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Phoebe O’Sullivan is on a mission. It’s called Operation: Make Uncle’s Day 2022 The Best Uncle’s Day In The History Of The World, and it involves tie-dye, homemade banners, rose gold party hats, and Jamie Tartt.
This last bit may be the most challenging part to accomplish.
She first gets the idea when she and Mum sit down to block out a day to celebrate. They’ve been celebrating Uncle’s Day since she was five, and it’s always in the spring, but never the same day, because it has to be when both Mum and Uncle Roy are free. So, when March rolls around, they start looking at Richmond’s playing schedule and Mum’s work schedule and the dates of Phoebe’s school play and nail down a date that works for all three of them.
Once they decide, Phoebe writes it on the calendar in the kitchen while Mum sends a text to Uncle Roy to let him know. As she draws little hearts around the words, she frowns a little. “Mum?” she asks. “Do you think we should invite anyone else to Uncle’s Day?”
Mum puts her phone down and looks at her questioningly. “Like who, Phoe?”
Phoebe shrugs. Keeley came last year, ‘cause she and Uncle Roy were still dating then, and Phoebe’s sure she’d come again if she asked, but Uncle Roy probably wouldn’t like that much, on account of how frowny and sad he gets any time her name comes up. They could invite Gran and Grandad, maybe, but Mum gets stressed every time they come visit because Gran will start going through their kitchen cabinets and Grandad will fall asleep watching telly five minutes in, so it’s not like they’d really bring much to the party anyway.
They need someone Uncle Roy likes to be around, but that list is really pretty small. He likes to be around Phoebe all the time, and Mum most of the time, and he used to like to be around Keeley, but that’s it. Who does he even spend his time with now that Keeley’s sooo busy that they can’t even date anymore?
And that’s when it hits her. Uncle Roy’s been falling asleep on the couch at half seven when she stays with him the last few months because he gets up super early to go coach Jamie Tartt at four AM, and then he and Jamie Tartt go to the Dog Track and he coaches him some more, and sometimes he coaches him even more after that. Phoebe came along to one of these evening training sessions once when Mum got called into A&E, and Uncle Roy made Jamie carry her on his back like Yoda while he ran laps around Richmond Green. He hadn’t even complained about it, just crouched down to let her climb on and told her he’d buy her ice cream if she told him embarrassing stories about Uncle Roy.
And she knows Uncle Roy and Jamie Tartt don’t just hang out for training either, because a while back, after Richmond played Ajax in Amsterdam, Uncle Roy had taken Phoebe out for a bike ride one Sunday, even though he’d never done that before. When the hell did you learn how to ride a bike? Mum had asked, and Uncle Roy had turned red and told them he learned in Amsterdam because Tartt wouldn’t let it fucking alone.
So maybe she can’t invite Keeley for Uncle’s Day anymore, and that sucks super bad, but maybe she can get Uncle Roy’s best friend to come, and then the table won’t feel so empty with the fourth chair filled.
“What about Jamie Tartt?” she says, in answer to Mum’s question.
“The footballer?” Mum says, like she doesn’t quite understand why Phoebe would even think of him. “Why would we invite him to Uncle’s Day?”
“Because he’s Uncle Roy’s best friend,” Phoebe says matter-of-factly. “And he’s nice. I bet he’d say yes.”
“Are we talking about the same Jamie Tartt? The one Roy complains about constantly?”
“He complains about me, too. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like me.”
Mum nods her head to the side like Phoebe’s made a good point. “Roy would be so annoyed if he showed up…” she trails off, then smiles, because Uncle Roy is Mum’s older brother and she lives to piss him off (Mum’s words, not Phoebe’s). “Fuck it, why not? Go ahead and invite him.”
Phoebe holds a hand out and Mum drops a pound into it. “Okay,” she says, tucking the money away. “Can you call him? I’ll do the talking.”
“Why would I have Jamie Tartt’s number?”
Phoebe doesn’t know. It’s just that any time she wants to call anyone, Mum has their number. Uncle Roy, Gran and Grandad, Ms. Bowen, her friends’ mums. She even has Dad’s number, even though she hates him, because sometimes she texts him about the things Phoebe’s up to, like football matches and the play, even though he doesn’t usually respond.
“Look,” Mum says, “You figure out how to contact Jamie Tartt, and we’ll invite him together.”
So begins Phase One of the plan.
Her first stop, like any modern kid, is the internet. She types how to contact Jamie Tartt into Google, but the only answer she gets is the name of his agent and a number to call for inquiries about sponsorship opportunities.
He’s got Twitter and Instagram, but Mum says no social media until she’s thirteen, and she won’t let Phoebe use her accounts to message him. I’m not sliding into a professional footballer’s DMs to invite him to a made-up holiday, Phoebe. I’m sorry, but that’s where I draw the line.
