my assistant and I was put in charge as head coach/manager. While the pay wasn’t exorbitant, it was good enough to keep us going. Once the contracts were signed and everything was done and dusted, we started our work by analyzing the squad.
Goalkeepers:
20. Bruno, 19 years, GK, Portugal, Listed for loan Back-up, not good enough for the first team. 13. Hélio, 22 years, GK, Portugal, Listed for loan Like Bruno, no more than a back up. 24. Justino, 18 years, GK, Portugal, Listed for loan Young and he has some potential. It will be difficult to break through with all this competition though, so he may be best off going on loan for now. 1. Nuno, 31 years, GK, Portugal The better of the two veterans, Nuno will be the #2 goalie. 25. Petiz, 31 years, GK, Portugal, Transfer listed Not good enough to hold down a first team spot. Transfer listed. 12. Ricardo, 21 years, GK, Portugal Young and talented, well for the level we’re playing at anyway. #1 goalkeeper without a doubt.
Overall Verdict: We have way too many keepers at the club. Hopefully we can offload at least two of them on a short notice.
Defenders:
18. Adelino, 31 years, DC, Portugal Not more than a back-up defender
14. Bruno Costa, 18 years, DR, Portugal The lesser of the two out-and-out right backs, but because of Dani’s age, he’ll get some games. 19. Dani, 16 years, DR, Portugal, Youth Contract Young player with some potential. Will be groomed into first team action slowly.
21. Fifas, 29 years, DC, Portugal, Transfer Listed Aggressive bloke with little footballing skills. Listed when I arrived here and I see no reason to change that.
4. Garranas, 18 years, DC, Portugal Another young player, but with some impressive physique. If he can add some technical and tactical skills to his baggage he’ll become as useful player.
22. Mauro Aurélio, 30 years, DC, Portugal Strong mentally, but rather weak on all other counts. Back-up player.
2. Marquitos, 26 years, D/WB R, Portugal First choice for the right back position. Strong going forward.
3. Ruca, 22 years, D/M L, Portugal The only left back at the club. We’ll have to make do.
5. Rui Jorge, 25 years, SW, Portugal. Old fashioned sweeper, but probably the best defender on our books. Will have to learn to play as a centre back in my system though.
Overall Verdict: The defence is not the strongest part of this team and reinforcements would be welcomed. But with a small budget, they seem unlikely for now.
"What do you mean, this is an unimaginative title. It looks fine to me” 
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