Jamie could feel Godal’s eyes boring into him at training the next morning. They were searching through Jamie, looking for the spirit that would tell his manager he was truly ready to play.

Jamie had never experienced this kind of test before. Normally, his football was judged by goals and assists. Spirit was something much more difficult to measure.

Jamie was trying to work out what the actual definition of the word “spirit” meant as he left the training ground, which was why it took his brain a few seconds to actually recognize the huge friendly figure waiting for him astride a tiny moped.

Jamie had sent the email less than twenty-four hours ago and yet here, already, was big Allie Stone.

Not that Stonefish was alone – he was with none other than Rodinaldo and, amazingly, the two of them seemed to be sharing some hilarious joke, despite the fact that Rodinaldo could barely speak a word of English and Stonefish was hardly fluent in Portuguese.

As Jamie approached, the two new best friends exchanged a final belly laugh, a special handshake and what could only be interpreted as an agreement to meet up later.

“You took your time,” said Stonefish, immediately turning the tables on Jamie – it was as though Jamie was the one coming to visit him.

“I had to get some physio,” replied Jamie. “How did you get here so quick? And where’s your luggage? And how do you know Rodinaldo?”

“Eh, what’s with all the questions? You’re not my mum!” laughed Allie, elbowing Rodinaldo in the ribs to get him to start laughing too. “I got on the first flight. Got in at eleven last night and met Roddy at the nightclub at two o’clock this morning. We had a blast. You should have come! Hop on – we need to head back to yours and get ready – Roddy’s party starts in an hour!”

It was fair to say that Rodinaldo’s parties were legendary. Not only did Godal know that they went on, he actively encouraged them. Apparently he had even turned up to a couple last season.

So, within two hours of Stonefish’s arrival, he and Jamie, wearing their sunglasses, Hawaiian shirts and tropical shorts, entered the world of a Rodinaldo Fiesta.

The music was blaring. People were playing volleyball in the pool. Waiters carrying huge watermelons and drinks were mingling among the partying guests, who were all dancing as if their lives depended on it.

“Here,” said Stonefish. “Hold this.”

He handed Jamie his motorcycle helmet, which Jamie, like an idiot, accepted, and with that, Stonefish was off. First he tried his hand at the Macarena with about twenty girls by the massive, vibrating speakers, before swiftly and effortlessly becoming part of the human conga that was snaking its way around the pool.

Jamie collected an orange-looking drink from one of the waiters and took a moment to appreciate the surroundings.

Big palm trees with drooping, friendly leaves offered shade from the warm sun. A picture-perfect swimming pool shimmered as the waves from the volleyball game caused the water to slap against the marble tiles.

Jamie thought back to the days – the beautiful British summer days – when everyone was happy, when everyone had a smile on their face and the world seemed a quite wondrous place. Five or maybe six times a year, you might get a day like that in England. It seemed to Jamie that every day in Barcelona was like that. Or at least could be.

It was at that moment that Rodinaldo decided to join his own party. Dressed impeccably in a stunning cream suit, he appeared on the terrace above the revellers and raised his hands before getting behind the decks to start DJing.

Then, as he spun the tracks, he gave a demonstration of the full array of his football talents.

Rodinaldo had perfected the ability to disco dance while keeping a ball aloft in the air. It was a truly bewitching sight, worthy of a TV show all of its own.

With the music blasting, the Brazilian’s feet moved in flashes, keeping the ball up in time to the rhythm. And that was when it clicked for Jamie. He’d been trying to work it out ever since he’d seen Rodinaldo play. What was different about him? Where did he get that extra-special movement from? How did he manage to play the game on a different canvas to everyone else?

Now Jamie could see it. Rodinaldo played football in the same way that he danced: to the beat.

“Oi!” said Stonefish, grabbing Jamie by the collar and hauling him into the centre of the conga as they went past. “Come join the party!”

Jamie needed his hands free to grab the person in front of him, so there was only one thing for it: he put the helmet on his head, pulled the visor down and joined in.