Phoebe pouts, but pushes on undeterred. She calls the Richmond front office, and explains the situation to three different people before she’s transferred to a voice she recognizes.
“This is Leslie Higgins, Director of Football Operations for AFC Richmond. How may I help you today?”
“Hi, Mr. Higgins,” Phoebe says in her politest voice, even though she’s frustrated that no one will give her what she wants. “This is Phoebe O’Sullivan, Roy Kent’s niece.”
“Oh, hello, Phoebe!” Mr. Higgins says brightly. “What can I do for you? Do you need me to get your uncle for you?”
“No,” Phoebe says hurriedly. Uncle Roy can’t know she called because then he’ll ask why she did, and it’ll ruin the surprise. “No, I’m calling because I need Jamie Tartt’s phone number. It’s for a surprise for Uncle Roy.”
“Oh,” Mr, Higgins says, his voice deflating. “I’m sorry, Phoebe, but I’m afraid I can’t give you that.”
“Why not?” she says, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice.
“Well, unfortunately, that’s a huge breach of privacy and I could get into a fair bit of legal trouble if it got out that I was handing out the personal numbers of our very famous players.”
So? Phoebe wants to say, but she bites her tongue. “Are you sure?” she asks instead. “I just want to invite him to this party we’re having for Uncle Roy. It’s a surprise. I promise I won’t do anything bad with it.” She’s not even sure what bad you could do with a famous person’s phone number, but everyone seems really worried about it.
“I really am sorry, Phoebe, but I can’t tell you, even if it is for a good cause.” Mr. Higgins pauses, then says. “I suppose…I could tell him you called looking for him, and have him call you if he’s interested?”
Phoebe thinks about it, but then says, “No, that’s alright.” Because Jamie needs to understand Uncle’s Day and its incredible importance, and she just doesn’t think Mr. Higgins will do a good job conveying this to him. “I’ll talk to him another way. Thanks anyway, Mr. Higgins.”
“Alright. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help, Phoebe. You have a nice day.”
“You too,” she says, then hangs up the phone and drops her head into her hands. Back to the drawing board.
“Why don’t you ask Keeley?” Mum says over dinner that night when Phoebe explains her frustrating lack of progress. “I’m sure she’d give it to you.”
She thinks about it, then shakes her head. “No, because then I’d have to explain why I want it, and then I’d have to tell her that we’re inviting him to Uncle’s Day instead of her, and she’d get sad. I don’t want to make Keeley sad.”
“Fair point,” Mum says. She thinks for a bit, then says, “Alright, here’s what we’ll do.”
Phase Two (or Phase One still, Phoebe supposes, since she never really got what she needed out of that phase) goes like this.
The next day, when Mum picks Phoebe up from Uncle Roy’s house, she starts off by saying, “Roy, can I borrow your phone? I can’t find mine—I need to do that Find My iPhone thing.”
Uncle Roy grunts and hands it over. Just as he does, Phoebe grabs him by the hand and says in her best please Uncle Roy voice, “Can we do one more round of Princess and Dragon? Please, please, please, please—”
Uncle Roy growls but doesn’t resist. “One round. That’s it.”
“Okay!” Phoebe says brightly, meeting Mum’s eyes as she pulls Uncle Roy up the stairs. Mum gives her a thumbs up.
Once Princess and Dragon is over, they find Mum leaning against the island in Uncle Roy’s kitchen, thumbing through his mail. “Ready to go?” she asks Phoebe, giving her no indication of the mission’s success.
Phoebe gathers up her backpack, giving Uncle Roy one last big hug as he says, “You find your phone?”
“Yeah,” Mum says, ushering Phoebe out the door. “Turns out it’s in the car. Must have fallen between the seats or something. Thanks, Roy!”
Once Phoebe’s buckled safely into the back seat and Uncle Roy has retreated inside, she says, “Well?”
Mum hands her phone over her shoulder as she puts the car in reverse. Phoebe looks down at the screen, a wave of triumph coursing through her.
Roy Kent has shared a contact with you: Prince Prick of all Pricks
“Yes!” Phoebe cries, pumping her fist. “Did you erase it on his phone?”
Mum gives her a look like, what am I an amateur? and Phoebe grins. Phase One (Phase Two?) complete.
It’s two more days before they can give him a call, because Mum is busy working and they have to make sure they don’t call while Jamie is at training or with Uncle Roy. But finally they sit down at the kitchen table and Mum whispers “God help me” under her breath and presses call, switching her phone over to speaker.
The phone rings enough times that Phoebe worries he won’t pick up and they’ll have to leave a message when there’s a click and a voice comes through. “Hello?”
“Hi,” Mum says, putting on her serious professional voice. “Is this Jamie Tartt?”
