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Previously...

‘Did you take drugs–? Answer me, please.’

‘No, it was a fucking peanut!’

He shut his eyes for a moment and then smiled.

‘Thank God, I couldn’t go through all that again. Forgive me, honey, I had to know. Now I can deal with that rag. Give me a hug and forgive your old dad for being such an idiot as to think that anything they print would ever be the truth.’

He opened his arms and I flew into them. We hugged for a long while and I think that we both cried a bit but eventually, we wiped our eyes and blew our noses.

‘Daddy–? You said “again”.’

‘Again?’

‘You said you couldn’t go through it again? What d’you mean?’

I could see an expression of pain cross his face for a moment and then he looked at me and smiled sadly. ‘My brother, Nick, died after taking some crack. He had a drugs problem for years and it took over his life. He turned from a bright, intelligent guy to a wreck in a short space of time. I just was so frightened that the same might happen to you. I love you too much for that to happen.’

‘Oh God, Daddy, I’m so sorry.’

‘So am I. I still feel guilty. I should have done more, but I didn’t. I believed him when he promised me that he had stopped. But he hadn’t and it killed him in the end.’

I hugged Daddy some more. I could feel his pain but didn’t know how I could make him better.

Eventually we turned to that newspaper article.

‘Some sodding so-and-so must have doctored the picture using Photoshop ® or something–I was eating a peanut, for God’s sake!’

‘Yes, they can do all sorts with computers nowadays. I’ll get in touch with John Prentiss. He’ll sort it out.’

‘It’s going to get worse, isn’t it, Daddy?’

‘I think so, honey. For some reason, you’re being targeted. This country is famous for trying to bring down someone who has had a bit of success. I don’t know if all this is connected, but I’m sure John thinks it is, however I’m not sure, but whatever happens we’ll get this mess sorted out. You are not alone honey and we are all in this together and no one messes with this family.

‘I agree. I’m fed up with all this rubbish. I will not lie down and let the slime balls of this world try to ruin my life. I love playing football and other people like to watch me. I won’t let them beat me.’

‘Good girl, that’s the spirit; and, Susan?’

‘Yes, Daddy?’

‘If I ever hear you using the F-word again, I’ll wash your mouth out with soap!’

‘Yes, Daddy.’ I replied rather sheepishly.

And now the story continues…

‘Well, Melanie, it was quite a shock to see the headline this morning…’

It seemed a bit bizarre that I was sitting on the famous Good Morning settee, just ninety minutes after sitting in my nightie reading the trash The Globe had printed about me.

The Good Morning Show was based in Melchester and John Prentiss, being the agent he was, went into overdrive when he found out what happened. He wanted to do damage limitation and come out fighting. I had to rush my breakfast, get dressed faster than Wonder Woman and be ready in thirty minutes for a high speed dash to the studios. Mummy and Claire helped me to get dressed as I was not in the right frame for those important girlie type decisions.

They decided that I should look sweet, innocent and angelic for the interview with Melanie Saunders and Adrian Last. I was wearing a Monsoon Marcella silk dress in white, cut on the bias with bustline shaping that displayed my assets–such as they were–to full advantage. I wasn’t sure about the angelic tag, I looked like I was going out clubbing; but was assured that I looked the part and that would have to do, I supposed.

John had phoned Daddy while we were en route and told him that I had several newspaper interviews and two radio ones lined up this morning so I should expect to be busy.

So here I was in front of millions trying to defend myself…

‘You had no idea you were being photographed then?’ Adrian asked with a sympathetic brilliant smile, his white teeth gleaming like symmetrical marble gravestones, making me wonder if I should have worn sunglasses.

‘No, I was eating a peanut, that’s all I had all night, peanuts. Oh, I know what the photo shows, some sort of pink pill, but it had to have been faked.’

‘In the pic you looked as if you were not quite with it,’ said Melanie–could I see her roots?

