Match Point

Chapter 2

2

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. I’m supposed to be getting away from London so I can finally feel in control again, start feeling like I’m doing something with my life rather than wasting away in a flat on my own with no real job and no purpose in a city where I have no friends other than Iris. After a terrible start to the year, this was supposed to be the turning point. I needed this escape. I was going to come back to the city feeling refreshed and excited for whatever lay ahead. With my graphic novel underway, I was going to apply for jobs at art galleries and publishers, jobs that I’d feel passionate about. I had a plan.

And now it’s gone to shit.

I let myself have a moment or two to wallow, moving my half-filled case and lying face down across the bed to scream into my duvet, before I tell myself to get my arse up and start looking for somewhere else to go for the next few weeks. There has to be somewhere else I can go in the Lake District – there’s always last-minute deals, surely I’ll be able to snag one.

Setting my laptop up at the kitchen table, I start looking up other companies that rent houses in Keswick, but everything I find is completely booked up for the summer. I widen my search, but have no luck. No cottages, no apartments, no suitable hotel rooms available across the next four weeks. Pushing my laptop back, I groan, folding forwards and resting my forehead on the table. This is a disaster. A complete and utter disaster.

Choking back tears, I know the one person who I need to talk to right now is Iris.

It’s strange to think that our friendship is still relatively new. When Jonah left and I could barely leave my bed, let alone the house, it was Iris who came over uninvited and sat with me while I cried, who listened to me talk over and over about my heartbreak and stroked my hair and said everything was going to be okay. She ordered me expensive takeaways that I could only pick at, too upset to eat, but she never made me feel bad about how much money and food I must have wasted. She kept coming over whenever she could to check in on me. At my absolute lowest, she made me feel less alone.

That meant everything.

I’ve always tried to pretend like I don’t mind not having a family I can depend on. When I was at school and I’d go round to friends’ houses and see how much their mums and dads did for them, I’d tell myself that it was good to be responsible. I was proud to be self-sufficient and cook for myself because my mum wasn’t there when I got home and I had no idea where she was or who she was with. It was a good thing to learn how to take care of myself. I would be the one who had the advantage in life when we left school and were sent off into the big wide world. That’s what I told myself.

I almost believed it.

And while I’d had a lot of anger at my father for leaving me with Mum when he knew about her growing addiction issues, I’d learnt to handle it, thanks to therapy. I’d learnt to communicate my anger and I’d learnt to forgive him. Things are fine between us, we just don’t have anything in common and he’s emotionally distant from me. On the rare occasions we talk, it’s stilted and dry, neither of us ever saying anything important. But I was grateful to him for offering me financial help when I really needed it. That was his way of showing he cared, and I accepted that.

This year has felt like a test. I know you shouldn’t depend on someone else as much as I did with Jonah, but when you don’t have family, you want to create one and that’s what I thought we were doing. He was everything to me. I desperately wanted to be everything to him, so I accepted his finely tuned criticisms, and resolved to be what he needed, no matter the cost to myself. His ultimate rejection was earth-shattering. I’ve never felt more worthless and undeserving. That’s why Iris would never fully understand how much she helped just by being there. Just by checking in and letting me know that someone cared, that was the glimmer of light I needed to pull me back from misery to see sense and regain a determination to put one foot in front of the other and carry on muddling through.

Slowly, I’ve spent the last six months finding myself again. I’ve looked after myself, bought nice clothes and products, had my hair and my nails done when I wanted. I started listening to the feel-good pop songs that Jonah always sneered at, and those songs made me feel so happy and uplifted that I would physically shudder at the thought of being with someone who could be so miserable, pompous and try-hard that they would loudly dismiss and demean such joyful music. Life is too short to be so pretentious.

I’ve proudly got to the stage where I want to try to create my comic book. Jonah made it clear that I didn’t have what it takes, but he’s been wrong about so many things that I was hoping he might be wrong about me. I can’t give up on this now, not when I’ve come so far. I need to make this work and even though it looks like everything is falling to pieces, I don’t want to give up quite yet.

I just need someone else to tell me that too.

Iris answers after the first ring.

‘Hey, Flora,’ she says brightly, music and people chatting in the background. ‘Are you on your way already?’

‘It’s all gone wrong.’

‘What? Hang on. I can’t really hear you, one second.’ I wait as she moves and the noise in the background dims. ‘Sorry, I’ve headed out to the pub for lunch and it’s busy in that beer garden. What did you say?’