“Er…are you a journalist or something, because—”
“No, sorry, I—this is Christine O’Sullivan. I’m Roy Kent’s sister.”
“Oh,” Jamie says, the wariness in his voice turning into confusion. “Hi. Is—is everything alright? With Roy, I mean?”
“Yeah, Roy’s fine,” Mum says, waving her hand dismissively even though Jamie can’t see it. “I’m actually calling because my daughter, Phoebe—I think you’ve met her?—has something she wants to ask you.” She gives Phoebe a look and waves at the phone.
“Hi Jamie!” she says cheerfully.
“Hi Phoebe,” he responds, and his voice sounds warmer now, like he’s smiling. “What’s up?”
“Right,” Phoebe says, folding her hands on the table in front of her and launching into the speech she prepared. “We’d like to invite you to celebrate Uncle’s Day with us this year.”
“I—sorry, Uncle’s Day?”
“Yes,” Phoebe says. “It’s the best holiday of the year. We get together to celebrate Uncle Roy, and there’s gifts and cake and Mum and I put on a performance.”
“And you want me there?”
“Yes.”
“Alright,” Jamie says on the other end of the line. “Sounds good. I’m in.”
“Really?” Phoebe asks, surprised it was that easy.
“Sure,” Jamie says. “Sounds like exactly the kind of thing Roy would never want me to know about, so obviously I can’t pass that opportunity up. When is it?”
Phoebe grins over at Mum, who can’t seem to believe what she’s hearing. “It’s the twenty-third of March this year,” Phoebe informs him.
“The twenty-third?” Jamie says. “That’s, uh, that’s during the international break.”
“Yeah…” Mum says, and Phoebe realises that they picked that week because Uncle Roy wouldn’t have to coach, but the same thing doesn’t apply to Jamie. “You might be busy, then, huh?”
“Er, yeah, here’s hoping.” Jamie says. The international teams haven’t been announced yet. “But, hey, can’t pass up Uncle’s Day, can I?”
“You really don’t have to—” Mum says, but Jamie cuts her off.
“Nah, I’ll figure it out. What do I bring?”
“It’s a gifts required holiday,” Phoebe supplies.
“It is not,” Mum says quickly. “You do not have to bring a gift.” Phoebe glares at her, because Uncle’s Day is a gifts required holiday, and it’s not like they can just go changing the rules.
“Oh, no, I’m bringing a gift,” Jamie says with a laugh. “I’ve got something in mind already.”
Mum drops her head into her hands.
“Jamie,” Phoebe says quickly, a thought occurring to her. “You can’t tell Uncle Roy about this, okay?”
“You got it. Mum’s the word.”
“Okay,” Mum says, picking the phone up and holding it closer to her. “We’ve kept you for too long, so we’ll let you go.”
“No problem. Just send me the details, yeah?”
“Of course. Thanks so much for this, Jamie.”
“Yeah, thanks, Jamie!” Phoebe calls.
“No problem. See you the twenty-third then, yeah?”
“See you then! Bye Jamie!”
Once he hangs up, Phoebe grins at Mum, who shakes her head and laughs a little bit. “Uncle Roy’s going to be so excited!” she says. He might still be a little mopey that Keeley can’t come this year, because he’s been mopey ever since he and Keeley broke up, but having his best friend here to celebrate should soften the blow.
“Yeah,” Mum says. “That’s one word for it.”
Phoebe sets herself to getting everything ready for Uncle’s day. She painstakingly traces all the letters to Uncle’s Day onto individual sheets of paper, decorates them and strings them together. At school, when they tie-dye t-shirts, she picks out red, orange, and yellow because the colours spell ROY, and she and Mum spend the night before Uncle’s Day shopping for balloons and party hats and ingredients to make a cake, which Mum bakes and Phoebe frosts.
It turns out Jamie did make the national team, but when Mum texts him congratulations and tries to let him off the hook, he insists he’s still coming. He’s late, but that’s okay, because Phoebe gets to see the look on Uncle Roy’s face when she brings him into the room. He doesn’t look excited, but Phoebe thinks that’s just because his eyebrows don’t know how to do that.
She and Jamie both knock it out of the park with their gifts, even though Jamie’s has a bad word written on it, and her and Mum’s performance is even better than it went in rehearsals. Uncle Roy watches with a stony expression, but Jamie’s a good audience, oohing and ahhing at all the right moments. He even gives them a standing ovation at the end.
As she and Mum bring out the cake, Phoebe hears Uncle Roy turn to him and ask, “Why the fuck are you even here?”
“Was invited, weren’t I?” Jamie says, gathering the wrapping paper off the table so they can set the cake down. “You want me to be rude and turn ‘em down?”
“Yes,” Uncle Roy growls.
