Rise

Rise

  By C.J. Lau

  Copyright © 2013. C.J. Lau

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

  ISBN: 978-0-9923871-2-9 (Epub)

  Cover Art: Dusit/Shutterstock and Vladimir Wrangel/Shutterstock

  For Tony and Jodie,

  Table of Contents

  Part 1: To have loved and lost

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Part 2: New Beginnings

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Part 3: For the Win

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Part 1: To have loved and lost

  Chapter 1

  When they call my name these days, they say Miss Conrad. But my friends all call me Maggie. Either way, everyone knows my name in this town. Right now that’s part of the problem.

  My feet shift on the turf, waiting for my girls. Remembering back only a few years ago, when I was one of them. Young, and ready to take my first steps on the 7-month journey to the NSW Girls Field Hockey Championship. The most coveted trophy in the State, as far as this town is concerned.

  We last won it in 1996. With me playing striker in a team captained by my best friend Cat and coached by the legendary Kathy Parker. That trophy still sits, shining in the cabinet at the school. A constant reminder why everyone knows who I am.

  Now I’m standing on the sideline as a first year teacher and rookie Coach. In front of me gather the 18 girls I picked a week ago. The 2002 Goulburn High School girls’ hockey team, my girls. Eventually they all turn to me, waiting. Five minutes before the first knockout match of the year, and they expect me to have the final word. I feel their hope, the hope the community carries for them. It absolutely petrifies me.

  I finally find a nervous voice. “Okay girls. Every single one of you won your spot on this team because of the skill you showed. You are all wonderful players, so I need you all to work together. We’ve discussed who’s starting…”

  The nerves steal my air because I know what’s at stake. I get one more word out. “Sam.”

  Sam Keene takes my shaky lead. My Captain. 180cm tall and athletic to the last sinew, blonde ponytail ready to fly behind her as she sprints. Intense, hazel eyes scanning everyone’s faces. “Alright! This is a new year and a new team. No more Ms X! We have Miss Conrad now, and we all know she’s better.”

  I don’t want to think about Ms X, because that’s what happens to me if we lose too early. My eyes find Christina Hargreaves for distraction. My goal keeper is shorter than Sam, but massively built. Her huge shoulders supporting a fearless and wonderfully talented last-line specialist.

  Sam’s rallying shout brings me back. “Let’s go out there and knock some socks off!”

  The huddle breaks.

  Nagging thoughts of the past keep me company as girls walk in every direction. No one speaks about last year. Ms X, Zara Xerxes, was the 2001 Goulburn Coach; former England team-mate of Kathy Parker in a bygone era. Goulburn’s 2001 campaign ended in Round 4, and Zara was run out of town. An unacceptably early exit for the team’s supporters. Parents and relatives of the girls who spend their own time and money to support our annual pursuit of the Championship Trophy. In return, they expect success. Such is the reputation of this great team over the years. Such is the weight of expectation I feel on my shoulders.

  “Knock ‘em dead Sam!”

  My eyes find the source of the shouting. A lip glossed smile looking back at me behind expensive aviator sunglasses. Carol is the only relative I’ve allowed to sit with my girls during matches, when she isn’t umpiring for us. I should tell her to tone it down, but I’m not going to risk offending her. I need the Keene family’s support if I have any hope of doing this.

  “Anything you need,” she’d said once my appointment had been confirmed. “Just ask.”

  School Principal Ripley, my real boss, made the same offer, but the two people I really need are so far away.

  Kathy has retired and returned to England with her husband, and pain fills my heart whenever I think about the fate of my best friend.

  “I just hope this gets easier with a win,” I say to no one. A whistle drawing my attention back to the field.

  11 green and black Goulburn uniforms facing our opponents today, Cootamundra. We could steamroll them on skill alone. And I’ll feel a lot less nervous about the year once Sam and the girls actually do just that.

  Round 1: Cootamundra

  I have no more time for thoughts of disaster. Anna, making the first of countless tackles this season. My stocky, raven haired Central Defender is vice-Captain. The strongest 17-year-old I know, and the final part of the trinity upon which I’ve built this team.

