Chapter Text
THE 2026 FIFA WORLD CUP - PART FIVE
Tom sighed and readied himself to face the cameras. It was at least nice to be doing press after two victories in which he’d made heroic contributions – much better than facing the press after a devastating loss or embarrassing stuff-up – no one wanted to find themselves on the other end of one of Roy Keane’s deadpan taunts. But somehow he knew actual football wasn’t likely to be the main thrust of the questions.
He smiled as he thought back to the texts he and Mary had sent one another that morning:
HRH:
Tom, I’m sorry to have to say this, but I spent quite a bit of time in the Hayward vs Thornton debates on TikTok this morning and turns out I found the Team Thornton videos pretty compelling. Brace yourself for a hard pivot. It’s on between me and the old retired geezer x
Striker:
What a coincidence! I was pretty persuaded by the Team Laufeward/ Hayfeyson argument after my own TikTok deep dive this morning. Well, it’s been fun x
A barrage of camera flashes went off as he made his way towards the podium. The journalists were already shouting questions before he’d quite made it in front of the mic. It was at times like this that he was thankful for the terrifying England media director, Caroline. She was a truly formidable person, but at least she was England’s formidable person. He otherwise tried to keep his distance. She ruthlessly commanded these media sessions so Tom only ever had to wait until she’d determined whose question he’d be answering and given her signal for that journalist to go ahead.
As predicted, the first question was not remotely football related.
“A fond moment between you and Princess Mary in the dressing room last night, Hayward. Can you describe what her support has meant to you personally?”
Tom wondered if there might be a medical solution to blushing. “I’ve spoken about this many times now,” he said, smiling at the cameras. “To have the ongoing support of Her Highness has been one of the highlights of my short career. Princess Mary is such a champion of the sport in general but obviously of my club in particular. I mean, let’s just take a moment to admire her commitment – after 90 plus minutes on the pitch, I was a filthy, sweaty mess when she hugged me last night and, even looking a million quid as she was, she didn’t bat an eye.”
There was a lot of appreciative chuckling from the press gaggle.
“One of the fruits of that connection that I look forward to the world getting to see will be next year when the FIFA Women’s World Cup takes place in Brazil. Few people know how hard Princess Mary has campaigned to improve the conditions for the Leeds United Women’s game. It’s another cause she and I have in common. I know her support for the English Women’s Team on the road to qualification will be just as fierce and passionate, if not more so, than it has been for us. It’s little wonder that I admire Her Highness but I look forward to everyone more fully appreciating her contribution to this beautiful game, both for men and for women.”
“Amazing contributions in each of your last two games for your country, Tom! Tell us about how that feels!”
“This whole journey has been a dream. Getting the call up for England in the first place was obviously thrilling. Then to be named Captain, then to get out on the pitch every game and see Princess Mary here cheering for us, and then to be able to make some meaningful contributions to our success with this group of lads? Full credit to the boys – Tilney’s on a tear, I benefitted from a spectacular cross from Sam Weston for one of my goals, Rob Martin and Addy Croft are on fire, Colin Brandon in the box – what a stellar bunch! I mean, suffice to say, I am a pretty happy man. Though that doesn’t mean we’re satisfied – by no means are we satisfied. We have two more games to play before we even know we’re through to the knockout round and nothing's guaranteed in this tournament. So, yeah, it feels great today but the task ahead of us is still daunting.”
“At some point England will likely come up against Iceland and that may see you on the pitch against your old teammate and friend Loki Laufeyson. We all saw your touching reunion in the airport a few weeks back. Tell us more about your friendship.”
Tom grinned. “Lokes and I go way back. We were playing together at Leeds long before anyone identified Princess Mary in the stands at Elland Road. He’s a good friend, and Iceland are fierce competitors. I hope we get to play against one another in this tournament. It’d be nice to share the pitch with him again, though I think I prefer it when we’re in the same jersey – Loki Laufeyson is a force to be reckoned with. I do sometimes wish we could have him back at Leeds, I miss the bloke. Honestly, I wish him nothing but the best.”
–
Mary lay in bed and watched Tom on her hotel room TV laughing helplessly as he kept on mentioning her name.
Though she had loved him describing her as looking a million quid, the last question was her favourite.
“Hayward, you’ve brought up Princess Mary in every single one of your answers this morning and we all saw you go red when she hugged you in the dressing room last night. Would we be correct in concluding you’re nursing a little crush on Her Highness?”
Anyone watching at home was treated to another immediate blush and bashful little smile from Tom as he reached up to rub at the back of his neck. Mary gave a little squeal, kicking her feet under the covers at the sheer adorableness of him.
Thankfully, the question was not yet done. ”How does that make you feel about the burgeoning love story we all appear to be witnessing unfolding between Her Highness and former Leeds United and England player, John Thornton?”