I shook my head as I smoothed down my dress. ‘That was because I was tired and hot after a very lively dance with the Melchester girls’ team. The photographer caught me just after I had sat down and I was mid blink. I reckon that anyone would look a bit spaced out, when surprised on camera like that.’

‘So, to make things clear, you don’t take drugs.’

‘Only Paracetamol, you know, pain killers and the like. I don’t do drugs. Even if I did, would I be stupid enough to take a pill when the place was full to the brim of people?’

‘True,’ said Melanie with as glittering a smile, as monumental as Adrian’s; ‘so apart from this interview, what are you going to do about all this?’

‘John Prentiss–my agent–and my parents are having a meeting right now in your hospitality room to discuss the options. One thing I have been told is that the newspaper is going to be sued for libel and the original photograph is being demanded. It is going to be sent to an independent photographic expert and he or she will be able to confirm that it has been doctored.’

‘Well that just about covers it, Susan, but while we have you here, how does it feel to be the most talked about teenager in the country–’

I flicked my hair back and looked at my black nylon-encased legs. For some reason, I wondered if I had big ankles and it was with a certain amount of difficulty that I came back on track and answered her question.

‘Well, Melanie, I was as surprised as anyone when I began to get all this attention. All I want to do is play football, but people have been really nice to me. I suppose that all this entire celeb thing is something I didn’t count on happening. It’s a pity that certain people and newspapers can’t be happy for me and instead try and do things like this to make me look bad…’

And so it went on. I was pushed and pulled into lots of interviews that morning, so much so that I got fed up of telling the same story over and over again but, eventually, we finished and had lunch in a small restaurant off the main High Street. It was expensive, exclusive and had the advantage of individual booths.

As I tucked into my chicken salad, I smiled as both John and Daddy had their phones superglued to their ears. Mummy looked at me and our eyes went heavenwards. We reckoned that the men were loving this! Eventually they joined us again and told Mummy and I what was happening.

‘Well,’ John said, ‘our lawyers have been able to take out an injunction on The Globe, forbidding them to mention anything about you that hasn’t been agreed in advance by us. Your age was a contributing factor in this as you are still a minor. The Globe are evidently saying that they printed the story and photo in good faith but won’t divulge the source. I have a mate in The Globe who is actually leaving shortly to join a real newspaper. The whisper is that the story came out of an Italian newspaper agency and the reporter was one John Ferris. How they could use anything from him is beyond belief but there you are.’

‘John Ferris that bar––’

‘–Susan, language!’

‘Sorry, Mummy, but when will I be able to go around without that piece of…of…of––?’

‘–don’t say it.’

‘–filth dogging me wherever I go.’

‘Well,’ John replied, ‘he’s going to cost the paper a pretty penny after this little contretemps. Newspapers like scandal, but not if it costs them more than the profits they make selling the story.’

‘Yes,’ said Daddy, ‘I think he’s shot himself in the foot with his biased reporting. He’s shown himself up as a real bigot. Now I have some other news. One of the bouncers on the door of the nightclub was in on it. He let the photographer in at the back door and the scumbag was able to take the shots and get out without being seen. The idiot security man, boasted about it to colleagues over a drink or three and needless to say he is out of work now.’

‘Do you think Ferris behind all this?’ I asked no one in particular.

‘Maybe,’ said John, after a moment, ‘if he is, I’ll sue him personally.’

‘Will this affect my playing for the team?’

‘No,’ said Daddy,’ Melchester have already published a strong denial and the fact that they have every confidence in your complete innocence.’

‘Well I hope it’s not like one of those we have every confidence statements some clubs use just before sacking the manager.’

We all laughed then Mummy spoke up. ‘Melchester would never sell an asset like you. You are far too valuable to them.’

‘We’ll see.’ I sighed.

~ §~

That afternoon I was back home. I had to switch off my mobile because everyone and his dog was trying to talk to me.

I did get a phone call before finally switching it off that cheered me up more than a little bit. I was required to be at the ground tomorrow as I was in the squad to play Tamar Rovers in a league match. Whether I would play or not was another question, but at least it confirmed to me that the club was sticking by me and, football-wise anyway, things were getting back to normal–or to what passed for normal in my life!

