Page 31 of Wife After Wife
“Calm down, you two,” said Harry.
He looked over at Ana and smiled. “Hello again, Ana. May I present my overexuberant friend Charles Lisle. Charles, this is Ana—” He stopped. If he said Ana’s surname...
“Lyebon,” finished Ana. She moved to hold out a hand, but Charles and Megan were too busy laughing and hugging each other.
“Ana, nice to meet you,” said Charles finally. But his eyes left Megan for only a few seconds. “Nutmeg, how dare you grow up! Look at you!”
“Whereas you haven’t changed at all! But I have a serious bone to pick with you, you naughty man.”
“Which is?”
“You’re married! And when I was seven, you promised to marry me!”
“I did? I did! I remember. But you deserted me. You went to the dark side—France.”
“That’s where these two met,” said Harry.
Charles finally turned his attention to Ana. “Ah, I see. Wait... what did you say your surname was?”
“Lyebon.”
“You mean...” Charles looked at Harry. There was an awkward pause.
“Oh, maybe you know Ana’s sister,” said Megan. “She was Merry Lyebon before she got married.”
“That’s it. I knew the name was familiar,” said Charles. He glanced at Harry, who made a show of looking across to the tennis courts.
“Ah, looks like they’re just coming off. Shall we? After you, ladies.” Harry downed the rest of his drink, then he and Charles set off after the girls.
Charles touched Harry’s arm and slowed his walk, until Ana and Megan were far enough ahead. “Does Ana know about Merry and you?” he said. “Honestly, Harry. You might have warned me.”
“Sorry. But no. I’m sure Merry hasn’t said anything to Ana. Megan doesn’t know, either, of course.”
“Right, glad we got that one cleared up. Who’s playing with who?”
“How about Megan and me, you and Ana?”
“Right you are.”
They were evenly matched. Charles was more powerful than Harry, but Harry was quicker. Megan was speedy and keen, zipping around the court to pick up even the trickiest shots, while Ana was a formidable force at the net, firing volleys with blistering accuracy.
Charles and Ana won the first set 6–4. Their shadows grew longer as the game went on, falling across the mown stripes of the court. Harry hadn’t enjoyed a game this much in years. He was playing well on the baseline, sending long shots fast and low across the net, where Ana would more often than not intercept them.
After a while, Megan and Charles faded into the background, and there was only Ana, standing at the net, filling Harry’s vision. Every shot became about conquering her. He’d try to skim the ball past her, or lob it over her head, but she’d leap off those coltish legs and volley it back again.
“Hey, you two,” called Charles finally. “Any chance of a shot here?”
The second set went to a tiebreak, and Harry was serving. He didn’t hold back. Ana somehow returned the shot, but it was a weak forehand played to Harry’s powerful backhand. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ana run into the net, and he aimed the shot to pass her on the left.
He mistimed it, and the ball hit her squarely on the head.
As she gasped and dropped to the ground, Charles rushed over.
Harry vaulted the net, pushing him aside. “Jesus, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
She was lying on her back, her knees bent, staring up at the sky, touching the spot where the ball had hit her. “I think I’m OK.”
“Let me see.” Harry gently took her hand and moved it aside, then brushed her hair back, examining the reddened spot on her temple. He stroked his fingers slowly across it, then his eyes met hers, and he couldn’t look away. It was like being under a spell; he was bewitched.