  Anna finds Sam, who’s moved the ball forward to Martina before her opponent can register where it’s gone.

  A goal after four minutes of play settles my nerves. Debbie claiming the first goal of the season, with an assist from Sam. Allowing my thoughts to creep back in. I study and consider each girl in the team. Our expected dominance taking shape on the field.

  I’ve no idea who’ll replace Christina next year after her graduation. But for now I’m thankful she’s around. She makes a clean save and clears to Anna, who again, finds Sam.

  Sam holds the ball, weighing up her options, scanning our opponents for weaknesses. Giving me time to glance across at Carol. Remembering the Keene family’s long history with the school and with hockey in general. Carol, the Keene’s eldest daughter, played for Goulburn in the early 90’s, and together with Cat they formed a deadly attacking duo. With Sam’s father in the final year of his term as Mayor, picking Sam means I have the support of the Keene family and friends for anything team related. The youngest Keene daughter is my best player anyway. A natural leader and first pick on merit alone. I’ve never played well with politics.

  My eyes find Anna, marking up on her opposing striker. Her experience as a key defender brings a calming influence to those around her. With her directing our defence, it’s easy for me to settle down.

  Sam scores a second goal on the field as we set up camp down around the shooting circle.

  “Good pick having Debbie and Martina as strikers,” Carol leans across to say. “It’s like they have telepathy.”

  I nod. Debbie Cunningham and Martina Berkeley are both 17, and best friends, seemingly joined at the hip.

  “I love their flair,” my chest puffs out a little with Carol’s compliment. “Perfect for
Sam to do her thing. Not the shy 13-year-olds I met in ’98. Not anymore.”

  My involvement with many of these girls started four years ago. Kathy inviting myself and Cat to help the team in a tournament held in Lismore. How I wish both Cat and Kathy still here, like they’d been in ’98.

  “Who are your other two strikers?” Carol asks.

  “Andrea Richardson and Angela Coulthard, 15 and 13,” I nod down the bench where the girls wait. “Both new. I hope they learn lots from these girls.”

  Carol’s laugh is confident, assured. “Sounds like you’re already thinking years ahead. In game one. Good stuff, Miss Conrad.”

  My heart stops for a moment when Sam is tripped, hitting the turf with a yelp. Breathing again only after she gets up smiling, accepting the opposing defender’s apology.

  Relax Maggie, she’s okay.

  “I’m sure you didn’t need that little scare,” Brooke calls from the bench on my left.

  I look over and smile. “Am I that easy to read?”

  “It was written all over your face, Miss.”

  Brooke Wilson, a slightly larger 16-year-old, midfielder, and another member of last year’s team. For now all I care about is her sniper-like passing accuracy. She admitted that fitness is her main weakness, at our first and only training session so far. Fine with me. You can gain fitness from hard work. But the hand-eye coordination and accuracy she possesses, that’s genetic. And if I win her trust, she might be someone to tell me what happened last year.

  Holding up her stick in frustration, Nancy signals at me from the field.

  I make the first change in my Coaching career. “Brooke, go on for Nancy while she gets her stick sorted.”

  “Bloody handle!” Nancy, our midfielder, takes a seat to remove the tape. “Already giving me grief.”

  Unrecognisable from the shy 13-year-old I met in Lismore, Nancy Kenyon, now 17, is a methodical perfectionist. A future leader with her immense passion and skill. All the girls love her for how she brings the best out of people around her. And with Sam also in her final year, Nancy’s chance will come.

  Brooke high-fives Janet, Kimberly, and Jennifer, taking up her position on the field with the trio of 16-year-olds. Those four midfielders play together at club level, bringing teamwork and understanding that I’d never be able to train into them with the limited time I have.

  Boy, oh boy, do I have a talented midfield.

  Our relentless attack continues. Martina scoring two goals in quick succession and Debbie adding her second as we take the score to five – nil in the shadow of half-time. The air returning to my chest. It looks like I’ll be living another day.

