I can only imagine how unpleasant an experience it’s been to have your personal life plastered all across the media.”
I nodded. “Thank you. I’ve had quieter times.”
Cat spun in her seat. “My mum’s boyfriend is crazy over the Singers, he’ll piss himself when he knows what we’ve done for him.”
I smiled. “Thanks for doing this.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “We’re hoping he pops the question sooner rather than later, he’s good for my mum, keeps her out of trouble.”
“I guess an autograph will help your case.”
“That’s the plan,” James said. “We’ll all sit back when we get to the ground, give you some space, don’t worry.”
I clutched at the notepad on my lap, the crappy little biro. I’d scrawled out a letter, just a few lines. I hoped it would be enough.
It was getting light as we pulled into the Singers’ training ground. Sure enough, the players’ car park was beyond. It was virtually empty, no sign of life. One old man hung around in a woolly overcoat, a Singers calendar under his arm. And me, with my little notepad. I pulled up the collar on my coat. Please nobody recognise me.
A few more people turned up. A mother with two young boys, and a teenage girl with Singers’ pom-poms. A couple of lads, too, armed with a football and some marker pens. Then the press. I saw them setting up at the entrance, training their lenses on the players’ car park. Shit. I turned away, keeping my back to them.
A sporty BMW pulled up first, some lanky blonde lad getting out of it. He came over to the fence, smiled and signed his autograph. When it was my turn I made sure to pick a blank page, smiling like I was some kind of mega fan. He seemed to buy it. My heart sped up as a Range Rover pulled up, but it wasn’t Jason who got out, just some young whippet with hair as curly as mine. Theo Fernandez was next, and this time even I recognised him. He grinned as he signed the autographs, strutting around like he owned the place. A few more players came and went, and my nerves started up. What if he didn’t show?
A screech of tyres on tarmac and another Range Rover pulled into the ground. My heart fluttered and pounded as the driver’s door opened. Jason stepped down, face like thunder and dark eyes hidden behind darker glasses. He managed a wave to the small crowd, but showed little intention of stopping. I skirted along the fence as he made his way towards the entrance, pitching my voice just loud enough to sound above the others.
“Jason! Jason, over here!”
My dirty bad stranger stopped dead. My heart stopped, too.
***
Jason
I turned on the spot, scouring the crowd. Surely not?
But there she was. Hair hidden under a fluffy purple beret, and her dainty little fingers up to the fence as she stared over. I took off my shades, taking careless steps forwards. My Gemma was smiling. She was smiling so bright it lit up the grey fucking morning. I stopped for a moment, glancing over my shoulder. Bastard photographers were waiting, all out to cause me grief. They wouldn’t take this moment from me, though. No fucking way.
I met the fence a little way down from Gemma, taking some time to sign autographs before heading towards her. She had her fingers hooked through the wire, so close I could smell her perfume. Just the other side of the fence, but it was way too far.
My voice was low, barely more than a whisper. “I hardly recognised you, good disguise.”
“I needed to see you. This is pretty drastic, I know. I tried calling.”
“I’ve been having some problems, switched my phone off for a while.”
“I know.” She pushed her fingertips further through the gaps and instinctively I leaned closer before checking myself. Too many people.
She must have read my mind, raising her voice to be heard. “Please could you sign this for me? I’m a big fan. Probably your biggest.”
Her smile, oh fuck, her smile. She pushed the notebook through the fence and closed her eyes as my fingertips brushed hers. I held on just a heartbeat as I took the pen from her, as long as I dared. “Who shall I sign this to?”
“Mr Bingo. Don’t ask.”
“Mr Bingo?” I repeated. She had me smiling, just a ghost, but more than I’d smiled all weekend.
“I’ve marked out a page for you, if you could sign there, too,