When Fools Rush In

Chapter 9 - Double Slabhead

Lucy was feeling much better by the time the weekend rolled around. The antibiotics were kicking in and she decided to take the rest of the week off work to recover so she would be back to form by Monday morning. It also meant she didn't have to be at the Etihad for the Premier League match against Chelsea, which turned into an agonising 2-1 defeat for Man City, with Jack subbed off the pitch at 65 minutes. He hadn't played particularly well, losing the ball on a couple of occasions, with Pep having decided to play him in a false 9 position. Watching on TV, Lucy could see the frustration in Jack's face as he left the pitch. She messaged him.

Lucy - sorry it's been such a trying match xx

Jack responded about forty minutes later, when the game was over and he was sitting forlornly in the dressing room.

Jack - yeah bit shit, didn't get much of the ball. Pep's going fucking mental

Lucy - what at you?

Jack - no at all of us

Lucy - it's not your fault 

Jack - I wasn't very good tho

Lucy - you'll be fine next time, don't be hard on yourself. Can't wait to see you tomorrow

Jack - me too! Come round at lunchtime?

Lucy - yes I'll pop to the supermarket in the morning and get you a proper feast :-)

Jack - argh Pep's just told me off for being on the phone, I'll catch you later x

Lucy - see you tomorrow gorgeous x

Reclining back on the sofa, Lucy ran through what she could cook for Jack the following day. Despite the lack of time she had to cook for herself, living alone, she was actually quite competent in the kitchen, and would often cook dinner parties for her parents and their friends when she was visiting them back at home in Norfolk. Her ex - well, he had been very well fed, but never seemed to appreciate her cooking, often proclaiming he'd be just as happy with a Chinese takeaway. She suspected Jack might be of a similar mind, but pushed the thought to the back of her head. It was Sunday tomorrow, a roast dinner would be perfect.

She decided to take an early night, after a long bubble bath and several cups of herbal tea. The bath wasn't as fun this time, but it did the trick. She was out cold at 10pm, her body still recovering from the worst bout of tonsillitis she'd had in years.

***

Lucy's phone was vibrating incessantly on the bedside table. She wasn't entirely sure what day it was, what time it was. She'd obviously overslept, that's for sure. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Lucy reached over to grab her phone. She noticed it was 8:20am and groaned - it was too early for a Sunday. But then she was immediately distracted by the amount of notifications she had.

Top of the list of Whatsapp messages was Mark Tanner of all people. Lucy's heart sank, her stomach twisted. Something was up.

She opened the message from Mark.

"Told you Jack G was a nightmare. Sorry you have to deal with it."

Lucy's heart was banging - what did he mean? Her "dealing" with what? 

She realised Mark had sent her a link to a Daily Mail article. What on earth had happened in the ten hours she had been asleep?

She clicked on the link and groaned aloud. "Fuck, fuck's sake, you fucking imbecile!" she exclaimed, throwing her phone onto the pillow.

The headline of the article was typically Daily Mail, a newspaper Lucy had no time for. Their football articles were often full of inaccuracies she had to order them to correct, because she could easily provide the facts at hand. But this article was one she couldn't possibly begin to spin, not at the moment, sitting up in her bed, seething.