I'm delighted to say that since writing the book, another Scotsman has succeeded in real life. Well done Andy Murray. You managed to do what I could only write about.
Anyway, back to Lewis.
Wimbledon is his home tournament - the one he always wanted to win and the one he wants to win again to cast aside the horror of what happened the previous year. But of course this isn't really his 'Home'. Home has been lost along with his father, and it will take more than a tennis tournament for him to find it again. Wimbledon is a start, though. A very big start.
Here are the first steps Lewis makes on his journey...
Lewis Macleod shuffled his feet impatiently as the announcements for the second semi-final were made. This was the part that he loathed - the waiting. Once he was out there then everything would be fine – or at least he would know what was in store for him. Know if any of those imbeciles had managed to get a ticket with the intention of ruining his day. It was unlikely. The tournament had now reached the latter stages and it had all gone sweetly so far. But life had a habit of kicking him in the balls just when everything looked like it was shaping up nicely, so he wouldn’t be over surprised - especially now that the stakes had just been raised with an interesting turn of events.
If a dissenting voice was somewhere in the crowd then it certainly was lost at that moment. All Lewis could discern was the buzz of expectancy which had been heightened to fever pitch following the shock result they had witnessed. And of course the choir was warming up nicely, practising their anthem for yet another rendition.
‘God Save the Queen’ - they were in Britain after all.
But strangely enough no. They were singing for their player, not the long-serving monarch. And whilst Lewis might be gay, he was hardly a queen – a little flamboyant in his choice of kit at times, but the crowd wasn’t there to take the piss out of his dress sense. They had come to support him in his bid to become a king, hailing the new hero to the tune of ‘Perfect Day’.
A couple of verses and then came the lull - and the only sounds that Lewis could hear were the thumping in his chest and the voice to his side.
“It’s time to play now, gentlemen,” said the immaculately dressed official.
Flushed with adrenalin, Lewis put on his smile, and stepped once more onto the hallowed turf that was Wimbledon’s Centre Court.