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‘Amazing – Eddy can give you the details,’ she tells me. ‘It’s after he’s back from Australia.’

Shit, yes, the World Cup. I wonder if that will be a natural end for all of this, when he goes to Australia and I stay here?

‘Anyway, we’d better get going, Brooke has a train to catch,’ he tells her.

We say our goodbyes and head for the car.

The drive back is much quieter than the journey there, like something has shifted. So I look out of the window, listen to the radio, anything but ask him what he’s thinking, because it’s nothing to do with me, is it? He’s probably annoyed Lauren asked me to the christening, because that complicates things; that means our fake break-up needs to come along sooner rather than later, and they’ll be on his back again by the sounds of it. But it isn’t a crime to want the people you care about to find love and happiness really, is it?

The only conversation we have is small talk, about the things we see, or where he should drop me.

‘Thank you for today,’ I tell him as we arrive at the station.

‘Thanks for coming,’ he replies. ‘It means a lot.’

‘And thank you for the cookies,’ I add. ‘I’ll be expecting those again.’

He smiles.

‘We’ll see,’ he tells me. ‘Enjoy your evening.’

‘You too,’ I say with a smile.

I get a funny feeling in my stomach as he drives off.

Should I have stayed with him instead? Gone out for dinner with him and his family? Blown off Jamie’s match? I suppose I could have messaged him an excuse. No, sticking with my plan, that’s what I should do, the way to keep things normal in all of this abnormality.

Then why does it feel like the wrong decision?

15

They – although I’m not sure who they are – could probably market avoiding your ex in a stadium as an adrenaline-seeker’s sport, but I’m here in Manchester, and not only am I seeing Ron’s stupid face on all the screens, but I almost bumped into him when I arrived. What are the chances? There are thousands of people, limited exits, and several enormous screens that just happen to show everyone exactly where the TV pundits are standing at all times, and yet I still almost ran into the dick.

I’m in the seat that Jamie arranged for me – in some kind of special area, which is probably why I almost bumped into Ron at the entrance, because I think it’s for family, friends and press.

It’s a good seat – padded, with extra legroom – in a great spot. There is a whole section near the halfway line separated from the rest of the stand by glass barriers.

Luckily Ron didn’t see me, and I didn’t get to see Jamie before the game, so I haven’t spoken to anyone – apart from saying thank you to the man who searched my bag as I entered the grounds.

I can see Ron from up here though, standing near the touchline with Trish. I wonder if they’re still together, or whether almost getting caught was the wake-up call they needed. Then again, I wonder if he’s got many other birds on the go – why would I be his only other one? Maybe she’s got multiple bits on the side too? Maybe it’s old-fashioned of me to crave monogamy – maybe having multiple boyfriends is the way to go? Although, to be honest, having one is hard enough. Even having a fake one is work.

I sink further into my padded seat. The good thing about being in the crowd is that there’s no way Ron can spot me here. I can see him though. Every time he moves, my eyes follow him automatically, not because I miss him, more like when a vulnerable animal keeps an eye on anything that could potentially be a threat.

Whatever kind of mark or bruise Eddy might have given Ron (though, to be honest with you, I’ve seen the video a few times now, and he didn’t hit him hard) has vanished, and whether it’s make-up or time, he looks absolutely fine. He doesn’t look heartbroken either.

When it’s match time, I notice Jamie come out to much louder cheers than he got in Headingley. Here, he’s a golden god. Whenever he touches the ball, everyone goes nuts. People spring up from their seats, as though they know something is about to happen.

Maybe I’m imagining it, but he seems faster today, compared to when he played Leeds, like his body knows this is his ticket to the Grand Final, so he’s giving it his all.

I stand with everyone else when the time is right. Not because I support Manchester now, God forbid, but because you can’t see a thing when everyone else is standing. Plus, if I’m the only one who stays seated, they might realise I support the enemy.

Jamie scores a try right beneath the posts, jumps to his feet and turns towards the stand I’m in.

He points. Not directly at me, obviously, because there’s no way he’d be able to pick me out. Still, I have the ridiculous feeling that he knows exactly where I am and that he’s taunting me, as a way of taunting Eddy by association.

The giant screen shows him grinning as his teammates pull him into a hug.

Manchester dominate the second half. Hull stay close for a while, but every time it looks as though they might find a way back into it, Jamie does something that even I know is irritatingly impressive.