Tom laughed goodnaturedly. “John Thornton? I mean, what a hero he has been on the pitch for club and country over the years. I genuinely look up to that man. If it hadn’t been for misfortune with injury, it would have been Thornton leading this squad, I’m certain.
“Nah, look I have far too much respect for Her Highness to even answer a question like that. Please let’s not speculate on her love life. There’s so much more to Her Highness than that. Instead let’s hold Princess Mary up as the fantastic example she is to us all – a person who is deeply committed to the important causes she stands for as well as a passionate football fan who loves to show her whole-hearted support and give back to the game however she can.”
“That’s all we have time for. Thank you,” came a crisp voice over the broadcast and then Tom was waving and smiling and walking away from the podium.
Striker:
Never said I WASN’T nursing a crush on you x
HRH:
Don’t think that’ll go unnoticed. God, I love you, you wally x
–
The exuberant mood in the England camp did not last. They struggled to a 0-0 draw against Ghana in their next match after wasting late chances at Gillette Stadium.
"It's a tough group. We knew that before we got on the plane, and nothing's changed,” Fred Wentworth said to the media after the match. “Nobody in that dressing room needs a wake-up call. The lads know exactly what's at stake. They've worked too hard to get carried away after one result or lose heart after another.
"There's no overconfidence here. Never has been. If anything, there've been moments when we've maybe been a bit too careful, but I'd take that over thinking the job's done.
"We've got four points from two games. That's where we are. We've another match to play, and that's the only one we're thinking about.
"Football has a way of bringing you back down to earth if you let the highs get too high, and it'll kick you again if you let the lows get too low. So we don't do either. We take the result, we learn what we need to learn, and then we get on with it."
With one more game to play before they made it to the knock out stage, the lads felt varying degrees of restlessness. George Knightley found himself having back-to-back heart-to-hearts with a frustrated Rob Martin and a depressed John Thorpe. Phil Elton, Henry Crawford, Frank Churchill and John Willoughby went out to find a bar where they could play darts. James Benwick cracked open yet another novel while Ed Ferrars and Ed Bertram argued about cathedral architecture. Will Elliot DM’d an Instagram model. Henry Tilney went out in search of a local comedy club dragging a bemused Sam Weston and Addy Croft along with him.
Ostensibly, sensible Skipper, Tom Hayward, went to bed early.
Later that night in a Boston hotel room, Princess Mary of England lazed in bed with her boyfriend, taking their mind off the events of the day with cups of tea and an extensive What kind of British poet would you be? quiz she’d found in a literary magazine that had been splayed out with a range of other pretentious publications on the mahogany coffee table in her lavish suite.
“What kind of scandal would you be most likely to have to manage? a) too many to mention–”
Tom laughed. “Paging Lord Byron–”
“b) slightly fewer but still quite a lot to list–”
“Would that be Shelley?”
“c) posthumously published rude letters, or d) testing obscenity laws?”
“Goodness,” said Tom, “I’m beginning to think I need to act up a bit more.”
“If you’re serious about your poetry, I suppose,” replied Mary. “For captaining England you’re probably getting it just right.”
“Mary, I am, as we speak, engaging in a mid-World-Cup secret tryst with an English princess who has been smuggled into my hotel room in a broom cupboard on wheels under cover of darkness,” said Tom pointedly. “Would we count that as a scandal?”
“Ooh, probably,” said Mary. “Good thought. Your British poet credentials are restored.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Do you think you’d be more likely to die of a) pleurisy, b) unknown causes but possibly in a suspected murder by enemies of Richard II c) tuberculosis or d) typhoid fever?”
“That’s cheerful,” Tom replied. “Any live to a ripe old age?”
Mary turned the page to check. “Not in this quiz apparently.”
“Pleurisy was Wordsworth, right?”
Mary shrugged mysteriously, not giving anything away.
“Better go with pleurisy then.”
“Nasty way to go,” she observed.
“Is it?”
“Mmm, very painful. Not that murder, typhoid or tuberculosis sound like a barrel of laughs.”
“Here’s hoping I’ll get a good poem or two out of my suffering.”
“That’s more of a John Donne sort of a notion, but,” she flipped the page again, “I don’t think he’s featured in this quiz either.”
“Can’t I just be Wordsworth so we can get on with watching the next season of 24?” asked Tom, somewhat petulantly.
“You’ve had a hard day so I’ll indulge you.” Mary waved a pretend magic wand. “Ok, you’re Wordsworth. Enjoy dying of pleurisy. Now where’s the remote?”
Tom suddenly remembered their conversation from after the Croatia game. “Hold on, how did it go with Thornton today?”
Mary avoided his gaze, suddenly very focused on the whereabouts of the remote. “I know I saw it here somewhere. Are you sitting on it?”
“Mary?” Tom asked.
