Previously...

I was getting really tired by now–too many late nights, the pills and occasional drinks were taking their toll.

There were three minutes of extra time. The crowd were going wild. The chants were echoing around the stadium and it gave me heart to hear ‘Suzie–Suzie–’ being shouted by our loyal supporters. I tried to ignore the less flattering chants from the opposition supporters.

The clock was ticking and it looked like the game was heading for a draw. I picked myself up, one final time and tried to help my team to win.

The ball came out to me as if in slow motion. I stopped the ball with my boot and ran up the pitch. I could sense rather than see a player moving swiftly towards me. I stopped dead and he ran past me, overshooting his mark.

This was what I loved. I ran on and the defender was nowhere to be seen.

My teammates were trying to catch up with me, but for once I was flying. I jinked past one defender, chipped the ball over another and then there was the goal, looking huge in front of me. I had to shoot; I had no idea when the whistle was to be blown.

I was being pursued by at least two players who would be less than friendly after my terrible foul and I had little time for finesse.

The goalkeeper rushed out towards me, to narrow the angle, his yellow shirt clashing a bit with the green of the grass, but I had no time for that. I stopped, hooked my foot under the ball and chipped it over the falling ’keeper. The ball rose to about head height and gently fell into the back of the net.

‘GOAL!’

I threw my arms up in the air in triumph. The crowd went mad. Screams of ‘Suzie’ came up from around the ground. I ran along the line and stopped at the corner flag, kissing it.
Then I heard the sound of feet behind me and I turned around, dread suddenly in my heart. Coming towards me, knife in his hands, came a figure: my stepfather or Ferris–I didn’t know which.

I fell to the ground screaming and with my knees drawn up to my chest and my arms covering my head, and waited to be stabbed––

And now the story continues…

‘Susan, Susan, wake up, love!’

I dragged myself out of the cloying embraces of sleep and eventually opened my eyes. I saw Mummy’s wonderful face gazing down at me. She didn’t look too good.

‘Mummy, you’ve got dark circles under your eyes.’

She smiled, but looked tired. ‘No wonder, young lady, with all that’s happened.’

I tried to sit up a bit, but felt strangely tired and lethargic. Looking at my arm, I could see a clear tube running out from under a dressing and up to a drip by the side of the bed.

‘Where am I and what happened?’ I asked as I let my head sink back down on the wonderfully soft pillow.

I shut my eyes as the light was rather bright from the sun streaming through the window.

‘You’re in a private clinic. Do you remember what happened?’

‘When?’

‘What is the last thing that you remember?’

‘I don’t know…oh the match I suppose. Oh, did I get injured?’

‘Sort of…look, you need to see the doctor before I say anything else.’

I opened my eyes suddenly.

‘I am injured then, not my legs––?’

‘No, not that, look you are all right, you just need rest and a break from things. Stay here for a minute and I’ll ask if your doctor is about.’

‘But Mummy––’

‘–Hush love, just give me a minute; shut your eyes and rest. I won’t be long–promise.’

Somehow, I didn’t have the strength to argue and did as she asked. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, there was a gentle touch on my bare arm.

Opening my eyes, I saw Mummy again and smiled. ‘Hi,’ I said.

‘Hi, yourself–Doctor Matthews will be here in a sec.’

‘Where is everyone?’ I asked, looking around the room which looked rather plush and like one found in an exclusive and expensive hotel.

‘Daddy is at the club, he was here all last night, poor lamb, but he had to go to the club to sort things out.’

‘What things?’

‘Later–the kids are at home with Monica, babysitting and generally making themselves useful, they will all be up later to see you, if possible–’

The door opened and a lady in a white coat came in. She was quite young, about Mummy’s age, I would say.

‘Hello, Susan, back with us then?’

She had a nice voice, the type of voice that sounds as if she was happy, almost laughing all the time.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘but I don’t know what is going on.’

I was helped to sit up and that made me feel slightly sick, so I had a drink of water.

Mummy sat on one side of the bed and the doctor on the other. It was the doctor who spoke first.

‘I asked your mother not to give you too many specifics until I got here. Now she can either stay or go, it’s up to you.’

‘Can she stay…please?’

‘We’ll be talking about things that your mother may not want to hear about–’

‘–What d’you mean?’

