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Previously...

After waiting in A&E for two hours, the girls were confirmed to have measles and they were given some syrup stuff to reduce the fever and pain. We were told to see the GP the following day. They would probably have it for about two weeks–poor little tykes.

We arrived home a bit later to be met by Claire, who after ensuring that the children were okay, dragged Daddy and I to the office where the computer was on.

‘Look at this!’ she said, excitedly, pointing at the screen showing an internet news website and at the top under a breaking news banner, was the screaming headline––

‘SCORPIO ITALIA IN BID WAR OVER SUSAN HURST.
 £FIFTY MILLION OFFERED FOR THE WONDER GIRL!’

And now the story continues…

‘Bloody hell!’ I said instinctively.

‘Language, Susan.’

‘Sorry, Daddy, but look, what’s going on?’

‘Welcome to the real world of speculation, hype and wild rumours. Since I started looking after your interests and those of some others, I have noticed that nothing is normal, straight forward or clear when it comes to the professional football world. Expect to get this on a regular basis. No club has come after you yet. Officially, there is–according to John Prentiss–continual dialogue between agents and clubs regarding the availability of players, but nine times out of ten, nothing comes of it. In your case, as I say, there have been no official or even unofficial approaches.’

‘But what about this rubbish?’ I asked, waving a painted fingernail at the screen.

‘Speculation–get used to it. Melchester want to keep their assets and you are definitely an asset!’

~ §~

‘Well, Phil,’ I said as I sat in the studio of Melchester FM being interviewed, ‘I suppose I am very lucky to be where I am at the moment. It’s great working at something that I love.’

‘What about all the negatives though?’

‘Like the bad and inaccurate press, the assaults, a man getting into my bedroom and allegations of drug taking?’

‘Yes.’

‘I have been targeted, I realise that. I am in an unusual position having made a success of my career so far and that career has been in a male dominated sphere. There are some people who cannot accept that a girl can be a success in professional football–especially when in the past only men have been allowed to play in the league. There are lots of talented girls out there who could play and shine in the league. I hope that my playing at the top level in what is still a considered by many to be a man’s sport, might encourage other clubs to follow Melchester’s lead and start signing up girls. After all, ladies football is incredibly popular and many supporters of the clubs are female.

‘So you think girls can stand up to the rough and tumble of men’s football?’

‘Well, I have.’

‘But at what cost?’ he asked, quietly.

I sat for a moment considering my answer. I stared at the window: on the other side were the technicians and Daddy, who was looking at me and raising his eyebrows, no doubt wondering what I was going to say and whether he might have to do some sort of damage limitation exercise.

‘Good question, Phil. It’s no secret that things haven’t always been great with everything that’s happened to me. Hell, I’m still only a kid and if I read my story so far in a magazine or a book, I would think that it was too fanciful to be true. However, on balance I’m glad that I am where I am today. Whether I will say the same tomorrow is another question––’

~ §~

As soon as we arrived back home, my cool iPhone chirped the moment I walked through the door.

I stopped dead as I answered it, causing Danni to bump into me.

‘Michelle!’ I squealed excitedly as Danni mumbled something unladylike and made her way past me.

‘Hi, Susan, get your glad-rags on, you’re coming to London!’

‘W—what?’

‘It’s all been cleared with your mum and dad, not forgetting Sheila Strong. There is the world premier of Forget Me Not on at The Odeon tonight and I need someone to walk down the red carpet with me and you’re that person–that is if you want to.’

‘Want to, want to, but how do I get there, and I haven't got anything to wear––’

‘All sorted. Ask your mum, she knows all, got to dash, see you at seven at The Ritz, we’ll go from there.’

‘But––’

‘–Bye-eee.’ She hung up.

Mummy, Andrea, Clair and Monica were standing at the bottom of the marble staircase looking smug and grinning collectively.

‘What the hell–?’

‘–don’t say it,’ laughed Mummy as she and the others clustered around me.

As if in a dream, I was ‘assisted’ upstairs, showered, cleaned up generally, stuck in a functional but nice skirt and top and in no time, with Mummy and Danni and Charlotte, taken to the airport, put on a private jet and whisked off to London.

