Striker (35 page)

‘He’s also not the clean-cut, settling down type either, Amber. And you know that. Honey, I know he was out all Friday night. I know he didn’t come home. I overheard
Gary
talking when they were outside waiting for the coach. And the state of them… You only had to look at them to see the kind of night they’d had.’

Amber looked down at her hand in Jim’s, the way his thumb was absentmindedly stroking her fingers, and it felt nice. It felt safe.
She
felt safe. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this to him. Especially not with you. How’s he going to react if he ever finds out?’

‘We make sure he never does. That’s all we can do, baby. We just have to make sure he never does.’

She looked up into his green eyes. What was she doing? Did she really know? Because this was dangerous. This was only repeating mistakes she’d vowed never to repeat again but him turning back up here, taking the job at Red Star, it had changed everything. It had turned her well-ordered, compartmentalised life on its head. He was back, and she couldn’t ignore him. She couldn’t do it. She just wasn’t strong enough. She’d waved the white flag and admitted defeat, in spectacular fashion.

‘I’ve really got to go,’ she whispered, although she made no attempt to break free of his grip.
 

‘It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Amber. This. You. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.’

She closed her eyes as his mouth lowered down onto hers again, the taste of him so different to Ryan, so familiar. So calming. She could have stayed there in his arms all afternoon, just holding him again, being close to a man she was never going to forget, mainly because she wouldn’t let herself. ‘He can’t know, Jim. So many things could go wrong if he ever finds out about us. So many things…’

‘He won’t find out, baby. He won’t, I promise. I promise.’

She looked at him. ‘Don’t promise me anything, Jim. Don’t… don’t do that.’ She pulled away from him as the cold reality of what she was getting herself into finally hit home. Yet still she couldn’t walk away. Or wouldn’t. That was probably the word she
should
be using. ‘I’d better leave.’

‘I won’t hurt you again, Amber. And that’s a promise you can’t stop me from making.’

Amber looked at him, reaching out to run her fingertips over his rough chin, leaning in for one last kiss, not sure if she could do without the feel of his mouth on hers now, the touch of his fingers on her skin. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said, before walking away. Jim Allen was firmly back in her life now. The game was on. And she’d just signed up for one hell of a dangerous replay.

Chapter Fourteen

The atmosphere surrounding Tynebridge on derby day was something else. Completely different to any other match, this one carried with it feelings of heightened passion, a belly-full of pride; an almost tribal air surrounded the stadium as local fans from opposite sides of the river came together in the first of two local derby games to be played out that season.

The city was heaving with football fans and Sunday shoppers, the traffic busier than usual, roads grid-locked in places as people headed towards Tynebridge in time for the 1.30pm lunchtime kick-off. More police than usual lined the streets that led to Red Star’s impressive new stadium on the very edge of the city centre, every single one of them on the look out for any trouble at an event that had been known to throw up a few altercations between opposing fans in the past as heightened feelings and local pride seemed to blank out the fact this was a game of football, not a war zone.

Amber stood outside the main entrance, leaning back against the wall as she finished her cigarette, watching the crowds of supporters as they filed into the ground through the various entrances that lined the outside of the stadium, the noise ten-fold on what it usually was on an ordinary match day. She hadn’t slept a wink all night; her head had been too full of colliding feelings of guilt for what she was doing to Ryan, and a selfish need to take what she wanted from a man who owed her so much. And if that wasn’t enough, Kevin had rung early that morning to ask her if she wouldn’t mind taking over from Harry, the reporter who was supposed to be covering the match for Monday’s sports bulletin on News North East. He’d suddenly been taken ill and wasn’t up to working. Amber had really wanted to say yes, she
did
mind, because she knew Harry, and she knew he was a huge Wearside Spartans fan and she had every suspicion that his “illness” was nothing more than the result of a Saturday night out on the drink that meant he’d got so wrecked he was in no fit state to come into work, but in a perfectly good enough state to prop himself up against the bar in his local in front of the big-screen TV for an afternoon of football and hair-of-the-dog. Yes, she was quite possibly being over-cynical, but the thought of having to interview Jim after the match, to stand there and talk to him as though he was nothing more than the home team’s manager and not the man she’d been infatuated with since the age of sixteen wasn’t something she was looking forward to.
 

