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kissed it before folding it and putting it into the envelope. It would now join the others in the box under the bed – one letter per week for the last three years; one hundred and fifty in total. She smiled as she looked at them.
    “He’ll have a lot of reading to do when he gets here.”
     
     

20. A Shot in the Dark
     
    “It’s coming home, it’s coming home, it’s coming …” The crowd sings in unison. “Football’s coming home!”
    They’re all behind us, willing us onward. Nothing can beat that feeling of knowing twenty thousand people have forked out their hard-earned cash to travel thousands of miles for ninety minutes of hope and they really believe we can make their dream come true. It’s no wonder we feel almost godlike as we stand in line while the National Anthems are played. I must get round to learning the words some day. I kind of get lost after “Send her victorious …” Well, it’s such a dirge, isn’t it? We should really get a more rousing one – like the French. Now there’s an anthem to get your blood flowing! What’s it called? La Mayonnaise, or something like that? Anyway, you know the one I mean. But no – we’re stuck with ‘God save the Queen’ .
    I wo nder what she needs saving from. Can’t be the Devil, she’s head of the Church of England, so she ought to be pretty safe. I don’t even think she likes football, she never shows up at the mat ches. I wonder who she supports. I know Prince William’s an Aston Villa fan, which is a bit confusing really. You’d think a bloke brought up in London would’ve supported Chelsea or Arsenal instead of a Brummie club. Oh well, there’s no accounting for taste, is there? His poor mother had no taste either or she’d never have married his dad! Oh – there’s the whistle, we’re on our way!
    Thirty minutes in and it’s still nil-nil. I keep trying to count their players. I’m sure they’ve got more than us! Everywhere I look there’s a crowd of blue shirts.
    Hey, Ref! Did you check how many of them there are? I know it’s hard to count them because they never stop moving!
    Bloody cheats they are, and selfish too; trying to keep the ball to themselves. They won’t let us get anywhere near it. Roll on half-time; I could use a bit of a break and a leak if it comes to that. I shouldn’t have drunk so much water before the kick-off. The ball’s coming my way! It’s high – I’ll have to go for a header. Now, which way’s the goal? Ouch! That hurt! I guess I must have missed, there’s no cheering.
    The second half’s a repetition of the first, and now there are only five minutes left before we have to go for extra time. My legs are screaming, but I’ve got the ball and I’m running and running and …
    He kicked me, Ref! He made me lose the ball! He made me fall down!
    It’s a penalty. The crowd’s singing again as I place the ball on the spot. I kiss the three lions on my shirt and take a few paces back, preparing for my run up.
    In the split-second before my left foot connects with the ball, the world goes black as the floodlights fail.
    The ball leaves the spot, I sink to my knees and the emergency lighting kicks in. My name is being chanted by rapturous fans and I realise that the ball is sitting firmly in the corner of the net. The fans have declared it a goal. Unfortunately, the referee sees it differently. He deems it unfair that the goalkeeper couldn’t see it coming, so I have to shoot again. Of course, I miss the second time.
    The game goes to extra-time and we lose one-nil. The opposition’s supporters are singing now. “You’re going home, you’re going home, you’re going – England’s going home!”
    Still, at least I’ve learned a lesson. It’s not worth taking a shot in the dark!
     
     

21. Sensible Shoes
     
    I lay back on Gail’s bed, laughing with delight as I raised my legs to get a better look at my new shoes.
    “Aren’t they wonderful?”
    Gail shook her head in