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Previously...

All my family were there at the game and after things died down a bit, I met them in hospitality and we all relived the game. It was so cool to have them all around me and part of my life. I was a bit sad that my mum never got to see me play, but I kind of hoped that she was looking down at me and cheering me on.

That night, when I was tucked up in bed with my stuffed rabbit, wishing, not for the first time, that it could have been Andrea, watching the edited highlights on the Beeb1 and seeing myself playing.
It’s strange; when I see myself on the box it’s as if it’s some other person, not me. I shrugged and just enjoyed the game as a spectator would.

In two days time I would be returning to the courtroom and cross examination by the barrister; I hoped I would do well and that Ferris would be put away for a long time. But that was the future, I paused the game and rewound slightly; I just had to see that goal again––

And now the story continues…

I sat in the court’s waiting room with Mummy. It was so boring as we had been there for hours. There were things going on between the defence and prosecution. No one told us anything. Daddy was outside trying to get sense out of someone in authority, but we really hadn’t a clue as to what was actually happening.

It was Monday and up until that morning, I was still on a bit of high after the Charity Shield match where I had done enough to make people think that I was the next Favio. Not that I could even clean his boots, as he was a legend, and one that I could only aspire too.

Playing at the weekend and the pleasant aftermath had helped keep my mind off the grilling that was to continue today, when the defence council would go after me again. Then after hyping myself up and expecting the worse, here I was was, twiddling my thumbs while legal niceties were being sorted out only about thirty feet from me, behind closed doors.

We glanced up as the door opened and Daddy came in. He just shook his head and went to the dishwater machine for yet more so-called coffee in a polystyrene cup, then came and sat next to us.

‘It’s like getting blood out of a stone,’ he grumbled. ‘I did speak to a court official who told me that this sort of thing is common and we may not even get into court today so, as you may imagine, that cheered me up no end.’

I just sat there, listening to some soothing Mozart on my cool iPhone and tried to keep my mind clear of all nasty thoughts about Ferris, the court case and the fact that eventually in the coming hours–time permitting–I was going to have to go to the training ground for some physio on my leg. It wasn’t serious, just a slight pull. Nothing to stop me playing, but the club wanted me as fit as a flea for our Saturday fixture against Villapool: they had been promoted at the end of last season and because the new Saudi owners were dripping in money, their side last year bore little resemblance to the one starting in the Premier League. They had spent a reported  £100 million on players in the closed season, and near enough all of the new players had a good pedigree. Any side with eight internationals would have to be reckoned with…

The door opened and the prosecuting council Mr Urban Bywater QC, came in, be-wigged and gowned, dragged up a chair and sat down in front of us.

‘Sorry it’s taken this long,’ he said, ‘there’s been a lot going on and we weren’t sure how things would pan out. I regret that we have had to do a plea bargain. As you know, Ferris had been charged with GBH. We thought that the case was strong enough, but it appears that he has good medical evidence from an eminent psychiatrist to support his contention that he was temporarily insane due to the pressures he was under. He has been able to get several character witnesses and also others who will swear on oath that he was under extreme stress after losing his livelihood.’

‘What!’ Daddy exploded, ‘that slime ball–!’

‘Please,’ said Mr Bywater, raising is arm, ‘Ferris still has a few friends, and they appear to be rallying around him. We were approached by defending council who wanted to do a deal. Looking at the evidence and the witnesses, it could have been possible that the jury might be swayed by them and we might get a not guilty result. I would say that at best it was fifty-fifty. I agreed that if he pleaded guilty to a lesser charge of ABH, we would approach the judge and he would hopefully sentence Ferris on that lower charge. I have to tell you that Ferris agreed to plead guilty to the lesser charge and the judge has accepted the situation.’

‘But he will stay in prison?’ I asked.

‘Yes, until the sentencing.’

‘How long will he get?’ asked mummy.

The barrister shrugged his shoulders. ‘Difficult to say. The judge has ordered psychiatric and social worker reports and will see those before he makes up his mind. On current guidelines, and without mitigating circumstances, he could be sent down for up to two years, but it could be a lot less, depending on a number of extenuating factors. He will review the case in one month after all the reports are in and that is when the sentence will be announced.’

We were all silent for a moment. I was just pleased that he was still behind bars and may stay there for up to two years–a lot can happen in two years.

‘You might as well go home because there’s nothing here for you to do now.’

We shook his hand and then left the court. We didn’t say much as I think that it all seemed to be somewhat of an anticlimax. We left by the front entrance and were stopped in our tracks by a barrage of people in front of us. Cameras flashed and as we tried to get through the crowd, I was bombarded with questions.

‘How do you feel about the case, Susan–?’