  A rhythmic tapping sound from across the bench draws my eyes. And I can’t resist smiling at its source.

  Sarah Coulthard, tapping her shin guard with a well-loved wooden stick. But the stick, complete with scratches from previous battles, is the only thing about her that’s old. Sarah’s my youngest girl by a few minutes, but even at 13, she possesses something – an instinct about her, an ability to read the game and anticipate situations. Plus, she did everything during trials with such abounding energy and hustle. An irresistible pick over older and stronger girls who trialled for me.

  Conventional selection criteria would have seen me leave out Sarah, and her twin sister, Angela, for older, stronger, more experienced girls. But with the way Angela demonstrates a willingness to learn from the strikers around her, and with Sarah, I have all the makings of a superstar set.

  The tapping stops when she realises I’m looking.

  “Ready to go, Sarah?”

  “Ready when you are, Miss Conrad.”

  “Okay. Go on for Sam, please.”

  The young girl froze. “Are you sure, Miss? I don’t think I’m good enough to replace Sam.”

  I put my hands on her shoulders. Keeping my smile. “Remember what I said, Sarah. Every person’s in this team because they’re good enough. I believe in you. So go out there and give it your best.”

  “Thank you, Miss.” Sarah moved to the sideline.

  There are five minutes until half-time when Sarah calls Sam’s name. Sam giving the midfielder a warm smile in jogging towards her.

  “We’ll hit them from the sidelines to spread out their defence,” her Captain reminds Sarah. “When they start to move sideways, I want you to make direct runs. Keep your eyes up, look for Martina and Debbie moving goal side, or Nancy on your left. Go for it!”

  Sam follows this up with an encouraging tap on the back before Sarah ran on.

  “That was nice, Sam,” I watch her take a seat beside me. “Thank you.”

  “No worries, Coach. Sarah’s a good egg, great kid. Maybe even the next Goulburn Hockeyroo.”

  My heart freezes in my chest. My best friend had risen from talented Goulburn girl to play for the Australian Women’s hockey team, or Hockeyroos, as the media coined them. Kathy responsible for spotting Cat, then a 13-year-old Catherine McConnell, and showing faith in her potential. Part of the Sydney Olympic gold medal winning squad, my best friend is the pride of the town, a local celebrity when she visits. She’ll be 25 in a few weeks. But with the exception of a miracle she isn’t going to be celebrating that birthday.

  Sarah holds her own until half-time. Francis Cole blowing his whistle to end the half, a cheer rising from our supporters as the team makes its way towards me.

  “Wow, what a great half!” I encourage as they rest. “Nancy and Jennifer, keep running down your left and right sides, but everyone else should be pressuring the centre of the field and going through the middle.” I look at Sarah, see her puffing, burning off nervous energy. “You can see, I’ve started moving some of the younger girls into their preferred positions, I’ll keep doing it for the remainder of the match. Get used to calling out each other’s names. If you have a nickname, now is the time to test out how it sounds when shouted across the field at you.” My eyes fix on my back line. “Defenders, I know you haven’t had much to do so far, but be ready. We need to treat them like a better team than they’ve shown us so far. That said, everyone please don’t hurt yourselves. Our next match is in a week so I need you all to get through this half healthy.”

  I hand over to their Captain.

  “Miss Conrad is right. It is going to be so embarrassing if we let this one slip.” Sam warns. “Remember, this is a knockout match, so let’s not give them any chance to take this away from us. Yes, it’s a lot of fun when we’re doing all the attacking, but I want to see everyone fall back if needed. Help Anna and the defence, just like they’re helping us to attack.”

  I walk over to where Francis Cole sits, with his umpiring partner from the opposing school. My colleague for the men’s team will assist me whenever he isn’t needed. He was here last year through the tyranny of Ms X too, but like the girls, he isn’t talking about it.

  “We’re doing well. Glad it has been a nice easy match for you to settle in.” Francis greets me. “It is quite warm though, so keep an eye out for fatigue.”

