Page 29

CHAPTER 29

T he following week, Ash threw herself into training, and tried to ignore the press who were following her every move. Sasha had really pulled through for her, insisting she pick her up from the car park at the back of Ash’s flats, so that Ash could avoid driving through them every day.

“I don’t know what’s happened, and if you can’t tell me, you don’t need to. But what I do know is that you need a friend, and I am that friend.”

Ash had thanked her, and not said a word. She’d received firm instructions from the Palace not to talk to anyone. She wasn’t going to do anything that might inflame the situation for Victoria. Even thinking about Victoria, and her stricken face when Ash left on Tuesday, made Ash’s soul crumble to dust.

She’d lain in bed at night, tossing and turning, but had decided to press the situation down gently, put it in a box, and put it away. She couldn’t speak about it to anyone, so what was the point? If she thought about it too much, she’d come undone. From now until the New Year, Ash was going to focus on football: the league and the Champions League.

Just as she had her whole life.

Her aim was to get through. When the calendar ticked over, she’d refocus again, this time with eyes on the World Cup. With that in mind, her decision made sense.

On Friday especially, her boots hit the turf with extra force, every tackle fiercer than necessary, every sprint faster than usual. She channelled it all — the hurt, the anger, the heartbreak — into pure physical intensity. Then she stayed late, running drills until her legs burned. After, she hit the gym until her arms shook. Anything to exhaust herself enough that she wouldn’t think about Victoria.

When the boss pulled her aside as she left, she expected praise for her dedication.

Instead, she told Ash to take a few days off. “You’re suspended after your red anyway, so you’re not playing. I don’t know what’s happening in your private life, but I’ve learned over the years there’s normally no smoke without fire. I think it’s best if you take an extended break. You’re not coming with us for the game on Sunday, or the next week.” Jo’s expression softened. “Whatever’s going on with you, sort it out. Talk to someone. You’re needed around here, but only when you’re 100 per cent.”

Her flat felt empty when she finally got home. She’d barely closed the door when her phone pinged: another news alert. Before she looked at that, she checked her messages. There was nothing from Victoria. The Palace press secretary who’d called her earlier had told her there was to be no communication at all. No messages, no phone calls. “Just in case they’re hacking your phone.” It made sense, but it didn’t make it any easier. Especially not when their pool table goodbye was on repeat in her head.

Ash clicked on the news alert: Ashleigh Woods will NOT play against West Ham on Saturday amid royal relationship rumours . She let out a groan and threw her phone on her sofa, before slumping beside it.

She wasn’t playing because of the red card she’d received while trying (and royally failing, the irony) to impress her girlfriend. Ash wanted to email and tell them to get their facts right, but she was pretty sure the Palace wouldn’t approve. She couldn’t quite believe that her life now needed royal approval for everything.

Her intercom buzzed. She frowned. Then remembered that Marianne had told her to look out for a care parcel after she heard the news of her enforced leave. Ash wasn’t sure some bath salts and hot chocolate were going to cure her ills this time.

She pressed the call button. “Yes?”

“Queer Princess fucker!”

At least it was accurate.

Ash pressed her forehead against the wall, too tired to even feel angry anymore. It had been like this all week: shouted slurs, press camping outside, her parents getting hate mail. But there’d been good moments too. Her parents’ entire street had formed a human barrier, chasing away photographers with garden hoses, brooms and choice words. Her mum had called, voice thick with pride, describing how Julie from next door had threatened to release her German Shepherds if they didn’t clear off. Never mess with Julie.

Telling her mum about the breakup had been harder than expected. “Oh, love,” she’d said. “Please tell me this isn’t because of us, because of the harassment. It’s already dying down, and we can take it. I know how much you liked her.”

“It’s not,” Ash had assured her. “And you’re right, I did like her. A whole lot. But it seems like we’re just wrong time, wrong place.”

She grabbed her phone and called up her favourite food delivery app. She scrolled through the options. Italian reminded her of Victoria, who loved to cook it. Burgers reminded her of the incredible ones they’d shared in Scotland. Indian? Chinese? She wasn’t hungry.

The whisky bottle caught her eye: a birthday gift from her uncle, still unopened. She remembered the King pouring her one in his study, before he ripped her world apart.

Ash had a week off, with nowhere to go. Now seemed as good a time as any.

The intercom buzzed again just as she poured her first glass. She ignored it, but it was insistent.

“Fuck off!” she shouted into it, patience long since gone.

“Charming way to greet your best mate.” Cam’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Let me up. I’ve brought curry.”

Ash nearly dropped her glass, but did as she was told. When she opened her front door, Cam held up the takeaway, along with a bottle of merlot. “I come bearing gifts.”

“But you live three hours away.” Ash was still stunned.

“And you’ve been ignoring my messages, and are clearly in need of a friend.” She kissed Ash’s cheek, then walked through to her kitchen. She’d been here many times, she knew where she was going. “I can see I’m just in time.” She nodded at the whisky on the counter.

“I’m allowed.”

“You are. It’s just not like you, drinking in season.”

Ash knew that was true. She had strict rules.

Had being the operative word.

“This is not a normal season.”

Minutes later, they sat on Ash’s couch, takeout containers spread across her mid-century coffee table. Cam handed her a plate, then started spooning food onto her own. “I’m starving, and traffic was the usual crazy Friday night crush.” She glanced at Ash with worried eyes. “I got chicken tikka bhuna, prawn biryani, sag aloo, tarka dhal, rice and a garlic naan. How did I do?”

“Perfect.”

“Great.” Cam took a mouthful, and nodded. “Not as good as up north, of course, but decent for the south.” She grinned. “Eat some food please, then tell me what’s going on, red-card girl.”

