‘Thank you, Isa . . . or Dora? What am I supposed to call you? I must say, I don’t understand—’

‘Both, captain. My name’s Isadora. Like the dancer, Isadora Duncan. Mum was a dancer. Papa . . . Papa calls me Isa, and everyone else either calls me Dora or Isa, so it’s up to you.’

I collected my sports holdall and slowly left the sports ground, taking the time to digest all this news.

I was exhausted.

As I walked through the gates, Edgar caught up with me and wouldn’t let me go. Literally. He invited me to dinner at his place – their place. I protested, for form’s sake, but then I very quickly accepted.

I entered their world. I wanted to.

*

Edgar and Isadora lived with Charlotte. It was their choice, and they made a happy household. Their apartment was where I had first met Edgar, but it felt very different without the extra fifty people in it. Although it was small, they each had their own room, their personal space.

‘It’s important for everyone, especially schoolgirls,’ Edgar had joked, giving his daughter a knowing wink.

Charlotte was on night duty at the hospital that evening, so it was just the three of us. Isadora took me into her den. Seeing the posters of footballers, I felt my legs turn to jelly. I had to lean against a wall to stop myself from crumpling. Her room was so similar to Louis’s, it was disturbing. Now, I understood the bond between them, their shared passion – the attraction of those ecstatic victory gestures on glossy paper. The champions were jubilant, exuding extreme pride and elation. Visceral snapshots of fleeting joys, so enthralling. I didn’t dare ask Isa about her relationship with Louis. She held out a scarf, signed by some obscure player. She teased me gently, wondering how it was possible not to have heard of Zlatan Ibrahimović. I replied, ‘It’s easy, you see . . .’ then I handed back the precious scarf. With a solemn expression, she placed it in my hands like an offering, asking me to give it to Louis when he woke up. Because he was going to wake up, she just knew it. I hugged her and began to cry. She pushed me gently away, forcing herself to laugh, saying, ‘Oh no, you’re not going to start that again . . .’ More role reversal. I thanked her, saying I was sure Louis would be thrilled with her gift. She thought so too.