Sequel: 4 Devils

Chelsea Dawn

Chapter 14

"We're going to be on that bloody coach for ten hours, and that's just to the border. Imagine how long until we get to Glasgow", said Jack with a dark laugh.

"I guess another two hours", said Juan thoughtfully.

"I reckon so, Juan. The scenery is nice to look at and the Scottish birds are nice, if you like redheads and can understand 'em. Fire on the head, fire in bed", cackled the bald goalkeeper.

"I'm a ginger myself and I'm Spanish, but I'm not crazy. Maybe it's a British redhead thing", teased Fernando.

"Maybe so, Nando. I am going to get with a redhaired Scottish bird before we leave Glasgow, ain't good for a man not to get with a bird", said Jack as the team boarded the coach.

Juan and Fernando found empty seats and glanced around, glad that at least the coach was clean. It was lower to the ground and smaller than a modern coach with smaller seats and windows, the seats little more than wooden slats covered with thin cushions. "The guys in the back like to play cards and drink, the manager and coaches sit in the front seats", explained George.

Fernando hoped the ride wasn't delayed as he fit his tall frame into the seat, realizing that he towered every nearly everyone. "Bloody hell, you're a tall bloke, Fernando. Never thought Spanish chaps were tall and ginger", teased Jim Thomas, one of the team's midfielders.

"My family was originally from Galicia, a lot of us are gingers are tall and ginger", he replied.

"Nice, you could pass for a Scot", laughed Jim.

"The Rangers is the Protestant team, they don't like Catholics or foreigners up there. You blokes are Catholic?", asked Jack.

"Si", replied Juan.
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"If you go to a Catholic church, better go in a group. The Prods been beating Catholic folks going to church, Mr. Watson is Catholic and he got beat up by some Prods when he was going to church last time he was there", said Jack.

Both Spaniards looked disgusted. "Que mal gente, chupapollas", muttered Juan.

"Don't know what you said, but I agree. There was a lot of Irish folks where I lived in Lambeth, decent folks. I'm C of E meself, we all worship the same God in the end, my nan was Catholic and she used to say that", said Jack thoughtfully.

"Are our wives going to be all right?, asked Juan.

"Yeah, London folks isn't stupid like in Glasgow. They can be with the other wives or take a walkabout round the cit. You can call them when we get to the hotel", said Jim as the driver turned on the engine.

"I hope they make it to Glasgow and back in one piece", said Violette as her and Christina walked up the stairs to the Tate.

"Me too, and Glasgow was rough in those days", she replied.

Violette nodded in agreement as she glanced at the map on the wall, shaking her head at the sheer number of exhibits. "We ought to start at the beginning and make our way forward", said Christina pragmatically.

The women were in the Greek and Roman gallery when they saw a young brunette woman their age sitting on a platform and sketching a statue, the sound of the pencil on paper loud in the air. She was dressed in a simple navy blue maternity dress stretched over her pregnant belly and a black felt hat over her bobbed dark hair, her blue eyes momentarily startled when she noticed them.

"Perdon, madame", said Violette.

"It's all right, when I start I don't notice anything. Are you French?", asked the woman in a Yorkshire accent.

"Oui, madame, from Montreal. I am Violette Torres", she said, remembering to use her married name.

"And I am Christina Mata", she said.

"Ohh, you're married to the new Spanish blokes Johnny sighed. I am Mabel Watson, Johnny's wife", she said as the women shook hands.

"Felicitacions en le bebe, madame Watson", said Violette.

"Please call me Mabel, I'm not old enough to be called a Madame. And thank you, Johnny thinks it's going to be a boy because it kicks so much", said Mabel with a laugh, placing on her pregnant belly.

"My nan said that, it's true most of the time", said Christina.

"Are you Scottish? I am just a Yorkshire lass", said Mabel.

"Aye, from Dornoch. And I can tell by the accent", said Christina.

"I here a lot, that or the Gallery. Art was my favorite class in secondary, Johnny likes my things", said Mabel as they went to the adjacent Anglo-Saxon gallery.

"When Fernando was in Montreal, I took him to le Musee de Beaux Artes, but this is a lot bigger", said Violette.

"How did a Spanish bloke get to Canada?", asked Mabel.

Violette thought fast. "He was there on holiday after the footy season ended, he was lost on the metro and I was his guide. We kept in contact and we courted for a year long distance before he proposed, we lived in Madrid until he transferred here", she said.

"How lovely, that was brave of you. I was born in Ripon and came to London to live with my aunt, I met Johnny at church. That is very Romantic", giggled Mabel.

If you only knew the truth, thought Christina as she shook her head. "Juan and I met when he was on holiday in Scotland, we were touring a castle near Inverness. I was surprised by his English and that he had read Kipling, I wasn't expecting that from a Spanish bloke", she replied with a grin.

The three women gradually made their way through the exhibits, stopping every so often to let Mabel have a rest. "Is there going to be a radio broadcast of the game?", asked Violette.

"No, it's a friendly. Only when we have our game with the Gunners or the FA Cup games, but the families have a private section at the Bridge. Of course, you are going to cheer on your men", teased Mabel.

"Oui, I'm still learning about footy. Us Canadians are much more partial to hockey, our team les Canadiens are very good, they are the French team and the Maroons are the English team", said Violette.

"That is a derby, right? Ours is the one with Arsenal, they beat us in the Cup finals', said Mabel.

"You could say that", said Violette.

"I know my footy, I'm Scottish and I'm married to one", laughed Christina as the women chuckled knowingly.