Page 103 of Match Point

I bite back a nervous laugh. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the call or what he’s saying, but it’s the way he’s saying it: formal and business-like, as though he’s speaking to a client about a deal, not his daughter about her life. I’ve learnt to accept that my dad is not a father figure in my life. I’ve come to see him as more of an acquaintance who feels guilted into having to look after me financially when I need it. There was a time when I wanted my dad to take notice of me, but somewhere along the way, I accepted what we were. It made everything easier. He’s this important businessman who I’ll always be slightly intimidated by because I never won his approval, and I’m the artistic daughter from a doomed marriage that he never quite understood. We work by keeping things polite, emotionally restrained and distant. The truth is, Dad doesn’t really know how to be a dad.

Hence the phone call that makes working on our relationship sound like his next strategy outline.

‘Okay,’ I say, glancing at the TV to see that it’s 6–6 in the third set.

‘Good. I’ve spoken to Camila and we’d like to fly over to see you this summer.’

I raise my eyebrows. ‘You want to come to London?’

‘You can show us your flat and the area, and perhaps we can meet your boyfriend.’

A lump rises in my throat. ‘My boyfriend.’

‘Kieran O’Sullivan.’ He pauses. ‘The reason I’m calling now is because I noticed you weren’t on Centre Court. I was worried that perhaps this article about your mother… as I said, I wanted to check you were all right.’

I find myself smiling into the phone. ‘Thanks. That was thoughtful of you. I’m fine. You’re watching the match then?’

‘I had a glance at it. Unfortunately, I won’t have time to watch the rest, but I’ve always been a fan of O’Sullivan,’ he says, his tone lifting into something like excitement. ‘I watched him in the US Open early on in his career and you could tell there was something special about him. I was delighted to hear you were dating him.’

I’ve never heard my dad so enthusiastic before. He sounds almost relaxed, as though he’s actually enjoying the conversation, which I’m not used to at all. It throws me.

‘Oh. Uh, yeah, it’s been a bit mad.’

‘Yes, well, I’m afraid I don’t have long to chat now because I’m in the office, but another time we can catch up and you can tell me about him. How you met, et cetera.’

‘Right.’ I nod. ‘I’ll fill you in on all the… et cetera.’

He pauses and I can hear him exhale. ‘I’m sorry about what they’ve written in the article about your mother.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ I say quietly.

‘She did love you, you know.’

‘I know.’

‘I wasn’t always very kind about her.’

I smile weakly. ‘She wasn’t always that kind about you either, Dad.’

‘No, I can imagine.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘I do want to work on our relationship, Flora.’

‘Yeah. Sounds good. I mean, I want that, too.’

‘Good. Right, anyway, I’m afraid I have to go to a meeting,’ he says brusquely.

‘Yeah, me too. Well, not a meeting, but… I have to go.’

‘Oh look, he might have had a stroke of luck there.’

‘Who?’

‘Kieran,’ he informs me. ‘The other guy has gone down during the third set tie-break. Looks like an injury.’

I spin round to face the TV. The camera is focused on Jensen who is sitting on the ground gripping his calf, his face scrunched up in pain.

‘Let’s hope he takes this opportunity to fight back,’ Dad enthuses. ‘As I said to Camila when we watched his last match, tennis is all about your own psychological warfare. You have to refuse to back down, even when things seem hopeless.’

‘I… agree.’

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