  A glance back across at my girls finds them drinking from water bottles, some reapplying sun cream or adjusting caps. Growing up in the brutal Australian summer teaching them well.

  “They’re sorted.”

  The match restarts with the starting 11 back on the field. But a different feel entirely as Cootamundra attack.

  Hold back. I resist the urge to flood my defence. Let’s see them come under defensive pressure.

  Anna’s soon barking instructions, our opponents seizing momentum and field position. The girls responding, absorbing the pressure. Giving me time to watch and second guess my selections.

  Celia Herakles, Vivienne Waimwright, Danielle McMillan, and Brittany Cole. All excellent defenders and well drilled; survivors from the year no one speaks about.

  Anna’s younger sister Felicity is the exception. The bouncing, bubbling 14-year-old to make her debut today. Picked on trust of the influence of big sister, and a formidable defender of the future.


  Maybe I am raising the future generation, I think to myself, remembering Carol’s words. But not wanting to appear too eager to agree with everything she says.

  “Clear it, Danielle!” Anna calls from the field. Danielle responding with a nod so firm it sends sweat flying from her forehead.

  Danielle’s always nodding and agreeing with everyone, trying too hard for acceptance. At last week’s training session and now again. The ball blasting over the sideline because Anna said so. Even though Sam was open had she cared to look up.

  “Eyes up, everyone!” I shout, wise not to single Danielle out.

  All the girls are very accepting and supportive. Danielle’s behaviour making no sense. Seems like she has something to prove. I’ll need to get to the bottom of this one. Does her strange behaviour hold the keys to unlocking what happened with Ms X?

  A powerful goal sails past Christina. I ignore our opponent’s cheers, scanning instead for signs of fatigue. Even in the early stages of the second half, no one seems troubled by the afternoon heat. One goal nothing to worry about when we’ve scored five. No changes yet.

  The pressure is relentless for the next 15 minutes. Sam and Anna marshalling everyone back into our defensive half.

  “No fouls! Don’t give away any Penalty corners!” I shout again, feeling sweat beading down my neck.

  Time to reinforce the wall Anna has built.

  I send Felicity on for Martina, defender for striker, as the next wave of Cootamundra attack rolls quickly forward. Janet giving away a tired foul inside the defensive circle, and suddenly we are defending our first Penalty corner of the season.

  “Celia,” I call back to my bench, “I need you on for Janet once this play is done.”

  Celia pops up to run on after the set play. For Penalty corners the defending team’s only allowed four players plus keeper, where the attacking team are allowed as many attackers as they want. And they bring the ball back into play from the back line. Weight of numbers dictates that Penalty corners present the attacking team with a very high likelihood of scoring. Exactly why they were introduced.

  Cootamundra score their second goal from the set play and their third before Celia has time to settle. Ten minutes to go. Plenty of time to concede three more if they were on a rampage.

  “Relax, Miss Conrad. Sam’s organising things.” Martina, up beside me, points on field.

  She’s right that Sam’s taken control, barking instructions and adjusting our shape. Waving at Brooke to run on for Kimberley before the restart. I relay the change as my nerves return. A first round knockout would guarantee me the same exile as Ms X. The tension even making Carol watch with concern.

  “Sam wants you as a midfield stopper, Brooke. Go. Quickly. We need the momentum back.”

  Brooke runs on. Standing firm in front of the defenders, filling the space between midfield and defence. She takes an intercept, holds the ball for a moment before finding Nancy down the right.

  Brooke latches onto a second intercept a few minutes later, this time finding Sarah to launch a counter attack. Sarah making space for herself as she dodges a defender. Sam sprinting with her as they enter the shooting circle. 30 seconds later, Sarah’s pass finds Sam unmarked. She makes no mistake with her shot.

  I cheer in relief, our sixth goal onto the score board. Surely three is enough of a buffer with the clock winding down? I turn to Carol, see my own relief reflected in her glasses.

  Who would be a Coach? I think, the ball back to the centre for the restart. I’d rather be out there than sitting here forced to watch.

