.

I was plagued by dreams of loneliness and turmoil, only remembering flashes when I threw the covers back and put my feet on the floor. An empty fridge when I was supposed to be hosting a party. The unsmiling, unfriendly faces of my guests - nobody I'd ever met. An inexplicably oppressive atmosphere. Confusion. Why had I invited them? Why couldn't I make them leave?

I plodded downstairs and made a tea. I planned to bring it back to bed and get a few more hours' rest. But I glimpsed Henri's tree, the one I'd been getting fixated on, and remembered some more dream.

I was climbing a big tree, but no matter how many times I stepped onto the next branch, I was always at the same height. There was something good above me, something I wanted. But I couldn't get closer.

I took my phone and cup and went outside and stared at the real thing. It was bare, of course - even I understood the seasons. About three metres tall, covered with wonderful knobs and bumps.

I FaceTimed Henri. He was frowning as he picked up. "Max? Is this a bootdial?"

"No. Listen - "

"We have training in a couple of minutes."

"Is Ryder there?"

"Yes."

"Hand over the phone."

He did. "Max?"

"Captain. I need to talk to Henri. Fine him for being late we're going to have a problem. Good?"

"Good."

That reminded me of something I'd learned in Darlington but hadn't participated in. "You collect fines from the players and that? And you use it for nights out and stuff?"

"Yes."

Why was I dipping into my private accounts to pay for the Knights to go to their tournament when those first-team fuckers had a fat, juicy pot? "Can we discuss that sometime, please?"

"Yes, sure."

"Great. Any questions?"

"Are you naked?"

"No. Bye."

The phone was passed back. "Henri. Did you plant this tree?" I held up the camera.

"Yes. The garden as it was was paved. Practical, but conspicuous. Unyielding. Abrasive. Nature bends. Trees are strengthened by the storm. You like my crabapple, Max?"

"I do. Why..." I wasn't sure how to word my question. "Why is it here?"

"There? It is where I chose it to be. There, it will offer shade and privacy, should I ever lose my mind and wander around in God's pyjamas. And of course, it's the sunniest spot."

"Sun, right. You couldn't put it by the house. Not enough sun. They need sun."

Henri laughed. "You talk as though this is all new."

"I saw the pictures in school but I've never really thought about it before. I thought you could plant anything anywhere. Emma's mum tried to tell me some things but it's so complicated." I thought about my dream. The enormous tree that had swallowed me. "But what if the neighbour plants a bigger tree? And this one doesn't get light?"

"It will die. Max, are you okay? Would you like me to go there?"

"No... no. You need to train. But look, how do you... How can I... How do you help the tree? Can I give him some food or something?"

"The best you can do is plant the right tree in the right spot. The crabapple loves where I have chosen. A woman of my acquaintance told me to choose something more ornate, more showy. No, I said. Look around. The crabapple loves the area. As you see, I chose wisely. It is a wonderful specimen. Its beauty is a reflection of my own impeccable taste. When a tree is young, you may stake it. That helps it grow strong enough to survive all but the strongest of winds. You may nurse it through a drought. Mostly you leave it alone. Sometimes it appreciates a prune."

"Pruning. That's where you cut bits off."

"Oui. Branches that grow the wrong way." Spectrum. "Branches that compete with others." Tyson. "Branches you deem unaesthetic." Physio Dean.

"Branches that don't produce enough crabs," I suggested.

"If producing crabs is important to you, yes."

"Can you cut it all back to the start and grow a new tree?"

"No. And you must never prune more than thirty percent of a tree." Huh. Good to know.

"You know a lot about trees. Why?"

"The real question is, why don't you?" Henri smiled. Then he lowered the phone and peered downwards so it was like he was checking out my crotch. "No, the real question is: why are you naked?"

"I'm not," I said. "I'm wearing your crocs."

***

I went back inside and made another tea. The first one had frozen by the time I remembered to drink it.

I called the care home and asked if Anna was around and active. Soon I was asking her about my dream and what it meant. She said she'd call me back, which she did.

"Dreams about climbing trees," she read aloud from some website, "show you are planning and using resources to achieve a goal. The dream reminds you that helping other people won't lead to personal benefit." I heard what sounded like her taking her reading glasses off. "Does that mean anything?"

"I gave somebody some money and it was a nice thing to do but realistically it's not going to do them any good. It's just a nice day out. And I'm not exactly loaded. The money could have bribed four kids to bring their mates. Or paid for eight hours of Jude. Or been used to get me a massage after grinding for a few days in a row. Let me get right back at it. Do you know what I mean? There was this kid. He said no good deed goes unpunished. Every time I try to do something nice, it usually bites me on my arse. And when I'm a dick, or selfish, that goes well."

