Jack hadn’t told Jamie what they were doing. She hadn’t even told him where they were going.

All she’d said was to meet her at her house and for him to bring his trainers.

It wasn’t until they had almost reached the gates that Jamie twigged.

“Kingfield?!” he said. “What are we doing back at school?”

“Same as we did when we were here – playing football!” said a voice from behind them.

Jamie turned to see Dillon Simmonds grinning at him and Jack.

He was dangling a twinkling set of keys.

“How did you get the keys, Dillon?” asked Jack as she unlocked the doors to the Kingfield School Sports Hall. “In fact, better still, don’t tell me!”

It turned out Jack had put her plan into action late last night. And Dillon was in on it too.

“Is someone going to tell me what’s actually going on?” asked Jamie as they entered the cavernous, dark chamber.

The air was cool and the sound echoed around the hall as Jack switched on the massive lights in the ceiling to illuminate the giant pitch.

“Right!” said Jack, clapping her hands together and entirely ignoring Jamie’s question. “Dillon, you get the balls out of the cupboard, and Jamie, you go for a jog around the pitch; I’m not having you pull any muscles.”

“Good,” said Jack as Jamie finished his circuit. He was still fit. The building work with Dillon had seen to that. “Now get into the box. Me and Dillon are going to whip over some crosses. All you have to do is volley them into the net.”

Although Jack was trying to act casual – as though this wasn’t a big deal – she couldn’t hide the truth from Jamie. This was another trial. Just like when he’d gone back out to Barcelona. Except at least the cameras weren’t present this time.

Without giving Jamie any time to prepare himself, Jack curled in a cross from Jamie’s right. It was a quick, powerful centre and the ball raced towards Jamie.

Jamie adjusted his body as quickly as he could and snaked out his foot to fire in a volley.

But he missed the ball completely, kicking only thin air.

It was an awful, ugly effort.

Instinctively, Dillon let out a mocking laugh.

“Dillon, you stupid oaf!” admonished Jack. “If you’re not going to be supportive, we don’t need you.”

“Nah, sorry,” said Dillon meekly. “It wasn’t Jamie I was laughing at; I was thinking about a joke I heard yesterday.”

“Good,” smiled Jack. “Because you won’t be laughing when you see what he does with this one.”

And with that, Jack tossed another ball into the air and pelted it straight at Jamie.

As the ball sped towards him, Jamie’s eyes zeroed in on it. And then, just as it had done yesterday, his football brain kicked in.

Readjusting his feet, he twisted his body and readied himself for the moment of impact. He calculated the speed and angles perfectly. He was in position for the ball to arrive … and then when it did, he fairly hammered it into the back of the net. The frame of the goal shuddered with the impact of Jamie’s strike.

“Whoa!” shouted Dillon, stunned by the venom of the shot.

“Not bad,” was all that Jack said in response.

Jamie nodded back to her. Something very special was happening.

Cross after cross Jamie converted. Some he belted home, some he simply deftly diverted in, but all of them found their way into the back of the net.

After they had sent in about a hundred crosses, Dillon was starting to pant.

“All right,” he said, hunching over to catch his breath. “I think we’ve proved the point. Shall we wrap it up?”

Jack just laughed and shook her head.

“Babe,” she said. “We ain’t even got started yet.”

It was about an hour later that Jack revealed she was ready to try the “final” exercise.

“OK,” she said. “This is the one I’ve been waiting for. We’re going to do exactly what we’ve just been doing but, Dillon, this time I want you to turn the lights off just after I cross the ball; let him see me cross it, but then turn the lights off before the ball gets to him.”

“What?” said Jamie. “How am I supposed to kick the ball if I can’t see it? That’s impossible!”

“Yeah,” Jack nodded. “For most people.”

 

There was an air of expectation in the hall as Jack lined up to deliver the final cross of the evening in to Jamie. She stepped forward, curved her foot around the ball and chipped it into the air.

As soon as the ball left her foot, Dillon switched off the lights. Darkness.

Except in Jamie’s head. In his mind’s eye, he could still see the ball coming towards him. He could see its flight and its speed. He could sense exactly the right time for him to strike and … whoosh; his left foot powered out into the darkness to meet the ball.

At the moment of connection there was barely a sound.

And then the lights were back on. To reveal the ball in the back of the net.

“What the!!!” shouted Jack. “I didn’t actually believe you could do it, Jamie. It was just an experiment! Do you reckon you could do it again?”

Jamie just smiled.

On a football pitch there wasn’t much he couldn’t do.