Chapter 7
“And squat for one, two, three, four. Now rise for four.” Gregor’s voice cut through the sound of the rest of the team training in the other half of the gym.
They laughed and joked as they lifted weights or cycled on the stationary bikes, forced inside by the torrential Manchester rain to encroach on the space Erin usually had to herself.
All while Erin was stuck doing a set of squats, desperately trying to consistently get to a ninety-degree angle with both knees so she could tick off another box on her long recovery checklist.
She rose to her feet, the last squat in a set of ten completed.
Gregor nodded in approval. “Good. Now, let’s take a break.”
“I’m good to carry on.” Sweat dripped down the side of Erin’s neck, a reminder that the smallest of exercises left her breathless.
As much as running again was a huge milestone she was eager to reach, she was not looking forward to building her cardio fitness to be ready to play a full ninety minutes.
Laps in the pool didn’t have the same effect as sprinting drills.
“No, you are taking a break.” Gregor pushed a bottle of water and a towel in Erin’s direction. “I am in charge here, remember? Sit.”
With a grumble, Erin dropped into a chair and took a long drink.
He was used to her attitude by now, at least. Few people would be able to push back on Erin’s demands, but Gregor wasn’t one to back down easily.
His own footballing career as a Russian international had been ended by a bad injury and a lack of effective rehabilitation, so his dedication to making sure his charges made a full recovery was fierce.
“Next we’ll do some heel raises.”
“How long ?til I can run again?”
Gregor pursed his lips. “You know I cannot put a date on that, Erin. Every person is different, and your recovery hasn’t been as straightforward as I would like.”
Some people could walk the day after their surgery, but Erin hadn’t been so lucky. It rankled to know she was behind where she could be, if things had gone more smoothly. Her eight-month goal seemed to slip further and further from her fingers every day.
“You will get there,” Gregor said, no doubt noticing the dark look on Erin’s face. “I do not accept failure. And, from what I’ve heard, neither do you. Do not tell me you want to give up.”
In her darkest days, Erin wondered if she should. If she should accept retirement, content with the accolades she’d managed to accumulate over her glittering career, and slip quietly into the shadows. Maybe fly out to Spain to spend a few months with her father.
Recovery was hard. Harder than she could have ever dreamed. The boredom was the worst, the endless monotony of doing the same thing over and over and over. Knowing she was supposed to be overjoyed at being able to walk or straighten her leg.
But first and foremost, Erin was a fighter. She’d started playing the game at a time when a handful of full-time women professionals existed. Had fought tooth and nail to get to the top of the game. To be a name people would remember.
And she was not going out with a whimper.
“I’m not giving up.”
“Good. So then give me twelve heel raises. Lift for two seconds, hold, then down for four seconds.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Erin could recite most of Gregor’s exercises in her sleep.
She was halfway through when her phone, discarded on the floor next to her water bottle, rang. A photo of Jessica and Maisie showed on the screen.
Gregor handed it over. “You can talk and finish your set. I’ll count for you.”
“Hello?” Jessica wouldn’t call unless she needed something. Erin’s schedule was set—training from nine until three thirty, every day, without fail. “Everything okay?”
“You wouldn’t be able to watch Maisie this afternoon, would you? Betty’s called to say she has the flu and so can’t take her, and I have meetings until five.”
“Yeah, sure. Do you need me to take her the rest of the week, too? Flu isn’t exactly a quick recovery.
” Erin hoped Betty would be okay. Jessica’s elderly neighbour had been a lifesaver for her when it came to Maisie, delighting in helping out once her own grandkids were too big to need a babysitter.
“Is that all right?”
“?Course. You know I’ll never say no to spending time with her.”
“Thank you, Erin.” Jessica’s relief was palpable. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“I don’t know what you’d do without me, either.” Erin didn’t need to be on FaceTime to know that Jessica was rolling her eyes. “Let her know I’ll be there to walk her back to mine when she finishes.”
“Thank you. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
* * *
Lia was on her way out of the training ground, freshly showered and ready for an afternoon of sitting on the couch watching Netflix, when a gasp stopped her in her tracks.
A young girl stood a few feet away, mouth gaping open. Wearing a school polo shirt and shorts, she couldn’t have been older than eight or nine, a backpack almost as big as her slung over one shoulder and a football tucked under her arm. “You’re Lia Ashcroft!”
“I am.” Lia glanced around but couldn’t see anyone else nearby. None of her teammates had kids this age, but she could be the child of someone who worked at the club. “And you are?”
