Chapter Text
July 29th 2007
Dear Rebecca,
Here I am writin’ you a letter in secret so I can ask the person at the desk of this hotel to deliver it up to a certain room.
Your suggestion that we have a self-imposed long layover in Chicago so we could return to this hotel was a brilliant one. I’m feelin’ all kinds of anticipation and excitement at bein’ back in the place where I got to sleep with you (literally, we all know my, well our now I guess, Kansas house is the shrine to us for gettin’ to Sleep Together…) after meetin’ you for the first time. There ain’t a conference on here right now but I still hope we can slow dance the night away if there’s someone playin’ that piano in the hotel bar one evenin’. And then we gotta find our way back to that random hotel overlookin’ Lake Michigan. Hoo boy, it was just the least crowded place we could find back then but now it’s one of the bars I hold dearest to me, right up there with the Crown and Anchor and the sports bar back in Kansas my Dad used to take me to when I was a kid. Peanut shells on the floor and a dartboard on the wall. I’ve not been back in so long, but maybe whilst in Kansas you could come with me?
I’ll end this letter here because I’m writin’ it down in the hotel bar while I wait for the coffees I’ve ordered for us to arrive and I think they’re nearly ready now. I’ll give this to the person at main reception and hope they get it to the room before I do, otherwise the romance of it all might be a little out of sync. I believe it will though, we’ve got real good at bein’ in sync these last couple of years.
I’ve booked a table in the hotel restaurant for this evening, 6pm. You wanna join me?
Yours,
Ted x
~
29th July 2007
Dearest Ted,
My husband. The man I was destined to be with. Look at us now, at the hotel in Chicago I had no idea would become one of my favourite places in the world when I first accepted the invitation to speak at a sports leadership conference.
And here we are again, back here to celebrate our marriage. You’ve currently gone to get us coffees but I have an inkling that you’re also going to be booking us a table for dinner tonight in the restaurant where we laid eyes on one another for the very first time. I’m writing this knowing how I’d like the evening to go. I’ll tell you to head on down to the restaurant to get our table, claiming I need to pop to the loo or sort my make-up out. You’ll see right through it because we know one another so well by now. You’ll smile that soft, fond, twinkling smile which I’ve come to know and love so much. Nodding, you’ll say something like “sure, darlin’, see you down there.” Then you’ll kiss me on the lips, one hand cupping my neck like I’m something precious. I feel delicate in the most exquisite way when I’m with you, Ted. With you, my fragility is my strength. You don’t treat me clumsily, take chips out of me and drop me until I’m cracked because I’m replaceable when I’m no longer beautiful enough to display. You take me in your gentle hands and guide me out of harm’s way, knowing that whilst I could shatter into a thousand pieces with a singular blow, I won’t because you’ll never be so careless with me. I can never thank you enough for how kind you are to me, Ted.
Because you’re a romantic, I know for sure you’ll have tried your absolute best to get the exact same table which you were sat at that day. I’m confident as I write this that you’ll be sat reading it in the chair facing away from the entrance with a huge smile on your face because I’ve done the most predictable thing ever and written you a letter then got a waiter to deliver it to you. I couldn’t care less about how predictable it is. There’s a comfort in knowing somebody so well that you can predict what they’re going to do in a given moment, and there’s an insurmountable joy in embracing the rush of fondness which caresses every pore at the fact that you can do so. Surprises are nice, but I’d be a happy woman if I lived the rest of my life being able to predict every saccharine moment we create together. So, in the spirit of keeping traditions alive: Turn around.
Hi Ted,
Rebecca x
~
August 1st 2007
Hey gorgeous lady,
Saw you sat alone and thought that was a mighty fine shame.
How do you feel about a drink and some company?
In anticipation,
Man with a Moustache
~
1st August 2007
Idiot. Get back over here and kiss me.
R x
~
3rd August 2007
My darling Ted,
I’m writing this on the flight to Kansas from Chicago and I plan on leaving it somewhere in the bedroom for you to find when you wake up. I’ll hopefully still be asleep because you’ll have exhausted me beyond measure. Honeymoons are basically sex holidays you can tell your family and friends you’re going on without them judging you, and whilst I’ve certainly not been disappointed thus far on our trip, I am keen to recreate our days together in Kansas back after we first met. Perhaps not the bit where your mother arrives out of the blue though. I adore Dottie, but one day I want to have you out on the lawn under the summer sun and I’m not going to be able to work up the courage to ask you if we can do that if I’m scared that she’s going to appear. We’ve had enough unwanted intruders seeing more of our skin than we’d have liked during this honeymoon whilst we were off the coat of Mallorca. Also, yes I’m too much of a chicken to just bring this up in person so I’m putting it in a letter to start the discussion. Promise me there’s no pap helicopters cruising over Kansas?
