“Come on, let us see her!”
“Let us see her! Let us see her! Let us see her!” Samuel and Harring start a stadium chant.
“Guys, I don’t have any picture,” I repeat.
Samuel turns towards the bunch behind him. “Guys! He doesn’t have any picture.”
“Nooo!” Their disappointment rises as loud as a roar.
“Punishment! Punishment! Punishment!” Everyone shouts.
“Let’s soak him in the Thames!” Harring suggests.
“Boys, calm down! What do you mean soak me in the Thames?”
“What sort of stag party would it be, without an arrest for forbidden bathing?”
So, led by Samuel and Harring, these supposed gentlemen lift me up by the legs and shoulders, and take me outside the club, down the whole Strand, while shouting: ‘Ash the newly-wed takes a dip’.
I have to say that I don’t remember much else.
13
Jemma’s Version
After dinner, I wandered around Denby for a good hour.
My intention was to go back to my room, but I remembered that there’s a Champions League match between Borussia Dortmund and Arsenal tonight.
I had to find atv!
I slipped into one of the corridors and started opening doors. I saw paintings, statues, musical instruments, desks, books, more dining tables, carpets, but nothing that resembled atv.
Then, I found a staircase and went up. Other sofas, armchairs, fireplaces, and so many beds – what the hell is this place, a hotel?
I was starting to get nervous, as the kick-off was five minutes ago and I couldn’t believe there isn’t a singletvin this huge mansion!
I climbed another staircase, and now I’m in a narrower corridor with more doors.
As my hope is fading away, I start opening them one by one, until I find a small, oldcrt tv. The room is rather bare, with almost no furniture and yet there is all I need: a sofa and a socket.
Feeling victorious, I pick up the remote control and try to tune in, hoping it’s not one of those matches which start with a goal in the first minute. I heave a sigh of relief when I see a reassuring 0-0 on top of the screen. I haven’t missed very much.
God, I wish I had some chicken wings, now!
Fuck Delphina and her recipe book of bloody jelly like crap!
I swear at the midfielders, who apparently have no intention of touching the ball, then I hear the handle click behind me.
“So, Martin, do you reckon we’re going to kick the Kraut’s arses? Alvin bet that one of them will be sent off by the end of the first half… oh, I’m sorry, Lady Jemma, um, I had no idea you were here… I…” a male voice says hesitantly.
I turn around, surprised: it’s Lance. He’s taken off his uniform and is now wearing a comfortable synthetic tracksuit with the Arsenal badge on the chest.
“Don’t make me go away, Lance. It’s the only room I’ve found with atv. Please, there’s a match tonight. Just ninety minutes and I’m off.”
“On the contrary, My Lady: if you prefer, we can leave the room for your exclusive use.”
“No way, Lance. Watching a football match on your own is really sad. I like cheering in company, it makes support stronger!” I beckon him to sit next to me. “I got here just in time, I nearly missed the first half! It took me ages to find atvhere.”
