I started undressing; after taking off my top, I felt a strong urge to scratch my chest, but couldn’t get at my nipples because of the strapping.

Football Girl

By Susan Brown

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Chapter 11

Previously...

“Right,” said the boss, “I think that’s about it. Oh, one thing, John mentioned the breach of security where you were hassled by that scum of the Earth Bob Ferris. He’s been banned from the ground and training centre. Also, one of the office staff here has been sacked. Don’t worry about him, it turns out that he’s been giving out information for money for the past six months. I go down heavily on anything like that. It’s hard enough in our game to have any sort of privacy and when this happens I don’t take prisoners. Okay, Mark?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Good, what are you still here for then, get down to the dressing room and change for the training match, you have eight minutes…scram.”

I scrammed.

And now the story continues…

1

I ran to the dressing room, luckily the place was empty. Some kit was lying on the bench in the corner. Walking over I could see a polished wood locker and on it was a small brass plate. It had my name on it, well cool!

I started undressing; after taking off my top, I felt a strong urge to scratch my chest, but couldn’t get at my nipples because of the strapping. I donned the red football shirt and shorts, football stockings shin pads and boots. I was as ready as I ever would be. Looking at myself sideways in the floor length mirror I could see that my chest was reasonably flat so I should get away with it–I hoped.

I ran out of the changing room, down the passage and out on the pitch. It was strange going up the stairs to the pitch side. Last time I was here, the noise of the crowd was deafening; this time, the only sound was the players shouting on the pitch. Running over to the others, I just said, “hi,” and then took my position on the field.

The trainer, Phil Jenkins was ref. and a couple of his assistants were linesmen. It was nice that I was accepted and no great fuss was made about my being there, I felt as if I belonged and it was a great feeling. There were a few people in the stand watching the game, probably visitors with a day pass or staff with time on their hands.

Soon the whistle was blown–after dire warnings from Mr Jenkins that if anyone got injured through being recklessly tackled, there would be hell to pay!

The game started off carefully. Everyone was walking on eggshells. No one wanted to tackle or do much else: it was getting a bit ridiculous. I know that we could not afford any more injuries, but this was weird. One of our defenders passed the ball to me and I started move up the pitch with it. On the far left, one of our wingers had his arm out, so I lobbed the ball over a defender and luckily it landed at his feet. I sprinted up field and called for the ball. A blue defender tried blocking me, but I sort of swerved past him and ran towards the box. The ball came toward me but quite low; the goalie was a bit like a fish out of water, he didn’t know whether to stay on his line or come out for the ball.

I was, by this time on the edge of the penalty area, sprinting towards the goal, one eye on the ball and the other on the goalie. I dived and my head met the ball at just above ankle height. I connected sweetly and the ball went into the nearside corner of the net as I collided with the sprawling keeper. My happiness was short lived as felt my neck go into a painful spasm.

I was on the ground waiting for treatment, my neck feeling somewhat sore, to say the least. Petre told me not to move, so I did as I was told. The physio came up and started to feel my neck. Through a forest of legs, I happened to glance at the stand immediately behind the goal. My blood ran cold as I saw my step father staring at me, his cruel face smiling twistedly.

I jumped slightly and closed my eyes as my neck was sprayed with ice cold vapour from a spray can. Sitting up, I looked up at the stand again seeing only empty red seats with no sign of my step father!

The physio was asking something about whether I was okay and I just nodded. Standing up and gingerly moving my neck from side to side, I looked around and couldn’t see my step father anywhere. He must have been an hallucination. I had been through a lot in a relatively short space of time and now I was seeing things!

After being pronounced fit to play again, I found myself slightly more upset than I should have been and it took me a few minutes to get back into the game and focus.

As I got up and looked towards the dugout, I could see Claire jumping up and down like a maniac and shouting “Markie!” Not knowing where to put my red hot face, I just smiled weakly and trotted back to our end.

That goal seemed to break the ice and things loosened up somewhat; I made two goals, sprayed the ball about a bit and just managed to block a shot off our line when the blues had a corner.

One of the goals I made was quite good. We had a free kick about twenty five yards out. Petre kicked the ball to me and just said, “do a bit of magic.”

Not being Harry Potter and being short of a wand anyway, I just thought of something that I noticed had happened quite often with free kicks.

I placed the ball down and looked up. As usual, there was a wall, this time made up of five blues and two of our reds, who were trying to make things a bit difficult for the defenders.

