As the Lancashire lads rode home in the bus presently making its way somewhere in-between Ripon and Thirsk, Matt Crawley was quieter than usual. He dozed off, closed his eyes, smiling to himself, sitting in the back with Billy by his side.
'How can you be cat-napping, Matty? The others are too excited to sleep…' Bill said very quietly.
'Oh, I'm thrilled, too….' Matt reassured his friend in a low, contented purr, his eyes flickering open. 'But I'm not cat-napping. I'm day-dreaming, that's all…'
'Why, Matthew…' Billy said then, almost impishly, shaking Matt by the shoulder. 'Don't tell me… '
'Aw, come on, chum, can I keep it a secret for now?'
'You can try… but then I should tell you mine, it's only fair…'
The thing was, Billy wanted to talk to his best friend about the young lady he had just met, and he also suspected that Matt could divulge similar feelings. It was written all over Matthew's face - the softening of his smile, the new sheen in his eyes.
'Blimey… can you really tell?' Matt sighed quietly.
'I think so. And I think I have the same disease.'
'Don't tell me. You've fallen for that pretty little country girl with the big brown eyes…'
'And you're hoping the next chapter of your love story will be more pleasant, aren't you?'
Matthew shook his head 'yes', with a tender, sheepish grin, and a light in his eyes.
'Very well, "Sir" Matthew, I won't tell anyone if you won't…'
'Agreed. Let's just wallow in it for now, shall we?'
'I suppose that's all we can…' Billy began, before the lads in the front of the bus started to sing a ditty of their own to someone else's tune, like a little parish choir.
'Matthew punched him in the conk,
Halleluuu… jaaaaah!
Matthew punched him in the conk,
Halle-luuuu —uuuu — jah!
We're glad Matthew plays for us,
Halleluuu… jaaaaah!
Thank God Matthew plays for us!
Halle-luuuu —uuuu — jah!
Randy Turks that dare push in,
Halle…'
Mr. Bates was beginning to look stern, and began to talk to Mr. Moseley, just before the young men policed themselves.
'That's enough, lads…' Allan Meares rose his voice from the back of the bus. 'You mustn't let it go to his head…'
In truth Matthew had begun to blush, and the tips of his ears and the back of his neck were flushed. Surely any gentleman would defend a girl's honour, and that's what his father Reginald and his mother Isobel had brought him up to be.
'Sorry, Matty! But good on yer', mate!' came another lad's voice. 'I would have had him drawn and quartered me'self!'
It took Allan to quiet down the lot of them, and then he said quietly,
'Sorry if I flustered you myself, Matt. I can only admire you.'
'Thank you, Allan. This too, shall pass…' Matthew said just as quietly.
But Matthew hoped that Mary would remember him, and get to come to Manchester with the Newcastle team for the next game in January.