I could hear the main phone ringing constantly and got a bit fed up with everything. I was bored. Andrew and Claire had gone to the hospital with Monica because she had a check up appointment, then they were going to carry on into town. I would have loved to have gone, but my parents thought that it would be “difficult” for me to go out in the way a normal person would be able to.

I liked normal; I wanted to be normal. It didn’t take me long to feel that I was a virtual prisoner in my own home. Oh I wasn’t locked in or anything, but it wasn’t safe for me to be out at the moment, according to everyone from Claire, up to Danni.

The security people were doing a risk assessment at the moment, whatever that meant. Danni tried to explain. ‘It’s like this, Susan; person or persons unknown are trying to harm you by saying and doing things that give you bad publicity. It’s only one step further that leads to physical stuff being used against you. I don’t think that it would happen, but for the moment, it would be wise to take some precautions.’

So here I was in my bedroom, being bored, bored, BORED!

I went on the internet and sort of gravitated towards my fan site. Looking at the hits made me wonder why I was so popular. I went into the forum section and there was a thread of two hundred posts regarding the ‘pill’ incident. I wanted to know what people felt about it so I read a few of the messages.

‘I think that Sue has been treated horribly by The Globe…my mum and dad said that they will never buy it again…’

‘Susan is great and I have a poster of her on my wall. She should show those idiots that she is a great footballer by knocking hundreds of goals in…’

‘Melchester forever…The Globe…never!’

‘I love the way she has her hair, Mummy said I can take her picture in to the salon and have mine just like Susan’s!’

I closed the web page all embarrassed at reading the positive things on there. I had to be careful. I was a role model now to a lot of young kids–girls particularly. Why would anyone want to look like me? Another thing to worry about!

Eventually, Claire, Andrew and Monica came home and we had a rather animated tea together–Steak and Kidney Pud á¡ la Mrs Moon, delicious and very filling. I swear I could feel it sticking to my ribs, it was painful but a delicious pain!

After tea, I managed to catch Andrews’s eye and we went to our special room and Andrew soon changed into Andrea. Judging by the knowing looks of everyone else; it was no secret where we were going. I had had a heart-to-heart chat with Mummy about Andrew/Andrea and me and where things were going. She wanted to make sure that we were not going to do anything stupid.

‘I trust you, honey, but make sure that you think before you even consider trying to get any more, erm, intimate.’

‘We are being careful, Mummy. We have had lots of chances to get more, “intimate” as you call it. We love each other and the last thing we want to do is to spoil things.’

‘Okay, honey, as I say, I do trust you and I won’t mention it again. Remember though I’m only doing what any mother would do.’

‘I know, Mummy and that’s why I love you so much!’

I gave her a big hug and it made me feel so good that I had someone like her–and Daddy too–that loved and cared for me so much. I wondered once again as I had in the past, whether I would turn into some sort of teenage, angst- ridden girl with attitude, when my hormones started raging and stuff like that. But I did wonder if that was some sort of urban myth. I supposed that I would find out eventually.

We sat on the old sofa holding hands. Andrea was wearing a cream silk top, a black soft cotton skirt and nude tights. She looked gorgeous, especially when she applied her makeup. She was getting very good at it now and when she finished, I had absolutely no doubt that she would pass for a girl–if and when she came out a bit more. I wasn’t going to push her though and I would wait and see what happened. We cuddled up close while she told me about her day.

‘Mum went in to see the specialist. They are evidently quite pleased with her and just took some bloods and gave her the once over. She told the specialists that she still got very tired all the time, but evidently this was normal. He did book her in for a scan and a few other tests though.’

‘She looks a lot better.’

‘Mmm, she is more like our old mum every day now. Anyway, we then went and had something to eat and made plans to go shopping tomorrow, Saturday, for girls’ clothes. She wants me to wear my own and not borrow from everybody and of course there’s no way I’m going to complain about that!’