The goal keeper was pacing up and down his line to make sure that all the angles were covered before standing in the middle to await developments.

I stepped four paces back from the ball and looked pointedly to the left hand side of the net. I ran up and shot towards the goal, hesitating for an instant before kicking the ball. As expected the men in the wall were trying to do two things at once, protect their groin area and collectively jumping up to try to stop me lobbing the ball over them.

I did the opposite, as they went up, I kicked the ball hard and low, at ankle height into the right hand side of the net–under the jumping defenders. Unfortunately, the ball clipped the inside of the goal post, but luckily, one of our players managed to bundle the ball over the line and we had our goal.

My side congratulated me and Petre thought that we might play that trick in a real game, but I was a bit miffed that I didn’t score myself.

My neck was still hurting from my first half dive and began to stiffen as the game continued. It was decided to take me off and I was sent to see the physio.

After a few minutes heavy manipulation and a rather painful injection in the neck, the doctor just said rest up for a few days and then go and see him if it hadn’t improved–it didn’t seem that serious.

The game was still going on–it had about twenty minutes to go–so I went into a shower cubicle, undressed quickly and cleaned myself up. I wasn’t able to tape up my breasts by myself and I would have to find an easier way to do things in the future. One of the things that really concerned me was whether I could keep my puffy chest a secret. There was a plunge bath and shower cubicles in the changing rooms and I wondered if I could get away with being a bit shy and just use the cubicles until things were sorted out.

As soon as I had dressed again I was pleased that my rather loose top didn’t draw attention to things. As I finished dressing, the other lads walked in.

“Hi, Mark, good game.”

“Hey, Markie, how’s the neck?”

“You were a lucky bugger, for saving that sure goal.”

There was plenty of banter, all good natured and it felt great that I ‘belonged’.

Then Mr McPherson walked in. He was one of those people who can, by the force of his presence, make a room full of people stop talking.

“Well, lads, good practice. I want to see more commitment on Saturday though. I know we have injury problems and some of you lack first team experience, but Saturday is important and I expect the best, anything less is just not acceptable. Okay, end of lecture.” With that, he nodded to us and walked out.

“Short and sweet.” I said, nearly under my breath.

“Yes,” said Captain, Petre Ogsood, “he is a man of few words but the ones he does say are important. How’s your neck?”

“Much easier, thanks.”

“That’s good; we will need you on Saturday.”

After saying goodbye to the few players remaining, I made my way back to Reception where I knew the others would be waiting. Claire, standing next to Jeff was looking a bit glum again–no doubt worrying about her mum. I went to her and gave her a bit of a hug. Jeff moved away to give us some privacy.

“It’ll be okay, Claire, your mum’s strong and she’s in the best hands.”

“I know.” She sniffed, “but I do worry, I’ve rung the hospital but all they say is that the tests are continuing and I should ring tonight. Because they have put her under, they say I shouldn’t go and visit till tomorrow as she won’t be aware that I’m there. Oh, Sus…I mean, Mark…”

She cried on my shoulder and I took her over to the one of the comfy chairs and sat her down. Jeff brought us over some tea and after drinking it, she said she felt a little better. I tried to cheer her up, but it was hard work. One of the receptionists looked over and looked sympathetic, no doubt thinking that Claire was my girlfriend. Well she is a girl and she is my friend.

We left for home shortly after that. I was waylaid by a number of kids and adults who wanted to say, “hello,” ask for my opinion about Saturday’s game or get an autograph. It was still a bit of a novelty for me to be picked out from the crowd and I wondered if I would ever get used to it. I supposed I should be pleased that there were no press people sniffing around and I still dreaded the possibility of Bob Ferris stalking me with a photographer in tow equipped with a long lens and no scruples.

As we drove off, Jeff kept glancing in his rear view mirror and I think that maybe he had had the same thought as me; was anyone following?

After a few minutes, he seemed to relax somewhat so we were safe–for now. Just then, Claire’s mobile rang, she pulled out the phone from her bag.

“It’s the hospital,” she whispered, her face going as white as a sheet.

“H-h-hello?”

“Yes, it’s Claire…okay, hang on…Jeff, can you take me to the hospital, there’s a problem and they can’t say much on the phone.”

“Okay, love, we’ll be there in–about ten minutes.”

Claire passed on the message and then dropped her phone on the floor. I picked it up and then held her hand.

“What’s up, Claire?”

“I…I don’t know, they can’t talk on the phone they just said that I should get to the hospital as quickly as possible.”

