by Tom Palmer
Danny nodded too. That was what he was hoping for.
TUESDAY
SAM ROBERTS
Danny arrived early at the bar where Holt had said he was meeting Roberts. He could see Holt and Roberts inside, talking.
Holt had told him to come in at 11 a.m.
The bar was attached to one of the area’s poshest hotels, the Devonshire, which was owned by a very rich family.
Danny sat on a bench outside. He smiled. He’d been here before.
This was the place where, several months ago, he and Holt had met Alex Finn, the City keeper. That day someone tried to murder Finn, which started off one of the craziest cases Danny had worked on: a Russian billionaire bent on killing England keepers, helped by Sir Richard Gawthorpe.
He was thrilled to be meeting Sam Roberts again. The first time he’d met the famous footballer was just after he’d rescued him from the kidnap ordeal, and he’d come to thank Danny. When he was still a City player. Now, of course, he was Forza FC’s star player.
Danny was distracted from his memories by a knocking sound. He looked round. Holt was banging on the window from inside the bar. And outside, Sam Roberts was walking towards Danny, his hand outstretched.
Danny couldn’t quite believe it. One of the most gifted and famous footballers in the world had taken the trouble to come out to meet him. Not just wait for everyone to come to him.
‘Danny?’ Roberts said. ‘It’s great to see you again. How are you?’
‘Great, thanks.’
‘And your family? Your dad?’
‘Fine too, thanks,’ Danny said, although he did wonder why he’d said that. They were not fine. But he could hardly tell Sam Roberts about his mum and dad. You were just meant to say you were fine when people asked you how you were.
‘Anton says you want to ask me something,’ Roberts said.
‘I do,’ Danny replied.
‘Whatever it is, I’ll do it.’
‘I won’t hold you to that,’ Danny laughed.
‘Try me,’ Roberts insisted. ‘I owe you a lot.’
Danny shrugged.
‘I do,’ Roberts went on. ‘You saved me from being kidnapped. You worked it out. You came in to find me. You took on Sir Richard and his armed guards. You were captured and they were going to kill you. And, after all that, you got none of the glory for it. I’ve never forgotten that. And I never will.’
As they walked across the gravel towards the door, Danny told Roberts about the meeting the night before. And about what Billy Giles had suggested.
Roberts nodded.
‘And I think you would be a great person to do it,’ Danny said.
They had just come to the door of the bar, when Danny had finished. Immediately Roberts stopped. And Danny wondered if he was offended.
‘I’m sorry,’ Danny said. ‘I shouldn’t have asked you. It’s not fair.’
‘No,’ Roberts said. ‘It is fair.’ But then he fell silent.
They stood outside the bar for over a minute saying nothing. Danny knew to keep quiet. Roberts was thinking. He should leave him to it.
A bus drew up on the gravel of the car park.
Danny watched Roberts look over at it.
‘I need to be on that bus,’ Roberts said in a quiet voice. ‘Light training before the game.’
‘It’s going to be odd for you playing at City,’ Danny said.
‘I know,’ Roberts answered. ‘I’ll be honest with you, I’m nervous.’
‘What about?’
‘The fans. How are they going to react to me – after I transferred to Forza?’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Danny said.
‘Really?’
‘They still really admire you. You’ll get the best welcome any City player’s ever had coming back.’
Roberts nodded. ‘I hope so. I miss City.’
Then Danny started thinking about Forza and Fo.
‘You know Forza?’ Danny asked.
‘Yeah?’
‘Are you happy there?’
‘Oh yeah,’ Roberts said. ‘It’s a great club.’
‘Don’t you think it’s a bit strange there?’ Danny asked. He wondered if Roberts had anything to say about it.
Roberts smiled. ‘I suppose it is. It feels like Forza are going to be the biggest club ever. Everywhere we go everyone supports us. That’s weird.’
‘What’s Fo like?’ Danny asked. ‘I’m doing a school project on him.’
‘I’ve barely talked to him, to be honest,’ Roberts admitted.
Danny felt disappointed.
‘But I can say one thing,’ Roberts went on. ‘He’s obsessed with TV. And adverts on TV. He knows everything about them. That’s definitely weird.’
Danny nodded. ‘Thanks. And I’m … I’m sorry I asked you to do that thing. It was too much to ask.’
Then Roberts was shaking his head. ‘No, it’s not too much to ask. And I wouldn’t do it for anyone else. But, Danny, you saved my life. I always said, if I could do anything for you, I would. And I will.’
‘You will?’ Danny grinned. He felt elated.
‘I will. But,’ Roberts paused. ‘Can it wait until after the two City–Forza games?’
‘Yes. Of course.’
Danny didn’t have time to thank Roberts any more. Holt was next to them and Roberts was picking up his training bag.
‘Sorted?’ Holt asked.
Danny nodded. And the three of them shook hands.
Roberts turned just before he left for the coach. ‘Danny? Can you and your dad make it to Forza for the match next week?’
‘I doubt it,’ Danny said.