Ash put down her plate, and took a swig of whisky. It burned on the way down, just like her cheeks at the red-card mention.

“I don’t know, Cam.” Telling her coach was one thing. Telling her best friend was quite another. “Everything just got on top of me and I lost control that weekend.”

“I’ve never seen you play like that. You were reckless. You could have really injured yourself or Sloane. You’re lucky you’re both okay.”

She nodded. “I know.” The memory still scared her. “That’s why the boss has put me on leave, to get my head together.”

“Jo is very wise.” She’d been Cam’s manager when she played for Sunderland, and Cam had nothing but praise for her.

“But enough about the football. What about the story that’s on the front page of every newspaper and website? I never expected to see my best mate’s love life all over the news. They were even talking about it on the Radio Five Live phone-in today.”

Ash closed her eyes. She usually turned off phone-ins, because they always attracted the over-zealous type. “What was the verdict?”

“The usual. Half of them couldn’t care less; the rest said you’re going to hell, along with everyone involved in the devil’s sport that is women’s football.”

“Good to know.”

“But I know you, and I know the truth. At least, some of it. You want to fill me in?”

There was a pressure building in Ash’s chest, had been all day, and Cam’s gentle concern was making it worse. The whisky wasn’t helping like she’d hoped it would, either. Instead, it was loosening everything she’d tried so hard to push down. The words bubbled up, dangerous and honest. All week she’d kept a straight face, pushed through, stayed strong. But here, on her rust-coloured sofa with her oldest friend, she was just plain old Ash.

And Ash was breaking.

“You know what happened. I fell in love with the wrong woman at the wrong time. And vice versa.” She drew a deep breath. “We’ve been ordered by the Palace to cool things off.” She put her head in her hands.

“Ordered by the Palace? What are you, in The Crown ?”

Ash peeked through her fingers. “Not far off. I went with it, because what else could I do? Plus, I’ve got my career to think about. This season of all seasons, I can’t let it all go sideways.”

To her horror, tears started falling. In 20 years of friendship, she’d never let Cam see her cry.

“But I just…” Ash took another drink. It tasted all wrong, but she emptied her glass. She sniffed, then took the tissue that Cam wafted under her nose.

“I’ve never felt like this before. But how fucking stupid am I? Falling for the future Queen? I mean, how was that ever going to go down? Badly, that’s how.” She blew her nose, then wiped her eyes. “You know what’s really pathetic? There was going to be a Ball. An actual fucking ball, like in a fairy tale. I was going as Victoria’s date, in a tuxedo. Only real life isn’t a fairy tale, it turns out.”

She reached for her phone, then put it down. “My head is a mess. I keep hoping for a message from her, but there never is one. It’s only been three days. On all the news outlets, sports sites, entertainment pages — in fact, everywhere — there are tons of people weighing in with their opinion of us, even though there is no ‘us’.”

Cam reached over, took Ash’s phone, and stuffed it under a cushion. “Lay off your phone. You can’t message Victoria, and reading comments on the internet gets you nowhere. You know that.”

“I haven’t even checked what the women’s football community are saying.” They always had a lot to say on players’ personal lives.

Cam chewed her mouthful before she answered. “You should. That is the one corner of the internet that’s super-supportive. They all think it’s really cool that Victoria is sleeping with a Royal Raven, obviously.”

Ash frowned, then flopped back on the sofa. “I just miss her, Cam. I miss us.”

“It’ll take time to get over it.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t want to get over it. But there’s also no way I can be in it.”

“Which means you have to find a way to go around it,” Cam told her. “Have you split up?”

Ash shrugged. “Not officially, but kinda. I told Victoria I had to focus on my career and this was a distraction.” She winced now at her words.

So did Cam. “How did she take that?”

“We had sex on a pool table.” Ash smiled at that memory at least.

“That’s one way to try to work things out.”

Ash exhaled. “It’s just so confusing. I love her, but everyone hates the idea of us. Plus, I have a job to do, and I don’t think I can do that and date a princess, too.” That was what her rational brain told her. “But then, my heart wants her. Desperately. I can’t believe I left and didn’t fight more. That’s what’s been eating me up.”

Cam stroked her back. “The Palace told you to back off. What were you meant to do?”

“But what if she’s the one, Cam, and I just made a huge mistake? What if time passes, we’re both still unhappy, but we can’t do anything to change it?”

“Then maybe that’s your cue to fight for change.”

Ash had backed off at the first sign of trouble. She doubted she’d be able to cope with it ongoing. “People think I ‘corrupted’ the princess. That’s some homophobic shit. Like that’s what we do, sit and wait, then pounce on any unsuspecting royal.” She paused. “Another one I heard is that I’m part of a socialist plot to destroy the monarchy from within.”

“Fuck them,” Cam replied. “You’re one of the best people I know, Ash. The way I see it, this is like an injury. It floors you at first, but then you make small changes every day, working towards a larger goal, and eventually, you come back. You’re different, forever changed, but sometimes, better than you were in the first place.”

Ash knew what Cam said was true. She couldn’t control this no matter how much she wanted to. The chips had to land where they fell, whether she liked it or not.

“I know you’re right. I just need to focus on my fitness and my football. Try to forget how it feels when she smiles at me. Pretend I’m not in love with someone I can never really have. But I’m still annoyed I can’t play or even train for the next week.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Cam said. “You’ve been playing angry.”

“I know.” Ash closed her eyes. “I miss her so much. Is that mad? It’s been less than a week.”

Cam pulled her into a hug, and Ash let her. “It’s not mad. It’s love. The real kind, the kind that hurts because it matters.”

Ash buried her face in her friend’s shoulder, finally letting herself properly cry. For everything they could have been, for everything they’d never get to be.