Читать книгу Extra Time - Michelle Betham - Страница 10

‘I need to see you, Max.’

‘What? Now? You do know what time it is, don’t you? And what are you doing on the phone at this time on a match day? I know Jim Allen’s softened up slightly since he married your ex but I wasn’t aware he’d given you lot carte blanche to break every rule he’d ever imposed.’

‘Shut up, Max, will you?’

‘Oh, that’s a nice way to speak to the man who made you what you are.’

Ryan knew he’d said that with his tongue firmly in his cheek, and he sighed, leaning back against the wall as he tried to block out the sounds of a football stadium on a match day – the noise of the crowd outside, the chatter of voices coming from what seemed like every corner of the ground.

‘Can you come and see me or not, Max?’

‘What you up to?’

‘I’m not up to anything… Jesus… I just need to talk to you about something, okay?’

There was a pause, and Ryan knew now that he shouldn’t have said anything. Max was bound to think the worst, and with good reason. Given Ryan’s past, what else was he supposed to think?

‘You sure you’re not…’

‘Everything’s fine, Max. I just need to talk to you, as my agent. Is that okay?’

Another pause. ‘Okay. You’re back in the North East tonight, aren’t you? Give me a ring when you’re home and I’ll come to your apartment tomorrow. Luckily for you I’m up north for the next couple of days anyway. Just promise me…’

‘I promise you, Max.’

‘All right. I believe you. Have a good match, and I’ll see you soon.’

Ryan quickly ended the call, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. He was doing the right thing, he was sure he was. He just needed someone else to tell him that.

‘Do you want to give that to me?’

His eyes sprang open as he heard Jim Allen’s voice. He was standing right beside him, eyeing him suspiciously.

‘It was an emergency call, boss.’

‘Really,’ Jim said dryly, arching an eyebrow as he held out his hand. ‘I don’t want to start treating you like a child, Ryan, but if you insist on acting like one…’

‘For Christ’s sake, it was one lousy phone call. One I needed to make to put my mind at rest.’

‘You’re distracted?’ Jim asked, that eyebrow still arched as he stared at his young, talented, but extremely unpredictable striker. ‘Something on your mind?’

‘Not anymore.’ Ryan reluctantly placed his phone in Jim’s still-outstretched hand.

‘Glad to hear it.’ Jim slipped Ryan’s phone into his jacket pocket before returning both hands to the pockets of his immaculately cut suit trousers. ‘I’d hate to think you had anything on your mind other than helping us win this game.’ Jim’s eyes stayed fixed on Ryan’s for a few seconds longer than Ryan felt comfortable with. ‘Back to the dressing room. And no more escape acts. You got that?’

Jim watched him walk back off in the direction of the away team dressing room, not entirely convinced that everything was as it should be, but then, Ryan Fisher was never going to be a player he could totally trust. He just had to make sure that Ryan did what was required of him and didn’t stray too far off those rails he’d once been so fond of veering from.

He was stirred from his doubts over Ryan Fisher’s concentration by his own phone ringing. He answered it quickly. He should be setting an example to his players, not flouting his own rules, but right now he had no other choice. He needed to be near a phone; he couldn’t risk messages being left with just anyone.

He listened carefully as the voice on the other end of the line spoke before finally speaking himself. ‘Not yet, no… Jesus, I thought we’d talked about this.’ He sighed, leaning forward so his forehead rested against the wall, closing his eyes as the voice continued to speak. ‘Soon, I promise… it’s just that… No. It isn’t like that, and you know it isn’t, I… Look, I’ve got to go. This is a really bad time and I’m sure you shouldn’t be… Yeah. I know. I know that.’ He turned round, leaning back against the wall, checking to make sure nobody was within earshot. ‘I’ve really got to go. We’ll talk later.’ Ending the call, he slipped the phone back into the inside pocket of his jacket and closed his eyes again, just for a second or two, as he tried to compose himself. Tried to get his focus back. Life should be great right now – he’d just married the woman of his dreams, and they were making plans for a future he’d always wanted. He just hadn’t banked on that future turning complicated. But he should have seen it coming. He should have. For once in his life Jim Allen had been naive, and now he had a very real fear that that could be his downfall.

‘Oh, that feels fabulous!’ Amber sighed as Ronnie gently massaged her shoulders during a commercial break. ‘I was so tense!’

‘Tell me about it.’ Ronnie dug his thumbs harder into the space between her shoulder blades, eliciting a small groan from Amber. ‘You’re all tight around the back of the neck. You need to learn to chill out more.’

