Redemption (26 page)

“Alright, ladies, what are you having for dessert?” 

“I want the ice cream sandwich,” Maisie replied, pointing at the picture on the menu. “And I want the strawberry ice cream as well.” 

“You can’t have both,” I said. “You’ll be up all night. I’ll see if they can put strawberry ice cream between the cookies.”

“Yay!”

“What about you, Michelle?” 

“I like the look of the banana split,” she replied. “But I don’t think I can manage it all. Want to split the split?” 

I laughed. “Sure, sounds good.” 

It felt good to be out having a normal meal with two awesome girls. Well, one girl, one woman. Michelle might only be sixteen, but she seemed more mature than any of the eighteen year olds I dated. 

Maybe even a little too mature. She was inherently sensible, but on the rare occasions we got some alone time, she relaxed and acted natural around me. She didn’t idolise me like other women did; it was so refreshing.

“This isn’t how I pictured the team celebrating reaching the final,” Michelle said. “I pictured you all getting drunk and hanging out with groupies.”

“What are groupies?” Maisie asked, before slurping on her smoothie.

“Fans,” I replied quickly. “We aren’t allowed to get drunk. I’m not supposed to be eating ice cream either, mind you, but what the hell. There are a few more days to recover.”

The team had let me come back to England for a few days before the final, so I’d jumped at the chance to sneak in another night with Michelle. 

I’d wanted tonight to be a date, but when I asked Michelle to dinner she stared at me, and I could have sworn she’d been about to say no. I quickly said that Maisie should come too so that the dinner wouldn’t look like a date. 

Before we left the restaurant, word got out that I was in there eating dinner, so I had to sign a few autographs before we could go out to the relative anonymity of the London streets. 

Maisie was bouncing around enjoying her sugar high, so I was thankful that we had a thirty-minute walk home for her to burn it off. The walk also meant more time with Michelle.

I wanted to put my arm around her or hold her hand, but I had no idea how she would react. It probably wouldn’t have been a good idea, anyway. Maisie picked up on every little detail and would no doubt notice any contact between us and tell her dad. 

I kept my head down when walking around London to avoid being recognised. The country was buzzing after England had won the semi-final, largely down to my kicking, so right now I was one of the most recognisable people in the country. Fortunately, a baseball cap worked wonders for anonymity.

We had attracted someone’s attention though. The second we moved onto a quiet street, it became painfully obvious someone was following us. I looked around and saw Wayne. What the fuck was he doing here? 

I’d refused Carl’s offer of a bribe before the quarter-final game, and since then I hadn’t heard a thing. Did he really think I was going to change my mind now?

Wayne flicked his head and motioned for me to follow him. I didn’t want to leave Michelle and Maisie alone, but I also wanted them far away from this creep.

“Michelle, I’ve just remembered there’s somewhere I need to be.”

“Oh.” 

“Sorry, I’ve got to show my face at a party tonight. Can you walk Maisie home the rest of the way?”

“Sure, no problem.” She looked disappointed, but what choice did I have? I could make it up to her later.

It was dark, but the streets around here were safe. Certainly safer than being anywhere near Wayne. 

As soon as the girls were out of sight, I ran over to Wayne and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. “I’ve told you and Carl before, I want nothing to do with your little betting scheme.”

“You should come with me,” Wayne responded. “Trust me, you don’t want to piss off the boss right now.”

-*-

I followed Wayne to Carl who had now set himself up in a slightly larger DIY store. I knew what this meeting would entail, but I didn’t let that make me complacent. Carl and Wayne were not good people, and they were no doubt capable of doing terrible things when they didn’t get their own way.

“Good evening, Mr. Cornish,” Carl said, lighting a cigarette from behind a makeshift desk. 

I sat down in the empty seat and did my best to look cool and composed. There was another one of his minions in the corner, but at a push I could take the three of them.

I shouldn’t be here. Even being near these people carried a great risk of being implicated in a betting ring that would ruin my entire career. This was how it had started for Gary: innocent meetings that soon turned nasty.

“How is young Shaun doing?” Carl asked. “I hear you’re looking after him at the moment.”

“He’s an orphan now, thanks to you. How the fuck do you think he’s doing?”

“From what I hear, he had a tragic car accident. I don’t see how that’s my fault. If only he hadn’t gone to the police, he never would have been driving that night and never would have crashed his car.”

“What do you want, Carl?” I asked. I couldn’t sit here and listen to his bullshit about Gary. I knew what’d happened. He’d reported the crime to a dodgy cop who had then informed Carl about Gary’s confession. Carl must have sent one of his lackeys out to sabotage the car. I’d never be able to prove it, but I knew what happened.

“You ignored my request,” Carl said calmly, taking a long, slow drag on his cigarette. The shop was a mess, with tools and materials lying around everywhere, but Carl still insisted on using an ashtray to collect his ash anyway.

“You mean your request for me to throw the quarter-final game? Yeah, I must have missed that one.”

“I had a lot of money riding on that game, Mr. Cornish.”

“My Granddad used to gamble,” I said. “My Nan used to give him hell for it, but you know what he said? ‘I only gamble what I can afford to lose.’ Perhaps those are words of advice you should live by?”