If I’m still asleep whilst you’re reading this and it is after 10am, then feel free to come and wake me up in whatever way you deem acceptable. I will warn you though, if it doesn’t involve pancakes for breakfast, a promise of Arthur Bryant’s for lunch, or the smell of my shortbread biscuits, then it’ll have to be something VERY spectacular that you do, since those are the three things I imagine I’ll wake up craving…
Yours forever,
Rebecca x
~
August 5th 2007
My gorgeous wife Rebecca,
I know you know I’ve not stopped thinkin’ about your letter from the other mornin’. Thank you for spendin’ the past couple of days with my Mom and cousins, they’re all obviously pleased about our relationship (though not as pleased as me, I’m happier than a pig in a mud bath that I can now call you my wife and you can call me your husband). Anyhow, sorry Momma keeps makin’ those comments. I can tell her to stop if they’re gettin’ too much. I know it’s only really been a month since we started tryin’ for a baby but she don’t need to know the details of our plans. You take all of her comments with such grace, honey, I appreciate you so much.
Thanks a million also for comin’ to the old sports bar with me last night. I’m so glad you were there to hold my hand and whisper good things in my ear as we crunched our way over the peanut shells to the dart board. You suck at darts, by the way, sweetheart. I guess I’ll just have to offer you some more lessons maybe without the old men from Kansas hootin’ and hollerin’ at us from across the bar. Thank you for not punchin’ anyone last night, baby. They were just jealous because I was out there with the most stunnin’ woman in the room.
This letter is me offerin’ you somethin’ different. Momma told me she’s outta town today with her book club pals, off to the cinema for a screenin’ of the movie Once. They’ve seen it before but they liked it so hey, I guess Once is so good they’re seein’ it twice!
Y’know what that means though? The lawn out back is free. No neighbours, no Momma available to swing by unannounced, nothin’ but the sunshine blazin’ down on us. And also the blanket I’ve laid out because the thought of bugs gettin’ up in us icks me out a bit. And some suntan lotion because we might not be protectin’ against pregnancy no more but I’d hate for your beautiful butt or mine to get burned. I couldn’t handle goin’ back to work and havin’ to explain to folks just why it was too painful for me to sit on my tush just now.
So, what do you say baby? If you’re not feelin’ it we can not do it. But I wanna try new things with ya honey if you’re still interested. Be curious, not judgemental, remember.
Love you forever,
Ted x
~
8th August 2007
Dearest Ted,
Thank you for making this honeymoon one of the most magical experiences of my lifetime. Thank you also for having those transatlantic phone calls with Beard and Roy these last few days to talk through the pre-season training. I can’t believe we basically land, readjust to the British time zone, then start all over again with the Premier League, but this time as defending champions. And, beyond that: Defending champions who the press is actually beginning to write nice things about unlike the snooty gossip pieces of last year.
We showed them, darling. Let’s continue to show them just how fantastic we are together.
All my love,
Rebecca x
~
“Holy shit you’re glowing so brightly I need sunglasses, big props to Ted for keeping up with you on your month-long honeymoon of shagging your way across the Atlantic.”
“Keeley you make it sound like we did a charity boat race for a porno or something when you say it like that.”
“Oh hush you, you know what I meant. Though if you were amenable to a charity event, I could do some wicked PR. Ted and Rebecca’s sponsored shagathon, non-stop action for twenty-four hours.”
“I can’t quite tell if you’re being serious or not.”
“Deadly. If you’re worried about health and safety, we could swap in substitutes every so often. Bagsie taking Ted’s place for a bit. No offence to him but I’d rather climb you than him babe, even better if it’s for a good cause beyond me just getting to kiss those beautiful lips.”
“Ted and I will not be doing a charity sex marathon.” Rebecca holds her hand up to stop Keeley’s suggestions just as Ted walks in.
“Knock a doodle do, first biscuits train of the new season pullin’ into the station! And what do we have today, yep, that’s right, millionaire’s shortbread.” He grins as he offers the box to her and Rebecca frowns.
