20th October, 1894 — Reg & Felix’s flat

So they had lost yesterday’s match against Wimbourne, and last week’s to Kenmare, and never mind the disaster to Falmouth – but they hadn’t lost every match, so what was all this fuss about? There were always teething problems with new players on a team. The mutterings about their female players had gotten louder, though, and Theo was fed up of opening the post from supposed Cannons fans and being treated to their opinions. So he had had a terrible day, and he was at the end of his tether, but he’d had a thought about how to combat some of the bad press.

And he hadn’t given it much of a second thought before acting on it, to be honest. But Reg had been his dormmate for seven years, after all – if anyone would write just one reasonable article about them, surely Reg would. (Theo might have forgotten that Reg had moved departments from sports to crime and politics until he was standing at the door of his friend’s flat, knocking at the door – but it didn’t matter; Theo could still pick his brain and find out which of his former sports colleagues would be most help.)

He realised it was late in the evening, and Alderton might be busy, but – oh, there was the door. “Hey,” Theo said, a weight already off his shoulders just to see a friendly face. “Can I come in?” He didn’t wait for Reg to answer before he stepped in.

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