Page 96 of Match Point

It’s the sort of kiss that relays a huge weight of meaning. It’s not urgent or desperate or showy, it’s caring and quiet and gentle. Like everything is okay. It makes my heart hum and my belly fill with a comfortable warmth and affection. It turns the busy world around us into stillness. When he breaks the kiss, I reach up on my tiptoes to kiss him again.

We head in to Bounce and, after the guy who greets us has a fangirl moment over Kieran, we’re given a table and order a couple of mocktails.

‘Shall we have a few warm-up rallies and then play to see who serves first?’ Kieran suggests, picking up a bat and sauntering to the other end of the table.

‘Sounds good to me,’ I say, tossing the bat up into the air and letting it spin before I deftly catch the handle. It’s actually a complete fluke but it looks bloody good.

Kieran raises his eyebrows, impressed. ‘Whoa. Go easy on me, Hendrix.’

‘Are you scared, O’Sullivan?’

‘Never.’

We launch into a rally and quickly discover that, although I was telling the truth and I can play ping-pong to a fairly high standard, there can be no doubt that the professional tennis player at the table has a significant advantage. We have a few minor distractions from our game when a couple of the bar staff come over to ask for a picture with Kieran, which in turn alerts others in the bar to his presence. But we manage to forget about the people taking stealthy photos and videos of us, and have a really fun time.

Soon I’m shrieking with excitement when I manage to get one of his annoyingly sneaky drop shots. He’s just as invested, yelling ‘COME ON’ to himself when he misses the ball or punching the air in celebration when he wins a point. We start to incorporate silly tasks into the next match – like, we have to do a 360-degree spin after hitting the ball, or hop on one foot while playing, or play with our left hand. The best one is when I announce that we have to incorporate our favourite dance moves in between playing shots, inspired by the loud music playing in the bar, and although he takes some encouragement, when he does the chicken head bop after serving, I’m doubled over wheezing with laughter. After I do an extremely impressive top spin forehand that he can’t return, he’s so proud of me that he tosses his bat on the table with a loud clatter, runs around to my side and lifts me up in the air, spinning me around.

I can’t remember laughing this much.

After such exhilarating play, we take a break, sitting next to our ping-pong table and chatting over our drinks.

‘Can I ask you a question that I’ve wanted to ask for a while?’ I say, setting my glass down determinedly.

‘We’re on a date, Flossie, questions are part of it. Ask away.’

‘I think it may be personal, so you don’t have to tell me the answer if you don’t want.’

He holds up his hands. ‘It’s grand. Shoot.’

I take a deep breath, holding his gaze. ‘Why did you have to stay in Lingfield Road? Did you make that up to be stubborn when I wouldn’t leave the flat, or is there genuinely a reason?’

He nods slowly like he’d already accepted that I’d ask this someday. ‘There’s a reason. But it’s a secret. So, if I tell you, then you have to tell me one.’

I smile. ‘Deal.’

‘Okay.’ He drops his eyes to the floor. ‘The first time I came to Wimbledon, it was because Aidan was playing in the junior tournament, but I was too young to qualify. He was knocked out first round and in the car on the way back to the hotel, I told him that I was sorry he lost. He shrugged it off and told me that he’d be back one day to win.’ He takes a moment. ‘He looked out the window and told me that one day we’d be living in a big house on that very road and we’d both be Wimbledon Champions.’

I reach for his hand, threading my fingers through his.

‘We happened to be driving down Lingfield Road at the time,’ he continues, bringing his eyes up to meet mine and giving me a sad smile. ‘I was such a cocky little shit I told him that I’d be Wimbledon Champion first, and he just smiled and said, “Kieran, the only chance you’ll have at winning Wimbledon is if I’m out that year due to injury.” Our dad was driving and he roared with laughter. Aidan was so quick like that. He was really clever.’

‘He sounds brilliant.’

He squeezes my hand and then collects himself, rolling his shoulders back and giving me a grin, his eyes brightening. ‘So that’s the reason that, if I have the chance to be on Lingfield Road, I’ll take it. I wasn’t talking bullshit.’

‘It all makes sense to me. That’s a good reason.’

He pulls his eyebrows together, looking pensive. ‘I should thank him.’

‘Who?’

‘Aidan,’ he says with a shrug. ‘He brought me to you.’

My breath catches and my heart does too many somersaults to count.

He nods to the ping-pong table. ‘Enough chit-chat. Another round or are you ready to surrender?’

‘To you? Never,’ I assert, swiping up my bat with enthusiasm.

---