Chapter 32

Because of the move Steven and Becca had put off their annual pilgrimage for her birthday to the Moat. They went a month later. Garry and Polly babysat for them. They did not do much dancing as Becca's tummy got in the way and she did not want to be on her feet too much.

Garry and Polly were overjoyed to be on their own for the first time. They set about supper as soon as Steven and Becca left and by half past eight had eaten and tidied everything away. They sat on the sofa and were immediately twined round each other. It was Polly who took the initiative.

"Are we going to make love?" she asked.

"Do you want to?"

She nodded. "Don't you?"

"Yes."

He took her hand and led her to his room. On the way his mind flicked back to something Steven had said to him shortly after he and Polly became engaged. "Be slow and gentle. Lots of kissing and stroking. Look for what she likes."

They both undressed shyly and then stood looking at each other. With all his training and the good food that Becca fed him Garry was fit, lean and strong.

"What a beautiful man!" thought Polly and she shivered with anticipation of stroking that body and rubbing up against it.

Garry gazed at her in awe. She was such a delicate little creature and her skin looked soft and smooth. He reached for her and she moved into his arms with a little squeak. They both caressed each other's backs.

Garry moved her to the bed and laid her gently down. He lay beside her and stroked her front. He touched her breasts reverently and watched as her nipples became erect. He suckled one gently and she mewed with pleasure. His explorations went further. He was mesmerised by the smooth softness of the inside of her thighs and caressed them for a long time. Then he realised that he could do that and still suckle at her breast. She began to writhe and her breathing quickened.

"Do it, Garry," she gasped. "Please do it."

There was a bit of fumbling, a little resistance, a squeak of pain from Polly and then they were joined. They lay still for a while revelling in the intimacy then Garry started to move. "Slow and gentle," he repeated to himself but then his ecstasy overcame him and he quickly rose to a crescendo. She cried out as he came. They lay panting.

Garry recovered quickly and started to move in her again. This time he was able to maintain the slow and gentle for longer until she cried out for him to go harder. This time she came as well.

They lay side by side in silence which was finally broken by Polly.

"We're going to have to do a lot more of that," she murmured.

"Dead right. I love you even more, Polly Hawkins."

She giggled. "It's just my body you're after," she teased.

"No," said Garry. "All of you."

There was a further contented silence once again broken by Polly.

"We'd better get up. Can you bring me a flannel?"

Reluctantly Garry left her and did so. By the time Becca and Steven returned they were back on the sofa. Becca immediately noticed the light in Polly's eyes and smiled to herself.

In August Becca gave birth to Elizabeth Isobel. Again it was relatively quick and easy. Steven was ecstatic. In his heart of hearts he had been hankering to have a daughter.

Hardly was that excitement over than Garry came home one evening pulling a beaming Polly behind him and clutching a bottle of champagne.

"I've got a trial for England next month," he burst out.

"Oh, Garry my love!" cried Becca hugging him fiercely. "Well done! Oh, you clever boy! Oh Garry!"

She turned to Polly and hugged her. "Oh, lovey, you must be so proud."

"I am. I..." She burst into tears and clung to Becca for dear life.

Steven in the meanwhile, going far beyond his normal self, hugged Garry and slapped him on the back.

"Well done, son! Well done!"

Garry was already thrilled but to hear Steven call him son filled him with joy. Eventually things calmed down and they were able to drink the champagne and toast Garry's success.

Garry and Polly disappeared after dinner.

"Don't send Polly home," Becca said softly to Steven.

He smiled at her. "Or what?"

"You sleep in the spare room."

"Oh cruelty! Thy name is woman!"

"You have to be cruel to be kind sometimes."

"You are an awful girl. What have I taught you?"

"To love." That was said without any playfulness.

Steven looked at the woman he now idolised. "No, my precious. I could never have taught you. All I did was light the blue touch paper."

She looked up at him still completely seriously. "It was only when you told me you loved me and couldn't live without me that it caught though. You are a very special man: not only to me but to Garry and all my girls not to mention all your sleuths who are devoted to you."

Steven kissed her forehead. "Don't you think you ought to ring Molly or she may start fretting?"

Becca did so. Molly was quite unperturbed and did not try to tease.

"OK, love," she said, "but she can jolly well make her own way into work tomorrow."

An hour later Garry and Polly materialised looking slightly sheepish.

"Ah!" said Becca cheerfully. "I've told Molly you won't be home tonight, love"

Polly gawped at her and then her face lit up.

"Thanks, Becca. Thanks, Uncle Steven. Garry, my love..."

On Wednesday three weeks later Garry caught the train headed for Wembley. He was wearing his suit much against his will but Polly had ordered it.

"You're going up to London so you wear your suit," she had said with finality.

Garry clocked in that afternoon as directed and went to the hotel. He was overcome by the smartness of the place and the deference shown by the staff. He was told that dinner would be served from seven o'clock and that his fellows would probably be meeting in the bar for a drink at half past six.

At twenty-five to seven with a beating heart and a dry mouth Garry entered the bar. A balding, round faced man with bushy eyebrows met him. Garry recognised him immediately: Alf Ramsey, the England manager.

"Hello, lad," he said. "What's your name?"

"Garry Brook, sir."

"Ah! Our new Yorkshireman. Welcome, lad. What would you like to drink?"

"Ginger beer, please sir."

Mr Ramsey smiled approvingly and the waiter at his elbow moved away.

"So, Garry, you don't know anyone."

"No, sir, but I recognise a lot of them by sight."

"Well you'd better come and meet the captain."

Garry was introduced to Bobby Moore. He just about managed to answer him coherently. He met all the other established England players. They were his heroes and yet they were all friendly and welcoming and soon Garry felt comfortable.

The following day was spent talking tactics and training together. By the end of the day, despite his inherent shyness, Garry felt fully accepted.

Friday was much the same but the training was more intensive. Limits were being tested. Suddenly, in mid-afternoon, Garry had to stop. He felt weak and his heart was racing: not strong fast but fluttery. The trainer came over to him and asked what the matter was. Garry gaspingly told him. The medics were summoned and before he knew where he was he was in an ambulance on his way to hospital.