“These are the servants’ quarters,” says Lance with a hint of hesitancy.
“Well, I must say that you treat yourselves far better than those rich people! So… is it just you and me? Is nobody else helping us support the Gunners? Come on, it’s an away match, the cheer is worth double!”
“Campbell and Bowen are on their wa—” Lance says, and then the two show up at the door just before he can complete the sentence.
“So? Has anyone scored yet?”
I make a brief summary of the game. “0-0 since I turned on thetv. No yellow or red cards. Only a free kick, but it went over the crossbar. The Kraut goalkeeper didn’t even blink,” I comment, keeping my eyes on the screen. “Hey, ref, are you blind or what? Everyone saw the foul!” Then I turn towards Bowen and Campbell, who are still frozen near the door. “Won’t you take a seat, then?”
They look at me, petrified. “Lady… Lady Jemma.”
“It’s all right, sit down,” Lance encourages them.
There’s total silence in the room, and for the first time in my life I see three middle-aged men sitting as stiff as boards during a football match. “Look, it’s all right, I’m a woman who likes football, not a three-eyed freak show! And yes, I do understand the simple mechanism of two teams with different uniforms who must kick the ball in the goal of the opposite team. You can relax, now!”
They look even more petrified and barely move their eyes. They lean against the backrest only when Lance encourages them with a nod.
“Cross! Cross, for God’s sake! Can’t you see that Sanchez is already in front of the goal?” I shout, alarming the three men. Campbell, a little bloke in his forties with copper red hair, starts and accidentally kicks a plastic bag at his feet, causing a familiar clank.
“Campbell! You brought beer and you’re not offering it round? Not good! Football fans are a big family! You’re supposed to share!” I tease him.
He blushes up to his ears. “Um, yes, but I didn’t think you liked beer.” He reaches out towards the bag and hands me a bottle. “Is this all right?”
“Guinness! You bet!” I take the bottle and open it using the edge of the table, then I raise it to him. “Cheers Campbell, I owe you one! To the Gunners!”
The three men raise their beers towards me, in response. “To the Gunners.”
However, even before we can have a sip… “Goal!” We all shout together, standing up as though an electric discharge had hit the sofa.
Now we’re ahead, we can sit back and enjoy the game until the end of the first half.
“So, Lady Jemma, you’re a football fan?” asks Lance as soon as the ads start.
“It’s pretty clear, isn’t it?” I ask, pointing out the obvious.
“Let’s say it’s an unexpected feature.”
Paul Bowen finally opens his mouth. “Yes, I mean, we don’t often see duchesses around here. Certainly not to watch football. When Campbell and I got here, we had quite a surprise!”
“Yes, Bowen, I noticed. As for me, I didn’t expect to find any Arsenal fans within these cold walls.”
“How long have you been a football fan?” Asks Bowen curiously.
“As long as I can remember.”
Lance smiles at me openly for the first time. “Is your dad a fan?”
“No, not really. Actually, my father has never been a fan, and we don’t even have atv,at home. It’s because, back at school, I mainly played with boys. The girls used to say that I stank, so I always hung out with the boys during the breaks. They talked about matches, footballers, teams, and I became passionate about it.”
Campbell struggles to hold back a laugh. “Lady Jemma, I apologise for the insolence, but… did you say you stank?”
“Yes, my mother is an ecologist, and she’s never wanted to use industrial detergents or soaps. She uses exclusively organic laundry products, with the only result that all our clothes stank like a wet dog. That’s why the girls didn’t want me to play with them. But for the boys, this made no difference, as they were always too sweaty and covered in dirt and grass to pay attention to me. So, I blended in…”
“The same happened to me at school, but because of my snacks. My mother always made me sandwiches with Stilton cheese…” Bowen laughs, touching his round belly. “And you can see that I’ve eaten many of those!”
As soon as the stadium is back on the screen, we shut up as though we were in church.
At least until we score another goal, by chance, at the last minute. When the referee whistles, we hug each other as soldiers who have won a war.