"You have my permission to be a selfish dick," she said.

"Come on," I said, laughing. "That's not what I meant."

"Yes, it was. This nice day out you paid for. Why don't you sneak along and see how nice it is? See what effect your good deeds truly have. Humm?"

"Maybe," I said. "I'm quite busy on Sunday."

"Busy. Too busy to walk Solly, after all he did for you."

"What?"

"I know, young man. I know. Now, tell me. Soccer Supremo. How do I beat Newcastle? They buy the players I want."

"Ask me again in five years."

"I shall hold you to that." She hesitated. Her voice lost its usual strident tone. "Take care of yourself, Max. If you need a massage, get a massage. If you need to stop climbing the tree for a day or two, do so. And," she exhaled, gathering her strength for what she needed to say next. "And if you would like to spend some time with your mother and I, you are always welcome. Especially," she exhaled again, using all the energy she had stored in her roots, "especially if you want to read out articles about FBoy Island."

"FBoy Island!" I laughed. "What the f... Oh. I think I just got the premise. Don't tell me my mother watches a show called FBoy Island?"

"Max, she's obsessed. And Solly loves it. He thinks he can tell the FBoys from the Nice Guys. So you see. Whatever your problems are, they pale in comparison. They really do."

***

Henri didn't have a calendar on the wall. I asked him why, once, and he said, "Because I am not a Mayan."

So I whipped my phone out and went to the app. Noticed how the ends of months loom like cliff edges. It was mid-January. Henri had agreed to let me stay in this house rent-free until the end of January. He'd probably extend that, seeing as how I was working hard to create lots of football, but I needed to find an affordable place in Chester and let Henri get a paying tenant.

My bank balance was okay, and Darlington would be giving me 6,500 pounds soon - reward for my stupendous December. And in February they'd have to pay me two grand for my half hour of work in the Scarborough match. No doubt Darlo would be a lot more careful throwing around goal and assist bonuses in the future! (Thinking about it, if I'd stayed at Darlo, we'd have had to renegotiate my wages or I would have bankrupted them.)

So I had a buffer, but once my goal money was gone, it would be gone. I was on 500 a week at Chester, plus 165 a week from being an agent. The only increase in those numbers likely to come in the near term was if Altrincham wanted to sign James Yalley. I was planning to ask them that evening.

But first, I was off to Broadhurst Park to watch FC United's training session. This was a kill-eight-birds-with-one-stone kinda scenario, and the biggest bird was getting to see Ziggy's updated player profile for the first time in ten weeks.

Ten weeks! It was crazy to think I hadn't seen him play for that long, but so much had happened, and Darlo trained and played at the same time as FCU.

So what did I expect? How much progress?

On the negative side, FC United were in the seventh tier. Based on what Jackie had told me about player progression plus my own observations and common sense, Youngster's training at tier 5 Altrincham would add more CA per day than Ziggy's, with tier 6 Chester being in the middle.

There was also the fact that Ziggy had played no games since the little burst he'd had around his debut. Most matches, he didn't even make the bench. Lack of game time would suppress his progress.

On the positive side, lack of game time meant he could work harder on his fitness. I expected a fair chunk of green in his physical attributes. I knew he'd been hitting the weights because every time I called him he was either coming or going from his local gym.

Facilities were a point in FCU's favour compared to Chester. FCU had a grass pitch and an all-weather one. Perfectly flat, great for passing drills, and as far as I could tell, they owned it. The stadium was right next to it, with its big FC UNITED OF MANCHESTER sign. It was impressive. Chester trained at a credit card company.

Finally, the most positive aspect of all - Ziggy was being trained by Jackie Reaper. Even without the curse numbers, I was growing increasingly convinced that Jackie was a top coach who should have been at a big club. Exactly how much CA per day he was worth I wasn't sure, but I knew he was miles ahead of Vimsy and the guys at Darlington.

So when I arrived in North Manchester, I wandered to the side of the pitch and watched. They were doing some transition drill and it was so fast, intense, so serious, that it made me slightly depressed. This seventh tier team was doing training sessions light years ahead of what I was seeing at Chester.

But I didn't dwell on it - if Jackie Reaper was truly the Chosen One, then we'd have this kind of session at Chester from the summer. And then I wouldn't feel like I was walking around with a ball and chain around my ankles.

Ziggy was zipping around, working hard, totally focused.

Barrett Graves "Ziggy"