Previously...

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.

And now the story continues…

The next few months were hard for me–but in a good way. As far as Melchester were concerned, we were finally climbing the table and I was lucky enough to be picked for most games once I had recovered from my injuries.

I was the second top scorer for the club after Ogsood and I was told that I would play for England in the next world cup qualifier against Germany in a few weeks time–injuries permitting, of course.

Our fans loved me and all opposition fans were not as nice as they could be. Well I didn’t expect them to be–I was “the enemy” after all. Mind you, there was very little hate behind their taunts so I was thankful for that!

On a personal note, the dreams and nightmares became less and less but I knew I would not get over them completely in the short term. Now I understood how things were, I was more at peace with myself and able to function, more or less as a normal human being.

Not that I was that normal. I was a professional football player who, for some reason, the country had taken to its collective heart. I was considered as a “role model” for the youth of today and expected to behave and act accordingly. I dared not let my hair down and do anything daft, even if I wanted to.

I know that sickos sent me hate mail, but I never saw the letters so I didn’t worry about them. I had people around me that protected me from the less than pleasant aspects of my high visibility life and for that I was truly thankful.

Mummy and Daddy were my rocks. They were my true parents now that Mum had been murdered and they went overboard to make sure I knew how much they loved me. My therapist said I needed stability to my life and they brought that to me.

Claire was my best friend and we did a lot together. She looked after the fan site and was, according to her, my fashion consultant. We bought a lot of clothes on line, because I was wary to go to shops after I was mobbed on one occasion. We had a good time though, despite the restrictions.

Andrea and I were growing closer and closer as each day passed and I loved her more than life itself. Andrew was very rarely seen and only then when she went to school as a he. I wanted her to transfer to a private school, but that would mess with the exams she was studying for. We had an agreement though, that should things get too heavy, she would transfer. Luckily, Andrea’s private life was kept under wraps and no one was aware of her double life–yet.

We were worried that Andrea’s treatment to hold back puberty might affect the possibility of us having children. Andrea went through a lot of hoops to have her sperm put into a bank, just in case. You normally had to be 18 to do that, but, because of her “condition” it was allowed and now lots of frozen wrigglies were waiting for us, if and when we might need them. We wanted to wait until we were at least 18 to get married and we hoped that our lives would be more settled by then and that we would be in a position to marry–only time would tell if we would walk down the aisle arm in matching wedding dresses–sigh!

I was finally getting used to my periods. I defy anyone to like them, though. I am on the pill now, not because I want to have sex, well, I do, but that’s a different story–just my teen type hormones kicking in, I suppose. My periods were the pits and I was quite heavy sometimes, but I lived with my monthly visitor as all girls do. My mood swings felt a bit better, thanks to the pills I had been given, but I had my moments, and in some of the games I played, I regret to say, I showed a certain amount of what might be considered aggression. After one game against Portside, where I was particularly antsy, one of the full backs came up to me and said I had some balls, the way I had tackled that day. I think it was a compliment.

~ §~

So we lived in our large house behind high walls and a security system that was second to none. I was happy though, having all of my extended family with me and two mothers, really, as Monica was near enough my almost mother in law and I loved her dearly.

I was now an old pro at the “media lark”. I was often on TV and must have been okay at it, as I was asked more and more often. I was even asked on Match of the Day as an “expert”, when we had one of our rare weekends free of matches. It was strange sitting there giving my opinion on games that I hadn’t played in, and actually being listened to with some respect.

Recalling one point in the programme made me smile though.

‘What do you think about the way Timmo played today, Susan?’ Ben Foggarty, the anchor man or whatever he was called, asked.

‘Well, Ben, he seemed to have two left feet. I never saw a player fall over so much in the box. Maybe he should have his eyes tested, as he missed more chances than I have ever seen him do before.’

‘That’s a bit harsh, Sue, mind you, didn’t he say some nasty things about you in The Post?’

‘Did he? I never saw.’

The others laughed at that for some reason.