  Brooke takes another intercept, firing accurately down the centre of the field between retreating defenders. Her ability to read the ball and position herself, combined with deadly accuracy makes her a perfect counter attacking player. Another piece of the team puzzle into place.

  With our opponent’s resolve now broken, Martina completes her hat-trick with two minutes to go and we wind down the clock.

  Francis blows his whistle.

  End of the match. Goulburn victorious 7 goals to 3, and I have survived my first match.

  By the time I’m done shaking hands with my rivals, the girls have formed a huddle on the field. I run to join them.

  “Good work, everyone. That’s one down,” Sam is saying, one fingernail up to make her point. “Anything to add, Miss Conrad?”

  “For one, you’re free to start calling me Maggie outside of school hours. Second, well played out there today! Everyone, go have a stretch and cool down. We meet tomorrow to discuss the match. See you all then,” I add. Final words before the huddle breaks.

  A few minutes later the girls have gathered their gear and found their rides home.

  “Good win, Miss Conrad.” Carol nods her approval, Sam and Nancy in tow. “Here.” She hands me a towel that I stuff unglamorously down the back of my sweaty shirt.

  “One down. Good stuff, Maggie.” Francis appears next, mopping sweat from his face and greying hair.

  “Thank you, Francis. We’re still seven wins away from where I want to be though. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Thinking about October already, Miss Conrad?” I nod to my colleague’s question. “I think I’m going to like your attitude.”

  I watch him bury his face into the towel one last time. He looks in his fifties, although I’ve not felt the need to ask in the weeks since we met.

  There’s no chatter on the short ride back to school, gear in tow. Leaving me to return to the equation ahead of me: Win eight knockout rounds against increasingly difficult opponents from further and further away to qualify for the final 8. Then the playoff teams gather to play in a round robin system as yet unannounced.

  “Thanks for your help today. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I say goodbye as we lock up and head towards our cars.

  “You’re welcome, Maggie. See you.”

  The shadows are long, and their reprieve welcome as I pull up to my modest two-bedroom house. Wondering again if I should get a dog to keep me company. My parents still live in Goulburn, but it’s impossible to go back home after living away during my time in Wollongong. The rent for this place is affordable and it’s close to the school. For now it’s home, with one bedroom empty, ready for Solomon to move in. Though my boyfriend shows no indication of wanting to leave Wollongong, I can always hope.

  I pick up the phone. Two words is all it takes to relax me. “Hi babe.”

  I sit back, press the headset against my ear, and forget that he can’t see me smiling.

  “So much better hearing your voice.” My nerves disappear talking to him, like summer heat in the shadows.

  “I wish I could see that smile.” Solo’s words make me want to jump in my car right now. “Three weeks in the middle of nowhere and all I could think about was you.”

  I want to melt into his strong, loving arms. Hugging the pillow in his place. “So glad you’re back safe.”

  “Let me guess today’s score,” Solo continues. “Goulburn 10, err… whoever Goulburn were playing nil.”

  He brings out my smile even wider. “Seven – three,” I tell him proudly, “but not before a real scare. I wish you were there.”

  “Well done.” It bugs me that he didn’t acknowledge my need of him here. “So, do you think you can win the trust of the girls so quickly? Along with their parents and the Goulburn community?”

  “Yes. Everyone has been very kind. They haven’t forgotten who I am. Plus, a few of the team remember me from the Lismore tournament when I assisted Kathy along with Cat…”

  Cat. Still fighting for her life in England, and Trisha gone forever.

  My silence all the warning Solo needs. “Think of something positive, like holding up a trophy at the end of the year,” he urges.

  Thoughts of victory help. But I know it will only be temporary. My Wollongong family scattered. Shattered by tragedy.

  “Thank you, Solo.” I pull Carol’s smelly towel close, for the tears always come when I think of Cat. “Even over the phon
e you know I’m having a moment.”

  “You’re welcome, now if I can just have you for a moment to propose to you.”

  I almost drop the phone. “What?” Visions of a white wedding followed by a romantic honeymoon and a happily ever after filling my mind. Solo’s laugh snatching the vision away.