“When the fuck did you have time to make millionaire’s- wait, Ted, these are my usual shortbread biscuits.” Rebecca grins, delighted they’ve not been substituted with anything else as she begins eating.
“Oh you’re so smart, queen of my heart.” He beams, dimples deepening as he continues. “But as I only bake those shortbread biscuits there for you, and since I have it on good authority you’re, like, crazy rich… Guess that makes ‘em a millionaire’s shortbread.”
He looks so pleased with himself for his joke, even more so when Keeley begins cackling beside her on the sofa. Finishing her mouthful of biscuit, Rebecca reaches out to pull him down for a lingering kiss.
“You’re oh so punny, my sweet honey.” She raises an eyebrow at him, daring him to comment on her terrible attempt at a rhyme, but his face simply lights up like she’s gifted him her entire fortune. Pressing down for one more kiss he points at her as he leaves.
“I’ll leave y’all to it and get back to trainin’ since we’ve got our first match today and we’re gonna do our darnedest to win it for you, sugar.”
After he’s left, Keeley turns back to her.
“Rebecca Welton making up stupid rhymes? He’s really rubbed off on you, babe. And I don’t even mean in the sex marathon way.”
~
They’re out at some random club, celebrating their third win in a row. She’s only had one glass of wine (and a sip of Ted’s whiskey), is feeling buzzed enough on the atmosphere around them. She’s musing about how different her life is now, how just a few years ago she’d have been petrified to be in this situation, in some random club, alone in a crowded room, terrified she’d be recognised and some elaborate tale based on half-truths sold to the press. Now, she’s content. Happy to be here, surrounded by friends.
She’s broken out of her reverie by a figure leaning onto the bar beside her.
“How you doin’?” He asks, doing something weird with his voice. Rebecca frowns.
“Are you quite alright, darling? Tipsy already?”
“No. I’ve only had one.” Ted replies, looking at Beard beside him. “Was my accent off? Oh, nuts. I was aimin’ for a how YOU doin’.” He tries it again. At Rebecca’s continued blank look, he attempts to clarify. “Givin’ it a bit of the Joey.”
“Joey…” Rebecca trails off leadingly, hoping he’ll catch the question in her voice.
“Tribbiani. From Friends.” Ted explains. Rebecca makes a noise of understanding.
“Oh, I see. I’ve never watched that show, sorry.”
Beside Ted, Beard gasps and clutches at his chest.
“Not seen the single greatest comedy revolution America has seen in recent times? Ted, buddy, how did you marry her without even findin’ this out?”
“Guess that’s what I love about our relationship. There’s always somethin’ new to find out. I didn’t know she hadn’t seen Friends, she was shocked when I’d never heard of this David Attenborough fella. I gotta say, since bein’ acquainted with his works I think he’s got one of the most calmin’ voices I’ve ever heard.”
“He is a British national treasure, Ted.” Rebecca smiles in amusement. Beard nods.
“A-freakin’-men. Ain’t nobody else I’d rather listen to talk over some giraffes going at it.” Beard says solemnly.
“Giraffes going at it? Why wasn’t I invited to the talking about Rebecca and Ted’s sex life club?” Keeley appears from behind Ted and Rebecca puts her head down onto the bar top.
“Good grief. You lot are all insufferable, I swear.”
~
Rebecca swiftly becomes incredibly addicted to Friends.
She likes the humour, adores the characters, but what she perhaps loves most of all is the way Ted watches it, mouthing along to the catchphrases and squeezing her knee when they’re approaching his favourite scenes. It feels special to be able to share something like this with him, to be part of a recent pop culture phenomenon.
~
When she yawns for the eighth time in as many minutes, Keeley closes her fluffy pink notebook with a loud snap and stands up.
“Right, that’s it, I’m going out and buying you a decent coffee. Jesus, Rebecca, you look like you’re going to drop off at any second.”
~
“Thank you, Keeley,” Rebecca inhales the steam from the coffee then takes a big sip, not caring that it’s not tea.
“You’re welcome. Now, babe, is everything alright? You’re never normally this tired.”
“Sorry, I know I’m not. Ted and I have just been up late the past couple of weeks. It’s my fault, really, he’s always really responsible and suggests we stop so we can rest but I keep begging him for one more until he gives in and then suddenly it’s the early hours and I’m still wired up with all the new stuff running through my brain so I can’t get to sleep easily.”
Keeley gapes.
