Page 3 of Match Point

‘That… that can’t be…’ I whisper, trailing off as a lump forms in my throat.

My heart thudding against my chest, I tiptoe over to the bedroom. Iris follows me and comes to stand at my side, gripping my arm in solidarity. The woman’s voice floats through the door again.

‘Oh yes! Yes, Jonah!’

The colour draining from her face, Iris clasps her hand over her mouth.

‘Flora,’ she whispers through her fingers, her eyes glistening with pity.

I grab the handle and turn it, pushing the door and letting it swing open.

There on my bed is my next-door neighbour Zoe, stark naked, straddling Jonah as he lies on his back, his hands gripping her grinding hips.

At first, I just feel numb, like my brain doesn’t quite understand that what I’m seeing is real and so there’s no need to process it. But as the reality of the situation sinks in, the searing pain in my heart sends my body into shock.

I let out a low, feeble whimper.

Jonah lifts his head and sees us. With a panicked expression, he lifts Zoe up and flings her away from him, sending her toppling off the side of the bed and onto the floor with a yelp. If it wasn’t such a sickening scenario, it would have been funny. A sitcom audience would have laughed their fucking heads off at that bit. But this isn’t a fictional scene. No one is yelling ‘cut’, because this is real life. This is actually happening.

‘Flora!’ Jonah squeaks, cupping his dick with his hands. ‘What are you doing here?’

His eyes dart about the room as Zoe’s flushed, startled face pops up at the side of the bed and she reaches to wrap herself in our duvet that must have been cast aside earlier.

Cut. Cut.

My head spinning and vision blurring, I reach to steady myself on Iris before collapsing into her arms as my legs buckle out from beneath me.

CUT.

1

SIX MONTHS LATER

‘Are you sure about this?’ Iris asks on the phone, while I place a pair of high-waisted denim shorts neatly at the top of my bag. ‘Four weeks is a long time on your own.’

‘Iris, I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life,’ I insist, putting her on speaker and balancing my phone on top of the pile of books on my bedside table while I carefully fold some pretty floral dresses. ‘Four weeks on my own is just what I need.’

‘The Lake District is so far away.’ She sighs. ‘Can’t you work on your graphic novel here in London? That way we can still hang out. All my other friends are married or have babies, and, as much as I love them, I need you. Who else is going to drink into the night with me and dance wildly on tables?’

I snort. ‘When have we ever danced on tables?’

‘We might do if you stayed in the city. London in the summer is wild.’

I chuckle, pressing my dresses neatly down into my case. ‘It’s only a few weeks and then I’ll be back to dance on all the tables you want. The whole point of this is for me to get out of the city and take some time for myself.’

She sighs, her tone becoming soft and serious. ‘Flora, don’t be annoyed by me saying this, but I’m worried about you. I get that a change of scene can help spark creativity – and I’m all for you getting a break – but I don’t want you to go all that way and find yourself feeling… lonely.’

Hanging my head, I press my lips together. In the last six months, Iris has become my closest friend and I can understand why she’s saying this. It’s not like I’ve been in the best place since Jonah moved out. Safe to say, I was a total mess for a while. I’m not exactly proud of how I handled the break-up: begging Jonah to stay when he was the one who cheated was a dismally low period of my life that I’d rather forget.

Despite all the red flags, all his cutting comments and neglect, I’d naively convinced myself that he was it for me. The One. We’d been together three years and I’d left my friends and my PA job in Norwich for him. I’d moved to London, where I knew no one, and made every effort possible to fit into his life. I’d somehow stopped caring about what I wanted; everything was for him, whatever made him happy. I willingly made it that way. And suddenly, when it all fell apart on that fateful day in January, I found myself with no job, no friends and no Jonah.

My whole world had crumbled into nothing.

Except for Iris. She’s been at my side through it all. I’m lucky to have her – she may be a new friend, but she’s turning out to be the best one I could have hoped for. A lot of my older friendships waned when I started dating Jonah. He didn’t get on with my small group of school friends. Whenever I organised to see them, he’d moan about having to come along, and if he did then he made it clear he was doing so reluctantly. Knowing it might cause tension between me and Jonah made me less inclined to organise to see that group and my efforts dipped dramatically. By the time I left for London, it felt as though we’d drifted apart and I’d become closer to Jonah’s theatrical mates.

But since the break-up, none of his friends have spoken to me. When it came to choosing sides, I never even got a look-in.

Having lost the majority of my connections to Jonah in one fell and very painful swoop, there’s been one that has been cruelly impossible to shake: my next-door neighbour. When we broke up, Jonah wanted to immediately move out of this flat and into a house-share in Clapham, but in spite of the memories he was leaving behind, there was something about this place that I couldn’t say goodbye to. I’d fallen for Wimbledon, and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else in London, so I chose to stay. But moving on became a lot more difficult with Zoe coming and going all the time.

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