‘What you have been going through and the things that you have been doing lately.’

My heart fell like a stone.

‘I haven’t been going through anything bad. I don’t know what you mean. I’m all right, a bit tired maybe, probably the time of the month coming up or something––’

Doctor Matthews stood up smiled sadly at me and then looked at Mummy.

‘She isn’t ready yet, give it time. I’ll try again–maybe tomorrow.’

‘Please,’ I said, ‘what’s all this about. Why am I here?’

Doctor Matthews turned back to me and seemed to think for a moment.

‘You were playing football and had just scored a goal, do you remember that?’

‘Yes, it was a bit of a fluke, but not bad coz it meant that we would probably win.’

‘What happened after the goal?’

‘I ran along the pitch to the flag–and then–then–I––’

It came back to me with full horror, my stepfather or Ferris–the face was sort of fuzzy– coming at me with a knife, wanting to stab me, shouting, screaming at me. I didn’t want to go there and I could almost feel the stabbing pain.

I screamed.

But I wasn’t stabbed, I was in the arms of Mummy and I was safe. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt me–I was safe.

I must have gone to sleep again and when I awoke it was night time. The curtains had been drawn and there was just a small lamp in the corner and sitting there was Mrs Moon, reading a book!

She looked up, perhaps sensing that I had woken up at last.

‘Hello, Susan,’ she smiled, closing her book and placing it on the table.

‘Erm hi, where is everyone?’

‘Oh, your mum and dad are down in the restaurant having some supper. The children were all here but had to go home with your Auntie Monica and I’m here because I think that it would be good if you and I have a wee chat.’

She came and sat by my bed.

‘Chat?’ I asked warily.

‘Yes, chat. You know, Susan, I have grown to love you and your family. Not much gets by me and I have always had an interest in all of your welfare. I have seen the problems you have faced and to be honest, I was surprised you hadn’t snapped before––no let me speak. I was going to bring something up with you before the poo hit the fan–so to speak. You’ve been drinking–no, don’t deny it. I know. At first I thought that it was one of the others–adults that is–but it wasn’t, because I asked in a roundabout way, so as not to raise suspicions.’

‘What’s this got to do with me?’

She looked at me sadly. ‘Everything. You can’t lie Susan: I know a liar when I see one and you can’t lie for toffee. I laid a trap for you the night before the match. You forgot to change the level of the vodka. Maybe you had too much on your mind. Anyway, it was you and the expression now on your face confirms it.’

I felt physically sick but she went on.

‘You see I know all about what you are going through because of my son–’

‘–Mark?’

‘Yes.’

Mark was killed in the first Gulf War. He was a sergeant in bomb disposal; he was awarded a posthumous Military Cross and was exceptionally brave, but I had no idea that he had problems.

‘I haven’t said anything before as it was my business and mine alone,’ she continued, ‘but I can’t bear to see you going through all this pain and suffering like he did. He bottled it up.’

Realising her own macabre pun, she laughed ruefully before continuing. ‘He shouldn’t have returned to Kuwait; he was neither fit nor well, but he didn’t want to let his mates down. He had nightmares and he drank to forget and he lived the horrors every day he was home. He denied it to me and everyone. He was the life and soul of the party, but inside he was cracking up. He went back and he did something brave and stupid and got himself killed. I think he couldn’t live with himself or what he thought was a weakness. He should have had help but he didn’t get any because he hid it all–bottled it up. Some people say that Kuwait was a walkover and in many ways it was, but there were pockets where resistance was fierce and remember the Iraqis left booby traps everywhere. Mark was always in the front line, trying to help clear the mines and some of his mates had been killed trying to clear the roads. What he saw and experienced changed him into someone who was almost a stranger. It was PTSD, but he didn’t recognise it and we didn’t pick up on the signs.’

‘What’s this got to do with me?’ I asked.

‘You are showing all the signs of PTSD.’

‘I know, my period will start soo–hang on, PTSD––?

‘Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.’

‘That’s rubbish, I haven’t been to war.’

‘Yes you have, your own private war. You have seen and had done to you things that no normal kid can even contemplate having experienced. You don’t need to be in a war situation to get PTSD. Any act of violence, physical or mental can trigger it. Believe me, honey, you need help. I can’t force you and neither can your parents or doctors, it has to come from you. Once you admit you have a problem, they can help you. It’s up to you, love. Please know though, that we are all here to help you. I don’t want you to go the same way as my Mark.’