“I cannot believe I have only now discovered that it’s when you’re sleepy that you let your filter down. Also, this information has blown my mind more than a little bit. What positions are getting you all tired? Maybe I can try some with Roy.”
“What?” Rebecca’s face scrunches in conclusion.
“All the extra orgasms you’re begging Ted for each night. How’s he giving them to you?”
“Orgasms?” Rebecca asks.
“Bloody hell, he really has fucked your brains out. You know, when he’s hitting you just right and you’ve got nice pressure on your clit and you just…” Rebecca looks on with a mildly horrified expression on her face as Keeley rolls her eyes back in her head, shakes herself about and makes some groaning noises.
“Keeley, I cannot believe I am about to say this at ten o’clock in the morning in my office, but I do know what an orgasm is, thank you very much. What I am questioning is why you seem to think Ted and I’s sex life is relevant right now.”
“You brought it up!” Keeley defends.
“I did no such thing. I was telling you about how Ted and I have been marathon watching Friends because I’d never seen it before.”
There’s a prolonged period of silence where they stare at each other until Keeley brings her hands up in front of her and moves them.
“Oh. My. God.”
~
When Trent Crimm first requests a meeting with she and Ted, Rebecca feels a flare of suspicion before she reminds herself that Trent has been nothing but good to them. He may be a sports journalist, but he will have contacts in showbiz, or could even spin any sort of story about them under his ‘sports’ title. But he hasn’t. Trent Crimm had attended their wedding and none of it had leaked to the wider press. She can trust him.
Trent meets them both in her office, where he pitches his idea.
“You want to write a book about AFC Richmond?” Rebecca asks.
“About the club under your leadership, yes.” He confirms.
“Shucks, Trent, it’s a mighty nice gesture but may I ask why?” Ted shrugs.
“Because it’s interesting. It’s exciting.” Trent’s eyes light up as he gestures animatedly. “I realised as I wrote that piece on your victory parade this summer that what you’ve created here truly is unlike anything else. It’s a fairytale, a rags to riches story, a tale of hard work and kindness, of love defeating evil. It’s almost impossible, almost unbelievable. And yet people will read it! I’ve got some ideas in mind but I won’t do a thing without your permission.”
“You’d want to spend more time around the club?” Rebecca clarifies. Trent nods and Ted tilts his head, stroking his moustache as he looks at the journalist.
“But Rebecca could get a final say over what was printed?”
“And you, Ted.” Rebecca chastises lightly.
“I won’t print a word about anything you don’t want me to.” Trent says. “That being said, I will not turn this book into a marketing tool for the club. I want it to be an essay, if you like. A love letter to how football should be, told through the story of the Greyhounds, the underdogs of British football.”
Ted points at him knowingly when Trent makes his joke, then turns to Rebecca.
“I don’t have a problem with it.”
“And neither do I, in principle.” Smiling, she holds out her hand for Trent to shake. “Welcome to the team, Trent Crimm: Honorary Greyhound.”
~
Trent Crimm slides into the community at Nelson Road with absolute ease, his leopard print shoes mingling with football boots and custom Nike trainers in the dressing room. He gets formally inducted into the Diamond Dogs and let into the secrets of doing the team laundry when Nate finally realises that he doesn’t have to fear the journalist. They continue their successful streak, remaining unbeaten so far in their season (even if their 2-2 draw against Arsenal was a close call).
Trent offers his advice on hair care to Jamie, gets Isaac’s thoughts on a new pair of shoes. And when he mentions that he’s having his daughter during the week because he has a date on Saturday night that his ex-wife set him up on, the boys can’t believe it.
“That’s some serious modern coparenting shit.” Isaac says.
“Guys can get on with their exes. Look at me and Keeley.” Jamie rolls his eyes. “It’s possible if you’re not a dick about it.”
“And if you’re scared of her new boyfriend.” Dani adds.
“I’m not scared of Royo, Grandad has nothin’ on me.” Jamie rolls his eyes.
“What’s that you’re fuckin’ sayin’, Tartt?” Roy’s voice shouts from inside the manager’s office, making Jamie jump in surprise.
“Nothin’ you need to worry about!” He calls back then adds, much more quietly. “Bloody hell, I thought old people were meant to lose their hearin’.”
~
They win at home on Saturday and decide to take their celebrations to the Crown and Anchor. Ted holds the door open for them all, Rebecca pressing a kiss to his cheek as she goes to place their orders at the bar. Ted’s absorbed in Rebecca and in the team, but all of them hear Colin’s startled “holy shit” and follow his gaze to the door where Trent Crimm stands with a moustachioed gentleman.
