Page 91 of Match Point

I’m not going anywhere.

I send Kieran a quick message to tell him I’ll wait before putting my phone away in my shoulder bag, lurking near the media pavilion as the grounds start to empty. The match on Court Two at the start of the day went on for a good few hours, which meant there was a backlog and Kieran’s started much later than planned. Play on the outside courts has pretty much wrapped up and now we’re into the second week, there’s less going on as more players are knocked out. A tinge of sadness creeps in as I consider how fast these two weeks fly and the end of it approaches.

Suddenly, Neil appears in front of me.

‘Kieran would like to see you.’

‘Now?’ I blink at him. ‘He’s already ready to go?’

‘No, he’s refusing to get ready until he’s spoken to you,’ he says in a strained voice. ‘I don’t know why, but I’d like us all to go home and rest, so if you wouldn’t mind.’

He holds out a lanyard for me to put on and gestures for me to follow him.

I hurry to keep up as he marches towards a door guarded by one of the Wimbledon security team. He tells him, ‘She’s with me,’ and I hold up the pass hanging round my neck, before darting in after him. We’ve entered an eerily silent carpeted corridor with pale pine doors leading off it that has the feeling of an exclusive health club. I try to smooth the creases of my dress out with my palm, suddenly feeling too informal in this white spaghetti-strap summer dress and tan gladiator sandals.

‘Is this the players’ area? It’s so quiet,’ I remark, my voice echoing off the walls.

‘It’s the end of the day,’ Neil replies wearily, turning a corner and going down a flight of stairs. ‘Most people have left by now.’

I run my hand down the shiny banister as I descend after him. ‘It’s so smart and clean.’

‘This is the All England Lawn Tennis Club.’

‘Congratulations on Kieran’s win, by the way,’ I say politely as we set off down another corridor. I don’t know why I’m trying to break the ice. We didn’t exactly leave things on a high note last time we spoke and he’s made his feelings on my presence quite clear.

‘Thank you,’ he says, at least sounding genuinely sincere. ‘We have a lot to work on.’

‘Sure, but you can enjoy the win for now, right?’

He stops at a door and turns to face me with a hard glare. ‘The semi-finals are a different ball game. The pressure is mounting, the competition is fierce, and the whole world is watching. Kieran is very much the underdog. He needs to focus on the tennis—’ he looks me up and down ‘—no distractions.’

Fed up with his derision, I hold his stare. ‘Neil, can I ask you a question?’

He narrows his eyes suspiciously at me. ‘Yes?’

‘Would you talk to me this way if I were a famous actress or supermodel?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘It’s a genuine question: would you? Because I don’t think you would. I doubt that you spoke to Henrietta Keane like this. Even if you disapproved of him having a relationship right now, I think if you thought I was someone important, you might be a little bit more mannered. Maybe even kind.’ I pause as he pulls his eyebrows together. ‘I get that you’re stressed and I also appreciate that you’re trying to protect Kieran, but I’m human. Maybe not an important one in your eyes, but still.’

His jaw tenses and I wait for him to reply. Eventually, he nods to the door we’re standing next to. ‘He’s in there,’ he says, before he turns and walks off down the corridor.

Watching him go, I exhale, adrenaline pumping through my veins from the confrontation. I don’t like being awkward, but I meant what I said. He treats me like a child who’s playing outside the rules. He’s welcome to treat Kieran that way, but he has no right to do so with me. I’m not the one who employs him to boss me around.

Shaking him and his sour attitude out of my head, I tentatively push open the door, aware that the plaque nailed into it is telling me that this is one of the men’s locker rooms. It’s a spacious room with walls lined with large wooden lockers, and benches dotted around the area. Kieran is sitting on one of them towards the back and he glances up when I step in. Apart from his shoes and socks, he’s still wearing all his tennis kit.

He breaks into a smile. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey,’ I say quietly, glancing around as I make my way across the room to him. ‘Am I allowed to be in here?’

‘No, but there’s no one around so it’s fine. I checked.’

‘Congratulations, Kieran,’ I gush, stopping in front of him as he stands to his feet. ‘You’re through to the semi-finals. You so deserve it.’

He places his hands on my hips and peers down at me. ‘What’s wrong?’

I give him a strange look, resting my palms of my hands on his chest. ‘What? Nothing! I’m so happy for you! You won!’

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