All or Nothing

Chapter 1

Aimee didn't like to think of herself as a tardy person. She hated to think of people scoffing, 'it's Aimee, she's always late' if she failed to arrive on time. She wanted to be reliable, to have people think that some terrible fate must have befallen her if she was even a second late. It was rude to keep people waiting, and she wasn't a rude person. Nevertheless, however hard she tried to be punctual, luck was never on her side.

It was that last delivery that had done it; the house numbers hadn't made any sense and it had taken several laps around the maze of streets before she found her destination. Then there was roadworks on the motorway, closing a lane. And, of course, she hadn't been able to find a parking space, but that was nothing new. As she walked hurriedly towards the playground, she concluded she just had to face facts, she was always late.

The bell rang mere seconds after the school gate clinked shut behind her. She smiled triumphantly to herself – she had made it – and took her usual place by the bin. It was a good spot for people watching, she liked to make up stories in her head about what was going on in the lives of all these women who had deemed her unworthy of their friendship; the school year was two weeks old, and no-one had ever even said 'hello'. She scanned the playground in search of today's victim... But she didn't find one, instead her eyes fell on the figure leaning against the stone wall of the playground. A man. She had never seen a dad at pick up time and she couldn't help but stare. He was dressed casually in a black Jordan hoodie and skinny black joggers. He was tall, so tall. But it wasn't his height that made him stand out, he looked like John Stones the England defender, that same mop of curls, high cheek bones and stubble-brushed chin. But it couldn't possibly be, not here in her little village.

Then as though he felt the heat of her gaze, his eyes, which had been fixed on the door from which the pupils were going to emerge any second, moved to meet hers. It was John Stones. Her cheeks flushed red, mortified to be caught gaping, she mustered a small smile, but he didn't return it, instead he looked away, stony faced, casting his eyes downwards towards his trainers, as though he hadn't seen her at all.

"Mummy!" She had been so distracted she hadn't even noticed the reception class had now spilled into the playground. "I'm here!" Rosie announced, throwing her arms in the air, her lunch bag in one hand and her book bag in the other. "Yes, you are!" John Stones and his mysterious presence were momentarily forgotten as Aimee knelt to hug the little girl who was her pride and joy. "I missed you," Aimee breathed into Rosie's hair as she drank in her smell; she had thought that Rosie would be the one to struggle with the transition from afternoons at pre-school to full days at school but, Rosie had been completely unabashed, and she was the one suffering from separation anxiety. "Take my bag Mummy it's so heavy." Rosie sighed dramatically as she shrugged off her blue Smiggle backpack. "And I'm so hot." By the time Rosie and Aimee, now laden down with a backpack, lunch bag, book bag and coat, left the playground, John Stones was long gone.

Aimee didn't care for football, but the England National Team'       s heroics in the summer's Euros had been impossible to ignore. Along with the rest of the country she had been caught up in the magic of the journey to the final. She'd been dragged reluctantly to the pub for the group stage games, but by the time the semis rolled around she was enthusiastically planning barbecues with her friend Chloe and had even started selling England themed cupcakes decorated with red icing and topped with miniature England tops. They had turned out to be the best sellers of the entire year. Now the England squad were household names, even Rosie would chat about them as though they were personal acquaintances. But Aimee never thought she would ever see one in the flesh, and now she had. And she couldn't stop thinking about it. About him. Not on the short drive home from school. Or whilst she was making dinner. Or once Rosie was fast asleep and she sat down to watch Netflix with a packet of Chocolate Digestives and a cuppa. Or even once she was lying in bed trying to sleep. John Stones' gorgeous face was imprinted in her mind.