Amber threw her head back and Ronnie stopped what he was doing, moving round in front of her, leaning back against the desk.

‘Is everything all right?’ he asked, folding his arms as he watched her rub the side of her neck.

‘I’ve got to go and see Dr. Lowry as soon as I get back to Newcastle.’ She sat up straight, looking over at the floor manager to see how long they had left before they were back live on air.

‘Test results?’ Ronnie asked, trying to read Amber’s mood. She seemed fine, and she’d been as professional as ever as she’d joined in with the banter and comments that flew around the studio during these live Soccer Specials, but underneath he knew how she’d really be feeling. She’d always been good at hiding her true emotions.

Amber said nothing as she quickly checked through the papers on the desk in front of her, making sure she was ready to go the second they were back on air.

‘Couldn’t they tell you over the phone?’ Ronnie went on, still watching her.

She looked up at him. ‘I don’t want them to tell me anything over the phone, Ronnie. It’s not news I want to have to deal with whilst I’m at work. And they didn’t say it had anything to do with test results anyway. They just said to make an appointment and come and see Dr. Lowry when I’m back in Newcastle.’

‘Do you want me to come with you?’

She frowned slightly. ‘Why would you want to do that?’

‘Because I’m your best friend and I care about you.’

She looked back over at the floor manager, who mouthed something at her and held up ten fingers. She shook out her hair, composing herself before they went live again. ‘I’ll be fine. You’d better get back in your seat, we’re on in ten.’

Ronnie resumed his position in the chair to Amber’s left, not entirely convinced she was fine about any of this, but he wasn’t going to push it. He’d known her long enough to know that was never a good idea. And as he watched her mood change in an instant the second they were back on air, shifting automatically to that of professional presenter, he knew she’d still like to think that she could handle all of this on her own, because she thought she could handle everything on her own. But if the past year had taught her anything – if it had taught Ronnie anything – it was that she couldn’t. Not really. And she didn’t have to. She’d never had to. Now all he had to do was make her realise that.

Jim shook the hand of the opposing team’s manager, smiling a smile of sheer relief as he made his way down the tunnel behind his team after a tense match that had seen Newcastle Red Star tested until the very last second of injury time, when they’d managed to snatch a fourth goal in those dying minutes that saw them finish the afternoon the winning team. But it hadn’t been easy, and Jim was under no illusion that this forthcoming season was going to be a walk in the park. He really needed to focus if he was going to make sure they kept their place at the top of the Premier League. A focus that he knew, at some point very soon, was going to be severely tested. He felt sick at the thought of what he was going to have to tell Amber, but time had ran out. She needed to know. She needed to know now. And it was nobody’s fault but his own that it had got this far.

He felt drained, almost as if he’d been playing the 90-plus minutes out there on the pitch himself, and all he wanted was to go and see Amber. All he wanted was to spend the evening with her, drinking wine and watching TV. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight, anyway. He was due to fly back to the North East with the rest of the squad in an hour or so – no staying over in London for any of them; he wasn’t taking that risk – whilst she wouldn’t be returning home until tomorrow. He was beginning to hate being away from her more and more. Every second he wasn’t with her right now he was nervous that, because of the job she was in, somebody would find out, someone else would tell her what he had to tell her himself, and if that happened it could quite possibly be game over for him. No chance of extra time.

His phone rang and he reached into his inside jacket pocket to retrieve it, walking as he talked. ‘Jim Allen…’ The voice on the other end of the line made him realise the need to check the caller ID before he answered. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak to them, it was just the timing wasn’t great. And they knew that, they knew this wasn’t a good time, just as they’d known calling him before the match hadn’t been a great idea either. They knew that better than anyone. And that’s what aggravated Jim more than anything. ‘Can this wait?’ Jim lowered his voice, quickly darting into a quiet corner before any reporters could get hold of him for the required post-match interview. ‘Everything I said before… Look, I’ll be home later on this evening. Call me after nine, okay? We can talk properly… Yeah, thanks. It was a tough game. This is a tough league, but you’ll find that out for yourself soon enough.’ He quickly ended the call, looking up as he heard his name being called. There were certain things managers were required to do after a game, regardless of the mood they were in, and the post-match TV interview was one of them. So, fixing a smile on his face, he walked over to the beckoning reporter, ready to tell them whatever they wanted to hear. The Jim Allen charm was about to go into overdrive, whether he felt like turning it on or not.