Although the bus journey home was hell, Delia's mood didn't wane. Yes, the bus smelled like salt and vinegar crisps. Yes, there was a screaming toddler demanding God knows what from his mother, and yes, she was still suffering from the night before, but her team had won and that was all she needed to get her through the torture.

As she journeyed through the streets of East London she couldn't help but think back to how she ended up here. A month ago she'd been living in her parents modest 2 bedroom house in South Wales, working in her father's fabric shop and dreaming of seeing the world. For years she'd longed to fly the nest, move to a city or a bigger town and discover people like herself. She'd been bored. Bored beyond belief and the need for adventure, thrill and freedom couldn't be suppressed. Her mother wasn't particularly struck with the idea of her daughter venturing off to a city miles away, doing God knows what, God knows where with God knows who, but Delia was a grown woman and she couldn't hold her down any longer. Delia loved her parents, and being their only child they'd lavished her with all the love and attention they had for her but she needed some independence. Opportunities were hardly in abundance in tiny Pembrokeshire villages, and the opportunities that were there to be taken, Delia had no interest in. She didn't want to work in a little shop, be married to a man she knew she could never love, playing happy families if she bore him a child or two. That wasn't the life she yearned for.

She smiled as she though of what she'd achieved already in her short time in the capital. The job had been the easy bit. With a decent sports science degree, charisma to burn and the ability to talk the hind legs off a donkey, she'd secured herself employment at a physiotherapy centre and so far it had been great. The patients seemed to like her, as did the rest of the team and she slotted in easily. The lads she worked along side treated her like one of the lads, inviting her on nights out and for a pint or two after work.

Finding somewhere to live hadn't been anything like the ordeal she'd expected either. When she arrived at the house to discuss moving in and living arrangements, Patsy and Trixie had been nothing short of delightful. Conversation was easy between the trio and she had to admit she was happy they were roughly the same age as her, give or take a couple of years. Trixie was this effervescent little blonde thing with a zest for the social side of life and a love of all things fashionable. She could easily be taken as being just another dizzy blonde but underneath the almost-white hair and flawless make-up, but Delia could tell there was much more to her than her exterior. Patsy was absolutely stunning to look at. All bright orange hair and long, lean limbs and a sort of self-confidence and slightly hardened demeanour about her that she carried impeccably. Delia put it down to her taller than average height and boarding school education but something in the back of her mind suggested there was something underneath all that. A sadness almost, like part of her had been lost.

And then came the football. Delia had played since she was tiny, kicking a ball around the back garden with her dad until she was old enough to join (one of the very few) girls teams in the area. She loved the sport and she was bloody good at it too, so naturally she found herself googling the local teams in her new area. St Matthew's had been the first to offer her a trial at a training session and she'd been as giddy as a school girl in the build up to it. Looking over their record for the previous season, Delia knew she had her work cut out to get a regular place in the team, but as ever, she was determined. The trial went well, better than well in fact. It appeared she slotted right in amongst the other girls, proving herself in her position, her work rate and showing she had the fitness to keep up.

Her train of thought was rudely interrupted as the bus ground to a juddering halt. Brilliant. Of course it had broken down. Of course it was absolutely lashing down outside. Of course she was still in her kit. "Better get a jog on, Busby!" she thought as she jumped off the bus navigate the rest of her way home.

Ten minutes later and she was back at the house, sodden, cold, muddy and in desperate need of a bath. As she stood in the hallway, water dripping off her and taking off her soggy trainers, Patsy called out, rounding the corner.

"Oh, you're back. How was your... Oh!! What the tits happened to you?" Patsy stood open mouthed in the kitchen doorway. The look of concern on her face turned into a wry smile as she drank in the sight before her. Delia Busby, drenched to the skin and looking utterly dishevelled but smiling nonetheless. "Bus died a tragic death so I had to run the rest of the way" Delia panted, stripping her socks off on the mat behind the door and announcing "I'm gonna go and soak in the bath for a while."

Patsy was still staring, as her eyes followed Delia to the bottom of the stairs.

"So did you win?" She asked, one perfectly plucked eyebrow raised.

"Oh, yeah, 3-1. I scored one too." The brunette answered, removing her top and turning a quarter turn towards the blushing redhead.

"She fancies you Busby! No doubt about it." Delia inwardly noted.