The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3000 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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The first we knew something was wrong was Danielle’s scream of anguish. I don’t know how many of us raced to where we assumed the noise came from but I just followed my ears. She was standing in her bedroom holding her phone and tears were forming rivulets down her face.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” I asked wrapping my arms around her. She was incoherent with tears and took some time to tell me.

“I’m supposed to be in Reading, the match is in one hour’s time.”

“The England match?” I gasped.

Simon puffed up the stairs, “Wossgoin’on?” he asked.

I explained her plight. “How can you forget something like that?” he sighed and the child burst into tears again.

“Are they playing at Reading?” he asked still breathing heavily.

She nodded.

He looked at me. “Tell them you’ll be there and pack whatever kit she needs but be quick.” With that he rushed back down the stairs.

“How can I get there in time?” she whined.

“I think Daddy is taking care of that, get your bag ready and don’t forget your boots.” I almost pushed her into her room where she began rushing about opening doors and drawers and generally making a mess.

Two minutes later he was back up the stairs. “Have you told them?” I was busy replying to the text and nodded for her. He dragged her out of her room clutching her sports bag in his other hand. Danielle was trying to zip up her handbag as I handed her her phone.

A few minutes later the noise of a large machine filled the air and I watched as Simon ran across the road with Danielle and a helicopter, a relatively small one, like a flying teaspoon, hove into view and then landed in the field. Simon bundled her into the chopper where she was busy pulling on her helmet as the thing began to wind up again and Simon scuttled away. Moments later they were airborne and Simon trotted back across the road and up the drive looking red faced.

“How much will that cost?” I asked him as he entered the house.

“I’ve told her she can pay me back over the next two hundred years if she doesn’t score at least one goal.”

“I love you, Simon Cameron,” I said and hugged and kissed him.

“How could she forget?”

“She’s been a bit strange lately, I think she might just be in love or just lust.”

“She’s got a boyfriend?” he said loudly.

“Yeah, his name’s Bob or something, might be dog—woof woof,” offered Trish as she walked past and we both nearly fell over laughing.

“What time is the kick off?” I asked.

“Three why?”

“Who wants to see Danni play for England?” I yelled—a stupid thing to do. We had to take the people carrier thing, Shazam or whatever it’s called which Simon agreed to drive. With assorted bags of crisps, drinks and chocolate we dashed to the car and were on the road.

It was three o’clock as we parked at the stadium. Simon drove like a maniac—I know he does most of the time, but this was homicidal maniac type driving. The girls were cheering every time he shouted abuse at another road user while I was trying to slide down under the dashboard.

Carrying our bags of food and drink, we ran to the turnstiles and I paid two hundred pounds on my card to get us all in, then as the national anthems stopped, we rushed to our seats and breathlessly sat down. In moments we spotted her in the number seven shirt—if she wants tattoos like her hero—she can go and take a running jump.

The first ten minutes were full of mistakes as both sides tried to settle down and to my discomfort it seemed Germany were doing that quicker. Fifteen minutes later and they were one up. This did not look at all good—the English girls were playing like they all had cerebral palsy. Just on half time, Germany went two up and Simon groaned that it was all over.

Danni hadn’t played badly but neither had she sparkled like she usually did. In fact they all seemed leaden legged compared to the German girls. I imagined myself in the changing room and began sending in the blue light to all of them—abuse of my energy? Definitely not, they all seemed a bit sick. Simon and Trish worked out what I was doing and he kept the others from pestering me while Trish joined in my effort to boost our girls.

The first five minutes of the second half tended to indicate I’d been wasting my time as only a desperate tackle by Danni and the England fullback stopped the Germans going three goals up. I was feeling positive dread now, if it’s possible.

“Come on England,” I shrieked and the crowd, a largely partisan one, joined in my call. Then with Simon calling ‘England’ and clapping the crowd followed suit again and we actually attacked only to see the England forward splattered off the ball. The defender was yellow carded but Simon was in gear now and he began calling, “Off, off, off.” I just held my breath as we watched ‘Beckham Cameron’ line up the kick. Talk about pressure, the poor girl must have been twitching with it.

“Bloody hell, did you see that?” Gasped a delighted Simon as the ball swerved round the wall and into the top corner of the net, the goalkeeper didn’t even see it. The girls were bouncing up and down and crying with joy. I just felt this huge warmth diffusing from my heart all over my body. It was pride and love.

Taking heart from this England threw attack after attack at Germany and to be fair the German girls defended stoutly if not always fairly. Ten minutes from time, after an attack on the German goal and the ball was scrambled off the line, booted down field as far as Danielle Cameron, the number seven. She volleyed it back so hard it hit a German girl on the head and she dropped like she’d been pole-axed. The ball however, went for a corner. Danni took it but this time the goalie was up to it and spotted it dropping into the centre of her line and punched it away.

I saw Danni racing down the field to intercept any breakaways. It was booted up in the air and seemed to be bouncing past her when she, back to the ball, threw herself in the air and doing an overhead bicycle kick lobbed the ball back into the goal mouth. This time the goalie missed it and the ball bounded under her body to give the equaliser. Simon was almost hysterical with delight, I was just shocked—how could someone do what I’d just witnessed her do. It had to be an instinctual action, she couldn’t have seen the ball, just heard it land behind her. The crowd were ecstatic and the three quarters filled stadium yelled in renewed enthusiasm. They had just witnessed an act of supreme skill and athleticism, they may never see such a goal ever again.

With everything to play for the two teams threw everything at each other and then with four minutes to go, the Germans got a direct free kick. Their kicker was good but compared to Danni, not good enough and the English goalie managed to get fingers to it and flipped it over the bar. From the ensuing corner, they put the ball in the net but the flag was up for offside and it didn’t count.

In the dying moments, Danni and a girl called India Ink or something like that, did a one two through the German defence and on Danielle’s inch perfect pass the other girl slammed the ball into the net. The whistle blew and we’d won. I wasn’t sure if I could watch her play again, didn’t think my nerves could stand it. The teams shook hands and the England team walked to the centre of the pitch and then walking all round it, they clapped their supporters. Danielle spotted her dad who was jumping up and down and flapping like a chicken calling her name. She ran over towards us and shouted for us to wait for her—she’d be an hour or so.

The high eventually wore off and I ended up driving us all home, Simon was fast asleep in the front passenger seat while all the girls chattered like a flock of starlings in the back. “Thanks, Mum,” Danni said as she got out of the car.

I looked quizzically as her.

“We all felt the energy you sent us, it helped too, but don’t worry, none of them know about it.”

We hugged and I told her how much I loved her.

“You gonna leave Daddy in the car?” she asked as we finally noticed sleeping beauty was still snoring in the front seat.

“Go on, Princess Charming, better wake him up,” which she did with a smacker on the cheek.