2

We arrived in eight minutes, because Jeff didn’t hang about. We parked as close as possible and ran into the hospital building. Jeff went straight to reception and found out where we needed to go; the fourth Floor, Edith Cavell Ward.

We kept pressing the buttons on the lifts, but nothing was happening so we just used the stairs instead. As we pushed open the swing doors, we were met by a nurse.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes,” said Jeff. “We are looking for Mrs Creasey, Claire, her daughter here, was asked to come as soon as possible.”

“Ah yes, will you come with me please.” She led us down the corridor and showed us into a waiting room. “I won’t be a minute.”

She left us alone. Claire was silent, as white as a sheet and trembling slightly. I only wished that the nurse had told us something, anything about what was going on. I held one of Claire’s hands and Jeff held her other one. Just then a door opened and a lady doctor walked in.

“Claire?”

She nodded, her grip tightening on my hand.

“Thanks for coming so quickly. We thought for a short while that we would lose your mother as she reacted badly to the anaesthetic and the operation. Her heart stopped twice but we managed to stabilise her. Look, there isn’t any easy way to say this; as you know, she was in for tests. She had an exploratory operation to see what the problem was, we found some growths that might be cancerous so the surgeon took immediate action and did a hysterectomy. We think that everything nasty has been taken away but your mum will have to stay in for a while we do some more tests. Now, I believe you have no father?”

“N…no, he died.”

“Sorry to hear that. Who’s looking after you?”

“I am, with my wife.” Jeff replied without any prompting–I do love him, lots!

“That’s good; so this is the situation, she can’t be seen at the moment but she’s stable. She’s been through a lot and is quite weak. She needs lots of rest and as I say, further tests to make sure everything is okay.”

“When can I see her?”

“If you can come after eleven tomorrow morning Claire, she should be okay to see you then.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s all right, dear; now you go home and don’t worry, she’s having the best of care. Now I have to go so I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Claire nodded and the doctor left the room.

3

We were all quiet as we drove home. Claire was in a world of her own. I was worried that she didn’t seem to be upset–just quiet. Obviously she wasn’t going to be the life and soul of the party, but I expected some sort of reaction to the fact that her mother was having such a bad time. I don’t know how I would feel if my own mother up in Scotland had something like that happen to her.

Remembering what my slime ball step-father did to Mum was bad enough and the horror of finding my mum covered in blood due to that man’s brutality would certainly haunt me always; but I sort of knew somehow that my step-father was capable of doing something truly nasty and the fact that the violence did happen was no surprise to me. Let’s face it; something terrible was going to happen sooner or later. No this was different somehow. Claire’s mum didn’t have a violent husband. She had a lovely daughter a great son and as far as I knew, they were all happy. No it was the shock of the illness and how unexpected all this was; that was the thing. One minute everything running smoothly and the next minute–this.

The gates slid open after Jeff keyed in the correct number. I hadn’t noticed that we were home. As we arrived at the house, I was a bit relieved that we had managed to get back without being followed. I knew what I needed to do now–look after Claire without any distractions. Mind you, I didn’t feel up to this. Being fifteen without much experience, I was dreading saying the wrong thing and making everything even worse than it already was.

We opened the car doors and got out. Josie opened the front door and came to us. She took one look at Claire, then hugged her tight. The damn burst and Claire sobbed uncontrollably. I was rather relieved that Josie had taken charge and just watched her and Claire go into the house while Jeff and I got the bags out of the boot.

“I rang Josie earlier when you went to the toilet with Claire. She’s good at this sort of thing. You know she’s a Samaritan?”

I nodded. Josie never talked much about it–confidentiality I think, but I did know that once a week at least, she left Jeff and the kids for several hours to do her voluntary work with those who were suicidal or in need of comforting.

We went into the house; Josie and Claire were nowhere to be seen. I assumed that they had gone off somewhere quiet to talk things over.

Taking my sport bag upstairs, I put it on the floor by the bed and then, with relief, took off my boy clothes. Thirty minutes later, I was Susan again, wearing, lovely silky-soft panties and bra, a denim skirt, a white smock top and sandals. It took moments to apply some light makeup and lippy followed by a couple of minutes brushing my hair. Looking at myself in the mirror, I nodded with satisfaction. It was no good, I so much wanted to be Susan full time, but I couldn’t while I was leading this double life. One day, I knew that I might have to give up one or the other, in the meantime I would have to make do with what I had.

