“It’s all coming back, like lightning bolt flashes in my head!” stammered Jamie.

His heart was beating like a drum and he was breathing so fast he felt as if he was about to have a panic attack.

“I can remember my injury for the first time, how it all happened, and … I’m worried, Jack. I mean, the doctors have said I’m fine but how do they know what can happen in the game? Anything can happen out there. What if exactly the same thing happens?”

“Jamie,” said Jack in the most certain, most positive voice she could manage. She was standing in the tunnel waiting to interview Harry Armstrong just before kick-off. “The doctors know what they’re doing. Calm down. Everything’s going to be OK.”

Jamie shook his head. He was in a state of complete frenzy.

“But I haven’t even gone for a proper header since I’ve come back. I’ve been too scared. What if it happens again? I can’t do it—”

Jacqueline Marshall smiled. She had to stop Jamie talking. And she knew the perfect way.

She leaned forward and gave Jamie Johnson a kiss. A real proper one. And as she did so, she could feel his startled, scared body begin to calm.

“Right, enough of this,” she said, pulling away. “Now can you please get out there and give us something good to report on?”

Jamie nodded. There was no going back now.

“I’ll see you after the match,” he said, before walking back down the tunnel towards the pitch.

“Make sure you do,” Jack responded. “And remember… It’s just a game.”