‘Well I’d love to come with you but we’re playing Tamar Rangers at home and I think that I might get picked.’

‘Are you fit enough?’

‘I think so. The club doctor reckons I’m okay to at least come off the bench.’

‘Well, be careful. We don’t want another accident happening to you.’

‘I know. I am excited and worried at the same time. I just hope that the opposition don’t try to take me out and the ref doesn’t treat me with kid gloves.’

‘Do you want me to come?’

‘No, it’s okay. We can watch the highlight’s if there are any, tomorrow night. I just want everything to be normal, so you go shopping; it’s important because it will show that Monica accepts you for who you are. I will, hopefully have a few people on my side when I play, so just concentrate on yourself and your mum. Claire’s coming so I won’t be short of company.’

We spent the rest of the evening kissing, cuddling, repairing and experimenting with makeup and generally having a nice quiet time. I knew that tomorrow would be anything but quiet and I relished being with her all the more because of it.

Saturday morning saw me up bright and early. Peeping out of my bedroom window, it was obvious that it was going to be a cloudy overcast day and it threatened rain. I had a quick shower and got dressed in a green woolly jumper and bootcut jeans over some black leather boots. I wasn’t sore anymore and I was pleased that I could wear some clothes–like warm ribbed tights–that at least would keep the winter at bay a bit more than skirts and dresses. I had on a sports bra underneath and although it squashed my breasts a bit, I would at least not have a wobble problem later on, if and when I played the game.

Don’t get me wrong, I love skirts and dresses but at the right time and in the right place and this wasn’t one of them.

Mummy was staying at home because Mr and Mrs Moon had to go visiting a sick relative today. I think Mummy wanted to come to the game but didn’t want to take the twins, so she stayed home to practice her cooking. I secretly shuddered at the thought of Mummy in the kitchen, by herself, unsupervised, but she wanted to do it so I kept quiet.

Thus it was Daddy, Claire and I who got into the car and made our way across town to the Melchester ground.

Monica and Andrea had gone off shopping very early. I was a bit miffed as I wanted to see how Andrea looked, but they were gone before I came downstairs. Mummy said that Andrea looked very pretty, so that was good.

As we approached the ground, my heart started beating faster–as it always did. The traffic got heavier and soon we could see fans in Melchester hats and scarves heading for the imposing twin towers that marked the impressive main entrance to the stadium. It amazed me why fans went to the game so early. It was nearly two hours until kick off and an hour before the gates opened. Everyone had a ticket–it was the usual sell-out–so why go so early?

I shrugged my shoulders and just pulled my Melchester beanie hat down a bit more; I didn’t want to be recognised.

We pulled up at the players and officials entrance and were waived through. There were lots of people by the gate, but I don’t think that I was recognised. We stopped outside the player’s entrance and shortly after Danni and Charlotte parked next to us in their car; it shows how good they were at their job, I didn’t even know that they were with us. Thinking about it, that was probably the idea.

Everyone else went one way and I went the other, through the player’s entrance and along the passage that led to the changing rooms, treatment room and finally out to the pitch. I had arrived here early on purpose: I wanted to see the manager and then get myself in the right frame of mind for the game.

Pushing open the changing room door, I took in the familiar smells that the room always had; the slight odour of stale sweat and men. It didn’t really bother me; it was something that I was used to except I noticed that the man-smell seemed different–stronger–to me now. My changing cubicle was number 16–the same as my age. I pulled the door open and there was my kit, ready to be put on. I closed the door behind me and quickly changed. It was nice to get back into the football kit again. After pulling up my stockings, putting in the shin guards and then lacing up my boots, I pulled on my trackies and went to see if the manager was around yet.

There were a few people about and I exchanged greetings with them as I passed on my way to the boss’s office up on the top floor.

I knocked on his door.

‘Come in.’

He was writing something down so I waited until he was finished. Looking up as he put his pen down, he smiled. ‘Hi, wee lassie. How are ye?’

