Then Came Fame (Leah Williamson)

Leah: Summer of Dreams

May 2022

All eyes were firmly focused on the Euros. Even thought we didn't know who would be going, England were already monitoring the sleep, activity and nutrition of those who might. I was never much good at routine. I either slept a lot or I slept very little. The biggest problem I had was my need to not waste time. I hated the thought of going to bed earlier than I would actually sleep because those minutes in bed before I was dreaming seemed to be such a waste of valuable time.

That night, I was sprawled across the sofa hoping that sleepiness would find me soon, endlessly scrolling through social media. I wasn't usually much good at seeing things, despite always being on my phone. I didn't tend to watch stories unless I was tagged in them, always put off by endless ads and shared posts from sponsors.

With one last refresh, my chances of sleep were taken to zero. Aria's profile came up with that little circle around it and my heart skipped a beat. Her stories were always so random. One day, she might post a book she was reading, another she posted something totally unexplained like a calculator, another day she would post a picture of her in the studio and then two seconds later it would seem she was on holiday. Something inside of me liked the chaos of it all. Fame seemed so unhinged, so exciting in comparison to the life I lived in my little flat in London.

This story was different. This story made my heart sink, my eyes widened as I read her obvious request for cocaine. I knew she did drugs, anyone with a working brain knew that. Sometimes it was obvious when she had taken them, her eyes would be red on stage and she would be caught sniffing in between her lyrics. Other times, the signs were less significant. Anyone who watched her as often as I did would notice the way her smile seemed a little too false that day or how her hands would tremor ever so slightly.

Knowing she dabbled in drugs and seeing her ask for them so desperately in the middle of the night were two different things. I wondered how much she felt like she needed them in that moment, how desperate one person could be to post something like that, even if it was meant for a private story which I assumed it was.

I couldn't stop myself as I quickly clicked into her profile and clicked on the message button. My fingers typed as fast as I could make them, hoping that I could reach her before the screenshots began. I didn't say much, simply telling her that her story was public, but as my thumb gravitated towards the send button, I realised how judgemental I sounded. What if she meant to post it publicly?

In the end, I decided against messaging her. I gathered someone who knew her would say something, maybe even someone who was with her would delete it for her if she wasn't fit to.

In the days that followed, the story took over the headlines. No news channel shied away from reporting on it, most of them laughing at the excuse her management had used for the obvious error on Aria's part. They didn't believe it, the fans didn't believe it, and the general consensus was that Aria would either end up in rehab or end up cancelled.

***
July 2022

From the moment I stepped onto a football pitch, I dreamt of a day when I would lift a trophy. Of course, I'd had that moment during my Arsenal career, but stepping onto the podium in a sold out Wembley with the Euros trophy was beyond my wildest dreams.

In that moment, hoisting a trophy into the air with Millie by my side, I felt like my life had reached a peak that I would never come down from. There we stood, in a stadium they told us we would never fill, with a trophy they told us we would never win, and in kits they told us we should never wear.