“Maisie.” The girl spoke without hesitation, her mop of curly brown hair blowing in the wind.
Lia fought the urge to lecture her on stranger danger. Though considering the girl knew exactly who Lia was, she wasn’t technically a stranger. “Do you know someone who works here?”
Maisie nodded. “My aunt. She looks after me sometimes when my mum has to work late. She forgot something inside and told me to wait here ?til she gets it.”
Okay. So Lia didn’t need to call the police to report a missing child.
Maisie wandered closer and peered at Lia with big green eyes. “Can I have your autograph?”
“Sure. You got anything to sign?”
Maisie gave her football a thoughtful look before dropping her bag to the floor and rifling through it. “My English book?” She offered it toward Lia with hopeful eyes.
Lia smiled. “I’m not sure your teacher would appreciate that.”
“I don’t know. She’s an Albion fan—maybe she’d give me extra marks.” Maisie discarded the exercise book, though, and triumphantly held out a piece of paper. “Here!”
As she took it, Lia noticed words on the other side and turned it over. “I don’t think I should sign a permission slip for your trip to the Science and Industry Museum, either.”
“Shoot! I was supposed to give that to my mum yesterday!” Maisie grabbed it and stuffed it back into her bag.
Lia refrained from telling her that probably wasn’t a useful way to ensure she gave it to her mother later.
“There must be something else in here. Hang on.” Maisie leaned further into her bag until she all but disappeared into it.
Lia tried to hide her smile. But it fell from her lips anyway when Erin walked out of reception. Wearing sweatpants and a tight tank top that left her muscular arms bare, she looked better than she did in a football kit.
Which was saying something.
Erin’s eyes narrowed when they met Lia’s. They narrowed further when she saw Maisie. Hell, she was probably about to storm over and say no kids allowed.
And storm over she did. “What’s going on here?”
Lia smothered the immediate feeling that crept up, the feeling that she was doing something wrong. “I—”
Maisie straightened, her hair a mess and her cheeks pink. “I was just getting her autograph, Auntie Erin. Seeing as you didn’t let me get it at the game on Sunday.”
Maisie was Erin’s niece? Erin willingly watched her sister’s daughter? Lia couldn’t imagine her around children. Not with her general demeanour. It took some time before she was able to form words. “You were at the game on Sunday?”
Puffing out her chest, Maisie nodded. “I come to them all. Well, as long as I’ve done all my homework and my mum can bring me. But now I can come with Auntie Erin because she’s not playing.”
Erin winced.
“Look, I found some paper. And this one’s blank.” Maisie handed it over, along with a pen.
Bending to lean on her thigh, Lia hastily scrawled a quick message.
“We’re going to play football in the park now,” Maisie said once she’d tucked the paper into the front pocket of her jacket. “Do you want to come with us?”
“I’m sure Lia has a busy afternoon ahead of her.” Erin’s voice was clipped, one of her hands resting lightly on Maisie’s shoulder.
Watching TV didn’t exactly count as busy, but Lia read Erin’s tone well enough. It was clear from everything about her stance that she did not want to spend another second in Lia’s presence.
Maisie threw Erin a frown before turning her pleading eyes on Lia. “It doesn’t have to be for long. Please?”
“Maisie.” Erin’s voice was a low hiss. “No is a full sentence.”
“But Lia didn’t say no.” Maisie folded her arms. “You said it for her. And you can’t play football properly right now without the doctor getting cross.”
Pain rippled across Erin’s face.
Lia, goddamn her, felt a flutter of sympathy.
“Please?” Maisie glanced between Erin and Lia. “Please, please, please?”
Erin slid her gaze across to Lia. “Are you busy?”
The look in Erin’s eyes was pleading with her to say yes. The problem was, Maisie’s eyes were pleading with her to say no. And Lia had never been good at letting people down, despite years of practice with her stepmother. “I can spare half an hour.”
* * *
What has my life become? Erin could feel her own glare as Lia and Maisie raced over the grass at a small park halfway between Park Lane and her—their—apartment block. Maisie’s giggles carried over to where Erin sat, arms folded, on a nearby bench.
At least one of them was having a good time.
Well. Lia looked like she was enjoying herself, too, an easy smile on her mouth and a flush high on her cheeks.
They were attracting interest from a handful of other children playing nearby, and when they asked to join in, Lia started them on some drills Erin recognised from their own training sessions.