‘If you can just do the post-match interviews, Amber, and I’ll sort out everything else. Is that okay?’ Amber turned to see Kevin Russell lean back against the wall beside her, offering her another cigarette from his own just-opened packet. ‘And I really must give this up,’ he said, sliding a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. ‘I’m getting grief from the wife over me high blood pressure.’

‘Well, to be fair, Kevin, she’s probably got a point,’ Amber half-smiled, continuing to look out at the mass of people still making their way into the stadium’s various entrances, the noise level growing ever-louder by the second. ‘I mean, those things can’t be helping, can they?’

‘Don’t
you
start,’ he mumbled, flicking ash onto the ground. ‘And anyway, I thought you’d quit. What drove
you
back to this filthy habit?’

‘You don’t want to know,’ she muttered, checking her watch.
 

‘Go on. Get yourself inside. I’ve just seen Ronnie pop into the Players Lounge. Go say hello and chill out for a bit. You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.’

Amber looked at him, and she was about to say something when she was distracted by the arrival of the Red Star team coach, turning up for what was being billed as the biggest game of the season so far.
 

She stayed put, watching as the coach doors opened and Jim Allen stepped off first, exchanging a few words with the waiting press and a large group of fans who’d suddenly crowded round the team coach, before making his way up the flight of steps that led to the stadium’s main entrance, handsome and charismatic as always dressed in his trademark dark suit and aviator shades. Ever the dynamic and popular manager. Her stomach jolted like someone had just pushed her insides hard as his eyes briefly met hers, a smile directed solely at her sending her heart racing. And then he was gone.

With him safely inside she turned her attention back to the team coach. Colin Bailey was busy ushering the players off, most of them with their heads down, hands in pockets, many of them wearing large headphones connected to their Mp3 players to block out the obvious outside distractions. But Ryan had his head up, his face almost impassive as he ran up the steps – until he caught sight of her. Then his expression changed, a smile making his handsome features light up and Amber couldn’t stop herself from smiling back, even though the wave of guilt which accompanied that smile made her almost breathless for a second. But no words were exchanged as Colin made sure every player was inside the building within seconds. Standard match practise. They were off the coach and into the dressing room within minutes, no speaking to anyone, no distractions of any kind. Jim had a very strict sense of discipline when it came to match days. He was famous for it.
 

‘Everything alright?’ Kevin asked, and Amber almost jumped out of her skin. She’d forgotten he was there.

‘Yeah. Yeah, of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?’

‘I don’t know,’ Kevin shrugged. ‘You just seem a bit, stressed. More than usual, I mean.’

She couldn’t help smiling at him. ‘I’m just not sleeping all that well at the minute, that’s all.’

‘Yes, well, that’s what you get for shacking up with a toy boy so don’t go looking at me for any sympathy,’ Kevin said, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. ‘Go on. Go see Ronnie. I’ll come and find you when I need you.’

She made her way back inside, escaping into the corridor that led to the Players Lounge before the away team coach arrived.

‘Hey, you. I was wondering where you were,’ Ronnie grinned, pulling her into his arms for a hug, kissing her gently on both cheeks. ‘You’ve been having a sly smoke, haven’t you?’ he asked, looking at her with a mock-stern expression on his face.

‘Don’t start. Is Anna not with you?’ Amber looked around the small but incredibly busy Players Lounge, full of family and friends enjoying a few drinks and a catch-up before the match began.

‘She’ll be here later,’ Ronnie replied, leaning back against the bar. ‘She had to go see her mum first.’

‘Going okay, is it? You and her?’ Amber asked, pushing a hand through her loose, dark red hair.

‘It’s going better than okay,’ Ronnie grinned.

 
Amber grinned back, nudging his arm. ‘That’s what I like to hear. I knew you two would be good for each other.’