‘So, I didn’t injure myself then?’

‘No, honey–well not physically anyway. You are here because of your reaction and collapse on the football pitch. I’ll go and get a cuppa now. Your mum and dad will be back in about 10 minutes–it’ll give you time to think on what I’ve said.’

She smiled, gave me a rather motherly kiss on the forehead and went out to leave me to my turbulent thoughts.

I was sick in the head then. They would put me in an asylum or something. Was this place a hospital, clinic or a prison…

I stopped myself, hating the thoughts in my head. This wasn’t me. I was not the sort of girl who would even think that her parents would do anything that wouldn’t be in my best interests.

I thought back over the problems that I had had in a comparatively short space of time. I shuddered as I recalled the beatings at the hands of my late stepfather. How I was thrown out of my home–the only home that I’d ever known. Of finding my mum covered in blood on her bed after a beating that could have killed her. Then the death of my mum at the hand of that bastard.

Then there were the people who didn’t think that I had a right to live–like the odious Ferris. I came out in a sweat when I thought of him and his cowardly attack on me at the time of my greatest triumph so far–at Wembley. Then there was the gutter press who continually attempted to undermine me by using underhand methods to doctor my drugs test and take compromising pictures of me.

Was I that bad a person?

As I lay there staring up at the ceiling with tears coursing down my cheeks I realised that I didn’t want any more nightmares or pills or drink to keep me alive. I needed help and I needed it now. I covered my eyes with my free hand and wept.

The door opened and I could hear a soft footfall across the deep carpet. Even though my eyes were closed, I knew who it was from her exquisite fragrance.

She enveloped me in her soft arms.

‘There, there, honey, it will be all right, I promise.’

‘Oh, Mummy, make it go away!’

~ §~

I was in the clinic for three weeks. A busy three weeks for me as I had daily sessions with Doctor Matthews, a specialist in PTSD.

We went through so many things about my life and I felt like I had been emotionally turned inside out by the time she deemed it okay for me to go home and just see her on a weekly basis. I had been put on some antidepressants for my anxiety and depression and they seemed to take the edge off things, especially at night when I was still prone to dwell on the ‘Nasties.’

A large chunk of my treatment was going over the things that had traumatised me and trying to get everything in proportion and not continually blaming myself for what had happened. It sounds strange re-living a dreadful past, but it seemed to help and Doctor Matthews was eventually satisfied with my progress, but she did warn me that I had a long and arduous road ahead before I could finally rid myself of all my demons.

I couldn’t have coped without the help and support of my friends and family. Now I was nearly out of the dark tunnel, I realised what a class A bitch I had been. I continually apologised to everyone on a regular basis. That is until I woke up one morning and found Claire and Andrea at the end of the bed with buckets and sponges, looking both determined and decidedly menacing.

‘What–?’

I was given an involuntary sponge bath and a promise that it would be repeated every morning if I continued to apologise.

I only did it only once more and then got the soggy message.

Shortly after returning from the clinic, Andrea and I had one of our private times in ‘our room’. As we cuddled up together on the couch listening to some nice background music, we talked about things.

‘Sorry about being such a cow before,’ I said.

‘Watch it or it’s sponge bath time again.’

‘Oh no, anything but the sponge bath,’ I cried in mock horror.

We both giggled and settled down again. After some tongue and tonsil exercises I carried on with what I was trying to say.

‘I can’t believe that I nearly forced you to have sex with me.’

‘You didn’t and anyway, it takes two to tango–as mum says and I wasn’t going to spoil things for us.’

‘If we had done it–?’

‘–Well we didn’t.’

‘No, and I’m glad. I can’t wait for our wedding night though.’

‘Me neither, but we won’t be marrying for a while.’

‘I know. I want to experience wild parties and lots of rave ups before I tie the knot with you.’

‘Flaming cheek; Susan Hurst, I do believe that you are getting better!’

We had a good giggle and then continued to explore our bodies in a totally chaste way–well semi-chaste, anyway.