‘I’ll cover it,’ Roberts offered, now crossing the car park to the coach. ‘Flights, hotels, tickets. You’ll be my guest. You can come to the players’ lounge after the game. My treat.’
‘Say yes, you idiot,’ Holt said.
And Danny nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes please.’
WEDNESDAY
CITY VS FORZA
Town was packed with football fans, everyone wearing a scarf or replica shirt. Hordes of people were clustered outside pubs and cafés. Men with trolleys were flogging flags and banners. Touts were weaving among the crowds, asking for tickets.
This was a Champions League semi-final. Matches didn’t come much bigger than this. Danny felt amazing. But something in the atmosphere seemed different today.
Dad picked up on it straight away.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
‘Forza fans,’ Danny said.
‘Right.’ Dad nodded. ‘Real ones?’
‘I don’t hear them talking Italian,’ Danny remarked.
‘Nor me,’ Dad said. ‘Is that lad from your school around?’
Danny had told his dad about Theo. The football stuff; not the Charlotte stuff.
‘No, he’ll be sat at home watching it on TV,’ Danny replied. ‘He wouldn’t know a football stadium from a car park.’
He watched Dad laugh. It was good to see. He knew his dad was probably as miserable as he’d ever been in his life. Maybe even more miserable than when he’d had the accident and lost his sight. Danny hadn’t asked him. He was bursting to tell him about the invitation from Sam Roberts. But he wanted to choose the right moment, make his dad feel as happy as he could be.
They headed for the stadium. Danny couldn’t bear the tension any longer. Once he started to feel like this about a game, he had to get inside the stadium, chant, shout, or at least just be there.
Football time.
The first half of the game was cagey. Both teams were too cautious to attack. And however much the City supporters sang, the game remained tight and tense. Danny was pleased that all the fans in the stadium gave Sam Roberts a good welcome. He’d have hated it if he had been wrong and they’d booed their former player.
Danny looked over to the directors’ box, where the officials from both clubs sat to watch the game. He wanted to get an image of Fo on his mobile phone for his school project. One that nobody else had. Preferably one where the Forza boss was looking evil. But there was no sign of the Italian.
Danny had not missed the fact that several Forza fans were sat in the City end. All wearing Forza scarves, all sitting there as if it was normal for them to be among the City fans. In fact, he was pretty sure that the man in front of him was a Forza fan, even though he had a City accent. Danny thought of Theo Gibbs and willed City to score. He dreamed of going into school tomorrow and not having to even speak to Theo. A glance would do it.
In the second half the game opened up. And Danny knew it was to do with the fact that it was raining hard now. Defending was tricky when the pitch was wet. The players didn’t have as much time to stroke the ball around. They became worried about making mistakes.
So for the first twenty minutes after the break it was end to end.
City attacking, then Forza attacking.
Sam Roberts looked dangerous for Forza, but somehow the City defence kept him out.
And then it happened.
Just as the rain was easing off, City got a corner. The ball was swung into the area and – rising above everyone – City’s leading scorer, Anthony Owusu, headed it in. When the ball hit the back of the goal, a shower of water burst from the soaked net.
Danny grabbed his dad by his arm and shook him.
The noise from the crowd was so loud his ears were ringing.
1–0 to City in the semi-final of the Champions League.
Once the furore had died down, Danny gazed around him at the so-called Forza fans. Some of them looked annoyed, or were trying to ignore the jibes of the City fans sat near them. Others were still smiling, as if they didn’t know or care what it meant if their team won or lost.
Danny shook his head: he would never understand these people.
Now – as so often happened when a deadlock is broken – the game became very different. Danny felt he could sense the City players’ increased confidence; a one–nil lead in the first leg of a Champions League semi-final was a brilliant result.
If City could hold on, Forza would have to beat them by two clear goals in Italy, because of the away goals rule.
The tension on the pitch had infected the fans too. Now there was less singing. Everyone was on the edge of their seats. Literally.
‘Come on, City!’
‘Attack. Don’t defend!’
‘Keep them out.’
There was no noise from the other team’s fans. Neither from the English Forza fans nor those from Italy.
With five minutes to go, the City manager made a substitution. Anthony Owusu was coming off, Kofi Danquah coming on.
Danny grinned. He knew Kofi. They were friends. They had met when Kofi had come to England from Ghana.
‘Come on, Kofi!’ Danny shouted, his words swallowed into the chaos and noise. ‘Get us a second goal.’
And just before the end of normal time, Kofi got his chance.
Another corner.
Another melee in the penalty area.
The ball fell to Kofi.
If he could score this, Danny thought, the tie would be as good as over and City would be close to the Champions League final.
Plus Theo Gibbs would have to keep his mouth shut for a year at least.
Kofi hit it perfectly.
The ball rose towards the top corner of the Italian net.
Danny was convinced it was going in.
But the Italian keeper had other ideas. He leapt across the goal and finger-tipped the ball on to the cross bar.
Danny watched the next thirty seconds unfold in horror.
After hitting the cross bar, the ball ricocheted in the direction of the halfway line, such was the velocity of Kofi’s strike.
