When Fools Rush In

Chapter 7 - Fever Pitch

It was a busy day leading up to the Champions League match at the Etihad. Man City were playing Club Brugge at home and Lucy was fielding a mass of calls while spending time in the media centre, making sure everything was all set for the evening. Jack had disappeared for some down time with the team after their liaison in the interview room, which had left Lucy feeling unusually exhausted. He told Lucy that he would take a car to her flat later that night, about an hour and a half after the match when Lucy should have arrived home. The thought was keeping Lucy going through the busyness of the day.

At around lunchtime Lucy's throat was increasingly sore as she fielded calls. She assumed she had just been speaking too much, and the morning's row with Mark Tanner hadn't helped - let alone the mind blowing experience with Jack on the interview room table which still made her shudder with delight thinking about it. Mark had left her a slimy email after the interview, effusively thanking her for the opportunity to interview Jack Grealish and telling her how well the edit sounded - it would be aired on the radio at 5.45 during the drive time slot.

By mid afternoon, Lucy was flagging. She sat down at her station in the media centre, tapping away on her laptop, gulping down tea, but it wasn't helping. It felt like she had razor blades in her throat.

Rhys the social media manager sat at the desk next to her, setting up his station before he went out and about in the stadium to film videos and analysis for Man City's social media feeds.

"You're looking a bit peaky," he said to Lucy, "like, really pale."

"Really? I'm not feeling that great actually."

"Heavy weekend in London then?" quizzed Rhys, "as it was a hen party I bet you were hammered!"

"I got a bit drunk but nothing too bad," she replied, "my throat is really, really sore so maybe I'm coming down with something."

"Time of year," said Rhys, "are you OK for tonight?"

Lucy actually wasn't sure. She was feeling worse by the minute.

She had recurrent problems with her tonsils over the years, with tonsillitis sometimes flooring her for weeks at a time. It was a busy period for the club and she hoped that just weeks into the job that it wasn't going to hinder her progress.

***

Early evening came and the journalists were filling up the media centre. Lucy made herself useful, enduring the meets and greets and making herself available for any queries they had. She spoke briefly to Mark Tanner again - who was all smiles to be back at his beloved Etihad - and went over to Alice McKeegan, the football editor of the Manchester Evening News, to check she had everything she needed.

"I'm all set here," smiled Alice, who was always pleased to see other women in key roles in football, "but are you OK? You don't look well."

Lucy instinctively placed her hand on her forehead; she was burning up.

"No, not really," said Lucy, quietly, "I think I might have tonsillitis, it's come on today."

Alice looked concerned, "you should really go home," she said, "these midweek fixtures are long nights and it looks like you should get some rest."

Lucy could hear buzzing in her ears - everything suddenly became very quiet and hot in the room - she could barely hear what Alice was saying.

"Lucy - I think you should-"

The room began to spin. Lucy went to grab a nearby chair but missed it and tumbled to the ground. She felt herself bang her knee but she was relieved to be on the floor. Just conscious, she rested her head against the legs of the chair. She began to hear what was going on around her again.