Could I have both? Be a footballer professionally and a girl? Who knows, but it would be nice if I could. This wasn’t the twentieth century any more, and hopefully things move on. Fifty years ago if not less, being openly gay was a crime, now it was near enough normal and accepted. Perhaps boys who wanted to be girls and vice versa might be in a similar position soon?

I sighed and then smiled. At least in my own home I could be me!

When I went downstairs, Claire was in the sitting room cuddling her doll. I hadn’t seen it before and assumed that she brought it with her in her suitcase. I sat down beside her.

“Hi, Claire, what’s your doll’s name?”

“Tracy.”

“She’s nice. Have you had her long?”

“Mummy gave her to me when I was four.”

We were quiet for a minute. I didn’t really know what to say.

“I hope Mummy’s going to be all right.”

“I’m sure she will be. How d’you feel?”

“A bit sick; Josie was nice though. She talked to me and made me feel like, better–a bit. She said that I shouldn’t bottle it all up inside but let it out. I think I’ve cried more today than ever before.”

“I know; it does help. After my mum was attacked I cried buckets.”

She looked at me and smiled.

“Of course, you’ve been through this; thanks for like, being here for me.”

“That’s what friends are for. Have you spoken to your brother?”

“Not yet. I’ve left a message with his scout master and he’s going to tell Andrew. He’s a nice man and he’ll make sure that Andrew doesn’t worry too much.”

“Will Andrew come home?”

“I told the scout master that Mummy is out of danger and it looks like she’s going to be okay. There’s no point in Andrew coming home unless…”

“I’m sure you did right saying that. Let’s face it; Andrew’s better off where he is. If anything happens, he can always come back, can’t he?”

She nodded.

4

We watched some TV and then had something to eat. We were all a bit quiet at the table. That is we were quiet but the twins decided to do some stereo shouting and screaming, so the meal was far from peaceful!

My neck was still quite stiff, so I decided to go up to my room and put on a DVD. Claire came with me and we were soon lying on the bed watching High School Musical 2, not as good as the first one but watchable. At least it helped make us forget about our problems for a few hours. After that we put our coats on and went for a walk around the grounds. It was nice out there, if a bit chilly in the winter air. Soon it started to get dark so we came back indoors again. I went upstairs to ring my mum and I think Claire stayed downstairs with Josie and Jeff.

“Hi, mum, how are you?”

“Fine thanks, love. What’s been happening at your end?”

I told her all about Claire and the practice match. She was sad about Claire’s mum. She knew her slightly evidently as they met up at the school gates sometimes.

“So, Mum, what have you been up to?”

“Not a lot really. It’s true what they say about Scotland and the rain. I had a phone call from the police. I had contacted a solicitor on your aunt’s advice about your step father. He has been banned from trying to get close to me or you until at least after his trial.”

I didn’t tell her about my imagining seeing him at the game because it might have spooked her as much as it did me.

“He doesn’t know where we are, does he?” I asked.

“No, but it pays to be careful.”

“Why did you marry him, mum?” There was silence at the other end for a few moments.

“H…He wasn’t always like this, you know–violent. Things started to get bad after he lost his job for the first time. He started drinking and then he changed. Even after he got his job as a driver, he still drank. I think you were a disappointment to him. When he married me he had a readymade family. I never told you this, but we couldn’t have children because he had a low sperm count. It made him feel less than complete. So he wanted to at least have a step-son with whom he could relate and do things that men do. Apart from the football, you were always a quiet, loving child and I suppose a bit of a pansy in his eyes, you know, preferring to play with girls, not wanting to mix much with other boys–that sort of thing. The only thing he liked was that you were great at football.”

“He never stood on the touchline though.”

“No, he never said why. I think maybe he was punishing you for not being more of a boy in other areas.”

We spoke for a few minutes more and then I said goodbye. With my step-father out of prison, Mum thought it best to put off coming to visit me, though I could tell that she was dying to see me and the new place that we were living in.

Josie was in the kitchen when I went back downstairs.

“Hi, Mummy.”

“Hello, Susan, how’s Claire?”

“She’s okay, she’s in her room watching TV. Thanks for having a word with her.”

“That’s okay, she’s a nice girl and I feel for her.”

“Do you talk to many kids when you are doing your Samaritan thing?”

“I’m not really supposed to talk about it, but there are lots of children who have problems that they can’t sort out. We are there to listen and give support where we can.”

“It sounds like a nice thing to do.”