“Wasn’t Trent goin’ on a date tonight?” O’Brien asked, and is swiftly elbowed in the ribs by Bumbercatch.
“Bro, I think that dude is his date.”
“Alright boys, next round of drinks is on the Boss!” Ted announces to divert attention from Trent, who is looking mildly embarrassed at having picked the Crown and Anchor for a date venue on a Richmond home fixture day. As the boys all move on, attention captured by highlights from the other matches playing on the big screen, Rebecca leans in to whisper in his ear.
“Shall we go home, darling?” At his nod, they rise and make their goodbyes.
Once they’re nearly home, out of earshot of everyone else, Rebecca shoots him a wry look.
“If I hadn’t nabbed you first, I reckon there’s a universe out there where Trent Crimm sets his sights on you stripping him of his independent status.”
Ted laughs.
“He’s a fine man with fine hair and a brilliant way with words who clearly likes good facial hair.” He shrugs. “If it doesn’t work out with his current chap, maybe we should try settin’ him up with Beardo.”
~
When they watch the episode of Friends where Monica and Chandler go to the fertility clinic, Rebecca cries for half an hour after it is over. Ted rubs her back and kisses the crown of her head.
“Hoo boy, never remembered this hittin’ me so hard the first time ‘round.”
“Ted?” Rebecca looks up at him tearfully.
“Yeah, honey?”
“Do you think we should go to a fertility clinic?”
“I guess we could. Might be good to know if we have even a slight chance of conceivin’ or not.”
“There’s one we can attend which is discreet. Hopefully that’ll avoid us running into any of my mother’s friends and having a Janice-style encounter.”
Ted chuckles and pulls her in closer.
“Let’s make an appointment, baby. Better that we know either way.”
~
October 15th 2007
Dear darlin’ Rebecca,
I’m writin’ this so you’ve got a physical reminder that I love you if you need it today. I know you’re nervous about this appointment, I’ve been able to feel it in every lil jazz hands or twist of rings on your fingers that you’ve been doin’ the past few days.
If I’m honest, I’m real nervous too.
But honey, if you got a little love in your hearts, there ain’t nothin’ you can’t do and together we’ve got the most love in our hearts. If we get the results back from today and it turns out that we’re like Monica and Chandler with an inhospitable uterus and weak sperm then we can be sad for a while, sure. But we’ll be sad together rather than sad and alone. And then we can work out what we want our future to hold. There’s options, sweetheart. If we’re serious about this whole havin’ kids thing then we can work out if we wanna adopt or try surrogacy or a sperm donor or whatever is suitable.
But I’m jumpin’ the gun here. First we gotta go to a fancy ass clinic somewhere in London and you’ve gotta have all kindsa bloods and things done and some sort of uncomfortable soundin’ examination. And I gotta jack off into a cup. Which I ain’t lookin’ forward to but it sounds way more preferable to what you’re gonna go through. Anywho, I’ll be right there in the same building and maybe even out in the waiting room dependin’ on how long my guy downstairs takes to shoot his load.
I love you so much, darlin’. When we look back on our life together in thirty years, this day is hopefully just gonna be a speck in our history. But while it feels so very huge today, I wanted to send you a letter to remind you that I love you. I love you, Rebecca.
Yours forever,
Ted x
~
They’re handed some forms to fill in when they arrive at the clinic, so spend time sat side by side filling them out.
“Do I still need to write your mobile number down underneath the emergency contact bit if you’re literally right here in the building?” Rebecca muses. Ted shrugs and is stopped from replying by a shadow falling across them. Looking up, Ted returns the smile of an older man.
“Rebecca,” he greets her then turns. “And you must be Ted.”
“Sure am, sir. Howdy.” Ted feels Rebecca glance at him in amusement. He knows she knows he gets a little more stereotypically American when he’s nervous and right now his accent has thickened and his mannerisms are more exuberant than usual.
“Are you here to support your wife during her examination?” The doctor asks. Ted nods.
“I am, sir. And I’m also waitin’ for my call to go and get all up close and personal with a lil cup so’s we can check if the reason we’re not all aboard the pregnancy train yet is ‘cos I’m shootin’ blanks.”
The man’s eyebrows are high on his forehead, clearly unused to such rambling in his clinic. Rebecca leans against Ted and places a hand high on his thigh.