For an international jet setter like me it was nothing–who am I kidding, I was so excited I nearly wet myself!

I was in auto mode but the others weren’t. It appeared that everything had been arranged. We were to be met by some sort of flash limo, taken to the hotel where a room had been booked for me. I would be given a complete makeover and dressed by someone recommended by Sheila Strong. A dress had been provided by Harrods, of all places and was, I understood, quite something according to a text received on the plane from Clair and Andrea, who had seen it via the net.

It was incredible. I had arrived home feeling quite down again and in a few short hours, I was to mix it with the stars!

The room–or shall I say the suite of rooms–at The Ritz was the height luxury. It was plush, luxurious, decadent and a bit over the top for a simple girl from Melchester. Mind you, I could get used to it quite easily.

I was told to have a shower–again–and while I was washing my hair, people had arrived. Makeup, hair, a dresser to help me put on the dress, and a few other people who stood around for no apparent reason. Danni and Charlotte were outside doing security type things and Mummy was sitting on a sofa looking slightly bemused. Well, she may have been slightly bemused, but I was full blown, totally out of it by that stage.

‘Do film stars go through all this?’ I wondered as my toes and fingers were painted with stars. It seemed a bit over the top, but as I said to an envious Andrea and Claire later–on my cool iPhone–I could get used to all this and I gave them permission to kiss my feet and genuflect when I arrived home the following morning. I won’t repeat their rude words, but let’s face it they were only Jealous with a capital J.

The dress was something bronze and shimmery by Robert Rodriguez. It was layered with bandeau neckline, boned style bodice and a gorgeous ruffled skirt. It was a dress that was really making a statement–and that statement was WOW!

Everyone was packing up their instruments of torture and Mummy was on the ’phone to Daddy. I could hear the whispered conversation as Mummy’s whisper was on par with that of a company Sergeant Major. She wanted to know how the camera on her ’phone worked and I could see that she was itching to take a few snaps of me and wondered why. So I went over to the mirror and had a peek at myself and gasped.

Looking at my reflection, I could see why the celebs did this sort of thing and used professionals to make them look good. No way could I make myself look this beautiful in the normal run of things.

In my mind’s eye, I remembered how I usually look straight off the training ground on a wet muddy day, with my kit, body and hair caked in wet mud. Not a pretty sight.

Now with faultless makeup, a wonderful, figure hugging, drop dead gorgeous dress, and my hair piled up with a visible thin, sparking tiara to hold it in place, helped by many invisible pins and not forgetting, of course, the matching earrings and necklace, I looked the part, a film star or maybe even a princess. I never thought that I was that wonderful looking, and hated the idea and felt uncomfortable when others said I was pretty, but now I couldn’t deny it; like this I was beautiful and could see something of what others had been saying since I shook off my boy’s cocoon and became the girl I truly am.

I didn’t have any more time as there was a knock on the door. Mummy answered it and in came Michelle looking incredibly glamorous in a long black sheath dress.

I tore my eyes away from the strange reflection in the mirror and went over and gave Michelle a hug.

‘Oh, thank you for all this, Michelle, you look wonderful.’

‘So do you honey, I love the dress, makeup, everything.’

‘You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.’

‘That’s all right; we all thought that you could do with a glam night out, so came up with this idea. Are you ready–?’

‘Not yet,’ said Mummy holding her ’phone suggestively.

‘Oh, Mum-meeee!’

~ §~

As our limo drew up by a red carpet outside the cinema, there were large crowds behind barriers and lots of flashing lights.

My dress was rather short and I was glad that I was wearing sheer black tights; apart from hiding my bruises, they helped my modesty, not a lot–as that conjurer chap says–but a little bit.

Michelle got out first to cheers and applause and then I sort of got out after her, pulling down my hem in vain as I went and trying to not be noticed too much. Some hope, as there were more camera flashes and a surprising number of cheers and applause when people saw me. I looked around wondering if there was someone behind me but no, they were all applauding little me!