~ §~

The club were absolutely marvellous. As far as the media was concerned, my very public collapse at the match was due to a nasty virus that I had come down with and this, in the main, had been accepted. It was nice to see most papers being supportive, but one or two had to bring up the possibility that I was too fragile for a man’s game. I would show them how fragile I was when I returned in the not too far distant future.

In the grounds of the house, I kept myself fit by running a lot and also using the swimming pool whenever I could. It was planned that I would have another week off and then, if all was well, I would start training with the club again. I was desperate to get back, but knew that if I rushed it, I might have problems.

Daddy was really quite busy now helping other young players and it was good that he had found something to do that he really enjoyed. He had sold his café to a friend a while ago and I don’t think that he regretted the decision very much. He always made sure that his new job was a nine to five though and it was a rare time when we didn’t all sit around the table as a family for meals.

Mummy began helping out at the local play group where Poppy and Daisy went, and that was nice, as she liked being around children. She wanted to return to nursing when the twins grew old enough, but for now she was satisfied with what she was doing. She dragged Monica along too, and they both didn’t seem to mind being knee deep in nappies all the time.

Andrea and Claire were at school, of course a lot of the time, which was a bit of a downer and it was kind of quiet around the house when everyone was out, but there was always Mrs Moon to chat to as well as Batwoman and Robina aka Dani and Charlotte–my security girls–to look after me and keep me on the straight and narrow and of course help me with my fitness.

Soon I was champing at the bit to get back to what I laughingly called normal. A few days before returning to training with the club, I went with Mummy to see Doctor Matthews.

We sat around in her comfy armchairs and talked about how things were going. I always had Mummy with me on these occasions–a sign of insecurity perhaps, but I was happier with her being there with me.

‘Well, Susan, how have things been this week?’

‘Quite good really. I can’t wait to get back to work.’

‘That’s good. Any nasty dreams?’

‘I had one on Tuesday, but not as bad as in the past. It all seemed to be happening to someone else and I was just an observer.’

‘So you still have your stepfather and Ferris attacking you?’

‘Yes, but it’s hard to explain it, somehow I wasn’t quite so involved and they sort of evaporated into thin air before they could get to me. It was well weird.’

‘Some dreams and nightmares are–as you say–well weird. It sounds to me as if you are becoming desensitised to your traumas and given time, hopefully the nightmares will go away for good.’

‘I hope so.’

‘You have been on antidepressants for nearly a month now. I want you to reduce the dose and then if things go well, you can stop using them. We have to do this gradually so you that don’t get any sort of reaction–withdrawal symptoms for example. Here is another prescription, see how you go.’

We talked for a while longer about how I felt and whether I was coping or not. I could see that she was pleased with me, but knew that I would be seeing her long term for something that had no short-term cure. It helped so much to talk about my feelings and it was nice that so many people were on my side and that I had a trick-cyclist who actually knew something about what I had been going through.

~ §~

Late one afternoon I went in search of Claire and found her in the study on the computer.

‘Hi, what’s up?’

She looked up and smiled.

‘Just looking at the fan site, it’s like so big now, we’ll have to get like, more bandwidth.’

‘What’s that–no never mind. So the fans haven’t forgotten me then?’

‘Forgotten you, it’s like you are never out of their minds. Some kids are on there all the time and the forums have so many hits that the servers are complaining. Now I’ve got you here, I like, have an idea I want to bounce around with you.’

‘What that?’ I asked smoothing my skirt under me and sitting next to her as her hands flew across the keyboard.

‘How about a question and answer session on the chat module.’

‘I don’t know––’

‘–look, these are your fans, and they have stuck with you, like, forever. It would be really cool if you do it.’

‘What if I make a hash of it?’

‘You won’t; you’re a natch. Just answer the questions and if any are like, iffy, I’ll jump in as the moderator and jump all over them.’

‘When do you want to do it?’

‘How about tomorrow night, around seven?’

I thought for a moment. The fans had been good to me and I know a lot of young girls and some boys too looked up to me as a role model–no pressure there then?

I sighed and just nodded.

‘Well cool. I’ll put a notice up now and we’ll see like what sort of response we get.’

I left her to it and wondered into Andrea’s bedroom down the corridors. She was at her desk on her computer.