‘Are you happy with the result–?’

‘Are you angry about Ferris–?’

‘Did you make him attack you–?’

‘Where did you buy that dress–?’

Danni and Charlotte, my security friends were there at once and I was protectively boxed in by them, together with Mummy and Daddy, keeping the pressing media circus at arms’ length.

After an awful lot of ‘no comments’ and ‘please leave us alone’ type replies, I found myself bundled into the car and speeding away, with camera’s flashing like mad behind and one or two photographers running alongside the car, trying catch me through the window. I really felt like putting one or possibly two fingers up at them, but I am a lady, well, girl and am above all that sort of thing!

~ §~

Half an hour, we were back home and I was in the sanctuary of my own room. I wanted a bit of peace and quiet before lunch. Andrea and Claire were at school and my minders and other adults were busy so it was nice to just chill out, not think about that slob, Ferris and his tricky legal team and have a bit of ‘me’ time.

I lay down on the bed and just looked at the ceiling. I wasn’t in too good a mood, and should have been, as I hadn’t had to stand up in the dock and be grilled by the oily defence lawyer with his shallow smile and tricky questioning.

To tell you the truth, I was a bit off anyway and I knew why. My monthly non-friend was with me and I always felt ratty when I was on. Mummy said that it should get a bit better as my body began to get used to its somewhat changed status. My periods were still all over the place and the doctors said that they would stabilise in time but wouldn’t tell me how long that would be.

As it was, I was quite heavy, and unless I am playing football or running–when I wear tampons and a thinner liner–I have to wear an Always Maxi to keep the nasty stuff from doing something–erm, nasty.

Anyway enough of those thoughts. I turned over and somehow went back to sleep.

~ §~

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

‘Honey, wake up, it’s lunch time.’

I cracked open an eye.

‘Actually, I’m not hungry, Mummy, really.’

‘Grotty tum?’

‘Yeah, it’s getting that way.’

‘Take a couple of paracetamol. Look you have to go to the training ground later, so have a sarnie and a glass of milk or something before you go, okay?’

‘Okay.’

She kissed me on the forehead and went out, closing the door quietly behind her.

I went into the bathroom, took a couple of painkillers with water and went back to lie down on the bed again. I set the timer on my iPhone for 2.30 and then crashed out for a while.

The chimes woke me up with a start and I sat up rubbing my eyes. The distant grumbling pain had gone off now and I felt more like my usual self.

I went into the toilet, did the necessary and then changed into my trackies. Then I made my way downstairs, took the sandwich out of the fridge and sat at the breakfast bar to eat it.

The door opened and I smiled. ‘Hi Daddy.’

‘Got up at last have you, lazy bones.’

‘Ha, ha. I bet you men couldn’t stand the pain and suffering we women have to go through.’

‘Rubbish, men are much stronger than mere women.’

He flexed his puny muscles.

‘But when you had a cold last week, you insisted on staying in bed and calling it double pneumonia; you had poor Mummy dancing attendance on you like an overworked nurse.’

‘Never mind that,’ he said, swiftly changing the subject, ‘are you nearly ready to go?’

‘Five minutes and then I’ll be with you.’

~ §~

The training ground was full of cars as the junior teams were playing today and that attracted a lot of parental support.

We parked by the treatment rooms and Daddy went off to the offices to do something officified; Danni stayed by the car and I walked into the medical centre.

I won’t go into the tortures that I endured at the hands of the Sumo Wrestler–laughingly called our Physio. The fact that she was female and she seemed to be smiling as she inflicted pain on me, should give you an idea that if I was in a mood going into treatment, I would have started to throw things about and kicked the nearest cat on exiting. Only I didn’t, as I ran into six kids–three girls and three boys aged between 8 and 11, I would say–as they walked off the training pitch still in their training bibs and shorts.

They took one look at me and rushed up as if I was some sort of pop star or something. I still thought it strange that I was now recognised wherever I went, but their bubbly enthusiasm was infectious and I was soon laughing and joking with them.

I had forgotten that the club let promising young kids come in and train and that they also had a couple of teams in the local colts’ league.

‘Suzie, c’n I ’ave yer au’ergraph.’

‘Susan, what’s your favourite dog?’

‘Are yer playing this weekend?’

‘How’s your leg?’

‘I want to play like you,’

I was with them for about twenty minutes and I laughed more than I had done for quite some time. I even agreed to go and see them play in a few weeks time…talk about weak willed!

When we arrived back home, I changed into a blue smock top and leggings and went to see what was happening.

I could tell by the noise that the girls were back from school and I found them in the games room playing, of all things, table tennis.