I had a bronze satin stole around my shoulders, it being a bit chilly but I wasn’t shivering due to the weather, but because I was terrified that I might look a bit of a fool and trip over the high heels that I was told that I had to wear for this event–despite the health risks. I wasn’t too sure if the club would be too happy about my teetering around on spiky stilettos and I could just imagine Sandy Macpherson’s scathing remarks if I added insult to the injury I already had, by falling over and breaking my leg. Talking of legs, my injured one was hurting a bit due to the unnatural angle, as I stood and walked on stilts, and I hoped that I wouldn’t have to stand for too long!

We walked down the red carpet and were stopped every few moments by interviewers. To this day, I have no idea what I said but it couldn’t have been too bad, as nothing about any gaffs appeared in the media next morning.

I spoke to a few people when we arrived in the foyer, but to tell the truth, I was a bit overawed by the number of famous faces from all walks of life that attended the premier, including a royal or two! It was strange though, I was the only footballer.

We were ushered into, or should that be, on to our seats and shortly afterwards the film started, without adverts–strange that.

It was a great film and the only thing missing were Andrea and Claire, on either side of me, pinching my popcorn. I had promised a blow by blow account when I arrived back at the hotel and I could see that it was going to be a mega-long conversation!

After the film, there were more air kisses, hugs and greetings between all the great and famous and then, evidently, there was a party afterwards.

I was almost overcome by the conflicting perfume wafting around and wondered at one stage whether I could slip away for some healthy oxygen. It was my duty to attend the party though, of course, and I found myself dancing away with one or two incredibly handsome stud muffins and the occasional group dance with women who between them earned more than the GDP of reasonable sized country–talk about dripping with diamonds!

I found that behind the image, most of the people I met were kind of normal. I suppose when you see someone in a film, you expect them to be like their character but, apart from one male lead that was a bit past his sell by date, all the others were charming and very nice to me.

At about eleven o’clock, I was feeling it a bit. I wasn’t used to late nights, and being a trained athlete meant that early beddy-byes were the normal order of the day. Michelle grabbed me after some hunk, who will remain nameless had tried to get up close and personal in one of the slow numbers. I was pleased that I was grabbed, as I was wilting and couldn’t stop gazing into the blue pools of his eyes. I was determined to remain faithful to my Andrea, but it was a bit like a kid in a sweetie shop to me. I hoped sincerely that my raging hormones would take a break because it was all wearing me down slightly.

In the stretched limo on the way back to the hotel, I gazed out of the window as the streets went by. Being the centre of London, the night life was active and noisy. With people standing in the streets outside pubs and clubs, the place was buzzing. Street cafes and restaurants were doing a roaring trade and if I wasn’t so tired, I wouldn’t have minded joining the crowds and having a bit of a good time. Mind you, no chance of that with the security issues. Danni and Charlotte, who were around somewhere, would have heart attacks if I got out and partayed the night away!

We arrived back at the hotel and with hugs, kisses and thanks for a great night I said goodnight to the smiling Michelle and went to my room. Mummy, who was sharing with me, was in bed reading and looked up as I entered, sat on the bed and with a sigh, took off my heels and rubbed my sore legs and feet.

‘Have a nice time, dear?’

‘Like, well groovy, Ma.’

We both giggled.

~ §~

It was late on Monday afternoon and I was still on a bit of a high after returning on the early flight with my entourage–if that’s what it was called. I had had little sleep because I had spoken at length to my two fave girls and then couldn’t sleep, being still somewhat hyper after the exciting time at the premier and party.

I was brought back to ground with a bump when we heard that it was likely that Ferris was to be sentenced the following day.

I was in a bit of a mood after that and in much need of a coke and some healthy chocolate.

‘You don’t need to go to the court, Susan,’ Daddy told me, sipping tea from the Best Mug In The World mug that I had given him the other day.

‘I want to–no, need to go Daddy,’ I said, between bites of chocolate. ‘Anyway the Nut Lady said I should go as it would give me closure, whatever that means.’

‘Don’t call her the Nut Lady, it’s disrespectful. The psychiatrist’s there to help you.’

‘I know, but she’s so dry and boring. All I do is sit there droning on about things and she takes notes, saying stuff like. ‘Mmm, go on, how do you feel about that, do you have nasty dreams? and not really helping me.’

‘Do you need help?’

‘Daddy, you are sounding just like her.’

‘You agreed to see her for a month, and you’ve only been twice.’

‘Twice too many times.’ I mumbled.

