Previously...

'What's up?' I asked as I looked at their solemn faces.

'Andrea is missing. She didn't go to school, even though Charlotte dropped her off at the gates. The head mistress rang and asked about where she was and if she was sick or something.'

'Where is she?' I asked.

'That’s what I am trying to tell you. We can't find her and she isn't answering her phone. A photo has appeared on the internet and has gone viral. What possessed you to kiss like that in public?'

‘I love her.’

‘I know, but you know what the press are like. They jump on things like that and love to make trouble.’

I looked at my phone and saw that there was a message from her; why I hadn't looked before, I didn't know. Normally, I looked every few minutes but I had somehow turned off the speaker and not bothered to look for any messages. I had been too wrapped up in myself, as usual.

I pressed the button and listened to her lovely voice.

‘Sorry Sue, I can't take any more of this at the moment. Tell Mum that I will ring her tomorrow when I get my head around what has happened. I love you, but I don't think that I am as strong as you. I never wanted to be in the limelight, but now it looks like my face is going to appear in some sleazy paper and get plastered all over the Internet. I need to think. Don't try to find me. Just give me a bit of space, sorry.’

She had been crying as she left her voicemail and my heart bled for her and for me too. I had found the love of my life and now it looked like I was going to lose her.

So I had to choose which was more important to me; my love life or my career.

And now the story concludes

Andrea had disappeared out of sight and no one knew where she had gone.

Auntie Monica was frantic with worry, Claire looked shell shocked and I–Well I felt all of those things and above all guilty for putting her through all the heartache.

Why, oh why did I kiss her like that, in public? I should have known that my every move was being watched by the scummy press.

Andrea had been through so much and now this.

It wasn’t enough that my whole family had been dragged through the mire and media circus that now was my life; or that my actions had hurt the one person that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I had been selfish, unthinking and not thought through the ramifications of my actions.

I felt ashamed of myself and angry that I couldn’t have any sort of normal life and that my actions could have such an effect on others who were more important to me than any sort of transient fame that I might have through football.

I sat in my room and tried again and again to contact Andrea. I texted her and left many messages, but I had no idea if they were being read or even if she was able to read them.

In my mind’s eye, I thought the worst. After she was attacked at her old school by those boys, I knew that she was vulnerable. She had, with Claire, gone through hell when Monica was so ill and close to death.

Of course, I was so wrapped up in my own so called problems, I didn’t see past the end of my nose and realise that I was not by myself in all this. What I did reflected on those around me.

I had failed and failed miserably.

I stayed in my room. I wasn’t interested in food or sleep.

Auntie Monica came in and gave me a big hug saying that it wasn’t my fault and that I shouldn’t blame myself, but that only made me feel worse as I knew that it was.

I just wanted my Andrea to come home.

But she didn’t.

I awoke the next morning and for a moment I felt okay. The sun was streaming in and it looked like it was going to be clear, bright but maybe a bit cold.

I yawned and stretched and then I remembered...

With a sinking heart, I got up, put my wrap on and went downstairs. I hoped against hope that Andrea would in the kitchen with Mrs Moon and digging into a full English breakfast as she sometimes did.

Danni was the only one there and she looked up from her coffee and smiled as I came in.

‘No news?’ I asked with a trembling voice.

‘Not yet, but we are having a trace put on her mobile. The police are cooperating for once and realise that she could be at risk.’

‘I thought that you could trace a mobile if it’s on?’

‘They can, but it is evidently switched off at the moment.’

‘Why?’

‘She doesn’t want to be found maybe. She’s very clever, but you know that.’

‘Yes, she was always a bit of a wiz.’

‘Look on the bright side, she did promise to make contact today sometime. We will just have to await developments.’

‘It’s all my fault!’

‘No it isn’t; all you want to do is have a normal life. You are both only 16 and want things to be as normal as possible.’

‘But I’m not normal. I am so called ‘famous’. My face is plastered across billboards, I am regularly on TV and radio and millions watch me play football. I can handle it–well I thought I could– but why should the people I love have to have all the drawbacks and none of the good things?’

‘Because they choose to; Andrea knew what she was getting into. She knew that you would be followed wherever you went and if she was with you, she would have some attention too.’

‘But she’s vulnerable.’

‘And you are not?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Look at what you have gone through to be where you are now. It hasn’t all been fun and games has it? The very fact that Charlotte and I are here is because you are vulnerable too. You have been threatened, attacked and been subjected to hate campaigns and sick letters.’