Claire was wearing a slightly grungy t-shirt and cropped shorts, but Andrea, who only liked wearing skirts and tops or dresses, was wearing a rather nice pink top and a short white skirt.

‘Hi,’ they said as I walked in with three cans of cold coke on a tray.

I waved, then sat down in one of the chairs as I watched them do the full sibling rivalry bit. I knew that they both liked table tennis and had played for the school last year. They were very competitive and evenly matched, and Claire won by a mere two points in the end.

They looked all sweaty but happy when they came over and took great gulps of coke.

‘That was like, well brill,’ Claire panted.

‘Not bad,’ gasped Andrea, ‘though I’m sure it would help if you didn’t grunt like some overpaid tennis star when you serve.’

‘I like, do no such thing–’

‘Do–– ’

‘–Don’t––’

‘Do––’

‘–Girls, please, enough already. Claire, you do sound like an asthmatic pig sometimes when you serve, but so do you, Andrea, so you’re both as bad as each other. Now me, I am ladylike and do not make such coarse sounds when I am playing––’

I didn’t get any further as I was subjected to an unfair attack of scatter cushions as they both attacked me without warning.

~ §~

The next day was Tuesday and I had to do a couple of interviews for the Beeb. They were both at Melchester’s BBC studios, one for the local BBC Radio Melchester and the other one for national BBC Radio 5 Live.

Charlotte did the taxi bit this time because Daddy had business meetings with my agent and someone from a large retailer with the initials M & S. Mummy was helping out at the local nursery with the twins, and Auntie Monica was engaged in her favourite pastime–shopping.

As we drove along, Charlotte was a bit quiet and kept glancing in the rear-view mirrors.

‘What’s up,’ I asked.

‘Not sure,’ she answered, ‘but I think we might be being followed. Get your ’phone out please and speed dial Danni, then put her on the speaker.’

I did as she asked and looked out of the rear window. There were loads of cars back there and I couldn’t tell if anyone was following us, but that’s why she is security and I am just insecure.

‘Hello?’

‘Danni, it’s me, code red.’

‘Alright, tracking, will get troops.’

‘Blimey,’ I said, ‘what’s all this cloak and dagger stuff?’ I said, getting really worried in spite of myself.

Charlotte turned a corner and increased speed slightly.

‘It’s just a precaution, Sue, we don’t know who’s listening. Now pay attention I will say ziz only once,’ she finished with terrible faux French accent.

In spite of myself, I grinned. She loved old British comedy and Allo 'Allo! in particular.

‘When we have problems like this, depending where we are, we go to the nearest police station and will be met by one or more of our people. Police stations are good, because you are less likely to be attacked at one. But, and this is a big but, if I feel that you are in danger, I will tell you to get down and you will get down beneath the window and stay there until I say it’s all right to get up, understand?’

‘Y…yes,’ I said in a small voice.

She briefly looked at me and smiled.

‘Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, there are no problems and looking behind me, the car I was concerned about hasn’t followed us, but there is a slim chance that another car has taken over pursuit, so we will carry on to the local police station, just in case. It could have merely been someone from the press, but it does make sense to be careful about such things, okay?’

‘Mmm.’ I said, still frightened and not helped by the occasional cramp in my tummy; this was not the best of days for little Susan…

Osborne Road Police Station came into view ten minutes later and we went into the car park. I recognised Danni’s car there, she must have driven like a fiend to get there from home before us.

On orders from Charlotte, I stayed in the car whilst the powers-that-be decided what was to be done–if anything.

This gave me time to think. I had thought when slime-ball Ferris was behind bars, I would be safe. I had forgotten that he had friends, and it was not impossible that those friends would want to get to me. Why they would, I’m not sure, but with Ferris, I didn’t know why he had it in for me until I found out about his brother/sister’s suicide and for some reason he took it out on me.

I was under the impression that everyone had, as Kenneth Williams said in another of old films that Charlotte loved so much - "Infamy! Infamy! They've all got it in for me!". When I wasn’t shaking with fear, I would have to ask her what film that was.

Anyway, Charlotte and Danni came over after their little chat with a couple of policemen.

I wound down the window.

‘Are you okay?’ Charlotte asked.’

‘Fine.’ I replied, with perhaps a degree of tension creeping into my voice.

‘Look, it was just a precaution. It’s better to be safe than sorry.’

‘I know, it’s just, just for a bit I would like things to be normal.’

~ §~

We went on to do the interviews. It was standard stuff and I was learning very fast what to say and how to say it. It did worry me a bit that when the interviewer asked me questions, he didn’t appear to be interested in my answer as he was looking at his notes regarding what to ask next and not taking in my responses. I nearly said that I was really the Mad Hatter and I lived in the ground, but common sense prevailed and I just answered his questions with a winning smile.

