ONE
NOAH
The Christmas tree stood where it always did. Covered in the same baubles they’d decorated it with for over ten years. The festive music softly playing never changed and neither did the menu. Everything was as it should be.
Noah Farman found this the most comforting thing about Christmas Day. Being a Premier League footballer, his day-to-day life was all about change.
The familiarity of this house felt warmer than the reindeer jumper he had on.
“What an amazing meal,” he said. “Compliments to the chef.”
Ashley Hudson, his unofficial second mum, sat across from him. She still had the paper hat from a Christmas cracker on her head. Noah’s heart was as full as his stomach right now.
“You didn’t eat much. Can I get you a mince pie? Or maybe a sausage roll?”
Noah rubbed his non-existent belly. “I’m more stuffed than the turkey. It will take me weeks to burn this off as it is.”
“Nonsense,” Ashley replied. “The way you run around that pitch. I’m putting you up a box of things to take home with you. The other lads will appreciate it.”
They were in the lounge surrounded by gifts they’d all excitedly ripped the wrapping paper from hours ago. Even as grown adults, Ashley made sure the spirit of Christmas remained alive and well.
Ashley’s son, Alfie, was fiddling with his new phone and her daughter, Ella, was glued to a Nintendo. Both given by Noah. He loved to spoil them even if they were nearly the same age.
When Noah had come to live with Ashley and her two kids, he’d been a child with stars in his eyes and hope in his heart. His parents had hated that he had to live with another family but there hadn’t been any choice. If he’d wanted to play in topflight football, sacrifices had to be made.
Thankfully, Ashley had understood this and had opened her house to the whole Farman family. Something that would prove to be one of the biggest influences of his life so far.
“Thanks for the England tickets,” Gordon, Ashley’s boyfriend, said as he squeezed on the chair with her. “Shame you don’t get to play for your country.”
It was a sore point and he knew it. Noah had been considered for the national team on a few occasions. So far he hadn’t made the cut. Of course it was his dream to play for his country and he still had hope.
“Maybe one day,” Ashley said, glancing nervously at Noah.
“There are a lot of good defenders out there,” Noah replied. “I’m just happy that I get to do what I love every day.”
“Too bloody right,” Alfie piped up. “At least you don’t have to go into an office with a gang of idiots.”
Alfie had been taken on as a trainee in a local call centre. They sold insurance to people who didn’t need it.
Noah grinned. “Still enjoying it then.”
“It’s shit.”
“Only another forty-five years to go,” Gordon said.
Alfie glared at him. Noah had shared Alfie’s room the night before like they’d always used to and chattered into the early hours. Noah had no doubt about Alfie’s opinion of his unofficial stepfather.
Boring. Annoying. A dickhead. Were just some of the words used to describe Gordon.
“I’ve got news,” Noah said, hastily changing the subject before a row ensued. “I didn’t want to tell you until things were properly underway but I’ve bought myself a Christmas present.”
“About time,” Alfie said. “If I had your money, I’d buy everything. What is it? A car? Do you need insurance for it?”
Ashley threw a chocolate wrapper at him, which ricocheted off his head.
“Let him speak.”
Alfie stuck out his tongue.
