Page 118 of Match Point

You wouldn’t think it from the look of him. While the audience is up on their feet, congratulating him on his last point, he’s busy checking the tennis balls in his hand, selecting two and storing one in his pocket with an inscrutable expression. He makes his way to the baseline, and the umpire asks the crowd to quieten down, issuing Courtney with a warning.

‘Fucking hell,’ I hear Neil mutter under his breath beside me.

Swiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, Kieran glances up in my direction. I give just the hint of a smile. A smile that tells him that it doesn’t matter what comes next. Either way, I’ll be here. A smile that says, always.

He responds with a fleeting frown. It’s gone as soon as it arrived, but I caught a glimpse of it and I wonder what thought has just flitted across his mind. Whatever it was, he sets it aside to focus on the next point. A rather important one.

As he bounces the ball in front of him, the silence is deafening.

I hold my breath, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

He tosses the ball up into the air. It’s a powerful serve across Courtney’s body, forcing Courtney to respond with a backhand that soars across the court. Kieran backhands it down the line and chalk flies as it brushes the inside of the white paint. But Courtney is there with a mighty forehand back across the court. Kieran’s wrong-footed and manages to just reach and return a floating ball down the centre of the court. Courtney races in towards it and hits another superb forehand into the back right corner of the court and follows his shot up to the net. Kieran instantly reacts, sprinting to the right and lunging to reach the ball. He hits an exquisite forehand straight down the line. Courtney is rooted to the spot, helpless as he watches the ball soar past him out of reach.

It all happens in slow motion.

There’s an explosion of noise as Centre Court erupts in a roar of celebration. I spring up from my seat, my heart leaping. Kieran collapses to his knees on the ground, burying his face in his hands, his body trembling with sobs of joy and disbelief. The stadium seems to shake beneath the thousands of people jumping to their feet. Even with the roof on, the applause must echo for miles.

‘He’s done it! He’s done it!’ Neil is yelling next to me, hugging the assistant coach and hopping up and down on the spot. He spins round to pull me into him, holding me close and whispering, ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you’, repeatedly in my ear.

When we break the hug, both of our cheeks are wet with tears of joy.

Serenaded by thunderous applause, Kieran rises to his feet and goes to shake hands with Courtney, who is forcing a congratulatory smile through a sour expression. After reaching up to shake hands with the umpire, Kieran turns to wave at his adoring audience, overwhelmed by emotion. He tips his head back and closes his eyes to soak in this glorious moment. The Irish in the stands are giddy with excitement, their flags vigorously waving, their chants of his name reverberating through the stadium and piercing my heart. It is as if they all know him personally and couldn’t be prouder. When he opens his eyes, they are glistening and he sets them straight at me. I lift my hands, stinging from the amount of clapping, high above my head and grin at him, tears streaming freely down my face.

He jogs across the court towards the box and begins to climb the stand to get to us.

The cheering has a new lease of life, another loud wave erupting as his fans watch him make his way up to the player box, people clambering forwards to clap him on the back as he goes. Neil is ready to greet him with a tight embrace, his eyes red and watery as he holds Kieran close and tells him he earned this, he deserves this, he knew he had it in him. The rest of Kieran’s team join in on the hug, all of them crowding in with their arms around each other, Kieran somewhere at the centre of it all. As he breaks away, Brian is there with a brief hug and a clap on his back. Over the noise of the crowd, I can’t hear what he says, but I hope he’s finally telling Kieran he’s proud of him. But I’m not sure Kieran is even listening, because he’s craning his neck to look for someone else.

His eyes meet mine and he smiles, forging his way through the parting group surrounding him to get to me. As he wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me up, the crowd goes wild. It sounds as though they’re as invested in our story as we are.

‘You won Wimbledon!’ I laugh into his ear. ‘Kieran, you won Wimbledon!’

‘I forgot to tell you something,’ he says breathlessly, putting me down and gazing down at me. ‘I remembered just before I served for the final point that in the locker room, I forgot to tell you that I love you, too.’

My breath catches, the booming noise of Centre Court drowned out by the thudding of my heart, aching with love and hope and happiness. All those things you dream of.

As he leans down to kiss me, I forget the world is watching. It’s just me and him. Nothing else matters. And I smile against his mouth as I realise that everything that came before – all the mess, all the pain, all the chaos and joy – it was leading us to this one perfect moment.

It was leading us to each other.

EPILOGUE

ONE YEAR LATER

‘What do you think?’ Kieran asks, putting his hands on his hips.

Taking my sunglasses off, I move to stand beside him and look out at the view. Surrounded by mountains, the lake stretches out before us, the water sparkling in the sunshine. As the breeze whips my hair around my face, I take a deep breath in and nod.

‘Perfect,’ I declare, much to his satisfaction.

He shrugs his backpack off, unzips it and reaches in for the folded picnic blanket, shaking it out and laying it on the floor before kneeling down to get out the half-bottle of Champagne, two glasses, a box of strawberries, a carton of cream and two spoons.

I sit down next to him and slide my sunglasses back on, stretching my legs out and leaning back on my hands. The Lake District is vast but at the height of summer it can still be tricky to find a secluded spot for a picnic. Kieran took the task very seriously and, after asking around, he decided to take his chances on this particular place by Rydal Water. I couldn’t have hoped for better.

He pops the Champagne cork, pours me a glass and passes it over, before pouring his own. After clinking our glasses together, he sits back and joins me in admiring the view. I take a tiny sip and balance the glass on the grass by the edge of the blanket.

‘I can’t believe we’re here.’ Kieran sighs, lowering himself back on his elbows. ‘It’s been such a long week, I thought this break would never come.’

I reach over to place a hand on his leg. ‘You so deserve this break. The ball last night couldn’t have gone better. I’m so proud of you.’

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