‘But that is what I chose; not the hate things–I decided that I would continue because I loved playing for Melchester and England. That was my decision and that decision has meant that others, especially Andrea are suffering because of it.’

‘You cannot decide what others can or cannot do. They decide for themselves. The fact that Andrea has run off is more to do with the fact that she can’t cope at the moment. Once she contacts us we can go forward and decide what can be done.’

By this time I was almost sobbing and she was hugging me tightly. I was a wreck and nothing that she could say would make me feel better.

‘Look Sue, go back up stairs, have a shower and get dressed. Knowing Andrea, she won’t wait too long before she contacts us and she won’t want to hear that you are falling apart over this.’

I gave her a final hug and realised that what she said made some sort of sense.

I wiped my eyes and then blew my nose on a tissue.

‘Where is everyone?’

‘Claire is in her room and has asked to be left alone. Your parents and Monica are in your father’s office with a couple of policemen; Charlotte is there too. I have to go and join them. Now please do as I ask and get yourself dressed and then if anything occurs you will be in a position to help, if needed.’

This was a new tough love type attitude from Danni and I could see that it made some sort of sense, so I left her and went back upstairs. I passed Claire’s door and could hear loud music coming from the other side. This was her way of coping with things– blasting her ears away rather than thinking about what might or might not happen to her sister.

Me? Well I was a deep thinker and just couldn’t get out of my head what I had done. If anything happened to Andrea...

I had the shower and washed my hair. Despite the hot water coursing down my body, I shivered slightly as my thoughts grew darker.

I imagined her in a ditch somewhere; maybe kidnapped. She might be in a hovel or a shed, under the arches of a railway station with just a cardboard box to keep her warm. There were nasty people out there who could easily take advantage of her...

I slapped my hand against the white tile in frustration.

‘Ouch!’

I pulled back from those horrible thoughts. Andrea was clever. She had money. The worse thing that she would do would be find a motel and stay there until the heat was off.

Eventually, I got dressed and went downstairs.

We were sitting in the breakfast room; not much was being said. I was sipping my tea, Claire was reading a teen mag distractedly and Mummy and Daddy were making polite conversation about nothing in particular. I think all of our thoughts were with Andrea.

All eyes lifted as Auntie Monica came into the room. She looked tired, almost ill and had dark circles under her eyes.

‘She’s called,’ said Auntie with relief in her voice.

We started to barrage her with questions, but she held up her hand as she sank wearily into her seat. She had been up all night and to be honest, she looked it. Mind you, I don’t think that any of us had slept much either.

‘She’s safe; staying with Alison.’

Alison was Auntie Monica’s sister–therefore Andrea and Claire’s aunt.

‘Alison was sworn to secrecy and promised not to tell us where Andrea was until this morning. Danni and Charlotte are talking to the police, so that the search can be called off.

‘How is she?’ asked Claire in a small, shaky voice.

‘Okay, but still very upset; she blames herself...’

‘What!’ I exclaimed, ‘how can she possibly think that it’s her fault? I was the one to do something stupid.’

‘She thinks that she showed too many signs of affection in public. You know, touching hands, putting her arm in yours. The kiss was started by you, but she didn’t exactly shy away from it, according to her.’

‘This is fact,’ I said firmly, ‘It’s all my fault...’

‘Using the blame game will help nobody, especially you and Andrea. For God’s sake you are both only 16, you shouldn’t be expected to act all grown up when you were children just a few years ago. It takes time to learn how to behave in public and private in an adult manner that is acceptable to our, so called, tolerant society. You learn by your mistakes. The mistake you made in this case was forgetting that same sex relationships are still frowned on by many people. It’s totally wrong and shouldn’t happen, but it does and until humanity grows up and lets people live the lives that they want to, you have to be careful as you and the people around you can get hurt by your actions.

‘If we were in a boy girl relationship, nothing would have happened....’

‘You would still have had the press after you for juicy pictures, but having a lesbian element to them just fuels the tabloids sick sense of what they consider juicy news.’

I had nothing to say to that. Mummy can be brutally honest sometimes and what I was hearing wasn’t exactly nice.

I turned to Auntie Monica.

‘When is she coming home?’ I asked.

She hesitated for a moment and looked a bit sad.

‘She wants time out for a few days and then will decide.’

‘She is coming home, isn’t she?’

’She might stay at school until the end of term.’

I gasped.

