The Lost Guide To Life And Love Part 25

No. Clayton had moved round. I wasn't sure if he'd seen me, but he was definitely blocking my way. I ducked down out of sight. A food critic from one of the glossy Sunday supplements looked down his aristocratic nose at me. I smiled feebly and crept past him on bent legs. There was a corridor. I went along it. LADIES. Hooray. Clayton couldn't follow me in there. I nipped in, shut the door and wondered what to do next.

I remembered the first time I'd seen Matty, leaping from the Ladies at Club Balaika. I eyed up the possibilities. The window was narrow and covered in bars. Even if I could get through it, I'd struggle to reach it. I was neither as tall, nor as slim, nor as supple as my cousin. Still, I'd just wait here for a while. Clayton wouldn't stay long, I was sure.

People came and went. Each time they did I leant towards the mirror and did my eye make-up. My mascara has never looked so good. Finally, when I thought the coast was clear, I went out cautiously. To the left the corridor led back to the restaurant, but to the right there was an emergency exit. Thank you, G.o.d! I pressed down on the bar and escaped into the cold January night. Straight into the arms of a waiting figure.

'Aargggh!' I screamed.

'h.e.l.lo, Miss Tilly,' said a deep, familiar voice. 'What kept you?'

'Clayton. What are you doing?' I shouted at him. 'You scared the living daylights out of me!'

With that there was a flash of camera lights. A couple of photographers had heard the noise and come to investigate. That made me even crosser. 'Clayton, will you just let go of me, please? And tell them to go away.'

He loosened his grip but still held my hands. I couldn't escape.

'I just wanted to talk to you,' he said. 'And I had the idea you were trying to avoid me, which would be a shame, a real shame.'

The lights of the cameras flashed again. We both turned and glared at the photographers.

'Look, I'm sorry about those cards,' I gabbled. 'They were just a bit of fun. I didn't mean to annoy you. I was just worried that you seemed so low and I was scared that you might just waste everything and I didn't want you to do anything stupid and it was just to sort of encourage you really and to-'

He kissed me, gently, slowly. 'I know. I know why you sent them and I loved them. I really loved them.'

'You did?'

'Yeah. They made me smile.'

'Really?'

'Yeah, really. And right then there wasn't a whole lot to smile about.'

He kissed me again. The camera lights flashed like fireworks.

'Will you not do that, please?' I said, rather primly.

He stepped back and grinned. Even in the orange light from the streetlamp and the yellow gleam from the back rooms of the restaurant, I could see that Clayton Silver was restored to his old self. His eyes look tired, older somehow, but the bounce, the confidence, the grin and the gloss were back. I wanted to grin back because I was just so pleased to see him like that.

The photographers, having decided we weren't going to have a punch-up or a slanging match, got bored and went back to the fish and chips and celebs.

'Come on,' said Clayton, and led me quickly down the side of the restaurant until we were out in another street, far away from the fuss. He slowed down. We were walking past big houses in quiet streets.

'I'm glad you were here tonight,' he said. 'Saved me ringing you.'

'You were going to ring me?'

'Yeah. I liked those little cards and messages. They were sort of cool. Didn't want them to stop.'

'Oh. I...I didn't know...I wasn't sure if you'd just throw them away. If you'd even look at them.'

'The fans were booing us. The papers were calling us worse than s.h.i.te. Half the staff had left the club. Message boards were making out I was some sort of international drug dealer or gun smuggler or terrorist or rapist. And that was just the good stuff. We were a laughing stock.'

For a moment he looked angry. I remembered how he hated to be made a fool of, hated to be a loser.

'Then, in the middle of all that, there'd be a silly little postcard with a drawing and stupid message on it. And they made me laugh. It got so that after every match I was looking for that little drawing to come through the letter box, because then I knew there was someone on my side. And, for the last few months, I've certainly needed someone on my side.'

'I'm sorry, still sorry, about not believing you, about believing that crazy woman.'

