Page 98 of Match Point

Kieran and his dad seem to be having a staring match. It’s only been a few seconds of silence, but it feels like this horrible uncomfortable tension has dragged on forever. Finally, Brian emits a pointed noise from his throat that breaks the silence.

‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ he says.

He’s looking at Kieran, but it’s me who replies. ‘Uh, of course. Sorry, come in.’

I’m not sure if that was the right answer, but I’m ready to explain to Kieran that whatever comes next, whether it’s a blazing row or a surprise reconciliation, it’s best if it happens inside the house rather than out on the street for anyone else to witness.

I stand aside and Brian steps in, politely wiping his shoes on the mat as I close the door behind him, my heart in my throat. I’ve never seen Kieran look tenser. The muscle in his jaw is twitching and his whole body has stiffened, as he stands frozen to the spot.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asks, his frown deepening.

Brian doesn’t take another step forward, putting his hands in his pockets. ‘I wanted to see how you are.’

Kieran snorts. ‘Try again.’

‘I’m telling the truth, Kieran,’ Brian says tiredly. ‘I wanted to check in and make sure you were okay. I felt like we needed to talk.’

‘Did you?’ Kieran says flatly.

I can physically see his guards coming up, that hard outer shell that I’ve been cracking through the last few weeks is piecing itself back together in front of my eyes. His mouth becomes a straight hard line, his eyes cold and untrusting. His defences are back, prepared for attack. With Brian blocking my path, I feel too far away from Kieran and the need to protect and comfort him is kicking in.

‘Why don’t we go into the living room?’ I suggest, nodding encouragingly at Kieran.

He doesn’t budge for a moment, but eventually heeds my advice and steps back into the room, allowing Brian and I to approach and follow him in. He remains standing, lingering by the fireplace.

‘Would you like a drink?’ I offer Brian, gesturing for him to have a seat.

He takes the one by the window. ‘No, thank you.’

‘He probably won’t be staying long,’ Kieran mutters.

Brian sighs. I don’t really know what to do but I feel awkward standing, fidgeting with the hem of my cropped shirt, so I perch on the edge of the sofa. It suddenly occurs to me that I actually shouldn’t be in the room, so I get back on my feet.

‘I’ll leave you guys to chat. Are you sure you don’t want a drink?’ I squeak, the croak in my voice betraying how uncomfortable I feel right now.

‘You can stay if you want, Flora,’ Kieran says, a brief but distinct flash of vulnerability crossing his expression. It’s gone as quickly as it came, and he’s back to fixing his dad with a hard stare. ‘Anything he has to say, he can say in front of you.’

I slowly sink back onto the sofa.

‘So,’ Brian begins, fixing a smile, ‘how have you been, Kieran? The semi-finals tomorrow, that’s really—’

‘Why are you here, Dad?’ Kieran interrupts abruptly.

‘I told you, I wanted to check in.’

‘You could have messaged or called.’

‘I knew you wouldn’t reply or pick up.’

‘So you… decided to fly over and knock on my door.’

‘Something like that.’ Brian shifts. ‘Neil called me.’

Crossing his arms, Kieran smiles in disbelief, his eyes dropping to the floor.

‘I was as surprised as anyone. We haven’t spoken in a long time,’ Brian continues, his brow furrowed as he watches his son carefully. ‘He thought it would be a good idea if I came over to… talk. He felt, and I agree, that it’s important to try to heal any rifts as the tournament gets serious for you. He doesn’t want any distractions.’

I swear his eyes flicker over to me as he says that.

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