This was a totally unexpected shock to me. The private school that Claire and Andrea went to was a day and also a boarding school.

I burst into tears.

Later I sat in my room, starring at the ceiling. I was happy that Andrea was okay and safe, but mortified that she didn't want to come home.

I could understand why she did it. She wanted some space. Living with me at moment was an uphill struggle. I suppose that I felt that love would conquer all and that the true love that we had for each other would be enough for us to overcome the fact that we lived in a sort of a goldfish bowl.

Maybe it wasn’t enough to just be in love.

Three days later I was at Wembley for a pre World Cup Friendly against Germany.

I was on the bench as a sub and hoped that I would get a game, if only to take my mind off my problems for a bit. Being Germany, our arch rivals since 1966 and before, there was an extra spice to the game. The trouble was, I was in no mood to play, but I was told in no uncertain terms by Daddy that my chances of being picked for the World Cup matches next month would be improved if I put on a decent display if I managed to play.

On the trip down from Melchester with Daddy driving and me in the back, lounging about and listing to music on my iPhone, I had plenty of time to brood. Andrea had decided to stay at school. I had a brief text from her saying that she was sorry and that she would contact me soon, but nothing else.

No pictures of us appeared in the UK press due to restrictions, but the internet was something different and not subject to many of the restrictions imposed by regulations.

Several pics appeared on news websites, Facebook and Twitter and it was not the best publicity that we could have hoped for. Many of the comments on websites, blogs and tweets were supportive but others were vitriolic in their condemnation of our actions. You would have thought that we had murdered a baby and ate it in that restaurant rather than showing a bit of affection for each other.

I couldn’t blame Andrea for what she did. She didn’t ask for the attention, but I suppose I did. When you are in the public eye, you can’t just take the good bits, you have to expect to be criticised sometimes. I just wished that critics would treat us fairly. Of course the religious nuts were out in full force. We were condemned to hell and damnation in certain religious circles. If, when I die, people like that were in heaven, I think that I would prefer hell!

Everyone had tried to cheer me up, but I was in a black mood and it wouldn't lift.

Claire was in contact with Andrea at school and she told me that she was a bit quiet and withdrawn. I didn't know what to think about that. I wondered if she missed me as much as I missed her.

But life goes on. No doubt people would laugh at my preoccupation with my personal problems, after all the world was at my feet. I had money, success and a job that I loved. Many people had nothing and just ‘got on with it’.

When we arrived at Wembley, I momentarily forgot my worries as the seething mass of fans entered our major football stadium. Flags were everywhere - mainly English ones, but a fair smattering of German ones too. There were placards and banners, some even with my name on, which made me blush for some reason.

The noise was terrific and when some fans saw me, they started shouting and screaming my name. I just hoped that by the end of the match, they would have something nice to shout about!

The day before, we had trained on the Wembley pitch, behind closed doors. Although the Germany match was a friendly one, the manager considered that it was an important preparation match for the World Cup and he and his team were treating it very seriously.

Unfortunately, my problems off pitch were affecting my performance on the pitch and I was less than 100%. I was slow, lethargic and lacked the normal zip that featured when playing or training.

Hence the fact that I was not in the starting line-up. I suppose I was lucky to be on the subs bench.

Other members of the squad tried to cheer me up- they were a good bunch of lads - but nothing helped. I was like a love sick puppy.

The whistle blew and the game started to the roar of the thousands of fans that packed the stadium. The only empty seats were in the VIP and hospitality sections of the stands where eating, drinking and socialising seemed more important than the match.

I sat huddled up in my coat and watched the game with the other subs, just behind the Stanislav Anatolyev our manager, Craig Sherriton assistant manager and others in the management and medical team.

The game was a hard one, where two teams, evenly matched, tried to take over the midfield but managed to get bogged down. There wasn’t much goalmouth action and to be honest it was a bit of a sterile performance by both teams.

The crowd grew quiet and then restless. This wasn’t what they were looking for. They wanted signs that we were a match winning team with at least a slim chance of lifting the World Cup. Instead, we were losing the ball to the opposition, staying more in our own half rather that Germany’s and not taking advantage of the few opportunities that arose.

Stanislav was going mental on the touchline and the volatile Russian was, I think, swearing a bit, I wasn’t sure I as didn’t understand his lingo. The FIFA official was having a hard time holding him back and I didn’t envy him his job.

The crowd roared as Phillips crossed the ball and Nicholson, our beefy centre forward, rose up and headed the ball strongly into the net.

