38
Ben calls me first thing the next morning– from his car, on the way to Millford’s ground– and apologises again for being too exhausted to chat last night, which reassures me that yesterday’s uneasiness was unfounded. But I still can hear the hesitation in my voice when I ask how his first day back went.
He tells me he was caught up on a rollercoaster of meetings– a lengthy session with the team psychologist to make sure his temper is under control, a fitness test with the head coach to make sure he’s match-ready, then a few hours with the physio, who ‘flexed and prodded’ every inch of his body to check for any stiffness that might present an injury risk.
‘Well, not every inch,’ he says, laughing. ‘There was no stiffness there! But it was non-stop. And now I’ve got a training morning with my teammates to integrate me back into the squad. It almost feels like I’ve never been away.’
And I can tell from the animation in his words that he’s buzzing to be back.
‘But enough about me, tell me about the rest of your day,’ he says, which instantly rouses my suspicions about last night again. Why isn’t he mentioning it?
‘I caught up with Phoebs,’ I tell him, deciding to skip the part where I tormented myself for hours waiting to hear from him. ‘She’s still keeping Craig on his toes, but they both seem happy.’
‘Good for him. He needs a strong female influence in his life. As well as you and Cassie, that is. And how would you say the team seemed in general on Tuesday? I forgot to ask what with everything else going on. Are they managing to forget last weekend and look ahead to the next game?’
‘I think they’ve taken on board some of the advice you gave them. I’d say they all seem to be dealing with it.’
‘It’s nice to know I had a bit of a positive influence before I left.’
We hesitate then. I think we both know it’s time to face up to the giant elephant in the room. I take a deep breath and brace myself for whatever’s coming. ‘So... tell me about your date.’
He sighs. ‘I’m trying not to think about it too much. I feel really shit about it.’
So that’s why he didn’t bring it up– he doesn’t want to upset me. But as he starts telling me more, I can’t help wondering if it’s actually me he feels bad about upsetting.
‘I don’t want to lie to you, she’s sweet,’ he says, which is so not what I want to hear. ‘There’s no pretentiousness or sense of entitlement. She just feels really lucky to have all the opportunities that are falling into her lap and she wants to enjoy everything for as long as it might last.’
So she’s nice, positive and level-headed. Great. Any unredeeming qualities?
‘There’s a horrible part, though,’ he continues. Oh phew, let me hear it. ‘She was told it was me who contacted her management to set up the date after seeing her on TV. She had no idea it came from my PR team. It felt really cheap stringing her along. No one deserves that kind of treatment.’
It does make me feel some level of sympathy towards her.
‘What did she say when you told her?’ I ask– adding, when he doesn’t answer straight away, ‘You did tell her, didn’t you?’
‘How could I?’ He sounds exasperated. ‘What if she then refused to go along with it? Or worse still, sold her story to the papers and made me look like even more of an arsehole? I couldn’t risk it. I hate this position they’ve put me in, but they’ve got me completely over a barrel.’
I’m still processing this when he adds, ‘I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I’d known she wasn’t in on it. The only way I can see to get through it now is to be nice enough to her that she wants to stick around, but not so nice that she’ll be upset when I end it. If she wasn’t so sweet, that would be a lot easier to live with.’
I can’t even speak for a moment afterwards. I get that he feels bad for her. I feel bad for her. And if he was okay with this it wouldn’t say much for him. But if he gallantly wants to protect her feelings, I can’t help wondering where that leaves mine.
‘When are you next seeing her?’ I ask, not sure if I really want him to tell me.
‘I’m supposed to be taking her out after the match on Saturday, somewhere where we’ll get seen.’
‘Then will you and I get together on Sunday?’ He will only have been gone for four days by then, but I suddenly feel a desperate need to be with him.
‘I’d love to, but I think we might have to hold off for a week,’ he says, crushing that fantasy. ‘There’s still all this reintegration stuff going on. It’ll be easier once I’m back in my normal routine. I know it’s frustrating, but it’s just one more week.’
For the first time I find myself wishing he wasn’t a Premier League footballer– that our lives could just be normal, we could see each other whenever we wanted and that there was no grand PR scheme. And this troubles me because if I’m wishing he led a completely different life, does it mean he’s in fact not the right person for me? Even though I feel with every fibre in my body that he is.
‘I can wait,’ I say softly. ‘But I miss you.’
‘I miss you too. And believe me, I genuinely am aware how much harder this must be for you than it is for me. But the way I’m trying to see it is that if we can get through this, we’ll be able to get through anything life throws at us. So please, please keep bearing with me.’
