Naked Hero - The Journey Away

disappointed with the result, but happy that they would soon be witnessing the midnight fireworks display that would mark the beginning of Australia Day. With fifteen thousand to clear, it would take some time for the stadium to empty.
    “What’s the plan now?” asked Lee.
    “There’s no rush,” answered Jim. “We’ll stay here till it thins out, then go and meet Lewis in the player’s lounge. He’ll be a while yet - more interviews to do first. Then it’s back to the house.”
    The reality of the situation st ruck home to Jim as he said the last words. It was a relief to him when Lee replied.
    “I think I’ll head back to the hotel now if that’s okay. It’s late, and I’m sure he needs his rest. Tell Lewis, I said well done.”
    “I’m sure he’d sooner hear it from you,” said Fiona. “You’re welcome to come back.”
    Lee held her look for a moment and was touched by the sincerity he saw on her face. “Thank you, but it’s not a good idea. The photographers will still be there -probably even more now. I think they’ve got enough for one day. Don’t you?”
    “It’s what you and Lewis think s that matters,” said Fiona, torn between the disappointment she knew Lewis would feel, and the necessity of the action she was sure Lee was going to take.
    “I think it best I stay away. Try to make Lewis understand. It’s not rejection, far from it. I’ll see him tomorrow.”
    “Aye, come round in the morning before we go to the practice courts,” suggested Jim, who was shrewd enough to be thinking ahead.
    “I’ve got some business to attend to first, later on would be better,” replied Lee.
    “Jim, I thought that Lee might like to go and watch the practice session. Do you have a pass for him, in case he can’t come round before you leave?” asked Fiona.
    “I do! That would be good, if you can make it. I think Lewis would like to see you. We’ll be there at twelve - the officials can show you the way,” said Jim, conscious of the role that Lee could yet play, especially if Scott Taylor had truly withdrawn. He found a pass in his bag and gave it to Lee. In return a business card was offered.
    “Call me if you think it’s a bad idea. You don’t know how things might look tomorrow,” said Lee.
    He didn’t need to elaborate. They all knew what was to come. What they didn’t know was how people, including Lewis, would react. Lee got up to go, first shaking hands with both Jim and Mike. Fiona stood as well, and kissed him lightly on the cheek before giving him some parting words.
    “You know, Lee, I’ve been waiting for the day that Lewis would bring round a young man to meet me. I’m not disappointed, just a little wary. But that’s the mother in me, even though I’m not. Good luck with your business tomorrow. And thank you... I will make him understand, when the time is right. That’s a promise.”
    And as Lee walked away, bringing a close to Scotland’s day, the words finally came back to her – how the national poet Robbie Burns had ended ‘To a Mouse’: appropriately as ever...
    ‘Still thou are blest, compared wi’ me!
    The present only toucheth thee:
    But och! I backward cast my e’e,
    On prospects drear!
    An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
    I guess an’ fear!’



Chapter 41
    The coverage in the press was pretty much as expected. Lewis Macleod was grabbing the headlines again, and as usual, it wasn’t his tennis that was the main story being published. His victory over Roberts was mentioned with some grudging admiration for the play that had ended the home country’s hopes on the eve of their big day. But it was the notorious Scotsman’s latest ‘friend’ that had managed to steal the limelight.
    All the tabloids had got wind of Lee’s website and had run with that for their morning edition. Most had really gone to town, questioning the moral fibre of the ‘new man’ in Lewis’s life, who openly operated on the periphery of the sex business, and whose physical assets were blatantly advertised along with a group of young men that he ‘managed’. The terms ‘escort’ and ‘hustler’ were carefully avoided, but the suggestion that these men could be bought by the hour, including their boss, was dripping between the lines. And of course they questioned the sanity of Macleod whose career was surely about to implode despite his recent run of good form. To even associate himself with such degeneracy was folly beyond belief, and once again he was