‘Hi, lover girl,’ I said coming up from behind and wrapping my arms around her. Her hair was getting longer now and I loved stroking it. That had the added bonus of turning her on more than a little bit.

She sighed and then turned around and we hugged and kissed each other like we hadn’t been together for ages, when in fact it was only an hour ago that she came home from school with Claire.

I looked at the screen.

‘Oh sorry, love, are you doing your homework?’

‘Mmm, but I’ll be finished by teatime.’

‘Good, I want to watch a DVD in our little home cinema. Maybe just me and you, soft lights and a romantic flic. Claire is going out to Guides so she won’t be about. I’ll let you eat some of my popcorn if you are a good girl.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ grinned Andrea.

‘I’ll let you get on then,’ I said with a kiss and a wave goodbye.

~ §~

The next morning was cold and clear as I went out for my run. I did ten circuits of the grounds normally, but I was feeling fresh and alive and so much better for all the help that I had, so I hoped to do a few more.

As I ran, I remembered Andrea and I cuddling in the dark watching Hachi - A Dog's Tale, a sweet but sad film about a faithful dog based on a true story. We demolished a whole box of tissues watching the film, but we loved it all the same.

I was kind of dreading approaching evening, when I would have this live online thing that Claire wanted me to do. In the bad old days I might have tried a bit of Dutch courage but I was not going down that route anymore and if I didn’t touch a drop of alcohol again I would be a very happy girl. I had seen what it did to my stepfather and also the effect that it had on me. No more, thank you very much!

I was on my eighth or ninth circuit when a flash of light caught my eye. Glancing around I could actually see someone in a tree over the other side of the high wall that surrounded the property, with one of those cameras with a long lens. I didn’t think about it, I just dashed across the lawn and in the kitchen door.

Mrs Moon was in the kitchen and nearly dropped her rolling pin at my sudden entry.

‘Whatever’s the matter, Susan?’

‘Man–in–tree–taking–photos––’ I gasped.

‘CHARLOTTE!’ She screamed in a loud voice, making me wince and Marmalade the cat run for cover.

There was the sound of running footsteps and Charlotte was there, looking unarmed but dangerous.

‘What?’ She asked in a strained voice.

‘There’s a man in a tree just outside the grounds. He had a camera. He was taking pix of me, I think.’

‘Right, wait here.’

She started to talk into her sleeve for some reason and then ran out into the garden.

I was dripping wet–I mean perspiring gently, while this was going on and Mrs M insisted that I sit down and have a cup of tea.

‘For shock, dear.’

‘I’d prefer a coke.’

‘All that caffeine is not good for you. Here, drink this and have a Chocolate Hobnob ^®.’

‘Is that good for shock?’

‘No, but it tastes nice,’

I should have been shocked and upset by the intrusion, but I wasn’t really. It would be dealt with by Dani and Charlotte so, hopefully, it won’t happen again. I accepted that I was newsworthy enough to have some daft sod up a tree trying to catch glimpses of me. Perhaps I was getting over my demons?

I found out a little later that Charlotte had caught the man as he came down the tree and regretfully his camera got broken somehow. Our next door neighbours–the Dexters–were a nice couple with a young daughter who went to the same play group as the twins. They were horrified to learn that a man had climbed their wall and had shinned up their old oak tree. Steps were taken to stop future trespassing on their property and we helped with the beefing up of their security. With a young child in the house, the last things that they wanted were unwelcome guests.

The rest of the day went relatively well and security alerts were kept to a minimum, well it would have been calm that is if Mummy hadn’t got it into her head to put a pie in the oven without the direct supervision of Mrs Moon. She, of course forgot about it when she did some twin bum changing and the resultant smoke caused a temporary DEFCON 1 status when the smoke alarms went off.

I was feeling a bit frazzled by then and wondered if I might have a quieter time in the middle of a war zone somewhere. I kept glancing at the clock as it gradually made its way towards seven o’clock and wondered if I should ring Doctor Matthews for a quick phone counselling session.

All too soon it was show time and I sat in front of the computer as the seconds ticked away to my first live chat on the fan site. Claire sat next to me using her laptop to control things and looked quite excited–well it was all right for her, she wasn’t in the firing line.

‘Right,’ she said, ‘all you have to do is look at the screen and when the questions come up, answer them using the keyboard, that’s the thing in front of you with all the like, letters on it.’