“Very good, very good. It’s no problem, anyway. I can recoup it all in the final. I must say, you did a marvellous job of helping England to the final. Phenomenal kicking.”

“Thank you.”

“England are now favourites to win the final. The last thing anyone will suspect is for you to have a bad game. Why, whoever made that bet could win a small fortune, especially with so many people betting on this game.”

“I wouldn’t advise making that bet,” I said. “You’ll only lose more money.”

Carl put out the cigarette even though he’d only gotten through half of it, and leaned forward on his elbows. 

“You’re going to make sure England lose the game,” Carl said. 

“No, I’m not,” I replied, still sitting back casually in the chair. 

“You a family man, Mr. Cornish?” Carl asked. 

“You know full well that my mum is under protection,” I said. “I have so many people guarding her that your men won’t get close. That’s why you didn’t do anything after I ignored your last request.”

“What about other family members?”

“My father left before I was even born. If you find him, you’re welcome to him. Tell him I said ‘hi.’”

I heard a phone beep behind me. Carl looked over my shoulder at Wayne, but I resisted the urge to look round. Carl smiled and sat back in his chair again. He’d just received good news.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Mr. Cornish. Imagine my surprise, when one of my men spotted you out and about the other week with a young woman and a girl.”

I sat bolt upright in my chair. So much for trying to remain calm. “You stay the hell away from them.”

“Michelle and Maisie Portman. Cute girls. They’re your step-sisters now, right?” 

“I can protect them too,” I growled. “Just give this up, Carl. I’m never going to go along with your scheme. The second I get out of here, I will put every security guard in the country on those two. You won’t get close.”

“Yes, I figured you would. You know, it strikes me that I never properly followed through on my threat for your failure to lose the quarter-final game. No wonder you won’t agree to throw the final. You probably think I’m all talk.”

“I’m not going to let you so much as look at them,” I snarled.

“I don’t think I want to look at them anymore,” Carl said, as a snide grin spread across his face. “Shame too. They were such pretty girls.”

I stood up and reached over the desk, grabbing Carl by his cheap suit and shoving my face in front of his. “What have you done?” I yelled.

Wayne and the other minion, grabbed me by the shoulders and between the two of them they just about managed to pull me off of Carl, who was now laughing hysterically.

“You really shouldn’t let young women walk home alone,” Carl said. “There are some truly nasty people out there.”

I shook off Wayne and the other man, and ran out of the store. I backtracked until I was back in the spot where I’d abandoned Michelle and Maisie, and then ran in the direction they would have taken to get home. 

When I rounded a corner and saw the flashing lights of police cars, I realised I was too late.

-*-

I visited the girls in hospital, but I could never stay for long. I couldn’t bare to look at Maisie and see the pain she was in without feeling sick with guilt. 

Michelle had escaped relatively unharmed, although she must have landed on her side and badly bruised her arm, because she could barely move it and winced when anyone touched her. Of course, she refused to see a doctor because that would mean leaving Maisie’s side for a few minutes.

I wanted to stay with them, but I had a rugby game to play. I’d have happily missed the final to spend time with Michelle and Maisie, but I didn’t have a choice. 

I’d assumed Carl was just a glorified thug, but I’d underestimated him. He must have an entire network of people under his command, and he clearly had access to personal information about me.

I’d specifically not said anything publicly about Michelle and Maisie, but he’d found out about them anyway. I couldn’t take the risk anymore. Who knows what he would do to them next time.

The entire team was nervous before the final, so no one noticed how terrified I was. We were the favourites to win for the first time since the tournament had started, and no one knew how to deal with that label. We all preferred being the plucky underdogs.

The team was on fire. I scored all the kicks that would be considered easy, but I made sure not to score with anything remotely missable. Even without me on good form, we were still only two points behind in stoppage time. 

When we were awarded a scrum deep inside the opposition half, I felt the expectancy of the crowd in the stadium bubble to the surface. Tens of millions of people would have figured it out. 

All we had to do was get the ball out of the scrum, where the scrum-half would pass it to me, and I would have an easy kick to win the game. The kick was almost unmissable, but that’s exactly what I had to do. For Maisie. For Michelle. 

I dropped the ball and pretended to lose balance as I kicked it. I sent the ball straight into the hands of an opposition back who kicked the ball out of touch. We’d lost. England had lost the World Cup Final because of me. 

-*-

I treated Michelle like shit over the weeks following the final. I even blamed her for my miss. 

I told myself it was all part of getting her out of my life so that she would be safe from Carl, but if I was completely honest with myself, the nasty things I said to her came far too easily.

I didn’t actually blame her for what happened of course, but I couldn’t help but get mad when I saw her. If Michelle and Maisie hadn’t come into my life when they did, I would be a World Cup winner right now. Instead, I was a figure of hate. A laughing stock.

I accused her of being a distraction. That was true, in a way, but she’d always been a positive distraction. She was the one I thought about on the pitch. Other players had their families in the stands, but I had Michelle at home watching on television. That’s what kept me going.

By the time Michelle returned home to the US, she couldn’t even bring herself to look at me, let alone talk to me. She’d had feelings for me at one point, I was fairly sure of that, but now she hated me. I’d probably never see her again, and that thought was far more depressing than anything that had happened on the pitch.