‘Fine thanks, boss.’

‘Good. Weel, sit ye doon then.’

I sat down opposite him and waited. He looked at me for a moment and then sighed.

‘I am sorry that that damn paper published a’ that crap aboot ye.’

‘So am I.’

‘Ye know the club backs ye tae the hilt? We’re no’ one of those damn clubs that drop people at the slightest whiff o’ a scandal. Even if ye had been taking drugs, we would’a tried tae help.’

‘I know, boss, and I’m very grateful.’

‘Aye, weel, anyway, back tae business. I wanted tae put ye on the subs bench, but we have a few more injuries and I’d like ye tae start. Can ye dae it?’

‘Of course, boss.’

He looked at me again, weighing up what I had said.

‘Okay, lass, ye start. Off ye go, I have work tae dae even if ye haven’t.’

‘Right, boss.’

I got up and started to leave.

‘Oh and, Susan.’

I turned back.

‘Welcome back, lassie.’

I went back downstairs with a warm fuzzy feeling. I was at home with this club and the fact that I was a player here made me feel on top of the world. I know I had gone to hell and back over the last few months but it was worth it.

As I walked into the dressing room, I was surprised to see that most of the players had arrived. We were lucky here in as much as the players all had individual changing cubicles that opened off the main central area. There was a plunge bath off to the right, through swing doors but there was no way I was ever going to use that. There were also individual shower cubicles so that meant that I wasn’t compromising myself and neither were the other players. We knew that there might be problems at away grounds, but that was being looked at by the backroom staff and I would worry about it if and when to the problem arose.

In the distance I could hear the increased volume of the crowds as they filled the stadium. I sat on a bench next to Phil Able, a player recently promoted from the reserves. He looked nervous; it was his first match at this level, although he did play in a minor cup match the previous season. We didn’t have much chance to talk as the boss swept in and started to give one of his famously brief team talks.

‘Right, Tamar are a canny team and although in the bottom half of the table they play good, solid fitba’. They have had no injuries tae speak of this year and their new manager, Kenny Rogers is a clever wee man. Watch out for Kearchov, the striker and Millins the midfielder. They can create chances out o’ nothing. Oh, most of you know that bugger, Lance Davies; he’s the dirtiest full back in the game. I want you to attack from the beginning and give the buggers the fright o’ their lives. Spray the ball aboot, use the wings and don’t fall into the offside trap. Aff ye go.’

He got up and walked out leaving us to follow him.

We ran out on the pitch for a warm up and the roar of the crowd gave me goose bumps. The other team were already out and were doing the usual warm-ups. I took no notice of them and ran up and down our half several times to get my legs going and warmed up. Then I kicked a ball about with the others and before long we were blowing hard.

We were called in by the assistants and soon we lined up in the tunnel to come out. I was getting strange looks from the other team, but I kind of ignored them. Why are men so fascinated with bums and tits? I knew this could happen and hoped that I would be treated as a normal player and not one with two left feet and horns when the game started.

The crowd roared as we exited the tunnel. I saw several Banners with Susan Hurst on them and could hear some chanting that included my name. It was funny too, looking at the crowd, I could swear that there were a lot more women in, but that might just be my fancy.

The game started and I was soon in the thick of it. I managed to do my usual spraying of the ball around and we soon had them on the defensive. I was a bit worried about Tamar’s hard man Lance Davies and I had only just managed to avoid a crunching tackle by literally jumping over his flailing leg a second before I got hit.

He gave me a nice smile though so I thought that it probably wasn’t personal.

Ogsood, chipped over a defender in the twenty-seventh minute and managed to beat the goalkeeper and slipped the ball under his body.

‘GOAL!’

We ran up and were all over Ogsood like a rash. We were one up and they had barely managed to get out of their half yet!

The game restarted and it was now end to end stuff as Tamar stopped their purely defensive tactics in favour of attack–to even the game up.