~ §~

One regret was that we were knocked out of the Champions League while I was unfit to play. I wasn’t even with that lads when we were narrowly defeated by Outhaven, the German Bundesliga champions. The only good thing about that was we could now concentrate on the league and we wouldn’t have so many games to contend with in an already busy and congested season.

Ferris had been transferred to an open prison as he wasn’t deemed to be a threat and was on appeal for his sentence. I had no idea what the grounds of the appeal was but my solicitor said something about bias, due process and the fact that he didn’t have a fair trial due to the media coverage.

I sort of let it wash over me. As long as he was under lock and key, I was happy. The press were being kind to me now. I think that they feared a backlash if they reported the usual ill informed claptrap that I had experienced previously. That didn’t stop the speculation about my love life, and it made me laugh at one of the more outrageous stories from a rag which will remain nameless, but liked to show some revealing flesh on page 3. Evidently I was soon to be engaged to one of the royal princes, they didn’t mention which one, but as there are only two, it didn’t take much imagining as to which one they were talking about!

I laughed it off and just got on with things.

~ §~

I was at the training ground with the rest of the squad one Tuesday morning. It was cold and the frost crunched underfoot as we went through the tortures that are intervals.

I knew that intervals were good for me, but they were punishing, and like hell on earth if you do them for too long. I was doing some separate ones from the others as the boss was still not happy with my level of fitness. I thought that being a girl was all good, but this was rank discrimination. So, the other guys were bigger and stronger than me and had trained more and at greater length, but still…

I had just finished my sixth set and feeling that death was preferable to this, when over by the side of the pitch was Daddy, beckoning me over. As I was gasping my last breath, or so it felt, I went over to him and tried to catch my breath whilst standing on my now weak and wobbly legs.

‘What–is–it?’ I gasped.

‘Out of breath dear?’

‘Ha—ha.’ I replied sarcastically with sweat trickling down my face and various other parts.

‘Well, your torture is over. Go and get changed, we have a meeting with Sheila Strong at her office in an hour.’

‘What’s it about?’

‘I’ll let her explain.’

‘Daddieeee.’

‘Don’t get all doe-eyed with me, young lady, I know all your tricks by now.’

I huffed at him, then shouted my goodbyes to the other torture victims’ still running up and down on the pitch and then went to get changed.

~ §~

We made it in an hour–just. No way was I going to see my media guru looking like I had just left the pitch. I had my nice black emergency dress on–left in my locker for just such a purpose, some strappy heels and full war paint. I had no idea what all this was about, but I was dressed for action under my ankle length black coat.

Sheila’s plush offices in the centre of town had an underground car park and after finding a space, we made our way up to the top floor via a lift. I spent the time looking in the lift mirror, putting a final polish on my lippy and brushing my now rather long blond hair.

Daddy, feigning ignorance, had said little to me about what was going on. I suspected that he knew all about it though, as he had that certain smile on his face that said “I know something that you don’t”.

The lift doors pinged open and we were in the exclusive plush offices of Sheila Strong.

Amanda was in the outer office. Amanda was Sheila’s PA, and also, I had heard on the grape vine, her lover, though everyone pretended that she wasn’t. Amanda was tall, thin, looked like a supermodel and was very nice to me and had been all the times I had ever spoken to her or seen her.

‘Hi, Susan,’ she said giving me a warm hug. ‘Jeff, you look well.’

‘Thanks,’ said a slightly tongue tied Jeff. I would have to tell Mum about this, I thought mischievously.

‘Do you want to have a seat for a moment, Sheila is tied up in a transatlantic call: she shouldn’t be too long. Coffee, tea, Coke?’

‘Coke, please,’ I replied: Daddy went for the coffee option.

As we waited, my cool iPhone pinged. It was a text from Andrea.

‘wassup?’

‘waiting to c SS.’

‘‘SS’? Zey haf vays of makink you talk.’

‘not that SS - Sheila Strong.’

‘why u C-ing her?’

‘don’t know yet. text U l8r.’

‘ok - luv u.’

‘me 2 u.’

‘got 2 go, klingons on the starboard bow.’