~ §~

We arrived home without further incident and I went straight to my room again and locked the door. I was finding that I no longer felt safe wherever I was. I wasn’t paranoid, but I did wonder if everyone was out to get me.

I didn’t fancy anything for tea, and texted Claire to tell everyone that, Garbo-like, ‘I vanted to be alone.’

I watched a film on the TV then , as I was a bit grotty still, I got undressed and had a shower, as I felt a bit unclean–I always did at this time of the month–then put on my nightie, unlocked the door and went to bed with my white rabbit. I had just got a Kindle and I wanted to play with it in peace and quiet. I didn’t even want to see Andrea, which was strange for me as it was generally felt that we were joined at the hip.

I downloaded Bridget Jones Diary and read it on the Kindle until my eyes began to droop, about which time, there was a knock on the door.

‘Come in.’ I called.

Mummy and Daddy entered: they both looked worried. ‘Are you feeling any better, sweetheart?’ Mummy asked.

‘A bit,’ I replied and then burst into tears.

I was immediately the recipient of a double hug as my perfect parents smothered me with love. Of course this made matters worse and I cried all the more, partly because I was still not a happy bunny, but also because I was happy to have two wonderful parents who loved and cared for me.

Being a girl was turning out to be rather complicated!

After I had calmed down a bit, we talked about the day and my wayward hormones that made me have more mood swings than an orang-utan swinging from tree to tree––. Also we chatted about my fears of being stalked or kidnapped. It was all a bit intense, but it was good to talk and get all it off my B-cup chest. I felt so much better afterwards.

Mummy told me she had made an appointment with the doctor for the following day regarding the fact that I was suffering a lot during the times I was on my period. I knew, and had been warned, that after my operation, I would have some rather intense feelings and I might not be able to cope without help, so it was no surprise that she had arranged for me to see the doctor. Daddy said that Charlotte and Danni were talking to ‘people’ regarding beefing up the security, so that was a comfort: I didn’t fancy the idea of someone coming in and murdering me in my bed.

After Mummy and Daddy left, I took some more pain killers and then went back to bed and my book.

After a while my cool iPhone bleeped.

It was a text from Andrea.

‘hi honey, how r u feeling?’

‘don’t ask.’ I replied.

‘i miss u.’

‘me 2 u?’

‘cn I see u 4 a min?’

‘ok,’

A few moments later Andrea came in; she was wearing a silk nightie and if I hadn’t been in a “delicate condition”, I would have done something rather naughty.

She came over to the bed and gazed down at me. ‘Does it hurt?’ she asked.

‘A bit, though it’s not so bad now the pills have kicked in.’

‘Move over,’ she said and without so much as a “by your leave” she got into bed next to me and snuggled up.

I wasn’t too sure what our parents would say about this development, but I didn’t really care. I wasn’t in the mood or condition for any hanky-panky but I was in the mood for a kiss and cuddle from my sweetie pie.

It was nice being in her arms. I felt all safe and warm and the tension that I had felt in my body all day slowly drained away.

After a bit, I felt her hand go under the hem of my nightie and I tensed a bit, then her toasty warm hand went on to my tummy, right where it hurt and I could feel the warmth making me feel less achy.

‘Mmm,’ that’s nice.’ I said.

Then we cuddled even closer and in moments, were both sound asleep.

~ §~

I heard a cough and opened one eye. The sun was streaming through the window but my attention was drawn to Mummy and Auntie Monica standing at the end of the bed.

I pushed a lock of Andrea’s hair out of my eyes, removed her hand from my left breast–had it been my other one, would she be feeling a right tit?–and wished that she would stop snoring. I was going to dig her in the ribs but I’m not that kind of girl.

‘Feeling better love?’ Mummy asked.

‘Erm, yeah.’

‘Good, you’d better get up; we have a doctor’s appointment.’

I dug Andrea gently in the ribs.

‘Wwwwha’–?’ she mumbled sleepily.

‘We have visitors,’ I hissed as the two women looked on without any expression on their faces.

‘Who, what, when–oh bugger–!’

Andrea had woken up.

‘Andrea Tyler, what have I told you about swearing?’

‘Sorry Mum.’

‘Don’t “sorry Mum” me, young lady. Now get up, you still have school to go to and if you want to use me as a taxi service, you had better get your finger out–I mean–oh, hurry up!’

They both turned to go. I had to know.

‘Mummy?’ they both turned to look back.

‘Are we in trouble?’

‘You would have been if anything had happened, but we trust you.’

‘Yes,’ said Auntie Monica, ‘and we know that you deserve that trust.’

They both left and for some reason I burst into tears–closely followed by Andrea.

And so began another bright day.

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.