Chapter 15: Fourteen

The next ten days passed in what felt like the blink of an eye.  Things were going well, almost as well as they could be.  Spirits were high in the team: everyone seemed to be in a good place after the Wolves game and, more importantly, in good form, and our hard work in training was showing on the pitch.  A two-one away win to Everton followed by a win away in France in the Champions League put us in good positions for both competitions.  On top of that, a thrashing against Grimsby Town in the League Cup was a good confidence boost, too.

Things off the pitch were going just as well. I felt like Mason and I were making real progress and, honestly, things felt almost back to how they were before Russia.  Trips to Mason's house with Kyle post-matches was once again becoming a tradition and after the League Cup game, we even managed to drag Fran and Olly with us, too.

Liv was still an unmentionable topic, but thankfully there hadn't been any more chance run-ins with her.  However, she was an undeniable presence among us: every time Mason's phone pinged or he stepped away to make a call, it was clear who was on the other end.  But, for the most part, it seemed like his heart was back with us again.

Before I knew it, it was time for the next international break.  Whispered rumours had been spreading around the country and, naturally, around the club. The claim was that a few changes were going to be made from the last squad that was named, including a return for me at left back.  I was trying not to get my hopes up, but part of me had a suspicion that I'd get the call up any day.  Mason had been insistent that I deserved a spot, like he had been since before the Wolves game, but Hannah Kingsley was back in action for the Cityzens' last game and hadn't done half bad, either.

I arrived at Cobham on Tuesday feeling oddly anxious.  The official team announcement was going to be released the following day and I still hadn't heard anything from the gaffer or the FA.  Kyle had told us last night that the United and Spurs players already knew if they'd been selected, which only made me think that no Chelsea players were chosen.  But that couldn't be the case: Kyle was scoring goals, Mason was playing like a champ, Abby was making an impact; they couldn't all miss out, could they?  Me, maybe, but not all of them too.

From past experience, I knew the way that Frank went about our selection.  When I got my first call up, he called me into his office and built it up for a while, eventually spitting it out with a beam on his face.  From then on, he usually just called us in to congratulate us more than informing us.  Once before I'd gotten a message from the FA admin lady, Mandy, before chatting to Frank. Now, I hadn't had either.

Changed and in the canteen, I saw no sign of Kyle.  I'd been hoping to quiz him on it, but I'd have to distract myself while I waited for him or Abby or Mason to arrive.  Taking a place at an empty table with a cup of tea, I sat refreshing my emails and messages for a good few minutes.

I was so focused on my phone that the call of my name coming from the entrance gave me a fright.  Glancing up, I saw Frank standing there, his eyebrows raised. He motioned for me to come over, so I stood up hastily.  On shaky legs, I met him at the door.

"Morning, Beck," he greeted me.  "You alright?"

"Yeah, good thanks."  He nodded and the corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smile.

"Knee all good? Hammy still fine?"  I nodded enthusiastically, my stomach fluttering with butterflies.

"Yeah, feeling really strong."

"You're looking strong, too," he commented, crossing his arms over his chest.  "Hope you're feeling ready for a tough few days, though.  I hear Gareth isn't going to be taking it easy on you lot."

My breath stopped in my chest; my stomach flipped.  I imagined my face must have given away how shocked I was, because Frank chuckled when he looked down at me.

"Really?"  My voice was barely above a whisper.  His chuckle grew to a laugh as he clapped me affectionately on the shoulder.

"Yes, really."  Speechless, I felt my jaw drop.  "And so deserved, too.  Well done, Beck."

"Thank you," I breathed out.  Adrenalin started to pump through my body, forcing my hands to shake and my cheeks to flush red.

Frank pulled me into his side for a brief, almost uncharacteristic hug.  "I'm proud of you.  And I'm sure if you go there and train like you do here everyday, there'll be no reason for Gareth not to be impressed, too."

Nodding, I didn't get a chance to ask him my next burning question because he was turning away, entering the canteen.

England!

Letting out a disbelieving breath, my face finally broke out into a beam I knew wouldn't be leaving any time soon. Back to St George's, back in the England squad...  something I wondered if I'd experienced for the last time.

If Frank had told me, it meant the others must have heard if they made it, too.  My hands still shook as I pulled out my phone, but I paused for a moment before opening my chat with Mason.  What if, by some tiny chance, he and the others hadn't made it?  I didn't want to ask and seem as if I was rubbing it in.

As I was debating what to do, I heard my name being called.  Spinning around, I saw Abby and Kyle heading my way.  Immediately, my chest tightened.  They were staring me down apprehensively, too.  Had Frank intercepted them before me?

"You good?" Kyle asked as the pair got closer.

"Good, yeah.  You guys?"  They shared a glance as they came to stop in front of me.

"Yeah, fine," Abby said offhandedly.  She peered around my shoulders.  "Kyle?"