‘The roof collapsed.’

‘WHAT? Oh my God, are you okay?!’

‘Not this one. The Keswick one.’

‘The which one?’

‘The cottage in Keswick that I rented,’ I explain through sniffles. ‘The roof collapsed and they can’t put me up anywhere else. I tried finding somewhere new to book, but there’s nowhere available.’

‘Oh no! Oh, Flora, I’m so sorry. You were so excited. That’s awful! What are you going to do?’

‘I don’t know, but I have to leave my flat. Now I have nowhere to go.’

‘Don’t panic, we’ll sort something. Surely you can speak to the agency and they can let whoever has rented your flat know that there’s been a problem and they can’t stay there anymore,’ she suggests.

I hesitate. I wish I could tell her that it might be difficult to tell a famous tennis player that he hasn’t got anywhere to stay while competing in Wimbledon anymore, but I promised Kieran I wouldn’t tell anyone, and as much as I trust Iris, I stick to my word. There’s no point in telling her about him anyway – it’s not like she’ll get the chance to meet him. I’ll tell her after the tournament.

‘I don’t know whether that’s an option,’ I say, keeping it vague. Propping my elbow up on the table, I rest my chin in my hand. ‘This is such a bad start.’

‘It’s not brilliant luck admittedly,’ she concurs, ‘BUT this does not mean your break is cancelled. Flora, there are so many places in England you can escape to for a few weeks to work on your book.’

‘But you know that I wanted it to be the Lake District.’

‘I know, but there are other places just as beautiful,’ she says gently. ‘You can go to the Lake District another time – like when you write the sequel to your bestseller debut!’

‘I wish,’ I mutter wistfully.

‘Flora, you cannot let a collapsed roof ruin your plans. This is a tiny hiccup. I was worried about you going all that way on your own anyway, so maybe this is Fate’s way of telling you I’m right and you should listen to what I say.’

‘Uh-huh.’ I smile into the phone. ‘Go on then, what should I do?’

‘You will get your cute butt out the door, go get yourself a delicious crisp glass of rosé in the sunshine somewhere, and enjoy scrolling through the last-minute deals for countryside retreats, preferably ones that aren’t hours away from London. That way I can nip and see you if you’ll let me.’

I sigh. ‘A glass of rosé in the sun does sound tempting.’

‘Off you go and call me when you’ve booked somewhere new. And remember, you don’t need to stay in just one place the entire time so don’t feel down if somewhere you like is only available for a small chunk of time – book it and find somewhere else for the next chunk. If need be, you can come crash on my parents’ sofa in between.’

I find myself nodding along to her instructions. ‘Okay. You’re right. A new plan.’

‘An exciting new plan,’ she emphasises. ‘Everything happens for a reason.’

‘I am going to go book somewhere else,’ I declare, rising to my feet.

‘Yes, you are. Call me when it’s done!’

‘Will do. Iris, you’re the best.’

‘Well aware of it.’

We hang up and with a fresh wave of determination, I grab a bag for my laptop, pick up my sunglasses and keys, and march down the hallway and out of the house. Stepping out into the sunshine, I take a deep breath of fresh air and slide my sunglasses on.

‘Time for a new plan,’ I announce to no one.

Setting off in the direction of Wimbledon Village, I keep a lookout for an empty table outside one of the restaurants and bars – Iris’s explicit instructions were to drink a glass of rosé in the sunshine – but everywhere is heaving with people. When the weather is this nice, all of London is outside. Teetering dangerously close to being in a bad mood again at yet ANOTHER stumbling block in my plans, I do my best to keep my cool and head to The Dog and Fox pub in the hope of finding a seat somewhere in its outside space – I am only one tiny person, maybe I can tag on to someone else’s table.

Grabbing a glass of wine at the bar, I head out to the beer garden. As expected, most of the tables are full, but there is one towards the back that looks empty, until I get closer and see that there is someone seated at the end of the bench. They’re on their own, scrolling through their phone with a pint of lager in front of them. I assume they’re waiting for someone else, but hopefully they won’t mind me perching on the end.

‘Excuse me,’ I begin with my sweetest smile, ‘could I sit—’

‘No,’ he grunts before I’ve even finished my sentence.

I’ve realised who it is. His cap is down over his face; that’s why I didn’t recognise him straight away. Kieran fucking O’Sullivan.