She hesitantly met his eyes.
“Did Thornton ask you out?”
She nodded reluctantly.
“See,” he said, grinning. “I told you. My hero, John Thornton, is a man of impeccable taste and discernment. Of course he immediately appreciated how stunning and magnificent you are and couldn’t resist you. What happened?”
Mary shook her head. “It was mortifying, Tom. He was very complimentary, a little bit poetic even. You might have approved if he weren’t trying it on with your girlfriend.”
“And were you gentle with him?” Tom asked sternly. “Or is my Leeds hero going to spend the rest of his days shut up as a recluse?”
Mary huffed. “John Thornton is going to be fine, Tom. I told him the truth like we planned. I said I was flattered, and that under ordinary circumstances of course I’d love to go out with him, but that I’ve been nursing this embarrassingly searing crush on you, and that your amazing performance at the World Cup had only intensified it, and that my obsession with you made it utterly impossible for me to think about anything or anyone else.”
Tom was clearly loving this. He pretended to look sympathetic. “And how did the poor chap take it?”
“He sort of laughed at me,” she replied. “And said Hayward? Really? as if he wasn’t really taking me seriously.”
Tom’s smile faded. He looked slightly miffed by this.
“And then he gave me his business card and said that when I get over my little infatuation with today’s boy hero and want a real man I should give him a call.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Do I have permission to break his heart now, love?” she asked, laughing.
“Crush him,” said Tom. “That cretinous old has-been is dead to me.”
“Speaking of crushes, despite the obvious sizzling heat between us in our videos the other night, the internet is still mostly shipping you with this Icelander you got asked about this morning.”
Mary watched as the fondest of smiles broke over her boyfriend’s face.
“Ahh Lokes,” said Tom softly. “Love that guy. Have you ever met him?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” said Mary, reaching up to tousle his hair, “but I’m definitely curious.”
“Don’t get me wrong, he’s a pretty odd fellow, but I loved playing football with him. We had a lot of fun in the early days at Leeds.” Tom picked up his phone and navigated his way to Laufeyson’s Instagram account. “I’m not exactly short but he’s always been taller than me. He used to stick up for me if opponents got in my face on the pitch. I really grieved the loss of him when he left to play for Borussia Dortmund. He had been my best mate. Now he’s at Manchester City with Will Elliot and John Thorpe. We still keep in touch from time to time and it’s always fun going up against him.”
He held out his phone to her. Mary scrolled through the photos of a tall, pale, slender man with long raven hair, often tied up in a top-knot when he was on the field.
“Quite the man bun he’s got going on here.”
Tom laughed. “He was all short-back-and-sides when we first met. I think he’s trying to pass himself off as more of a Viking these days.”
“Viking?” Mary mused. “Not Norse god?”
“Oi,” said Tom, “remember that searing crush you’re supposed to have on me?”
She patted his hand condescendingly. “That man bun is utterly unacceptable. Searing crush intact.”
Mary thought back to the edits she’d seen cobbled together from last year’s season of Tom in the black Leeds United away kit, laughing and mucking about on a pitch with the taller Icelander in the pale blue of Manchester City. One video of them being warned by a referee even featured in a recent spot on Laufeyson’s grid, just after a video he’d reposted of the two of them finding one another at LAX. She clicked on it and the two of them watched it together.
She giggled. “You two look like school boys getting in trouble from a teacher on the playground.”
Tom laughed at the memory. “When did he post that?” he asked. “Nice to see he’s as nostalgic for the old days as I still get sometimes. I hope we get to go up against Iceland. They’re pretty fearsome and he’s an absolutely brilliant and formidable player, but Lokes and I would probably find a way to have some fun on the pitch. We usually do.”
“How am I going to swing an introduction? I’m dying to meet him now but I can hardly just march up to a player from another country and tell him I’m your girlfriend.”
“Yeah, no idea,” said Tom sadly, clicking off his phone and tossing it onto the floor so he could take Mary more fully into his arms. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “It’ll be good when people can know about us.”
Mary leaned back to look at him. “That sounds complicated.”
“Good complicated?” asked Tom hopefully. “Mary, you’re not hoping we’ll keep this a secret forever are you?”
“No!” said Mary. “Of course not. Of course I want people to know about us. I just can’t imagine how we suddenly come clean after all this time.”
Tom shrugged. “We love each other. We’ll work it out. Let’s just get through the tournament first.”
She nodded then became aware of a hard bit of plastic poking into her thigh. She rummaged under the bedsheets and came up with the TV remote triumphantly grasped in her hand. Assuming her best Kiefer Sutherland growl she announced, “The following love confession takes place between 11:45pm and midnight on the night of the England-Ghana draw.”
Tom pulled her into his lap, wrapped his arms right around her and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Only Jack Bauer can save us now.”