“It is nice, apart from the occasional idiot who rings up…but I’ve said too much, let’s change the subject.”

“Mummy, I’m a bit worried about my breasts and how I can hide them when I’m playing football.”

I told her about the game and how I couldn’t put on the strapping after my shower.

“Yes, I thought you might have a few problems so I went on the net and there is something called a compression vest, it should help hold things in and may be easier for you to use. I’ve ordered a couple of different types and they should be here tomorrow.”

“Thanks that’s a great weight off my mind–I mean, chest.” I put my hand up to my mouth and giggled at that and soon we were both laughing our heads off!

The next few days went quite quickly, my neck felt a lot better the next morning, but I wasn’t going to take any chances so I just stayed in and rested. Claire was taken by Josie and Jeff to see her mum and it seemed that she was going to be okay. I just mooched around the house feeling a bit bored, but not minding too much after the hectic times that I had experienced lately. I was left looking after the twins, but they were no bother, just sleeping mostly and making faces at each other when they were awake. I did have to change them once and I prefer not to go into that too much.

Claire looked quite cheerful when she came back from the hospital.

“Hi, Claire, how’s your mum?”

“She’s like feeling a bit weak and woozy, but she’s okay. She needs to rest a lot and they are doing some more tests. They want to try to make sure she’s free of anything like nasty. They did a test on the stuff they took out of her and the tumours they found were benign. That means that they probably wouldn’t cause any problems. Mind you, when she comes out of hospital she needs to go into special hospital which takes care of people who need to recuperate. She could be there for a month.”

“So can you stay with me then?”

“Do you like, want me to stay that long?”

“Don’t be silly, you’re my best friend.”

She smiled and gave me a hug so, subject to Josie and Jeff saying that it was okay, it was all settled. Andrew, her brother was going to stay with a mate so we didn’t have to worry about him. Mind you, he wanted to meet up with Claire some time and I didn’t know whether I should see him too, as he was one of the only friends I had when I was in boy mode and he had evidently spouted off to his scout mates that he knew me–the now famous footballer–perhaps I could see him as Mark rather than as Susan? This was all getting a bit complicated!

The next day, the compression vests came. I struggled to put them on as they were both a bit tight. They both did a good job of flattening my chest and had the advantage of me being able to put them on and take them off without any help. I preferred the one that looked like a plain white t shirt because it was more comfortable and less out of place so Josie ordered several from the net. The story, if anyone said anything was that I had a problem with my ribs and the vest gave me extra support. It wasn’t a great explanation but that was better than saying that I wore it to squash down my growing breasts!

I did some light training with the others in the first team squad on Thursday at the club training ground. Whilst I was at the training ground, we got confirmation that Dave Winston, our star player was retiring with immediate effect. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone and I wondered how much pressure was now going to fall on my shoulders because I was considered the “wonder kid”.

5

That afternoon, I visited the hospital with Claire to see her mum. I was wearing a pink top and blue boot cut jeans. My hair was high in a ponytail and I had just a light dusting of makeup and some nice pink lipstick. No way was I anything like Mark and I was pleased with that.

Claire’s mum was in a side ward and after a quick word with the sister, Jeff left Claire and I to see her mum while he went off to do things on his mobile–he was quite the manager now and I think he was enjoying himself.

She looked quite ill still, almost as white as the sheets that were covering her, but she looked cheerful enough if a bit tired.

“Hi, Mum, you look like, much better.”

“I’m not too bad, love. Hello, Susan, thanks for looking after my baby.”

“Muuum!”

“Sorry; well you are my baby. Has she been all right at your place, Susan?”

“Yes, it’s been great, well not great ’cause you’re in here and that, but it’s been nice having her stay with us.”

“That’s good; and are you sure that she’s okay to stay with you for a while longer?”

“It will be great having her.”

“I am here you know.”

We all laughed at that and settled down for a chat. We had brought grapes but Claire had eaten half of them and her mum was a bit sick at the sight of grapes so Claire and I finished them off for her.

After about twenty minutes we could see that she was getting a bit tired so we said our goodbyes and walked out. We had just turned left out of the ward when I collided with someone, I landed on the floor and he sort of fell on top of me.

“Andrew!” shouted Claire.

My heart sank as I saw him get up and dust himself down then look down at me.

“Sorry, Miss, I didn’t see–M-Mark is that you?”

To be continued...

Please leave comments...thanks

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing and pulling the story into shape.