“We thought it best if we both got checked since we’re honestly unsure if the fact that we have not conceived yet is due to bad luck or something which one of us is unable to bring to the table.”
“The table? Honey, if you gotta do it on a table to conceive then we’ve been spendin’ far too much time in bed!” Ted blurts out then flushes as he remembers that they’re not alone and in his anxiety-ridden state he’d completely forgotten about the man standing in front of them. Rebecca snickers and rolls her eyes fondly.
“You’re cute when you’re nervous, darling.” Offering a smile to the clinician, she adds on cheekily. “And the fact I find your ridiculousness so bloody appealing is one of the reasons I know our lack of conceiving is not because we’ve not been trying enough.”
Clearing his throat, Dr Wagner gestures to the room behind him.
“Come on through, Rebecca.”
As he walks away, Rebecca runs her hand even higher up Ted’s thigh and squeezes it purposefully as she leans in to press a slow kiss against his cheek.
“That should get you ready for your appointment,” she whispers in his ear as she strides through the door. Ted watches on and feels his khakis getting a little tighter. He’s convinced she’s putting a little extra sway into her hips just for him.
~
They head for lunch once they’re done and try to forget all about the fact that within the next few days they should have an answer about their chances of conceiving without assistance. Rebecca takes them to a little bistro down a small lane in London where either nobody seems to recognise them or nobody seems to care that they’re there. Ted tries and fails to pronounce the French names of their food just to amuse her and Rebecca steals fries off his plate just to make him half-heartedly swat at her. They leave with his hand on her back and smiles on their faces, feeling more ready to face their lives again.
~
20th October 2007
Ted darling,
I’m in my office whilst you celebrate the win with the boys because I’ve just had a call from the fertility clinic. I’m writing it down both because it feels right and also because I know I’ll probably just cry or get stressed if I have to try and say this to you in person.
The bad news is that they didn’t find anything which presents an obvious reason as to why we couldn’t conceive together without medical intervention. It just seems like I have a slightly lower level of fertility than some other women my age, but nothing which they’re so concerned about that they’d recommend we think of which other options we might need to consider.
So the good news, my love, is that we may yet still conceive. The advice we’ve been given is to essentially keep having as much sex as possible, especially when I’m at my most fertile. I’ve also noted down a list of different foods that are recommended to help boost all of the vitamins and minerals which are suggested to aid in fertility and conception.
I’ll give you this letter when you come upstairs ready for us to leave and go home. I can’t wait to watch your face as you read it because I know that if you’ve not done so already, right about this point you’ll be giving me a huge hug. Yes, I did write that in because whilst I am fairly certain you’ll have hugged me, I need one and don’t want to say that out loud in case anyone walks by my office and thinks I’m too needy. I know you’ll also tell me I’m not needy when you read that.
I adore you so much, Ted. Now I suggest we go home and work out how my cycle fits around our matches so if need be, I can try to make sure our room at away games hotels is as far away from everyone else’s as possible.
Love you forever,
Rebecca x
~
Part of the advice given to help them improve their chances of conceiving was for them to relax a little more. Rebecca had initially frowned at that, a muttered “if I couldn’t conceive on my honeymoon where I was more relaxed than I’ve ever been I don’t think relaxing is the bloody problem” leaving her lips. But Ted, as always, had seen the positive of the idea and encouraged her to take more time for herself on account of her having a very stressful job. She’d agreed, but only on the condition that he do the same.
So yes, Rebecca now takes a long bath on a Tuesday evening just because she wants one, or goes for a massage and pamper day a little more often than she used to. Ted bakes and goes for runs and even tries a round of golf with a contact of Trent Crimm’s which he’s so terrible at he strains his shoulder and Rebecca ends up booking them a couples’ massage which relaxes them both no end so they make them a more routine thing. Keeley giggles when Rebecca tells her over one of their girls’ nights at a bar somewhere near Soho.
“It’s so fucking cute that you guys relax the most when you’re together. I think I’ve only ever seen the Higginses be that happy and in love. Maybe me and Royo will get there and AFC Richmond can be, like, the ultimate relationship goals hotspot of football clubs.”
“I am never, ever going to sign off a marketing strategy revolving around there being something special in the atmosphere or some other saccharine yet mildly inappropriate slogan.” Rebecca says around a laugh. Keeley wiggles her eyebrows.