I shook my head. That place was full of morons, and I wished that she didn’t have to go there. Every other day she was telling me that despite the school trying to cut down on bullying, things were getting bad for anyone not part of the gangs.

I put the phone in my shoulder bag with a frown.

‘Who was that?’ Daddy asked.

‘Andrea’

‘I thought that they don’t allow texting at school?’

‘They don’t, but everyone does it.’

Just then the door opened and there she was, all smiles and perfect teeth.

‘Sorry to have kept you, please come in?’

We followed her into her office and made ourselves comfortable. As usual, Sheila looked like she had just walked off the catwalk. She looked like what I always wanted to be, cool elegant and beautiful. I bet even her tights were specially made for her!

‘Well, Susan, how are things?’

I told her that my life had returned to what I laughingly called normality and I was coping better with my demons now.

‘That’s good. Any probs, come and see me–promise?’

‘I promise.’

‘Okay then, down to business. I’ve already run this by Josie and Jeff and they’ve agreed in principle as long as you are happy with it, although to be fair they have some reservations. Also Melchester think that it’s a good idea too.’

‘What?’

‘I’m coming to that. Before we talk about this, I want you to know that there is no pressure on you, if you don’t want to do it, fair enough–’

‘Sheila.’

‘Yes, love?’

‘Please–tell–me–what is it you want me to do?’

‘Right, good, okay. We have been approached by BSkyB to do a fly on the wall documentary about you. They want to follow you for one week and get some idea of what goes on in your day to day life. They think that it’s newsworthy and would help your fans to get to know you better.’

I looked at Daddy and he obviously knew all about this. I wasn’t sure that I wanted my private life paraded around in public.

‘No.’

‘Pardon.’

‘I won’t do it.’

‘Look, you’ll be fully protected and there would be strict guidelines as to what they can and cannot film.’

‘I don’t trust the media that much, and anyway, I don’t want my home to be seen by anyone.’

‘Ah,’ said Sheila knowingly, ‘they wouldn’t see your home?’

‘Pardon me?’

‘What Sheila is trying to say is that BSkyB will rent a house miles away and we show you living there and getting on with your life the way you want to.’

‘Not our house?’

‘No, apart from the security aspect, we don’t want the twins or the rest of the family to be shown. A way around this would be for you to be at another location entirely.’

‘Isn’t that dishonest? After all, they want to see me as I normally am and I’m not normally living anywhere but home.’

‘At no time would it be mentioned that the place that is being filmed isn’t your actual home,’ said Sheila, ‘Let’s face it, a lot of the pro footballers you play with and against have two or more homes anyway. You just are not using your main residence.’

‘And the club agrees with this?’

‘Yes, it’s good publicity and shows the world that you have nothing to hide.’

‘What do I get of it?’

‘Lots of money.’

‘I don’t need money.’

Sheila looked shocked at such heresy. ‘Wash your mouth out, young lady.’

I giggled at that.

Then Sheila’s ’phone buzzed and with an apologetic smile she went to answer it, mumbling something about ‘L.A.’.

‘What d’you think, Daddy?’ I asked.

‘You know that we are behind you one hundred percent, Susan. Whatever you decide is okay with us. Don’t feel pressured into doing something you don’t want to do. I think the logistics of doing something like this will be hard to sort out, and anyway, it might come to nothing like a lot of these schemes. At the moment, it’s just an idea. You don’t have to decide here and now. We can tell Sheila that you will think about it.’

We sat there a few minutes and I finished off my Coke. I had the grain of an idea in my head though and I wondered if it would work.

Sheila came off the phone and with an apology, joined us again.

‘Where were we?’ She asked.

‘I was basically telling you, no.’

‘I understand how you feel. You’ve been through a lot and maybe it is too soon, but I did promise that I would pitch the idea to you. Never mind, I’m sure we can do something else when you feel up to it.’

I shifted in my seat and smoothed down my skirt and then looked straight at Sheila.

‘Erm, how much were they, erm, offering?’

‘Quarter of a mil,’

‘What, just for a week?’

