Chapter 72

Pete shot him a surprised look.

Paul ignored Pete and turned to Trevor. “You’ll be having your usual?”

“Please.”

“Three pints of John Smith’s, love,” Paul said to the barmaid. At least Trevor no longer asked for campari and soda. He was sure Trevor had only ordered that drink a month ago to see if he could get a reaction.

Once Paul had paid for their drinks they made their way into the function room where the pub’s management had set out an assortment of buffet food. Thommo had parked himself by the top table, stuffing as many sandwiches into his mouth as he could.

“Think we’ll beat them?” Pete asked Thommo, gesturing with a sausage roll at the cluster of Eastly players huddled in the far corner.

“Dunno,” Thommo said round a mouthful of food. “Course it would have helped if you hadn’t got that leading edge.”

Paul rolled his eyes. Thommo could hardly complain at anyone else, given his own poor performance at the crease. However, he chose to keep his comments to himself.