Oh to be a cricket WAG. The privilege. The prestige. The best seat in the house.
She’d sat there transfixed as he’d walked out to bat. Her gladiator. Her champion.
While he took guard she waved ever more frantically until he responded in kind. And as the golden sun bathed down, the world suddenly stopped, as if preserved in amber. Opposition players and officials turned towards her, transfixed by their exchange. But in that moment there was no other, no context, only Martin and her, bonded together.
She jumped up, animated by their love, a single tear of joy careering down her face. Whilst in the middle an increasingly exasperated Martin bellowed at the top of his lungs, “STOP MOVING BEHIND THE BOWLERS ARM, YOU SILLY COW!”
Extract reproduced by kind permission of Ms Davina Masterson