'Yeah, well. It was a strange night anyway. I should never have taken you to that party. Should never have gone myself. I've been to enough Maynard parties to know the score. But we always went along with it. He was paying the bills. Well, we thought he was. So he made fools of us too in the end. Though he paid a pretty harsh price for it.

'But that night was weird, even by Maynard's standards. So maybe it was easy to get hold of the wrong idea. Still, I thought it was a cool thing to do to come round and see me and say so.'

'Did you? You didn't seem very pleased!' I remembered his blankness, his utter lack of emotion.

'Well, it was a pretty bad time. Absolutely rock bottom. But yeah, it was good you came. And you were worried about me. That was good. I didn't have anybody worrying about me. Things started changing after you'd been round.'

'No. They'd already started changing that day. Remember? You'd had a good match. You scored a point.'

'But it was easier after you'd been round.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. It made a difference. A big difference. And you told me off. Gave me a right b.o.l.l.o.c.king, you did. That was great. No one else bothered to do that. Just you. Until Denny-he rang and gave me a right going-over. My so-called mates just wanted to get p.i.s.sed, which made things worse. And the women, well, they didn't want to know. They thought I was a loser and kept well clear. I thought you were the same.

'I thought that maybe, after all, you were just a girl who wanted a footballer and would stay away when things got bad.'

'It wasn't like that at all!'

'No. I know.'

'Anyway, you're not a loser. The team's still there. They might be kids, but they're doing all right, aren't they? Everyone says you're inspiring them. A brilliant, inspirational captain, they say.'

Clayton laughed. 'Hey, girl, you been reading the back pages?'

'Well, yes, when it's about you...I needed to know you were OK. And you're more than OK.'

'Thank you.'

Somehow, by now, we were holding hands.

'So where are you off to? Someone said you might be going to the States?' and I had a sudden pang.

'Well, Miss Tilly, that's the interesting bit. I might not be going anywhere. I might stay just where I am.'

'What, stay with Shadwell? Even though they've hardly got any money and might even go down?'

'We're not going down. I'm not going to let us.' He gripped my hand tightly.

'But you always said that you liked playing with the best! That losing wasn't an option. That's why you put up with Maynard.'

'Yeah, well. Maybe I think differently now. Look, I could go to one of the clubs in the States. They've been making offers. My agent is getting excited. But you know what, in the States, football's a game for girls, little girls. Everyone else watches baseball or American football-you know, those big guys so padded up they can't hardly move. They don't take football, proper football, seriously. It's just like, I don't know, like we think of ice-skating or something. Yeah, they'd give me a lot of money. But I've got a lot of money. More would be nice, but not to...' He waved his arms round in the air, groping for the right words.

'...not to be thought of as girly?' I laughed.

'No! Well, yeah, maybe. But you've got to be somewhere where they care about it-like, really care, haven't you?' He looked defensive for a moment and then suddenly pa.s.sionate.

'At the end of last year, everyone said we were rubbish. We were rubbish, total c.r.a.p. Everyone playing was either a kid or an old man or stoned out of their skulls still. The manager and his mate went before the club could sack them-or the police got them-and we were left with the a.s.sistant's a.s.sistant. But it came together, yeah? It began working. We started to play like we'd kicked a ball before, like we even knew what we were doing.'

'That was because of you.'

'Yeah, maybe. I got so angry with them I was yelling and shouting and then trying to explain things to the kids, trying to make them see what we had to do. And yeah, it might work. It might work.'

'And you want to stay and see if you can make it happen?'

Clayton stopped and looked at me and said, 'Yes. I guess I do.'

'More than going to the States and getting the film-star treatment and lots more money?'

'Yeah,' he grinned. 'But what's the point of all that money if no one's talking about you or reading about you and cheering? Or calling you rubbish when you do badly? Or sending you postcards with little drawings on?'