“Can you imagine? We could all do couples photoshoots since you already vetoed the charity shagathon idea, it’d be well cute. Me and Roy, you and Ted, Leslie and Julie-”
“Julie doesn’t actually work for the club.” Rebecca interjects.
“No but she’s basically part of the furniture now because she always comes to matches with their kids if she can.” Keeley justifies. Rebecca nods.
“That’s true. But we’re still not doing a couples themed marketing campaign.”
~
Another thing Rebecca has taken to doing when she wants to relax is writing. It started as just little observations or short little verses about things which had caught her attention, an attempt to reignite some of the joy she had for writing as a teenager. Soon, it becomes something else entirely. It’s taken over just a little bit and she’s surprised to find that she’s capable of such focus whilst simultaneously relaxing. It’s almost as if taking her mind off to another little world gives her body a reprieve from the metaphorical weight which usually sits atop her shoulders due to her job and past demons.
~
At first, she keeps it to herself. She knows instinctively that this is something special, something she’s wanted for a long time finally getting a chance to come to fruition and be a reality. She wants to protect it for as long as possible, until she knows it’s safe to say more to the wider world. When she reaches a point where she can’t really go on much further without getting some proper opinions, she feels a maelstrom of emotions inside her, happiness and glee intermingling with a little dread and apprehension.
~
3rd November 2007
Dearest Ted,
I have some news for you. I’ve been cooking up a little something which I’m immensely proud of. You gave me a gift when you told me to believe in myself and to rekindle the desires I had as a younger woman. This is all because of you, my darling, so thank you.
I’ve written a book. Only a short one, for children. It’s what I’ve been doing when I’ve been relaxing. I never planned for this; it has been more of a happy little accident. The thing is, Ted, I really do believe that it’s good enough to be published. I want to take it to Trent Crimm and see if he has any contacts in children’s literature. Obviously, AFC Richmond is and always will be my main priority, but this little glimpse of potentially making one of my childhood dreams come true is thrilling me. I always wanted to write, Ted, as you well know. Maybe I actually can.
I’ve attached a printed version of what I’ve done. I’d appreciate it if you’d read it and give me your honest opinion before I approach Trent. It could be that my ego is getting the better of me and it’s actually atrocious. Please tell me honestly, Ted. I only want to try and have something published which you and I would proudly read to our own children.
Yours excitedly,
Rebecca x
~
November 6th 2007
Honey,
It’s beautiful. Perfect. I love it.
Get our man Trent on it ASAP!
Love,
Ted x
~
It turns out that major publishers are very keen to snap up a heartwarming story for children written by someone who is not only one of the only female football club owners in the United Kingdom, but who has also had a fairytale romance which the British public have been nothing but supportive of. Lion and Panda Have a Party by Rebecca Welton is released early into the new year, almost as soon as the illustrator chosen by the publishing company finishes the adorable images which fit around the story. It’s a sweet tale of unexpected friendship and found family and the publisher has already indicated that they’d like a whole series of Lion and Panda books. Rebecca is over the moon. She fits nationwide book signings around their match schedule and Ted goes with her to as many as he can, more than happy to sit on a tiny plastic chair or bean bag in the corner of a book shop or library and watch as Rebecca reads and talks to toddlers who all look at her as if she’s a real-life princess. One day, he thinks, bedtime stories are going to be one of the highlights of their days.
~
Saint Mary’s Grammar School for Girls
24th January 2008
Dear Mrs Welton-Lasso,
I am writing to congratulate you on the successful publication of your debut children’s fiction book Lion and Panda Have a Party. It is a beautiful tale of unexpected friendship and finding love and support in a diverse array of friends. We here at Saint Mary’s Grammar School for Girls are incredibly proud to call you an alumnus of our historic school. You were always destined for success and you have proven, both in the football business world as owner of AFC Richmond, and now in the world of children’s literature, that you are capable of anything you set your mind to.
I therefore want to take this opportunity to apologise on behalf of our school. I have been at Saint Mary’s for long enough that I remember you being here in your later years. I was one of the office clerks responsible for organising the international mail of letters as part of the transatlantic pen pals scheme. Your letters were the most frequent and the most personal of any we sent during our years of running the scheme.
