Page 24 of Match Point

Still grasping the knickers, I stand frozen in a panic, praying that they walk straight past the living room and down to the bedroom. Please don’t come in here. Please, please, please, please—

‘Oh!’

Three men, including Neil, have strolled into the living room and are now staring at me with their mouths open. Coming in behind them, Kieran follows their line of sight and starts. His eyes widen as he suppresses a smile. The heat rises up my neck and through my cheeks. I stare back at them like a deer caught in headlights.

I remember the knickers in my hand and drop them. By some cruel twist of fate or maybe because God hates me, they land on top of the coffee table rather than behind it.

The four men glance down at the splayed-out knickers and then back up at me.

‘Hi,’ I squeak, giving them an awkward wave. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise… I didn’t know people would be arriving this early.’

Neil presses his lips together, turning to Kieran, who looks infuriatingly smug.

‘Are you ready?’ Neil asks in a strained voice.

‘Yeah, let me grab my bag,’ he says, disappearing into the hallway, followed by Neil.

‘Where should I leave the equipment, Kieran?’ one of the other men calls after him.

‘There in the living room is fine,’ comes the reply.

He nods and the two men set to work retrieving a load of fitness equipment from the hallway that they start piling up in the middle of the living room floor: resistance bands, mats, foam rollers, a giant gym ball, long agility belts, a huge stand of dumbbells and finally, a large purple bean bag. Since they’re blocking the door, I stand there in my towel, helplessly watching this all unfold.

‘Bean bags sure are good for fitness. Trying to get out of one is a calorie-burning challenge, am I right?’ I joke with a forced laugh, attempting to break the ice.

The two men share a confused look. They don’t answer. My face is fully on fire now.

‘All done?’ Neil asks, coming back with Kieran in tow.

‘All done,’ one of them reports.

‘Let’s go then,’ he says, before turning back to address Kieran who is lingering in the doorway, inspecting all the gym equipment. ‘By the way, there are a few reporters back and lurking outside, but the car is waiting for you on the road.’

His expression souring, Kieran nods sharply and pulls on his cap.

‘Oh,’ one of the other men says, turning to look at me, ‘I don’t know if you’ll be in today, but someone will be dropping by this morning to set up the PlayStation.’

I blink at him.

He gives me a thumbs up and then follows the others out the room. The front door swings open and there’s a flurry of noise from the reporters when they notice Kieran, before the door shuts and I’m left standing alone in my towel in peace. Trying to convince myself that that wasn’t as embarrassing as it felt, I glance at my phone to check the time.

It’s only seven thirty, but it feels like I’ve been up for hours.

I exhale, closing my eyes. This is going to be a long four weeks.

*

‘There’s a sniper on the ridge, get behind cover!’ Kieran yells into his headset. He’s nestled in his bean bag on the floor in front of the PlayStation now connected to my TV, gripping his console and pressing the buttons at an alarming rate. ‘Okay, let’s push the team in this building. I’ll go through the front door and you cover the back. Get a grenade through the window! GO! GO! GO! Ah I’m down! He’s one shot, he’s one shot! Ah, fuck’s sake.’

As he groans in disappointment, I tap Kieran on the shoulder. He tilts his head up to look at me and reluctantly lowers his headset to sit round his neck.

‘Would you mind keeping it down?’ I say, my voice strained. ‘You’re not an actual general in an actual battle, okay? Call of Duty is a game. You don’t need to bellow at your fellow troops. No one is going to really die, so let’s tone it down a notch, yeah?’

He looks back to the TV, pulling his headphones back up over his ears. ‘The sound effects are loud. I need to communicate with my team.’

Attempting a few deep, calming breaths, I tap him on the shoulder again, a little harder this time. He turns his head slowly towards me, his eyes narrowing. He pushes one of his headphones very slightly back behind his ear.

‘Maybe you could turn the sound effects down, so you don’t have to shout over them,’ I suggest, like a teacher trying her best to be patient with an ungrateful little shit of a child. ‘I’m trying to read my book.’

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