‘There’s nothing wrong with my hearing. Look, another couple of times and if she doesn’t help, then so be it.’

‘Why do I have to see a Nut…I mean trick-cyclist, anyway?’

‘Oh not again, Sue; look you have been moody and not just because of your lousy periods, you have had nightmares, you get down easily and then hyper, do I need to go on?’

‘Well–?’

‘–and then there are all the things that have happened to you lately, it would be enough to drive anyone around the bend, let alone a sixteen-year-old girl.’

‘Are you saying that I have an attitude problem, Father?’

He sighed and looked at me strangely.

‘If I said yes, I would be unfeeling, and if I said no, you would say that I didn’t care, so I’ll just say maybe.’

‘Typical man–on the fence,’ I said and because I am a teenage girl, without attitude, I left the room in a huff before he could say anything else nasty to me.

~ §~

I made it up with Daddy pretty fast because I needed a taxi service and he’s all right really for an old. Mummy kept looking at me with a knowing smile for some reason. It turns out that she knows all the moves and manoeuvres that girls get up to and surprisingly enough, she had tried them all in her time. It’s amazing that she was a kid once!

I knew this as we had a girlie chat that night after I went to bed. I had just said goodnight with a coe turling–I mean a toe curling–kiss with Andrea. After a lot of sighing and meaningful glances, we went our separate ways to our cold and comfortless bedrooms.

Mummy came into my bedroom shortly after this totally tragic incident and sat on the bed while I got undressed.

‘You mustn’t do it, you know, it’s not fair.’

‘What’s not fair?’ I asked, wondering if she had seen Andrea and I snogging for England.

‘Winding your father up like that. In many ways, men are not as bright as us.’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I said, relieved that she hadn’t seen anything that she shouldn’t.

‘Yes you do. I see you every day trying to twist him around your little finger. Remember, I have been there, done that and bought the t-shirt. Don’t look at me like that; you know what I mean; flutter your eyelashes, look helpless, pretend that you are thick when it’s really the men who are being thick and not seeing through our little ploys. As I say, I’ve done the lot. It’s okay for a while, and useful occasionally, but do it too much and it loses its effect–like the boy who cried “wolf”.’

‘But I’m not a…’

‘…boy? no you’re not; you are a beautiful, clever and talented and sometimes manipulative girl, and that means you must be careful not to be overdoing the helpless girl thing or trying to wind your father up too much.’

‘I do love him.’ I said sniffing for some reason.

‘I know you do and he loves you to bits and that’s why you must be careful in the way you speak to him and act around him.’

‘I am trying, Mummy, it’s all still a bit new to me though.’

‘I know, honey, but one of my jobs is to tell you when you’re not being too clever. You have a power, and you should use it wisely.’

‘Wow,’ I said as I changed into my nightie and slipped into bed. ‘It’s kind of complicated all this.’

‘Not really. Remember, I have had a lifetime getting used what you call “all this”, whereas you have–effectively–been a girl for a relatively short time.’

‘I’ll try to use my powers for good rather than evil,’ I said with a grin, as I snuggled down with my white wabbit.

Mummy laughed and kissed me on the forehead.

‘That’s right “use the force”, but nicely. Anyway you better had, or else.’

‘Or else what, Mummy?’

‘I’ll send for your Auntie Chris.’

‘Oh no, not that; anything but that!’ I answered, giggling and diving under the covers.

~ §~

Early the next day we received a ’phone call from our solicitor to say that Ferris was to be sentenced at 11.00am and that we didn’t need to go if we didn’t want to. Well I did want to–sort of, so with Mummy and Daddy we made our way to Court No. 4 At Melchester Crown Court and walked up the steps and sat in the front row of the gallery. The place was packed and I recognised several reporters and even received some smiles and acknowledgements.

The court slowly filled with officials and then Ferris was brought up from the bowels of the earth to stand in the dock.

By some quirk of fate, I was opposite but above him–if you know what I mean. The way the court was designed, the dock was higher than the floor of the court and so I was only slightly above where he was standing.

As he caught sight of me, his look sent shivers running down my spine. His eyes were cold and expressionless almost as if he wasn’t there–his face was devoid of any expression. He looked at me as if I were a complete stranger and not the one who had resulted in his standing there in the dock waiting to be sentenced.