I noticed that there were no concessions being given by Tamar that I was a girl. Several times I was tackled quite roughly and managed to get more than one bruise in the process. I had done my bit for the team by sending in several crosses, only to find that we didn’t take advantage of them. A couple of shots went wide; on one occasion I hit the post and it didn’t help that their keeper, Saleem, was playing a blinder and stopping everything we were throwing–or rather kicking–at him.

In the forty-fourth minute, I managed to wrestle away from a Tamar defender. I was about thirty yards from the goal area with two opposing players coming up fast and no teammates nearby. I jinked to the right and then to the left, dragged the ball towards me with the sole of my boot, feinted once again to the left and leaving them floundering in my wake, I sprinted with the ball towards the goal. The keeper spread himself wide and tried to narrow the angle, but I hit it hard and low and the sheer speed got him as it went past his outstretched fingertips and slammed into the net.

‘GOAL!’

I was mobbed by the team and the stadium went wild. This was why I put up with all the rubbish and at that moment I knew that it would take a hell of a lot to stop me playing the game that I loved.

Soon the whistle blew for half time and we all trooped off to the applause of our loyal fans.

The boss was brief in his appraisal of how things were going so far.

‘Good game, lads and lass. They’ll try tae tak’ ye apart in the second half. We don’t need to chase for the goal, just play as ye normally do but take no chances. Pick up on any loose balls and make them pay for it and above all, don’t get booked or sent off. They will fall over if ye so much as breathe on ’em so be careful and try not tae lose oor advantage.’

The second half started much the same as the first half ended, with Tamar on the attack, trying to claw back a game that was getting away from them. The crowd was chanting and the managers were both screaming undecipherable instructions from the touchline. Then it started to rain–hard.

A veritable deluge of water was coming down and we were all soaked in seconds. You could barely see the other side of the pitch and I wondered why the ref didn’t stop the game. Soon we were all slipping and sliding all over the shop and the ball either skidded across the surface or got stuck in the mucky patches, especially around the goal areas and the centre circle.

We started to use the wings a bit more as the ball didn’t play about so much. I slid over more than once on the ball and it was all getting a bit silly. Eventually the rain eased off and then stopped and the game started to pick up pace again.

After twenty-five minutes, they got lucky. The ball got deflected off the referee’s backside just outside the box and it landed at the feet of Tamar’s leading scorer, Kearchov who rifled the ball into the back of the net.

Sniffing the possibility of a draw, Tamar pressed on and came close to scoring on two further occasions. We were on the back foot now, trying to hold on to our slender lead. I was being pegged back by Lance Davies who was man to man–or rather woman–marking me. He had this smile on his face, like he knew that I was only a girl and that there was no way I would get past him. He was a rough player and was known as someone who would try to get away with things if the ref wasn’t looking.

Our midfielder, Mark Turner, managed to get the ball out to me and I immediately sprinted up the field, passing one player and then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Davies rushing toward me. I was half way in Tamar’s half, just inside the touchline. It was tricky because out there, the ball tended to skid along a bit and then hold when it came up against a puddle. I stumbled slightly as the ball almost stopped dead in some water and the next thing I knew was I was knocked flying by Lance’s foot, studs up, hitting the back of my thigh.

The crowd went mad. Lance, looking as innocent as a babe, tried to pull me up, so I just told him to piss off–in a ladylike manner, of course!

‘Well,’ he said, ‘the little girl has a foul mouth,’ he said bending down and shouting in my ear, ‘Tom is a mate of mine and that was for him.’

All this happened in a moment and soon we were surrounded with players from both sides. Our physio, John Smart, was doing something with his magic spray to my painful leg as the ref went up to Davies and showed him a red card. There were protestations from the Tamar players and Lance was equally screaming at the ref that I had fallen, it was an accident and anyway, why the fuck was a girl playing a man’s game anyway?

Lance left the pitch to boos from the crowd and I got onto my feet, the spray doing wonders in the short term, but undoubtedly I would really feel the pain later on.

