Page 102 of Match Point

‘Kieran!’ I say, prompting all of them to turn to look at me. He cranes his neck to see me past his father. ‘I… I just… have you got the bubbles?’

His hopeful look fades.

‘Wouldn’t leave without them,’ he says, patting the side of his tennis bag.

I smile at him, but he doesn’t see. He’s already turned away and is busy putting on his cap, lowering the visor over his face in preparation. My eyes begin to sting.

‘Okay, everyone, heads down,’ Neil instructs from the front, before he opens the door and the waiting paparazzi swarm around the gate at the bottom of the steps.

I stare at the closed door a long time after they’ve all gone through it. I feel like I’ve somehow let Kieran down, and it’s an emotion that weighs down on my heart so heavily, it’s hard for me to move. I finally force myself to traipse into the bathroom to get ready for the day, but I feel like a zombie, going through the motions without any purpose.

At least the story about my sad childhood doesn’t get much traction. The story making waves is that Brian has, against all odds, made his way back into Kieran’s inner circle.

*

When my dad’s office calls the first time, I ignore it.

My eyes are glued to the TV screen. Kieran’s match is underway and he’s two sets down. This match has been the hardest to watch and I’m almost glad I’m not in the box so I can bury my face in my hands and groan loudly whenever he makes a mistake.

The support on Centre Court for him is amazing: there is a huge amount of green scattered around the vast stands – green jumpers, green shirts, green caps – and many Irish flags waving in between points, his fans making themselves hoarse as they cheer when he wins a point. But there haven’t been all that many of those. He’s up against Denmark’s Arne Jensen, who, Iris told me, favours grass and is number-eleven seed. Jensen seems much more focused than Kieran today, and it doesn’t help that Kieran has started to lose his temper. He also received a time-wasting warning from the umpire in the second set for taking too long on his serve. He tried to protest, marching over to the chair and shouting at the umpire that it was an unfair call, but she didn’t budge. It’s been painful to watch.

Brian has been sitting in the box next to Neil, shaking his head and flinging up his arms in exasperation whenever Kieran glances up in their direction. The commentators have already remarked on how Kieran seems to be making a lot of unforced errors: ‘This is Centre Court for you,’ one of them said a moment ago. ‘Some players can’t take the pressure and they get inside their own heads.’

When he sends what should have been a winning forehand straight into the middle of the net, he yells out in exasperation and hurls his tennis racket on the ground. He’s getting a warning from the umpire, standing at the bottom of the chair with his hands on his hips, shaking his head, when my dad’s office calls again. It’s actually nice to have an excuse to mute the TV. I’m not sure I’ll be able to watch much more of this.

‘Hi, Andy,’ I say breezily on picking up. ‘Sorry I missed your call.’

‘Flora, hi. It’s me.’

The sound of Dad’s voice immediately makes me sit up straight.

‘Dad! Hi!’ I exclaim, feeling flustered and nervous. I’m used to speaking to his PA, not him directly. Every time we speak, I’ve forgotten how to act. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Yes, fine,’ he says in his formal clipped accent. ‘I was actually calling to ask you that question.’

‘Oh.’ I swallow. ‘That’s… uh… nice of you.’

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch more regularly recently.’

‘That’s okay. I know you’re busy.’

‘Yes. It seems you’ve been busy, too.’

‘I’m so sorry if reporters have been bothering you and Camila. I haven’t told them anything and I’m hoping if we keep ignoring them, they’ll get bored and give up on trying to find the story.’ I hesitate, raking a hand through my hair. ‘I don’t know if you’ve seen the most recent one today about… my childhood…’

‘Yes, that’s why I was calling. My team brought it to my attention this morning.’

I bite my lip, my face flushing with heat. ‘It’s all nonsense. I think… God, this is embarrassing, but I think my ex-boyfriend maybe gave them a few titbits of information to run with. Is it going to affect your business?’

He sighs heavily. ‘Flora, I’m not calling so that you can apologise to me. I’m calling so that I can apologise to you.’

I falter, stunned into silence. He clears his throat and continues.

‘I can understand why you’d feel that I… abandoned you at a difficult time in life, and I’m aware that I haven’t been present as you’ve grown up—’

‘Dad,’ I interrupt, ‘I didn’t leak anything to the press. That article isn’t my opinion.’

‘Nevertheless, I wouldn’t blame you if it was,’ he says. ‘One might say that reading the article this morning was a bit of a wake-up call. Moving forwards, I would like to work on our relationship, Flora.’

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