I glanced away, not wanting to look at him. I shouldn’t have come. Why put myself through all this and relive the pain and misery that he had inflicted upon me? The flaming psychiatrist said that it would help bury my demons, give me closure and help me get on with my life, silly moo!

All it did was to bring back the nightmare of the humiliation he tried to inflict on me at that news conference and the terror that I had endured at the England-Scotland match. I wanted to go and was just about to leave when the cry came out, ‘All stand.’

The judge entered and sat down and we all followed. I was feeling weak at the knees and still wanted to leave, but to do so now would bring more attention upon myself.

I felt a hand cover mine and I looked up at Mummy. She knew what I was going through and she was there for me, as was Daddy who smiled at me and winked!

My terror went down a notch and I sat there as the barristers said things that went right over my head. Every time I looked at Ferris, he was looking at me with that dead expression: ever seen a dead fish on a slab? Well that was his expression. His eyes never left me.

Apparently, there were mitigating circumstances and the judge let the barrister for the defence try to persuade him that Ferris had been ill and not in his right mind, wouldn’t come anywhere near me and would become a model citizen if he could be given a suspended sentence. The prosecuting counsel, Mr Urban Bywater QC, said effectively that Ferris was dangerous, nasty, and in his opinion, wouldn’t hesitate to go after me again, given the chance.

I carried on watching Ferris whose eyes, still somehow unblinking, had not stopped looking at me. The barristers stopped bleating–sorry talking–and then the judge spoke up. I tore my eyes away from Ferris and looked at the judge.

Ferris was told to stand, which he did, finally looking at the judge rather than me.

‘Robert Ferris, you have been found guilty of the crime with which you have been charged. I note that you changed your plea on learned counsel’s advice to guilty of the lesser charge of actual bodily harm. The fact that you waited for the trial to commence before agreeing to the lesser charge does not make me feel inclined to be lenient with you; even though I have received the psychiatric reports where their opinion is that you may not have been completely of sound mind when you attacked Miss Hurst.’

He riffled his papers and took a sip of water. The only sound in the courtroom was the occasional cough.

‘I am obliged to your learned counsel for pointing out that this is your first offence, and that in his opinion you will not repeat the aggressive acts on the young lady in question. I am also obliged to the learned counsel for the prosecution for his views on the matter. I have considered carefully the evidence, the change of plea and all reports that I have received regarding this matter. I am satisfied though, that you were aware of what you were doing and in control of your actions. The fact that you seriously assaulted a minor makes the crime even more heinous.

‘The offense is a serious one and I cannot ignore the evidence put before me. I sentence you to three years imprisonment with a minimum term before parole is considered to be two years, with the proviso is that you receive ongoing psychiatric treatment. Take him down.’

Then Ferris looked at me and growled almost like an animal. In pandemonium, he somehow got away from the prison officers, jumped a rail and ran up the steps to the gallery and straight towards me.

‘You bitch, cow, girly-boy!’ he screamed, rushing at me and he was seconds away from grabbing my throat when he was wrestled to the ground by of all people, Danni and Charlotte. Where had they appeared from?

The struggling Ferris was bundled away by the prison officers, who finally got to him after our wonder girls had let him go. He was still screaming oaths and promises to kill me as he was dragged down the stairs and taken away.

There was a lot of shouting in the court and despite the cries of silence coming from the bench it took some time before throng got quieter.

I sat where I was and waited for everyone to finally file out before I left with my parents and minders via a rear entrance to avoid the media.

I said little on the way back, but now Ferris had been sentenced and taken away, for some reason, I wasn’t scared. For two years at least he would be out of my hair. A lot can happen in two years. I was not going to hide under a blanket waiting for Ferris to come after me. No, I would do as Michelle suggested and get on with my life. Oh, my heart was still banging away, my blouse felt wet with perspiration, my breath was coming quickly and I felt a bit faint, but nothing I couldn’t handle; let’s face it I play football against great hairy thugs on a weekly basis.

‘Sod Ferris.’ I muttered under my breath.

‘Language, Susan.’

I smiled; nothing really changed––

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.