‘Ha-ha,’ I quipped sarcastically.

‘Wow, we have over ten thousand logged on tonight!’

‘No pressure then?’

‘Don’t worry you’ll like do fine. Okay, it’s seven, let me start by introducing you––’

Claire-is-like-the-one: Good evening everyone. This is the thing we have all been waiting for–the first online chat with Susan Hurst. A few ground rules, no swearing, no very personal questions nor anything that might upset Susan or any other member. Susan has kindly agreed to be with us for half an hour. All right the first question please:

Suzie-is- my-hero: Hi Susan, how are you feeling now?

SusanHurst: Much better thanks

Suzie-is- my-hero: will you be playing again soon?

SusanHurst: yes very soon now if the boss picks me!

DanielleL: is it strange playing with all those men?

SusanHurst: not really, I’m used to it now. Though they have to stop swearing when I’m about–lol

JohnnyT12: can I be your boyfriend?

Claire-is-like-the-one: no questions like that please

JohnnyT12: sorry, its just that I think that you are smashong I mean smashing

SusanHurst: sorry Johnny I’m taken

LauraAsh: ooh, who’s the lucky girlfriend/boyfriend then?

SusanHurst: I’m not telling

LauraAsh: shame (giggle)

Claire-is-like-the-one: keep the questions on track please guys, no personals

ChloeL: I have just got into my under 13 football team–I started playing cos of you

SusanHurst: thats great Chloe, good luck!

Ade123: what was your fav team before joining Melchester?

SusanHurst: it has always been Melchester for me. it was a dream come true when I first played for them. Sometimes it still feels like a dream

NickiH: do you prefer to wear girlie things in private or jeans and stuff?

SusanHurst: well it depends. Most times I just wear things that I am comfortable with, for me that’s skirts, blouses, dresses. I do love dressing up and looking pretty because when I was dressing as a boy I didn’t have much chance to look the way I wanted to. Now I can dress as a girl I make the most of it. Mind you, in my job, you can’t look pretty in football kit so I try to be as feminine as possible when I can. I do wear jeans and stuff sometimes though, coz it’s more practical.

JohnnyT12: You would look great in a bin bag!

Claire-is-like-the-one: Johnny, you are on a yellow card, one more and you get the red one!

JohnnyT12: Sorry :(

I giggled at Claire and Johnny and then the questions continued. Most of them were innocent enough, but one or two came close to personal. Claire stamped on anything that wasn’t very nice and Johnny finally got his red card after asking about the colour of my knickers. All in all it went well, and I just finished off by thanking the fans.

SusanHurst: I have really enjoyed this. Maybe we can do something like it another time. Thanks for supporting me. It’s lovely to know that you are all out there and take an interest in me. I hope that some of you girls get the football bug and join a team. You never know, we might play against each other or even be teammates one day. Anyway, Claire is making funny noises and going cross-eyed now so I had better go. Speak to you soon–bye.

Claire-is-like-the-one: Thank you Susan for coming on line. Well, that’s all folks. I will let you know when Susan is able to come on again bye for now!

Session ended.

I sat back in my seat, took a deep breath and smiled. I did enjoy that. It was better than an interview on the radio or on TV as I was speaking directly to the people that really matter–the fans.

‘That went well,’ said Claire grinning from ear to ear, ‘glad you like, did it?’

‘Yes it was good. One or two of the questions were a bit iffy though–what about that Johnny though?’

‘Yes, I wonder if he was as young as he sounded. I had my like, suspicions when he started mentioning knickers.’

‘Some boys are like that though––’

‘–A lot of men, too.’

‘True.’

I went to bed that night and snuggled down with my white rabbit. I had just texted Andrea on my cool iPhone. All right, she was only fifty feet away but you have to use the technology! She had a day off school the next day as it was a teacher only day and we wanted to make plans about going out somewhere–I fancied the zoo, she wanted to go ice skating–we would probably do both. I knew it would be difficult and that we would have our ever-present minders about, but I was sure that we could enjoy ourselves in spite of that.

Altogether things were looking up and I was looking forward to things getting back to normal and that meant more football and–hopefully–a lot more fun.

Please leave comments...thanks! ~Sue

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.