The crowd roared. Stanislav went mad; the rest of us stood up and screamed ‘GOAL!’

The ref disallowed the goal for offside.

‘B****r,’ said Rob Dyson, another sub sitting next to me.

It was one of those days.

Ten minutes before half time, Craig Phillips was fouled and went down. He was rolling about the pitch and it was amazing the ref didn’t book Brandt, the Neanderthal centerback with the brain the size of a pea.

Brandt looked all innocent and angelic and tried to help Craig up by yanking his arms off. Our captain, Rob Jones didn’t like that and unfortunately lost his temper and gave the German a Glaswegian Kiss or in English, he head-butted the German giant.

Jones was sent off and Phillips was stretchered off. Brandt just grinned and seemed to enjoy the fact that he just got away with a yellow card.

I was told to warm up quickly and I dashed up and down the side of the pitch and did some stretches to get warmed up.

In no time I was on the pitch and trying to look like a professional footballer at the top of my game, but my game was off as it had been for days and I couldn’t seem to do anything right. I kept losing the ball, miss-passing and generally looking like I shouldn’t be there.

The screams of delight that the fans had shown on my arrival on the pitch, didn’t last and I was very grateful when the whistle blew for half time and we came off the pitch.

Stanislav Anatolyev was not a happy man. He thought that our performance was on par with a Sunday football game at the local recreation ground. But after having a go at us, he tried to build us up again, telling us what he wanted us to do and giving each of us instructions for the second half.

Our captain Rob Jones looked really down as it doesn’t look very good when the captain of England commits grievous bodily harm on another player and then gets sent off, no matter how provoked he was.

We were called to go back out on the pitch. I was still a very unhappy bunny. Everything seemed to be going wrong. I was playing terribly and I just couldn’t get out of my head the fact that I may have lost Andrea.

We walked up the tunnel, boots scraping and clattering on the floor. I was miles away and then jumped as someone touched my arm.

‘Daddy!’

‘Hi Susan are you okay?’

‘Not really,’ I said as the rest of the team went out in front of me.

‘I have a note for you.’

Puzzled, I took it and opened the folded paper. It said in capitals:

‘I haven't got time for riddles,’ I said sharply.

He smiled, ignored my rudeness and said, ‘just do it for me, OK.’

I just shrugged and walked out the tunnel. The noise of the fans grew louder and louder as I approached the pitch. I was kind of dreading going out there. Normally it excited me, playing football and the great rush that I felt, especially on a big game day, but today, I thought that I had two left feet and I found that my lack of concentration very hard to deal with.

I almost forgot to look up at the director’s box but peering up I tried to make out who was there.

My heart leaped as I saw Andrea!

She was smiling and waving frantically.

I waved back, blew her a kiss; managed to get a couple of thousand cat calls and with a much lighter heart, I ran onto the pitch.

My black mood had lifted. It was like coming out of a cloud, leaving a dark tunnel, going through a dreadful storm unhurt–you get the picture; Susan was now a happy bunny again.

There is a cliché that says that ‘football is a game of two halves’ and one manager said that his team never turned up in either. You could not have said that of us.

We were down to ten men and the Germans had that ‘we are superior’ look on their collective faces. They thought that they were going to roll us over, but we were English and had survived the Blitz and everything that Germany could throw at us in the war. This was a war that we were going to win.

The whistle blew. Ninety thousand people cheered. It was if they knew that they had to gee up their respective teams on.

The ball came to me, I passed it Glen Roberts who in turn punted it up the field towards our centre forward Nicholson, who stopped it with his chest, turned on a sixpence and then drilled it into the net past the flailing hands of Gloeckner.

‘GOAL!’

Eighty-two thousand fans shouted with relief and we were mobbing Tommy Nicholson. I kissed him on the lips and hoped against hope that the eagle eyed press and millions watching on the TV.

It went viral on the internet ten minutes after the game–que sera sera.

I’m such a girl sometimes!

The game restarted and Germany were on the back foot. They tried to counterattack but found themselves penned in their own half. They packed their defence and did everything they could to keep us out bar building a brick wall in front of their goal.

We peppered their goal with shots. I hit the post once and then the crossbar. Others were doing their bit and you could see that the enemy–I mean our esteemed opponents–were having a bad day in the office.

Every time I got the ball I tried to do something with it. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t. One time I got the ball on the half way line, passed the ball to Alfie Baker, who ran on past two defenders and then I received the return pass. After doing a little jink to the right and then left, I fired the ball at the goal. It hit the crossbar and fell at the feet of Nicholson, who volleyed home.