“Nah, mate, not a chance,” he gives him a grin. “Not passing up a chance to annoy Roy, that’s for sure.”
Mum points at him, like that’s what I’m talking about, and Jamie smiles up at her. Uncle Roy’s eyebrows pull together even more. “No,” he says, gesturing between the two of them. “Knock this off right the fuck now.”
After cake, Phoebe convinces Uncle Roy to come upstairs for a game of Princess and Dragon, and he takes her hand to oblige. Mum’s cleaning up the plates and Jamie says, “Here I’ll help,” which just seems nice to Phoebe, but which makes Uncle Roy do that growling thing he does when he doesn’t like something. She pulls him from the room before his Angry Face gets stuck.
It takes an age and half for Uncle Roy to get upstairs because of his bad knee, and as soon as they finally get up there, Phoebe realises she left the wand downstairs (it was a prop in the performance). “Don’t worry Uncle Roy, I’ll get it,” she says, and scurries back downstairs. While she searches through the piles of discarded costumes, she hears the tail end of something Jamie’s saying to Mum in the kitchen.
“—cool that you do this for her.”
“Do what?” Mum asks over the dishes clinking in the sink.
“You know—Uncle’s Day. ‘S’not a real holiday—I looked it up. But you do it ‘cause her dad’s a shit stain, yeah?”
Phoebe goes still. They’re talking about her, she realises. They must not realise she came back downstairs.
Mum is quiet for a few moments, and then she says, more serious than usual. “Yeah. After the divorce, it’s like he stopped thinking he had a kid. Not that he was much of a father before the divorce, but…”
“I get it,” Jamie says, and he sounds like he really means it. “Father’s Day’s hard when you don’t got one, ain’t it?”
“Mmm,” Mum says. “But, you know, Roy really stepped up after Connor left. I know he’s a crotchety old geezer sometimes, but I don’t know where we’d be without him. So, a few years ago, I came up with all this”—Phoebe can’t see her, but she imagines her gesturing to the remnants of the party around them— “for both of them really. To give Phoebe somebody to celebrate, and to thank Roy for all he’s done. And, you know, he pretends to hate it, but he keeps coming back every year.”
Phoebe didn’t realise Mum knew about the Father’s Day thing. The thing where her all her friends spend time with their dads, even the ones whose parents are divorced like hers, and Phoebe gets sad because even when she calls Dad on Father’s Day, he never talks to her for long, if he picks up at all. The thing where she tries really really hard not to think about Dad celebrating Father’s Day with Stacy and the new baby, and wonders why he never wanted to celebrate it with her.
Because Phoebe tries really, really hard not to show Mum that she’s sad about it, ‘cause that would just make Mum sad, and she never wants Mum to be sad. Dad’s made her sad too many times already. But it turns out, Mum’s pretty smart, and she must have figured it out without Phoebe having to tell her.
And, really, it’s not all bad. Because even though it sucks that she doesn’t have a dad like her friends have a dad, she’s got an Uncle Roy and not one of her friends have one of those. And Uncle Roy is the greatest. He buys her ice cream, and he swears in front of her like she’s an adult, and he even pays her for it. Mum makes her put at least half the money into a bank account to use when she wants to buy a car when she’s older, but she gets to use the rest of it for cool toys and clothes and sparkly nail polish.
Uncle Roy used to paint her nails for her before she got big enough to do it herself, and he knows how to put her hair in a ponytail even if he pulls a little too hard, and he’s always okay with being the princess instead of the dragon, even though his princess voice is really really bad.
He coaches her football team and comes to her school plays and he has a room in his house that Phoebe got to decorate however she wanted. Her friend Monica’s parents are divorced, and Monica’s dad doesn’t always come to their games, and she doesn’t even have an Uncle Roy to take his place. In fact, Monica’d never even heard of Uncle’s Day when Phoebe told her about it earlier this week.
Phoebe’s pretty lucky, she realises all of a sudden, that she has an uncle who deserves every bit of this Uncle’s Day celebration. And maybe it was a bit of a hassle to track down Jamie Tartt’s number, but Uncle Roy was worth every second she spent doing it.
She sees the sparkly tip of the wand sticking out from under a top hat, and she grabs it, running back up the stairs at full speed.
“Finally,” Uncle Roy says from where he’s sitting on the edge of her bed. “I thought you’d got lost or some shit.”
Phoebe barrels into him at full speed, hugging him around the chest as hard as she can. He makes a surprised sound, but he hugs her back right away.
“I love you, Uncle Roy,” she says into his black t-shirt, and she can feel the rumble in her cheek as he grunts.
“Love you, too, kiddo.”
“You’re the best uncle in the whole wide world.”
“Yeah, well,” he says, his beard scratching at her forehead as he sets his chin on top of her head. “Got a pretty fucking good niece to do it for, don’t I?”