‘Yes, but you would have to do a bit of promotion in that as well.’

‘Is that just for UK rights?’

Sheila smile grew wider.

‘I see that you are learning–yes, only the UK has been mentioned so far.’

It was a lot of money–but as I said before, I wasn’t exactly poor and I always want to do things for people.

I glanced at Daddy, who seemed somewhat puzzled and–dare I say it–a bit out of his depth.

‘You are scheming, Sue, I can tell.’

‘Moi?’ I replied, opening my eyes wide.

‘Don’t come the innocent with me, I have been around the block a few times.’

‘How old are you Sheila?’

‘Bloody cheek! All right, out with it.’

Suddenly I felt a bit shy for some reason and maybe a bit sad too.

‘You know my past and how I was beaten up by my step-father?’

‘Yes?’

‘Is there any way we could use the money to set up a half-way house or shelter for kids in the same position?’

Sheila’s looked at me and smiled.

‘I am sure that we can get the cash-strapped council to agree to something like that if we set up a charity and can staff it with properly qualified people. Are you sure though. 250K will go a long way to start it but you would need much more than that to keep it going.’

‘That’s why I mentioned UK rights. Murdoch would probably sell it to the USA market and other countries, wouldn’t he?’

‘Maybe; girls’ football is getting bigger everywhere and you are the most prominent star at the moment. Perhaps we could get other companies to help sponsor it, too’

‘I have people all over the world who are members of my fan site, so I assume the word has got around, although I don’t really know what the fuss is about, I only play a bit of football.’

‘Susan,’ said Daddy, ‘Don’t keep putting yourself down like that–you know that you are special.’

‘You’re biased.’

‘The thousands of fans that you have are not biased; they see you for what you are.’

I grimaced.

‘Susan?’

‘Yes, Sheila?’

‘You mention your step-father; did he keep putting you down?’

I looked at her. She knew.

I just nodded, a tear slipping down my cheek for some reason.

Sheila stood up and opened her arms.

‘Come here, love.’

I heard Daddy say that he was popping out for a moment as I was embraced by Sheila and then cried my eyes out.

The bloody man was still getting under my skin, even though he was dead and gone.

It took a few minutes to get myself back together with the help of hugs and several tissues.

I sat next to Sheila on her expensive leather couch as I dripped water on it. Sheila wasn’t much better and I think that we both looked a bit raccoon like by the time we settled down.

At some stage, Amanda had come in and left some tea and biscuits and we sat in silence for a few moments while we collected ourselves. Eventually Sheila smiled sadly and spoke.

‘Now I know why you are so insecure about your talents. Can I tell you something in confidence? I don’t want it put about.’

‘Of course,’ I replied, wondering what she was going to tell me.

‘When I was just a bit older than you, I married a man. He was sweet, kind and loving. He was five years older than me, but that didn’t matter as I was deeply in love. He had been married before, but he said that it just didn’t work out. He had a child aged three, but he never saw him, as his mother wouldn’t let him have access.’

She sipped her tea and then with a faraway look and almost as if she was talking to herself, she continued.

‘As I say we had a wonderful white wedding and everything went fine for about six months. You have to understand that I am bi-sexual and I had had flings with men and women, so I was not what you would call sexually naive. I didn’t hide the facts of my past from Ian. I wanted an open and trusting relationship. I had friends outside our relationship–all women, although I did have few male acquaintances. Ian started suspecting me of having an affair–he became obsessed with the possibility that I was seeing a woman or even women, in secret. He started belittling me in front of others, putting me down and not allowing me to have a mind of my own. I was, as now, a bit of an independent mind and I didn’t take this lightly. We had flaming rows and I walked out on him once and went back home to my mother’s house.’

‘Did he hit you?’