I hugged him fiercely. 'I think it's a terrific idea. Really terrific. Just that you're even thinking about it is great. It'll be b.l.o.o.d.y difficult, though.'

'Yeah, well, that's what makes it interesting, doesn't it? I guess we'll see what happens, when everyone's finished doing deals.'

By now we'd walked down as far as the river and carried on wandering alongside it, the streetlights reflecting on the ripples. A police launch roared past and I shivered.

'You warm enough? Here.' And Clayton put his jacket over me, a beautifully soft leather jacket with the shadowy stripy lining.

'It's the same jacket!' I said. 'The one I wore on Halloween night in the fog.'

'I hope it kept you warm.'

'It was about all that did.' I shivered at the memory. 'I was frozen and soaked as it was. Without the jacket I would have had it.'

'I'm glad it helped to look after you. Really. It's one of my favourites and I didn't know where it was. Until this parcel arrives on my doorstep. It was good to get it back, but you could have written a note...You were great that night. What you did was amazing.'

I breathed in the scent of the jacket. It smelt wonderfully of leather and equally wonderfully of Clayton. It didn't smell of fog any more.

'I didn't feel amazing. I was terrified. I kept falling over. All I had was the light of that plastic pumpkin.' I started to tell him all about it and suddenly it seemed funny. A story we could laugh about. Especially now that we knew Alessandro and Becca were fine, absolutely fine.

'Well, you were so brave and determined. I'm glad I helped. Or rather my jacket did.'

'You did.'

We ambled along, arms round each other. 'Clayton...'

'Mmm?'

'You know when we went up near Newcastle in the helicopter to that posh hotel?'

'Yeah.'

'You know those men you met...'

'Yeah.'

'What was that all about?'

'Why?' He took his arm from my shoulder and danced round to face me, trying to look serious, but struggling to keep the laugh out of his voice. 'Do you think it was something dodgy? Something criminal? Do you think they were going to pay me wodges of cash to throw a match? Do you think it was a Chinese betting scam? That I was going to take a backhander for something?'

'No! Well, at the time, perhaps I might have thought something like that, to be absolutely honest,' I said slowly. 'But not now, I don't. No. Now I know you wouldn't do anything like that. I'm sure you wouldn't.'

'Sure?'

'Yes.'

'Positive?'

'Yes.'

'Just as well,' he said, and hooted with laughter, 'because they were sponsors, wanted to use me to sell their toothpaste.' He bared his teeth in a horrid grin. 'And now,' he laughed, 'they've run away and don't want anything to do with me because Shadwell is in the mire. But next season it will be different. Next season we will be TRIUMPHANT and they will come crawling back to me and I will tell them where to stick their toothpaste-minty freshness and all!' And he laughed and danced me round. 'Next year Shadwell will be back. Clayton Silver will be back. And,' he paused, 'I hope you will be with me. Will you?'

'I will.' I said. I didn't even have to think about it. 'Yes. I will.'

'You're not going to run out on me again? Hide away?'

'No.'

'Because I have great plans, Tilly Flint. And they'll all go much better if you're there with me.'

He swirled me round and took me in his arms and kissed me.

'I love you, Miss Tilly,' he said.

'And I love you, Clayton Silver,' I said, and realised I did, that I'd loved him for a long time, only I had been determined not to accept it. Since the night I'd gone round to his flat and seen him so down and depressed, a little bit of my heart had been with him ever since. Suddenly it all seemed so simple.

We stood smiling, laughing. Some lads came along the pavement on bikes whooping and calling at us. We laughed right back at them. Everything seemed easy, obvious. And right. Clayton held my face in his hands and looked at me almost in wonder. Then kissed me, long and slow. The streetlight formed a sort of halo round us. I pressed myself closer to him, breathing in the smell, the taste of him.

'Try again?' he said. 'It's not too late?'

'Never too late.'

'And you've got no trains to catch early in the morning?'

'Absolutely not,' I said.

'And you're not going to go to sleep on my sofa?'

'That's up to you...'