Chapter Three: The Discarded

“Isn't it your club?” “That's why I hired a manager.” That night, Mara secured building materials on credit and supporters volunteered the labour, cutting temporary stand repairs to twelve thousand. Screenshots of paid wages spread through Greyport. “Five pounds to save our club” became a local slogan. By Friday, 1,800 tickets were sold and scarves that had gathered dust for two years were gone. But only fifteen players were registered. Danny had not replied. On Saturday, queues surrounded Old Dock. The pie seller parked her van by the gates. Dockworkers carried blue-and-white flags. The girl in the yellow raincoat rode on her father's shoulders. Mara refreshed the ticket system.