  “Okay, that didn’t come out as planned. What I meant to say was: do you want to come have dinner in Wollongong tomorrow?”

  “So you don’t want to marry me?” I prod.

  “Yes, but not yet. I want to give this distance a little longer.”

  This distance. I hate it when he refers to the space that separates Wollongong and Goulburn like that. He’s been slow to accept that this job is my dream. In fact, he has failed to accept it at all.

  “Are you testing me?” I demand. Free hand searching for the towel I’d flung when I heard propose.

  “No, I’m testing me,” Solomon admits, “whether I can cope not coming home and being able to see you.” And something in his voice calms me down.

  I need to give him the benefit of the doubt here. It has only been two months of my new life in my old town. Plus, he forms my plan B. A place to run back to if I somehow meet the same fate as Ms X.

  “I’d love to have dinner tomorrow, and marry you later. Let’s make it 7pm so I don’t rush the girls in the game debrief.”

  “Great, I’ll see you around 7. But there’s one thing you should know…” He hesitates. And the moment of silence that follows doesn’t help.

  “Solo?”

  “Give me a second to find out how to best put this.”

  My thoughts steal away to today’s match. Too passive after half-time, too slow to make positional changes when Cootamundra had all the possession and all the momentum. Sam calling the change for me as the goals started rained in, spurring me to action rather than the other way around. I would raise that point tomorrow, see if the girls saw it the same way.

  “What’s up in Wollongong?” I ask, bringing myself back to Solo’s silence.

  “Mark’s returned from his job overseas, and Emma’s decided to make a move for him.” His sister’s news kills my thoughts.

  It was Solo telling me his sister won’t be like Cat, like me. Mark had been Cat’s boyfriend from high school through her time at the Uni, her tower of strength through a serious neck injury requiring surgery. He’d taken her to a beach at sunrise and proposed. But should have known. Cat was a rising star on the verge of Hockeyroo selection. She’d made that clear.

  Cat rejected his proposal. They’d broken up a few weeks later.

  Now Mark is back, and Emma has made her move. I cannot begrudge her. But feeling comfortable isn’t an option either.

  It’s all so unfair. “I can’t hold it against Emma. Mark’s a great guy. But I don’t know what seeing him will do to me. Not while Cat…” I can’t bring myself to say it.

  Solo cuts me off anyway. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be uncomfortable seeing them.” His voice dropping octaves and volume. I’ve disappointed him.

  “Maybe it’s best if you didn’t arrange for the four of us to go out together. At least until I can clear up how I feel about everything.” I’m not sure if I can ever clear up how I feel. Stuck in a terrible place between grief and acceptance. Emma’s news compounding it all.

  “I’m not planning to share you. It’s just going to be you, me, some candles, and lots of love on the table.”

  I go red at his teasing. “Solo!” I squeak. “Save the love for the honeymoon.”

  My upbringing has left me with a faith that assures me of a better tomorrow, a desire to help those around me, and a set of beliefs to live by. Old fashioned as they might be, my faith stopped me completely falling apart when Cat and Trisha had their accident. Solo is a tease, but deep down he knows me. I also trust him, he’s never let me down.

  “Okay, sorry. I’ll arrange everything. It’ll be perfect. Just meet me tomorrow at 7. Be dressed for dinner somewhere nice.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Bye for now.”

  I consider my beliefs as the phone returns to its cradle. Many will ridicule me as a misguided Christian, and others condemn me for dating an unbeliever. Everyone has the right to their opinion. And I have the right to ignore them all and live my own life.

  Cat’s an unbeliever too. And that sack of regret has me crying into my towel. I consider calling Kathy in England, but know she won’t answer at this hour.

  So I get on with the routine of my lonely life in my empty house. My plans not as grand as some. I don’t want to be an Olympian, or move overseas to find work. I want to be a teacher in the town I love. Earn the trust of my girls and lead them marching towards the Championship in October.

  One win down. Seven matches to go.