‘GOAL!’

This was Roy of the Rovers stuff. We were only 2-0 up, but we were all over them like a rash–with only 10 men on the field!

In the very occasional lull in the proceedings, like the time when a German player tripped on a blade of grass and needed artificial respiration, I looked up at the director’s box and when I thought that no one was looking I gave the small but recognisable Andrea a little wave.

Another YouTube moment and here was I trying to keep a low profile. Mind you, what more damage could there be. We had been outed now, so this stuff was very tame.

Germany used all their subs to try to break us down. In fact we had a few hairy moments when they actually managed to get a few corners and came close to scoring. But in the main they were packed into their own half trying to stop us scoring again.

The crowd started chanting ‘Give us another’ and we tried our best. However it’s difficult to score when there are 11 men parked in and around their goal.

With two minutes to go, it looked like it was going to stay 2 nil, but Gloeckner, their keeper punted the ball up field and Mueller, their centre forward did a sort of smash and grab raid and actually scored a fine individual goal. The ball shot into the net and it was now 2-1 to us.

The Germans then surprisingly returned to their defence lines and didn’t seem to bother going for a draw.

There were 3 minutes extra time and things were winding down. We still tried our best to score, as we wanted quite frankly, to humiliate them as they had done to us on more than one occasion.

I was still on a high, and was eventually given the ball. I looked up and saw the defensive might of Germany lined up against us. I always liked history and I drew comparisons with the past. It looked a bit like the Maginot Line with their team strung across the park like that and our players being closely marked, all except little me as I was jumping around all over the pitch like a spring lamb and making a nuisance of myself. Perhaps they thought that a girl like me would be harmless and less of a threat to their maleness.

I remembered how the Germans got around the Maginot line and I thought that it would be nice to give them a bit of their own medicine.

I chipped the ball over a couple of Germans heading toward me, went around the side, slightly off the pitch, ran back on again, picked up the ball, floated toward the goal and shot from about twenty yards. The ball bent away to the right and dipped alarmingly before hitting the back of the net.

I wasn’t sure about the rules, but the ref didn’t blow for a foul and therefore it was...

‘GOAL!’

Being in a silly mood and not quite right in the head, I just curtsied to the crowd, blew them a collective kiss and then ten tons of man flesh flattened me into the Wembley turf as my teammates did their best to either congratulate or suffocate me.

It took a few minutes for the ref and his assistants to calm things down a bit and a few seconds after the game was restarted the whistle blew.

We had won 3-1 and things looked great for the World Cup!

The worst of it was I broke a nail and that meant having to file them all down to be equal–damn!

I didn’t want to do any interviews after the game and for once I didn’t have to. I had my shower and got dressed. I was wearing my usual Melchester Trackies and my hair was scrunchified. I put on some light makeup and made myself presentable.

A few minutes later, congratulations ringing in my ears as I passed people, I made my way up to the director’s lounge and box.

Most of the other lads from both teams were already in the lounge with their respective management and esteemed guests as I walked in. There was a sudden hush and I wondered if I still had mud on my nose or something.

They all clapped and I felt myself go red as a beetroot.

Soon I was surrounded by people and it was a bit disconcerting that everyone seemed to think that I had played a blinder. Even the Germans were magnanimous in defeat and they all seemed such nice guys–well that would true until I next saw them on a pitch!

After twenty minutes of this, I was allowed to go my own way. I looked for my family, who had sort of stayed in the background during the love fest. Mum hugged me, Claire shrieked and hugged me and Auntie Monica wasn’t backward in being forward either!

I looked for Andrea and was disappointed that she wasn’t there. Maybe she had to get back to school...

Daddy touched my shoulder, making me jump. He was doing a lot of that lately and I was going to be a nervous wreck if he kept on appearing at my elbow like that.

‘Come on.’ He said taking me by the arm and leading me over to a door.

‘Go in,’ he said.

I opened the door and went into the side room.

Andrea was standing their looking beautiful in a very classy, cream off the shoulder dress.

I ran over and hugged her.

Things then got a bit hot for a minute or two as we hugged, kissed and generally did things that our parents might not approve of, but probably did themselves at our age.

I put her down after a while and we were a both a bit dishevelled and in need of emergency makeup repairs.

There was a sofa in the corner and hand in hand we went over and sat in it.

‘I thought that I had lost you.’ I said breathlessly.