I went into the penalty area as the free kick was taken. Being small, I was just inside the penalty area. I had no height, so it was pointless my trying to outjump the six foot plus players in the melee.

Arnold looped the ball over towards the goal and it seemed to hang there a bit before falling to a Tamar defender who sort of had an idea to kick it up the pitch, but instead sliced the ball to little me.

On the volley, I hit it sweetly and the ball flew into the top corner of the net.

‘GOAL!’

Once again, I was mobbed by the team and the crowd went wild. I could hear chants of Soozie…Soozie…Soozie…Soozie… coming from around the ground as we made our way back to the centre circle to kick off again, but I was limping a bit as the reaction to the mauling that I had from Lance started to make itself felt.

A few minutes after the resumption, I was called off by Mr McPherson; I limped off field to the cheers of the crowd and was taken straight down to the treatment room.

The Doctor was there and I had to strip my sodden shorts off so that he could have a good look at it. After a moment he looked up and smiled.

‘You’ll live, young lady, it’s only soft tissue damage. You’ll get a nice colourful bruise and it will be a bit painful for a few days. You should be okay for the game next week. Come in tomorrow and we’ll do some ultra-sound on the area. Go and have a hot shower and then get changed. When you get home take something cold out of the freezer, like a pack of frozen peas and put the bag on the sore area. In the meantime, is it very painful?’

‘A bit.’

‘Right.’

He gave me an injection for the pain and then told me that I could go.

After thanking him, I had a quick shower, put on my trackies and Melchester coat and went out to the pitch side. I sat with the subs who all high fived me and watched the end of the game. It was only a few minutes later that the whistle blew and we had won 3 — 1. It was a good game in spite of my injury and I was really thrilled to be back playing again.

After the match, I found myself in the club hospitality room with some of the other players with their wives and friends. Daddy and Claire were there too and it was obvious that Claire was loving every minute of it and lapping it all up.

She rushed over to me and gave me a big hug.

‘Like, you were, like, awesome.’

‘I didn’t do too badly did I?’ I laughed.

Daddy walked over, a glass of beer in his hand.

‘Hello, sweetheart, how’s your leg?’

‘It throbs a bit, but not too bad.’

‘That Lance is an animal.’

‘And he’s a friend of my “favourite” goalie–Tom Johansson.’

As I took a short swig of Coke I looked up and there he was–Lance Davies–talking to a couple of his team mates. He saw me and smiled and then blew me a kiss.

Daddy saw my expression and then saw who I was looking at.

‘Is there something going on?’ he asked.

‘I can handle it,’ I said through gritted teeth.

I was distracted by Sandy McPherson coming up with an older man, instantly recognisable as our club chairman, Alf Battersby.

Alf was a legend in football. He used to play in the early sixties for Melchester and swore that one day he would own the club. He had been very successful in business, becoming a multimillionaire in textiles by the age of forty five. He bought the club when things were a bit tight after the new stadium was built and he hadn’t looked back since. I had met him a few times on the training ground and knew that there was no one else to rival his passion for the club.

‘Well done, young Susan,’ he said, smiling.

‘Thank you Sir.’ I replied, blushing furiously.

‘How’s the leg, lass?’

‘Painful.’

‘Aye, it would be. Mind you, in my day we used ter play on with broken bones and all sorts. Now it’s all powder puff stuff. Didn’t even have subs in them days so yer had ter play on. Anyway, I need another pint; coming, Sandy? ’

Sandy looked at me and winked and then followed the chairman to the bar.

By now I was feeling a bit uncomfortable because the jab that the doctor had given me was beginning to wear off. After saying goodbye to a few people we made our way out of the club room. As I passed Lance he looked at me and leered. I felt like going over and smacking his smug ugly face, but it wasn’t me who was going to miss the next three matches for being sent off more than once and having a persistent bad record. Anyway, I had an image to try to keep and hitting Lance would only give me more unwanted publicity.

Sometimes I loathe being in the limelight.

To Be Continued...

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing, making suggestions that I hadn't even thought of and pulling the story into shape.