I bury my resentment and tell him I will.
It’s not till after he’s ended the call that I realise I still haven’t even asked him who this girl is. But I find out not long afterwards, when a headline pops up on the news feed on my phone: Ben Pryce, back to scoring goals– and scoring girls. My sensible head tells me I shouldn’t upset myself by reading it, but I don’t take my own advice. I chew my bottom lip anxiously as I click to open it.
When I see the picture of his ‘new love’ Georgina, looking stunning in a shimmering dress and towering heels, it sends such a surge of jealousy coursing through me that it feels like I’ve been speared straight through the heart. Doubts flood straight back into my mind. Why didn’t he mention she was so pretty?
‘Perhaps he doesn’t see it?’ Phoebs suggests, when I meet her for lunch, still feeling shellshocked. ‘She can’t be everyone’s cup of tea. Although I have to admit, it’s hard to see how she wouldn’t be.’
When she realises she’s not helping she adds, ‘You’re just going to have be honest with him and tell him how you feel.’
‘What I feel at the moment is that I’m not sure how I’m going to get through the next few weeks if Ben dating Georgina already makes me as stressed as this. It’s only been twenty-four hours and I’m already a wreck over it.’
‘Then tell him that. And in the meantime, let’s find as many distractions as possible to fill the Ben-shaped hole in your life. We can go to the beach, play some tennis in the park, plan our grand post-grad night out. It’s only two weeks till your results come out now so we should get something booked in.’
When I still look doubtful she continues, ‘And didn’t Ben say you could go to his house any time to use his pool? You know I’d love to see it. Although Craig’s dad is getting one installed at their place and that’ll be ready soon, so if it feels weird being at Ben’s without him there, we can just invite ourselves over to the Campbells’ instead. Unless it would feel even weirder to have Craig see you in your bikini.’
‘It wouldn’t feel very appropriate. I try to look professional around the team. I’m kind of dreading seeing them tonight though. They obviously know Ben’s gone, but now they’re going to think he immediately dropped me for Georgina.’
‘And presumably you can’t correct them because Ben needs it to look realistic?’
I nod. ‘I know I shouldn’t worry about what they think, but it is going to be humiliating.’
‘Do you want me to come with you this evening, for moral support? I was going to head to Craig’s afterwards anyway– now he can give me a lift.’
I nod gratefully. ‘I’d really like that, thank you. This all just feels so rubbish after such a summer of highs. I hate feeling like this.’
‘Talk to Ben again,’ she says firmly. ‘He’s the cause of all these emotions so he needs to find a way to fix things.’
And I do, over the next couple of days, because I can’t stop doing my own head in.
I admit I can’t help fretting that he isn’t telling Georgina the truth about their set-up because he wants to keep his options open, or wondering if the real reason he isn’t coming down on Sunday is so he can stay up there with her. When he promises me neither of these things could be further from the truth, I move on to what Georgina’s going to think when he drops her home after their dinner dates and there isn’t so much as a goodnight kiss.
She’s twenty years old and beautiful, adored by viewers of her show and in demand for interviews and advertising. It probably seems perfectly natural to her that she’d be courted by a Premier League footballer– but she’ll be expecting more than just a few decent meals out of it.
‘I’ll just tell her I’m being a gentleman,’ Ben insists. ‘Try to look at it this way: if Jake Gyllenhaal turned up on your doorstep, wouldn’t you happily go for dinner with him?’
I mumble a reluctant yes.
‘But would you sleep with him?’
‘Of course not... But then he doesn’t think he’s my boyfriend.’
He sighs. ‘I don’t know what else I can say, Lily. I just need you to trust me. I don’t want this to drive us apart.’
And I stop then, because I don’t want that either. I hate that I’ve started feeling so insecure so quickly and I don’t want it to result in me pushing him away.
‘Maybe we should just agree not to talk about it any more,’ I suggest.
‘If that’s what it takes to prevent us arguing.’
We agree not to discuss it again until Ben is back down in Hamcott and can properly show me how much I mean to him.
Thankfully I’ve got Crawford United’s first away game tomorrow to stop me brooding about his dinner date with Georgina. I’ve got all the arrangements to oversee as we head south to play Windham Park, who usually finish in the bottom half of the table and so will hopefully give us less trouble than Oakhampton did. I vow to put Georgina out of my mind for the time being and focus all my energy on the team.