“Yes,” I lied. There was more to it than that. A lot more.
“Well, listen, that was a long time ago. Your performances on the pitch since then have been nothing short of sublime. I want you back in the team, and I’m not going to take no for an answer.”
“I don’t know…”
“Yes you do. Look, I’ve watched your games a lot lately, and the one thing that’s obvious is your passion for the sport. Other than that one mistake, you always showed that same spirit when you had the England shirt on. What can I say to convince you?”
There was no reason I couldn’t play for England again. I’d quit rugby for a year because of what happened with Shaun’s dad, but then that problem sorted itself out with the arrest of the men responsible. I was safe to play rugby again, and that included playing for England.
I had memories of playing for England. Not good ones. Memories of a single second that still haunted me even now. They probably always would, unless I took the opportunity to right those wrongs.
If I could perform to the best of my ability in an England shirt, then that would go a long way to making up for my past mistakes. Maybe I would even start sleeping better at night. That would be nice.
“You’re going to get a lot of grief from the public,” I said. “If you call me up, some people will accuse you of being desperate.”
“Not to my face they won’t,” Vinnie joked. At least I think he was joking.
“They’ll show that clip of me missing the kick on a constant loop.”
“Yep, probably. But I figure you’ve seen that enough times in your head anyway.”
I laughed. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Excellent. I’m going to announce the squad tomorrow. You know what this means right?”
“I’m going to have to learn the words to the national anthem again?”
Vinnie gave a hearty laugh. “Yeah, that’s a bugger isn’t it? But the bigger picture is the World Cup. It’s only a few months away and I’m not going to beat about the bush—if you play well, you’re in the squad.”
“No pressure then.”
“This is the big one as well. It’s on home soil. I don’t need to tell you how big an opportunity this is. You help England win the World Cup and no-one will ever talk about 2007 again. It’ll be like it never happened. You can forget all about it.”
I thanked Vinnie, and ended the call, already running five minutes late for dinner. Vinnie meant well, but he obviously didn’t know me very well if he thought I would ever forget about 2007. That wasn’t the year I fluffed my lines in the World Cup Final. It was the year Gary died, and no amount of success on the pitch would ever bring him back.
-*-
“Oh. My. God,” Maisie exclaimed, reminding me—and everyone else in the pub who turned to stare—of Janice from Friends. “You’re going to play for England again? This is so awesome. That means you’ll be in the World Cup.”
“You’re going to play in the World Cup too?” Michelle asked. She looked more concerned than excited. I couldn’t blame her. The last time I played in a World Cup it had nearly destroyed me, and I’d acted like a complete prat to Michelle in the process.
“Yep. It looks that way. Hopefully it’ll go a bit better than last time.”
“You have to get us tickets,” Maisie said. “I’d do anything to watch a World Cup game.”
“It doesn’t start until September,” I said. “You’ll be back at school by then.”
“But—”
“I suppose you can take a week off,” Michelle said.
“Really?” Maisie and I asked at the same time.
Michelle laughed. “I’m not that cruel, but it’s good to know what you both think.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Maisie said, practically jumping for joy in her seat. “And Shaun can come see the games as well, right?”
“Definitely,” I replied, sharing a knowing look with Michelle. Maisie had developed quite the crush, but Shaun was a closed book as far as women were concerned. I had no idea what he thought of her, although they did spend a fair bit of time together.
Unfortunately, teenage boys were obsessed with how women looked and while I thought Maisie was beautiful, I knew some people would be put off by the burns on her face. I just hoped Shaun was a better man than I had been at his age.
“You need to make sure you get to the final,” Maisie said. “I want to go to that game. You don’t need to win, just get to the final. Once you’re there you can shank all the kicks you like.”
“Maisie,” Michelle scolded.
I burst into laughter. “Thank you, Maisie. I’ll try to remember that. Don’t shank kicks until the final. Don’t shank kicks until the final.”
We carried on eating dinner, but despite Michelle and I trying to drag the meal out, it soon came to an end. Michelle had been trying to say something to me all evening, but each time she opened her mouth she would just ask Maisie what her food was like, or ask Shaun how training was going.
Finally, she looked at me and asked if I would do her a favour. I’d do anything for her right now.
“Of course,” I replied. “Just name it.”
“I have some friends in London,” Michelle said. “They’re studying at LSE and want to meet up.”
“You need a lift?” I asked.
“Actually, I was hoping you would come along. I might have told them that I know a famous rugby player, and we were hoping to get into a nice bar without lining up. Fancy tagging along.”
“Michelle, that’s kind of rude,” Maisie scolded. She didn’t want to miss an opportunity to tell off her older sister.
“It’s fine,” I insisted. “I could use a night out. You two want to hang out at my place?”
“Fine with me,” Maisie said, looking hopefully at Shaun.
“Sounds good,” Shaun said.
“Can we trust you to behave this time?” I said, only slightly in jest.
Shaun nodded. “It won’t happen again.”
“It’s tomorrow night,” Michelle said. “Want to take the train in to London?”
“Sure,” I replied.
I knew we wouldn’t be getting a train anywhere. Michelle’s story about having friends at LSE sounded a little too made up. We’d be heading somewhere local, and this time I was convinced we’d be back at the hotel before nine o’clock.
I shared a look with Michelle, trying to convey that I’d picked up on the real intent of tomorrow night. The story about going into London was just a cover to hide our intentions from the kids and finish up where we had left off before Maisie’s arrest. It couldn’t come soon enough for my liking.
With any luck we might even skip the meal altogether and just get room service. I was done with the pretence and so was Michelle; time to take things to the next level.
“So we actually are meeting your friends, then?” Oliver asked, sounding slightly surprised.
“Yes, of course. I have friends at LSE. I told you about them last night didn’t I?”
“Yes, it’s just… never mind. I’ll go buy some train tickets.”
This evening had taken a lot of effort on my part, but I now felt under intense pressure to make the most of it. I was going drinking with Oliver, and this time we would be in a bar or nightclub where the atmosphere was geared around making sure people could hook up. It had to happen tonight. If not tonight, then when?
I’d posted a few comments on Facebook letting people know I was in London, and Alisa and Sierra quickly got in touch to say they wanted to meet up. That was the easy bit. The tricky part was having Oliver come along in a way that wouldn’t invite too many questions. I couldn’t introduce him as my step-brother because if things went down as I intended then that would look weird.
I dropped hints to Alisa that I was watching a lot of rugby, and then mentioned that my sister was training with a famous player. Alisa had always been a huge football fan back home and apparently that fandom had quickly converted to rugby in the few months she’d been in England. When I told her that Oliver and I were friends, she insisted I bring him along as well.