‘Not then, no. Anyway, he begged forgiveness and he was plausible to me. You see, I still loved him for some strange reason. To cut a long story short, I returned to him after two weeks away and things were better for a little while and then it started again–the sniping, undermining my confidence and the harsh words. Then he came home drunk one day and attacked me with a kitchen knife. I ran out of the house before he could get to me and ran off, luckily catching a taxi at the end of the road. I never went back to him and divorced him six months later. So I do know what you have been going through and the lack of self worth; but you get over it in time. That is all it takes–time. I found out later that he had put his previous wife in hospital after he attacked her and that he had a restraining order to keep him away from her and her son.’

‘Oh, Sheila, how horrible.’

‘I know, but I came through it stronger and with a knowledge that despite everything he did or said to me, I had made a success with my life. You can do the same.’

‘You think?’

‘I know,’

I think Daddy was listening outside the door, as only a few seconds later he came in.

‘Feeling better, you two?’

‘Yes, thanks, Daddy,’ I replied.

Sheila just nodded, looked at her face in the mirror and then swiftly went off to fix it, not before telling me that she would think about my ideas and get back to me.

After saying goodbye to Amanda, we found ourselves back on the street and then in the car.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ asked Daddy.

‘No, I’m fine–in fact I feel okay now.’

‘Good–d’you want to go home or d’you fancy having an artery clogging MaccyD.’

‘Need you ask?’

I put on my ever ready baseball cap and dark glasses and luckily, I wasn’t recognised, although I think that the pimply youth serving us thought that I was strange, wearing dark glasses inside like that!

As I wolfed down–I mean, ate my Big Mac in a delicate and ladylike manner, Daddy concentrated on his nuggets, dipping them in his barb sauce distractedly.

‘Penny for them?’

He looked up and smiled.

‘Just thinking what you will be like when you get older and wondering if you will be another Sheila.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you. Okay you have issues and more than your fair share of problems, but you bounce back. I couldn’t believe it when you began talking about foreign rights and suchlike, even though it was plain at first that you weren’t keen on the idea.’

‘I’m still not reall, and if I’m not comfortable with it, I reserve the right to pull out without any stupid cancellation clauses––’

‘–There you go again. For god’s sake, Susan, you’re only sixteen; where’s all this stuff coming from.’

I looked at him and smiled and said the usual show stopper.

‘It’s a girl thing––’

~ §~

We made our way through the traffic, which for Melchester was worse than usual. Traffic lights out of sync or something according to Mel Radio traffic’s Eye-in-the-Sky. We had just got through the worst of it when Daddy’s car phone rang.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi, it’s me, Josie.’

‘Hi love, what happening?’

‘Where are you?’

‘Just out of the city centre and making our way home, why?’

‘Is Sue with you?’

‘Yes.’

There was a pause.

‘Can you go to the College Hospital?’

‘Why, what up, is it one of the twins?’

‘No, Andrea was attacked outside school by some thugs. She evidently didn’t remove some mascara before going this morning. She’s been beaten up quite badly.’

‘Oh, Mummy!’

In ten minutes we had arrived at the hospital and I was not in a good state, imagining all sorts of horrors.

We parked as near as possible in the car park, but it wasn’t near enough for me, as Daddy insisted that I stay with him rather than him dropping me off. I noticed distractedly that Charlotte–one of my minders–was close by and getting out of her car. I suppose it’s good that I never realised they were around when I was out and about.

We rushed into A&E and were directed towards a side cubicle. Monica, Claire and Mummy were outside. On the other side of the corridor a female police officer was standing, waiting–

‘What’s happening?’ Daddy asked. For some reason, I had lost the power of speech.

‘The doctors are with her now,’ Monica replied.

‘What happened then?’

‘She was caught in an alley,’ Mummy continued, as Monica was too upset to continue and I was hugging Claire. ‘There were four of them; they attacked her in that flaming alley by the side of the school. I wish that they would close that off; it’s a bloody dangerous place. Anyway, they caught her and–and de-bagged her. She was wearing girls’ undies and as soon as they saw them, they began hitting her. That’s all she was able to tell us before she lost consciousness. We don’t know the full damage yet–the doctors won’t say–but she’s being prepped for surgery at this very moment.’

At that, I lost it and both Claire and I burst into tears.

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.