‘Alright, so, that’s me settled in a decent, honest relationship,’ Ronnie went on, and Amber could tell from the tone of his voice what was coming next, and she felt her stomach sink, ‘… now, what about you?’

‘I’m working on it,’ Amber replied, going over to a table full of tea and coffee flasks and grabbing herself a mug of something hot and strong.
 

‘Working on it?’ Ronnie frowned. ‘What’s
that
supposed to mean?’

‘It means me and Ryan quite obviously still have a lot of talking to do,’ Amber sighed, joining Ronnie back at the bar.

‘Have you…? Oh, hang on, kiddo. I’d better take this,’ he said, putting his phone to his ear and escaping out of the crowded and noisy lounge to take the call.

Amber took a sip of coffee and continued to look around the room, seeing a few faces she recognised, and some she’d seen around now and again. But nobody she particularly wanted to go over and talk to.

‘You’re Ryan Fisher’s new girlfriend, aren’t you?’

Amber turned to see who the voice beside her belonged to, recognising her as Debbie Hogan, Gary Blandford’s fiancée. All long blonde hair and whiter-than-white teeth, kitted out in the latest designer gear finished off with a pair of crazy-high stiletto boots she looked every inch the stereotypical WAG. All Amber really knew about her was that she was a glamour model and sometimes “wrote” a column for one of those celebrity gossip magazines. And she also had a history of affairs with various Z-List celebrities, but then, from what Amber could gather, Gary Blandford was hardly Mr. Monogamous himself.

‘Yeah. I suppose I am,’ Amber replied, bored already by a conversation she didn’t really want to have.

‘I’ve always liked Ryan,’ Debbie went on, curling a strand of hair round her finger, making sure everybody could see the ridiculously over-stated and far-too-large yellow-diamond engagement ring she was wearing. ‘I went out with him once, y’know. For a little while, when he played down south.’

‘Really,’ Amber said. It wasn’t a question.
 

‘I was working on a shoot for a men’s magazine at the time, before I met
Gary
… He’s really good-looking, isn’t he?’ Debbie smiled, finally letting go of her hair. ‘Ryan, I mean.’

‘Yeah. I suppose he is,’ Amber replied, not sure if Debbie could feel the apathy in her voice or not.

‘How’s it going?’ Debbie asked, leaning back against the bar beside Amber. Amber just looked at her. Had she done anything that had encouraged this woman to stay and carry on a conversation that she really had neither the time nor the inclination to continue?

‘Erm, well, okay, I suppose,’ Amber said, staring down into her coffee, swirling the dark liquid round and round in the mug.

‘You should really try and keep him away from
Gary
, y’know.’

Amber looked up sharply, her eyes meeting the slightly over-made-up, grey-blue ones of the woman beside her.

‘What… why? What do you mean?’

‘You know as well as I do, Amber, that
Gary
actually has a worse reputation than Ryan. When it comes to women, anyway.’

Amber frowned, putting her mug down on the bar behind her, turning to face Debbie. ‘You
know
what he gets up to?’

‘Of course I do,’ Debbie smiled, and Amber suddenly felt herself warming to this woman that was so far away from the kind of person she’d usually gravitate towards. ‘But I love this lifestyle, Amber. Call me shallow, call me some kind of fame-hungry WAG but that’s me. That’s who I am. And we’ve got a good life, me and
Gary
. Good
lives
– because he kind of lives his and I live mine, and that’s fine. As long as I can have that status of being a famous footballer’s wife, I don’t really care what he gets up to.’

Amber was incredibly confused now. She’d never wanted that kind of life, never been drawn to it any way, shape or form and she found it hard to believe that someone could want to be part of that just so’s they could have the money, status and the kind of fame that it could, sometimes, give you. Didn’t love come into it at all? Or was this whole world just one messed-up concoction of men with a God complex and women who just wanted to spend their days shopping and getting their hair done in the most expensive salons possible? That was such a stereotype, and Amber knew that wasn’t the way it really was, but sometimes it was hard to forget that people
did
live outside that kind of world.