"Mm, me too."  The striker crossed his arms and bit his lip.  I didn't realise how much my heart was beating until I lifted a hand to my neck and felt my pulse as I scratched the side of it.

"Fuck's sake," Abby said, throwing her hands into the air.  "Did you make it?"

I nodded, unable to hold back my smile. In an instant, both of them were cheering and pulling me in for embraces and congratulating me, speaking over each other in an overwhelming clamour that resonated around the airy hallway.

"I'm guessing you two did too?"  I was laughing when Abby finally released me. Going by the smiles on their faces, I knew the answer already.

Abby nodded vigorously.  "We should tell Mason; he'll be so stoked."

Kyle made a noise of agreement and pulled his phone out.

"He also made it, right?" I wondered out loud. He must have, if Kyle was looking this eager about telling him.  Abby confirmed my feelings when she scoffed.

"What kind of a question is that? Obviously he did."

If I thought I was thrilled about the call up, verification that Mason would be at St George's as well made my knees quiver. A moment after Kyle had put his phone back in his pocket, mine started vibrating in my hand.  Glancing down, the flurry of messages from Mason put a smile on my face.

"So, get this, Isabel Phillips didn't make it," Abby was saying in the background as I scanned his messages.  One of them caught my eye: I'll be up soon!  "Lucy was telling me earlier."

"That doesn't surprise me," Kyle murmured. "She played one good game, like, three weeks ago."

"Yeah, but it was against City."  I typed a reply to Mason, half of me paying attention to Abby and Kyle's discussion.

"Oh, speaking of City, that kid John Watkins is coming up."

"John Watkins... who the hell is that?" Putting my phone down, I answered Abby's question.

"He scored that insane free kick when they played West Ham."  Abby narrowed her eyes.

"I thought that was McGregor."  She shrugged.  "Anyway, should we go eat?"

I nodded and fell into step next to Kyle, who threw an arm around my shoulders.  I had never actually played for the England first team with Kyle before, I realised.  The year before the World Cup, when I got my first official call up, he was still playing with the under 21's, and he just missed out on a spot to Russia after coming to the training camp weeks before the tournament.  We'd played together through the younger age groups before I considered him a friend, but not while I'd been at Chelsea.

"This is going to be our first senior break together, Beck," he said, grinning down at me.

"I was literally just thinking that."  I could tell how stoked Kyle was about this: with his recent ankle issues, he'd mentioned the previous week that he wasn't sure if he would be picked.  Now, the glint in his eyes couldn't be missed.  "Did Marcus make it?"

Kyle nodded.  "Yeah, course.  And Randall."

I pulled a face as we reached the canteen doors.  "Way to kill the mood."  Moving through the doors, I heard Kyle's laugh behind me.  "How do you know all of this?  Thought the official announcement was only tomorrow."

"Yeah, but no one keeps their call up a secret; you know that."

I made a noise of agreement, following Abby towards the far side of the canteen where our buffet lunch was set up.  Frank and his team had awarded us a rare late start after a rough, rainy day's training yesterday.  As much as the sleep in had done me well, I was itching to get out into the late September sun.  Outside, the pitches looked particularly inviting now that the weight of anticipating the England news had been lifted from my shoulders.

Distracted by watching the sprinklers spray the pitches, arms wrapping around my shoulders almost made me jump out of my skin.

"Hart, man!"  Mason's voice was loud in my ear, bringing a smile to my face in an instant.  "Well done!"

Strong arms squeezed the laugh out of my chest, but I quickly spun around so I could embrace Mason properly. Congratulations were muffled when he buried his head into my shoulder, but I could practically feel the delight coming off him.  Pulling away, I was met with his crinkled eyes and broad grin.

"What have I been telling you for the last month?  Knew it." His grin morphed into a smirk as he raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, you sure showed me," I said, cocking my eyebrow back at him.

"Hope this experience has taught you to always listen to me in the future."

"I'll keep it in mind."

Another smile came over his face before he spun me around again. Positioning his arms around my shoulders, he walked me forwards towards the end of the queue.

"How's your calf?" I asked with a start.

A slip towards the end of our Everton game sent Mason limping off.  He'd insisted it was nothing after the game, but he spent most of Monday with the physio and it was clear that he'd just come up from there now.

"It's okay," he replied, slipping his arms off me as I came to a stop behind Daniel Gregory, who had snuck in after Kyle. "Nix said I can train today and see how it goes."

"Hey, that's good news."  Looking over my shoulder, I saw Mason nodding, a grin accompanying the teasing expression in his eyes.  "What?"

"Look at us," he muttered, nudging me with his elbow.  "Uninjured, called up to England.  Who would have thought, right?"

Mirroring the grin on his face, I felt my cheeks flush as elation bubbled in my chest.  Certainly not me a year ago, I thought to myself.

"Yeah, who would have thought?"