Football began in China over 2,000 years ago, and was called cuju.
North Korea has the biggest stadium, that can supposedly hold 150,000 people.
The average player runs 11km during 1 game. We both felt knackered just imagining that.
Right. Time for sleep. It’s a big week ahead, with the football night, staff Christmas quiz night and then Elena’s birthday bash.
But most importantly, I’m hoping, with the whole of my heart, that the biggest thing will be that Julian’s theory is right, and that the question he’s given me, to ask Elena, will finally lead to the truth about whether she’ll die at thirty.
37
ELENA
Gary linked arms with Elena as they walked towards the Three Horseshoes. He’d brought tinsel into the office and insisted everyone make scarves out of it. He’d sent out an email last week saying wearing Christmas jumpers was a must. As he did every year, he’d ribbed Elena for her tasteful, subtly sequined choice, whilst shimmying to make the knitted snowy bobbles on his shake. Caz walked behind talking to Sophie, the intern. Behind them were Rory and Derek, followed by the rest of the team.
‘Ready to be thrashed?’ Gary said to Elena and grinned. ‘Rory may be the fun fact king, but my general knowledge is second to none – Diego’s obsessed with Trivial Pursuit, as if he’s living back in the eighties.’
She blew on her fingers, having left her gloves at home this morning. ‘How about I go on Caz’s and your team?’ she said brightly. ‘We’d just need to find two other people. I… I’d like to see how well I do without Rory answering every question. Just because we’re housemates doesn’t mean we’re joined at the hip.’
Gary pulled open the door and they went into the warm, hitby post-work banter and the aroma of hops and fried food. He gave her a sideways glance. ‘You sure?’ Elena nodded vigorously.
Gary started to sort out the logistics, but Rory went to sit down by Elena straightaway. ‘Mate… I think our team is full,’ said Gary. ‘How about you sit with Derek and…’
‘Oh. Right. Of course.’ He and his elf jumper moved more quickly than the commuters outside heading off to do Christmas shopping, panic having set in with only one week to go.
Elena still couldn’t face him. Not after the children’s book revelations and the opinion he must have of her now. He’d tried to talk about everything Morag had said on the trip back down to Manchester, but she’d changed the subject. She, Gary, Caz, Sophie and marketing assistant Sanjay made up her team. Halves of lager arrived, with vodka shots to knock back before drinking, courtesy of Gary. Elena and Rory had got up extra early to catch the train to work, so they could drink tonight. Elena swigged her shot in one and gave her first genuine smile since seeing Morag.
‘This is water.’
‘Shhh,’ said Gary. ‘We need to keep hydrated if we’re going to beat the others. I’ve looked at the categories of questions. They’ve got a festive twist. Caz is a great nature buff, you’re on literature and I’m the biggest foodie ever. Sophie, you’re a whizz when it comes to movies and celebrities, right?’
Sophie gave a thumbs up before drinking the water. She pulled a face afterwards and went up to the bar to get proper drinks for her and Sanjay, who was a self-professed expert when it came to history. Despite trying to avoid his attention, Elena laughed out loud when worldwide traveller Rory got beaten over a question on where Saint Nicholas was born. Rory confidently said Russia, having seen many statues of him there on a heli-skiing trip years ago. Sanjay duly provided the correct answer:Turkey. Rory’s strength, as well as travel and sport, was general knowledge. Yet he was no competition for Gary when it came to food – Gary knew straightaway that peacocks used to be the centrepieces in medieval festive banquets. The surprise of the evening was Derek’s celebrity knowledge. Oh, the scowl on Sophie’s face when she didn’t know which Puerto Rican singer was born on Christmas Day – Rory’s team whooped when Derek immediately wrote down the answer, later proven to be Ricky Martin. Elena’s mind didn’t return once to Morag – apart from that question about an old Christmas tradition in Scotland where single people would crack an egg into a cup on Christmas Eve, and the shape of the white would magically predict the profession of a potential romantic partner.
Each team had handed in their entries and tucked into bowls of French fries and chicken wings. Rory looked at Elena across the room. More relaxed, she gave a thumbs up. His face lit up and he sent one back. Gary gently elbowed Elena.
‘Come up to the bar with me, will you? I’ll get another round in. You can help me carry them back. We should sample those spiced clementine gin cocktails that the bar staff are making especially.’
Whilst the barman made their drinks, he nudged Elena with his elbow again. ‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘Pardon?’
‘You and Rory. It’s obvious you’re mad about him.’
‘What?Me and… I don’t think so. Really,youare the one who’s mad,’ she hissed, and the barman glanced over.
‘Come on, Swan, admit it, I’m right. I’ve always had my suspicions, but these last weeks… I’ve caught you staring at him, for no good reason. You become more animated, in a fun way, when he’s around, as if you’ve binged on popping candy. It’s good to see, Elena. I think you should go for it.’
‘And I don’t think you should drink so much.’
He opened his mouth and breathed on to her face. ‘Not guilty.’
She pretended to gag and Gary laughed.
‘But you’ve always teased about what a terrible match we’d make, and said it would be like Timothée Chalamet and Princess Anne getting together.’
‘Timothée is sexy, right?’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Fancy Rory yourself, do you?’