‘Never that love. It was all a bit too much for me at the time. You know that I’m not really one for the limelight. I panicked and just ran. I know that being with you means that I won’t have much of a private life, but I can’t not be with you. Do you know what I mean?’

‘I feel the same. The last few days have been hell for me...’

We hugged again and had a little cry. Being all girlie can be very emotional. I couldn’t imagine a boy called Mark ever being like this, but let’s face it, there never really was a boy called Mark, it was a girl having to pretend for years to be someone she wasn’t.

It was the same for Andrea. She had struggled with her identity, hiding her emotions, being a girl trapped in the wrong body and now on top of everything, she had a girlfriend who spends most of her life in the spotlight. It was lovely that we no longer had to hide our feelings any more. Girls do cry more than boys. Maybe if boys cried more and let their true feelings out, there might be less angst in the world.

‘I can’t say that I like our private life being sort of public,’ said Andrea as she snuggled up to me on the sofa, ‘but we will get through it; but I have to stay at school for a while.’

‘Why?’

‘Because of my exams. I can’t concentrate at home and with all the distractions...’

‘Am I a distraction then?’ I asked with mock severity and batting my eyelashes.

She laughed.

‘Too true, girl. When I see you or touch you, I just want to do naughty things with you like painting your body in chocolate and licking it off.’

‘Ooh you do have the nicest ideas!’

The papers were full of the game the next morning. I had gone to bed in a knackerized state and I hadn’t bothered to watch the highlights of the match. Mummy always recorded my matches anyway and I thought that I might have a look later. Like all games, I had had a low feeling after the match. The huge adrenalin rush of the game always had a downside, especially if it was as exciting as that had been!

Andrea had gone back to school but promised to ring me later and regularly. I still felt it was a shame that she couldn’t be with me, attached to my hip all the time, but I recognised that her exams were important and she needed to concentrate.

Claire came into my bedroom just as I was getting out of my nightie.

‘Oooh, you could knock,’ I said.

‘What, yea, right. Look, see this.’

She had her iPad and as I slipped on my wrap, I went over to her and saw what she was talking about.

It was a YouTube clip of the game. Not about the game itself, but my antics where I was blowing kisses and doing little waves at the director’s box and then my curtsy to the crowd after the goal. Talk about embarrassing!

Then my parents came in, without knocking. I should just leave the door open, what was the point?

Daddy had some newspapers in his hand and pushed the top one in my face.

I groaned. I wasn’t back page news I was plastered all over the front!

‘Look at this.’

The curtsy picture was there in all its glory

The headline was:

Other papers had that picture and another one had me waving and blowing kisses and looking like a lovesick bunny. I just wished that the ground would open up and I could do an Alice dive down the hole.

Eventually, I was left alone to get dressed and as I slipped on a silky blouse, I smiled. Well it was a good game!

Next stop, the World Cup and I wondered what would happen. I hoped that it would be a great tournament and that I would do well. This year had had so many ups and downs and I was glad that it had finished on a high. I had my Andrea back and I had done well at the game that I loved.

Hiram was no more and Melchester had high hoped for the next season. I was still the media darling but I hoped sincerely that other girls would come forward and be picked to play for the top clubs. There were girls playing now who were the equal, in my opinion, to some of the men and I longed to play in a game which in all ways was equal and not mainly based on what you did or did not have between your legs.

Danni came in, without knocking. She was in her trackies.

She looked at me and tapped her watch.

‘What?’ I said.

‘You’ve forgotten.’

‘Forgotten what?’

‘The Rec.’

‘I’m not a wreck. I haven’t brushed my hair yet, but...’

‘Not wreck, stupid, The Recreation Ground. You promised to kick off the Under 12’s girls match at The Rec and they want you in your Melchester kit.’

I slapped my forehead with the palm of my hand. I had forgotten the long standing request.

‘Can’t I just wear this lovely blouse and my skirt?’ I whined.

‘No, they specifically requested that you wear your kit and you agreed.’

‘I did?’

‘You did.’

‘Blimey.’

Coming soon if you want the story to continue...The World Cup.
My thanks go to the lovely and talented Holly Hart for editing, and pulling the story into shape.

Please leave comments and kudo thingies...thanks! ~Sue

If you are enjoying this story, The original Penmarris story - Changes Book 1 is now available on Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006NZFWG8 (US)
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Changes-ebook/dp/B006NZFWG8/ref=sr_1... (UK)