I didn’t want to seem boring, so I made it up as I went along. Michelle’s last drink had been a punishment for not having had sex outside. Now it was my turn to either admit to having had a threesome or drink half a pint.

“Let’s take a break for a bit,” I said. “You don’t want Maisie to see you drunk later, or worse, hung-over tomorrow morning. She’ll give you no end of crap for it.”

“I’m not drunk,” she said, and just like that Michelle instantly appeared sober. When I looked closely into her eyes, I could tell she was a little tipsy, but then so was I. She’d likely been exaggerating how drunk she was getting just to seem like she was being more fun. Michelle had real problems loosening up.

“You spilt beer down your top,” I said, motioning to a beer stain stretching from her left breast down to her belly button. “Why don’t you take that shirt off? You have a top on underneath and you must be roasting in that thing.”

“No,” she replied instantly, and held onto the shirt as if I were about to take it off her. For someone who had a great body, she sure seemed reluctant to let me see it.

Our legs were already touching under the table, but I’d done everything in my power not to put my hand on her thigh or even move my leg in case she might see that as me coming on to her. I didn’t know how she would respond, but given the way she kept looking at me, there was a good chance she wouldn’t turn me down if I made a move. So why didn’t I?

I couldn’t think of anything or anyone I wanted more in the world right now than her, and yet here I was sat next to her and talking to her as if we were just friends or, heaven forbid, brother and sister.

“What does it feel like?” she asked.

“What does what feel like?”

“Playing in front of all those people. Being cheered on by thousands of fans.”

“They’re not always cheering me on. You saw evidence of that yourself.”

“Those people are idiots. You’ve changed since then. That’s obvious.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I’ve changed a lot. Not just on the pitch. Michelle, I’m sorry for the way I treated you back then. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t apologize. We all make mistakes. I certainly made a huge one and Maisie is still paying the price.”

“Michelle, you need to stop punishing yourself for what happened.” Punish me. I deserve it. “In case you haven’t noticed, Maisie doesn’t blame you for what happened.”

“She should. I couldn’t protect her. She’s my little sister and I couldn’t protect her.”

I quickly put my arm around her as she leaned into my shoulder and started sobbing. We got a few looks from people around us, but they took the hint and looked away again just as quickly.

“It wasn’t your job to protect her that night,” I explained, speaking softly into her ear. “It was mine.” I wanted to tell her the whole story. I wanted to make my confession and to hell with the consequences, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t as brave as Michelle. She would hate me if she knew, and I couldn’t live with that.

“She’s my little sister,” Michelle said again.

I could tell she was trying to stop the tears from falling, but they kept flowing. I wondered when she’d last let someone see her cry. She taught self-defence to women, volunteered at a domestic violence centre, and worked at a bar. Michelle had been there for hundreds of people when their lives had led them to cry in front of a stranger, but she’d probably never done the same.

“What happened to Maisie that night was horrible,” I said slowly. “When I was seven, only a year old than Maisie at the time of the attack, I broke my nose in three places.”

I didn’t really know where I was going with this, but silence seemed like the enemy at this stage and I wanted to keep Michelle’s mind occupied.

“How?” she asked.

“How do you think? Playing rugby. I thought it was a good idea to play with the under tens, but they were a lot bigger than me and I didn’t last ten minutes. Anyway, my nose looked hideous for a few weeks and I had to wear one of those face mask things. If you ask my mum, she’ll probably show you photos, but you can take my word for it when I say I looked ridiculous.”

“But that healed,” Michelle said, still crying, but less so now. “Maisie’s burn marks are permanent. She’s always going to have those scars.”

“I didn’t want to go to school while I had the mask,” I continued, ignoring Michelle’s comments for the time being. “Kids were laughing at me and the girls I fancied wouldn’t go near me. Girls used to let me catch them when we played kiss chase, but you should have seen how fast they suddenly ran when chased by the masked monster. The point is, I hated how I looked and I couldn’t deal with it.”

“That’s not the same,” Michelle said.

“No, it’s not. Maisie has it much worse than I ever had it for the reasons you pointed out. And yet she’s never been embarrassed for her wounds to be seen in public. She never hides it and when people make fun of her she ignores them. Despite all she’s been through, that girl is incredibly strong, confident, brave, and, most of all, full of life and energy. Her smile lights up the room despite her burns. That’s because of you, Michelle. Maisie is the person she is today because of you.”

At some point during my little speech, Michelle had stopped crying and had lifted her head from my shoulder. I looked round and saw her staring into my eyes, just inches from me. Her eyes were slightly puffy from the tears, but I’d still never seen anyone look so beautiful.

“When did you became so sensitive?” she asked. Her face was so close I could feel her breath on my face as she spoke.

“When my insensitivity lost me the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”

“The World Cup?”

“No, not the—” I stopped when I saw the corners of her lips turn up in a smile. “Very funny,” I said with a gentle laugh. “I see you’re feeling better now.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

Michelle didn’t turn away, and neither did I. I’d never felt so frozen in front of a woman before. Her legs pressed against mine, and I narrowed the gap between our bodies. Our faces were just two or three inches apart now. This had to be it. If I didn’t kiss her now, then we might spend the entire summer wondering what might have been.

I moved towards her and our lips touched just as my phone started vibrating in my pocket, wedged between both our legs. We both let out a nervous laugh, and I desperately tried to pull my phone out of my pocket. I went to hit the reject call button, when I noticed it was Shaun calling. He very rarely called me, and never did when he was with friends.

“It’s Shaun,” I explained to Michelle. “I should probably answer this.”

“Everything okay?” I asked, as I answered the phone. If he had just run out of cash to pay for the take-out, I was going to be pretty pissed off.

Shaun explained what had happened, leaving me the job of passing the news on to Michelle. I’d made her feel better by crediting her with how well Maisie had turned out. This news might prove a bit of a blow.

“We should leave,” I said.

“Oh,” Michelle said, looking disappointed. “Okay then.”

“Sorry, I want to stay, but we need to go. It’s Maisie. She’s been arrested.”

April 2007

I’d been picked for the England team. I’d only been playing club level rugby for six months. This was a dream come true and my teammates were delighted for me. Unfortunately, their idea of celebrating my call up involved stealing all my clothes while I was in the shower and leaving me completely naked and locked in the changing room.