The City defence was caught out.
Badly.
Too many City players were out of position: too many Forza players were ready to attack.
Danny watched as four Forza players attacked the City goal, Sam Roberts among them. Only three City defenders had made it back.
If Forza scored this, they’d be massive favourites to win the tie.
City could not afford to let this one in.
The Forza players were passing the ball at pace, but the game seemed to move in slow motion for Danny now as the City players struggled to keep up. Sam Roberts was bearing down on goal.
But one City player did manage to keep up: Kofi Danquah.
Now it was Sam Roberts against City’s keeper and Kofi.
Danny watched, holding his breath, as Roberts rounded the keeper and slid the ball past him towards the goal.
People in the crowd screamed as they watched Kofi chase the ball to try and stop it going in the net.
He reached it, deflecting it.
The next second seemed to Danny to take a minute at least.
Kofi’s clearance missed the empty goal, but hit the post.
Then the ball came back to Kofi. Bounced off his knee. And into the net.
An own goal.
City FC 1, Forza FC 1.
Disaster.
The man in front of Danny was now standing up. Danny had been right. He was a Forza fan. A so-called fan. He had his arms outstretched and was turning to catch the eye of everyone in the seats around him.
But he was not alone. There were hundreds of them. All around the stadium. All celebrating Forza’s goal.
‘Has it been disallowed?’ Dad asked, sensing that around him people were standing up.
‘They’re Forza fans,’ Danny explained, in a low voice. ‘Everywhere.’
Danny noticed that several fights were breaking out now. And that the stewards were sprinting in to intervene.
Then he looked over at the giant screen in the corner. First, at the image of Kofi being helped to his feet by Sam Roberts. Rather than celebrating the equalizer, Roberts had his arm round the seventeen-year-old Ghanaian’s shoulders and was consoling him.
Danny thought about the return leg and how he had been hoping City would win 1–0 and that he could break the news to his dad that they had tickets.
But the moment had gone.
Then the giant screen changed to a different image.
A man emerging from the directors’ box. A man Danny knew well.
Salvatore Fo.
The Italian was nodding. Nodding like he knew Forza would score that goal.
Nodding like it was right that Forza were favourites to beat City now.
And Danny was filled with a rage that he struggled to keep control of. But he did.
For now.
When Danny and Dad got home after the City–Forza match, they told Mum about Sam Roberts and his offer. An all-expenses-paid trip to watch the second leg.
Mum smiled and said she was really pleased for them. Like Danny had expected her to.
He and his dad were going on an adventure.
Then Dad did something weird.
‘Why don’t you go, love?’ he asked his wife.
‘Me?’ Mum reacted, sounding shocked.
‘So long as Danny’s happy,’ Dad went on. ‘I mean, you’re learning Italian. And I got to go to South Africa with Danny. This would be perfect for you. It makes sense.’
Danny watched his mum and dad’s exchange with interest. This was the first time they’d talked nicely together – without that underlying tension – for weeks. Maybe months.
His dad was being kind and his mum was pleased.
‘Danny?’ Dad asked. ‘Is that OK?’
‘Yes,’ Danny said, nodding to his mum. Maybe it was OK. His mum was learning Italian. It would be good for her. And it meant Dad had been able to do something nice for her too. And maybe that was even more imp
ortant.
These were the kinds of things that stopped parents splitting up.
Later that night, Danny stayed up to watch the highlights of the game on TV. He wanted to watch Kofi’s own goal in detail. He froze the frame a few times, to see it unfold.
One time he did this, a strange thing happened. A message came up on the TV. Just green words on a black background:
SUPPORT FORZA FC.
YOUR TEAM.
YOUR SUCCESS.
Without thinking, Danny hit the play button. He lost the image immediately.
And, however much he tried to rewind and fast forward, he couldn’t get it back.
PART TWO: ITALY
TUESDAY
ANOTHER COUNTRY
When Danny stepped on to the balcony of the hotel he was hit by the heat and light of Italy in early summer.
It was hard to believe that he was here, gazing across a beautiful lake at snow-capped mountains, in one of Europe’s poshest hotels.
But it was true. He was here. And it was thanks to Sam Roberts.
‘Danny?’ a voice said from within the room. ‘Have you seen the bathroom? It’s amazing.’
Danny turned his eyes away from the view and went back into the cool shade of the hotel room, with its smart chairs, sweeping curtains and fancy lamps.
Danny’s mum emerged from the bathroom grinning and Danny thought her face looked like a child’s, full of excitement.
‘The hand wash smells amazing,’ she said. ‘It’s really expensive.’
Danny smiled. His mum looked well. They’d spent two hours sitting in a café in Milan before heading up to the lake and she had already caught the sun.
But there was something else about her. Instead of looking sad, like she had been at home recently, she looked relaxed and happy. Like she used to look when Danny was a little boy.
It had been a hard time for her, Danny realized that. He knew his mum and dad had been suffering. And seeing his mum all relaxed and suntanned like this made him appreciate a bit more about how unhappy she’d been.