In hindsight, we were categorically in the wrong for refusing to send your final postcard to Kansas so that your pen pal could continue to correspond with you. On behalf of Saint Mary’s Grammar School for Girls, I would like to unreservedly apologise for our interference. As your new book shows, we should not live our lives in judgement of others and who they choose to be friends with. Just because lions are the rulers of the jungle, it should not mean that they cannot get along with the pandas who live alongside them. We should not assume that pandas are lazy and just munch bamboo all the time when in actual fact the pandas are helping to keep the forests alive by dispersing seeds for new plants to grow which lions can use to hide in for safety. We were wrong to terminate your correspondence with your pen pal simply because he was an American and the societal expectation of us was that we are a school who nurtures the next generation of an esteemed class British citizens. Those of us who remember that moment in time are all deeply sorrowful that we allowed stereotypes and prejudice to prevent the happiness of one of our pupils.
Since you left our school, we have obviously heard of your progress through university from those of us who are in your mother’s social circle. Beyond that, none of us are blind or deaf to the British press and societal gossip circles. We all saw that your engagement to a British gentleman did not work out and we regret that our interference in order to promote you to this sort of expected engagement led to such drama and stress for you. Once again, we are sorry.
Seeing how you’ve bloomed in your public-facing persona since reconnecting with Ted Lasso again has healed a little of the guilt many of us here have felt. The more time passed, the less we knew we could do to rectify what we came to realise was a terrible decision founded by archaic class stereotypes. Seeing you in the happy and healthy relationship we all read blooming when you were both teenagers showed some of us old hearts that true love really can win out in the end.
I sincerely hope this letter reaches you at your Nelson Road office address, as it comes from the bottom of the hearts of the staff here who were all there and present in the tearing apart of you and your beloved. We hope that you can find it in your hearts to forgive us all for being complicit in the heartache which you surely felt when Ted no longer replied, especially as we did not tell you that we had removed the address and can only assume you found this out years later either from your mother or from Ted himself when you finally reconnected.
Congratulations on all of your successes in life, Rebecca. May you continue to be a shining example of not just a Saint Mary’s alumnus, but as a woman who has broken societal expectations in pursuit of her own happiness.
Yours sincerely,
- Blackman-Smythe
Office Manager at Saint Mary’s Grammar School for Girls (on behalf of all staff)
~
28th January 2008
Dear all,
Thank you for your heartfelt apology. Reading how repentant you are and how you realise by interfering with our business when we were legally consenting adults by that point has restored my faith in Saint Mary’s as an educational institution and I feel a little less ashamed at having been a pupil there.
We forgive you.
Warm wishes,
Rebecca and Ted Welton-Lasso
~
14th February 2008
Dearest baby,
Today is Valentine’s Day so it seems appropriate to tell you that you are loved, especially as it is our first Valentine’s Day as husband and wife which makes it all the more special and a reason to celebrate.
It has been such a delightful year. There’s been winning the Premier League, getting married, publishing a children’s book… So many childhood dreams fulfilled and so many still to come true. Even the relative lows of our slight struggle to start a family of our own has been filled with joy and optimism and belief that the moment will happen when it is the right time. They do say that the best things are worth waiting for and our story seems to have proven that to be true time and time again. Twelve years not knowing if you’ll ever meet the love of your life after losing touch with them is a long time to wait indeed.
Sweetheart, you were loved even before we saw one another and you will be loved until we have taken our last breaths and left this earth. In fact, you will continue to be loved even from beyond the grave. The love we have transcends everything else and hopefully you feel it every single moment of every single day.
We waited the longest time for one another and it feels like we’ve finally reached the place where we were always meant to be. Loving you is the greatest privilege and it’s something that is never going to go away or change. If anything, the love that burns bright between us is only going to get stronger.
What we have is something to cherish and protect and grow. Of course, given the nature of who we are, it is something which will be commented and speculated on by the wider public and press both here in Britain and in America, but as long as our closest friends and family are the only ones getting the main details, that’s what matters. They’re the ones who will support us no matter what and shower us in the love and excitement that we feel every single day as we continue to cherish these beautiful moments that we find ourselves in.
You won’t be reading this letter just yet as it’s a little too early for you to be able to do so. When you do finally read it though, you’ll know just what a miracle you are. You’re loved so, so much, darling. You’re the most perfect person ever, even if you find you don’t feel like it all the time. That’s what this letter is here to be: a reminder when you need it most that you were loved before we even saw one another’s faces and you will continue to be loved as you grow.
It’ll be a while before we see each other for the first time, but we are so looking forward to the next few months where we will be growing together. We are so excited to meet you. Here’s to the next chapter of our lives.
Lots of love,
Mum and Dad xx