Page 88 of Match Point

‘Champagne?’ Neil suggests, glancing up from his phone at me when the waiter comes to ask for our order. ‘We should celebrate Kieran’s win.’

‘Sounds great,’ I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.

‘Two glasses of Champagne, please,’ Neil instructs to the waiter who hurries off. He puts his phone away and leans back, clasping his hands on his lap and looking out at the view. ‘It’s a great spot, this.’

‘Yeah. It is.’

‘Although, personally, I’m a big fan of the view from Henman Hill – or is it Murray Mound these days?’

‘Both, I think.’

‘M-hm.’

The waiter returns with two flutes of Champagne, placing them down in front of us and checking that we don’t need anything else. Once he’s left, Neil raises his glass.

‘To Kieran.’

I pick up mine and clink it against his, taking a sip. It’s light, crisp and delicious, but it burns down my throat and the bubbles only serve to heighten the swirl of nerves in my stomach. From the outside, this looks like a pleasant drink and a gesture of kindness from Neil, but the atmosphere is all wrong. It’s cold and tense. I don’t feel like a guest being welcomed into the fold. I feel like a burden that’s being given a taste of the high life before I’m kicked to the kerb.

‘Kieran played well today,’ Neil remarks, setting down his glass.

‘He did.’

‘It’s nice to come here and raise a glass to him.’

‘Sure.’ I hesitate. ‘But won’t he be expecting you in the locker room?’

‘He has the rest of the team, and like I said, I wanted to have a chat with you.’

Cool and collected, he gives me a pursed-lip smile. I take a large gulp of my drink. I get the feeling I’m going to need all the courage I can get.

‘What did you want to talk about?’ I ask.

He inhales deeply through his nose. ‘Kieran is through to the quarter-finals of Wimbledon, a goal he hasn’t reached in quite a while. He is proving to himself, and everyone else, that he has what it takes. You see, Flora, I’ve always known that. I’ve been his coach for a long time and, when others thought I should have moved on, I stuck by him.’

‘I imagine he appreciates that.’

‘I hope so. I saw that something special in Kieran when he was an up-and-coming player. Everyone talked about Aidan, but for me, it was Kieran who could go the distance. That’s why, even though it put my friendship with his father on the line, I offered to step in as Kieran’s coach when their working relationship broke down.’

‘Kieran mentioned you used to be friends with Brian.’

‘Brian is… complicated. Ultimately, I respect him. He believed in his boys. His methods may have been tough, but he worked hard to get Kieran to where he is. Our friendship remains fractured, but he knows what I know: Kieran has the talent and ability to win Wimbledon. And many Grand Slams to come. The thing is, he’s had personal issues that have distracted him from those goals.’

I nod sadly, lowering my eyes.

‘Losing Aidan was a heart-wrenching tragedy that would destroy anyone,’ Neil says, his brow furrowing and his voice sounding more human than it has been. The rest of this conversation has felt planned and drafted, but that he said with feeling. He takes a beat, shaking his head. ‘And, of course, then came Rachel.’

I press my lips together.

‘I wasn’t his coach at the time, but as a family friend, I witnessed it all,’ he continues, rubbing his chin with his hand. ‘Kieran has been on a journey. After losing Aidan, he threw everything he had into tennis. You couldn’t drag him off the practice courts. His hands blistered from playing so much. He didn’t know what else to do, how to cope with his pain.’

‘Tennis saved him,’ I murmur.

He nods, his mouth curling into a smile. ‘Exactly. He reached the finals of the Australian Open and became a superstar overnight. That was when it all went wrong.’

‘Chris Courtney.’

‘Not just Chris. Sure, he’s a tough opponent, but with the fame came the pressure, and Kieran already wanted to win for Aidan.’ He exhales loudly. ‘Can you imagine having that on your shoulders? He was just a kid and he felt like he was playing in honour of his brother who had just died. Then you add the pressure of the whole of Ireland pinning their hopes on him, throw in the expectation of his father, his picture on every front page in the world – it was too much and he wasn’t ready. And then that bloody interview about beating Aidan at Wimbledon. It broke him.’

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