Match Point

Chapter 30

30

‘Iris, if I come now to Wimbledon, will you come meet me and help me get in?’ I ask her urgently, jumping up and rushing to the front door to find my trainers.

She gasps in surprise. ‘Really? You’re coming? Yeah, let me see what I can do. I’ll meet you at Gate One.’

‘Okay, I’ll be there in—’

My phone makes a low battery sound before promptly dying.

Shit.

WHY didn’t I grab my charger last night before I stormed out of the flat?! I can’t order an Uber now, so I rush out the house, shut the door behind me and race onto the road. It’s empty and residential, with no cars trundling down it, let alone any cabs. It’s also starting to drizzle and I don’t have a jacket or umbrella.

Fuck.

Sprinting as fast as I can to the main road, I turn round the corner and stop to catch my breath, desperately looking both ways and praying for that beautiful yellow light of a free black cab. When one comes into view, I squeal with joy and wave him down with two hands to make sure he doesn’t miss me.

‘Wimbledon please!’ I cry, hurling myself into the back and out of the rain that’s getting a little heavier. ‘The tournament, I mean.’

‘You’re a little late, aren’t you?’ he remarks, setting off.

‘You have no idea,’ I breathe, slumping back and biting my lip. ‘As quick as possible if you can.’

‘Sure, it’s only an eight-minute drive from here, won’t take long,’ he assures me, glancing in his rear-view mirror. He squints at me and as we come to the traffic lights, he swivels round to peer at me through the glass. ‘Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere? Are you famous?’

‘Uh… no.’

‘Huh. You look familiar.’ He shrugs, turning back to watch the road as the lights go green. ‘I feel like I’ve seen your face somewhere.’

I sigh, deciding to own up. You can always trust London cabbies in my experience.

‘I’ve been dating Kieran O’Sullivan,’ I admit.

‘That’s it! He punched that other fella over you.’

‘Not exactly, but I was there.’

‘And you had that kiss in the rain.’ He beams at me in the rear-view mirror. ‘Great picture, that.’ His face falls. ‘So how come you’re not at the final watching him play, then?’

‘We… we had an argument.’

‘Oh. Sorry to hear that.’ He quirks a brow. ‘You were being stubborn were you, after your fight? Saying you wouldn’t go watch him today?’

I look down at my hands in my lap. ‘He said he didn’t want me there and I believed him. But I think we were both wrong.’

He chuckles. ‘Have I been there. Sometimes the missus speaks in riddles – she says one thing, but really she wants me to do the opposite. I’ve learnt over the years that the words don’t really mean much; it’s the actions that count, isn’t it.’

I nod.

‘So you racing to be there for him now, that will count for a lot,’ he adds.

‘I hope so,’ I say, my heart hammering. ‘I’m going to put up a fight anyway.’

‘That’s the spirit.’ He smiles warmly. ‘Let’s hope he starts thinking that way on the court, too. He’s letting the other guy walk all over him. Maybe seeing you will help give him that oomph he needs. By the looks of this weather, they’re going to need to close the roof soon. The rain is light but it will make conditions slippery.’

‘You don’t think it’s going to stop and clear up?’

‘It’s forecast to continue for the rest of the afternoon. Typical! We’ve had quite good weather for Wimbledon this year, but it had to rain on finals day.’

Something suddenly occurs to me that makes me sit bolt upright, my stomach flipping. ‘I don’t have any money!’

He pulls his eyebrows together. ‘What’s that, love?’

‘My phone died, which has my cards on it, and because of my argument with Kieran, I stormed out of our flat without my wallet! I don’t have any cash to pay you! When we get there, if you just wait, I’ll ask my friend who’s meeting me if she has her cards on her.’

‘You know what, it’s on the house,’ he says, turning the running meter off.

‘What? No! I owe you for the journey!’

‘You’ve made my day. I get to tell everyone I was the cabbie who raced you here to declare your love to Kieran O’Sullivan…’ He pauses. ‘That is what you’re planning on doing, right?’

A warmth swells in my belly and my heart feels so full it rises into my throat, making it hard to breathe. ‘Yes,’ I breathe, unable to stop a smile. ‘That’s the plan.’

‘And I get to be a part of that story. It’s like a bloody movie!’ He chuckles. ‘It’s an honour to be your driver today, miss.’

‘Thank you so much,’ I gush, pressing my hand to my chest.

As we reach the main gate and he indicates to pull over, he winds down the window when I jump out and shut the door, thanking him profusely.

‘Go get ’im!’ he calls out as I impatiently wait for passing cars before I can cross the road, my hair becoming damp and scraggly from the rain.

There’s no queue – there’s no play on outdoor courts today and anyone who wanted to watch the final on Murray Mound is already in, huddled under umbrellas – and so I race towards the gate, spotting Iris already there, chatting to one of the security women, holding her umbrella over both of them.

‘There she is!’ Iris cries, waving me over.

‘Iris, I don’t have any money!’ I announce breathlessly as I reach them.

‘Peculiar thing to shout out on arrival,’ she comments, sharing a look with the other woman. ‘Flora, this is Selma. Selma, this is my friend who I told you about, who apparently doesn’t have any money and likes to tell people about it.’

‘I don’t have my cards or cash on me, so I can’t buy a ground pass,’ I explain.

‘Yeah, I couldn’t get you a press pass either at the last minute without accreditation,’ Iris says with a sly smile, ‘but I’ve had a word with Selma here and I think we’re good.’

‘I trust Iris,’ Selma says, her eyes sparkling at me as she lets out a wistful sigh. ‘Plus, I’m a big romance fan. I’m not getting in the way of your Wimbledon fairy tale.’ She leans forwards and lowers her voice. ‘Courtney is a prat. I’m Team Kieran all the way.’

‘You know, Chris Courtney once asked Selma if she knew who he was when, as part of her job, she had to search his tennis bag on entry,’ Iris informs me.

‘He yelled right in my face and there was nothing interesting in his bag anyway,’ she adds, grumbling. She checks the time on her watch. ‘Right, I’m just going to look this way for a moment and if anyone runs in while my back is turned, hey ho.’

Winking at me, she turns away and Iris grabs my wrist to pull me through the gate.

‘Thank you!’ I call out over my shoulder as we start racing to Centre Court, Iris attempting to hold the umbrella high enough to cover both of us.

‘Where are we going?’ she asks, and I realise I don’t know the answer to her question so I slow down to a complete stop. ‘Flora, what’s going on? What are you going to do? Why did you change your mind about coming? And what is it with the bubbles?’

‘Iris, I’ll explain everything later, but I need to find a way to talk to Kieran.’

She emits a squeal of joy, grinning at me. ‘Oh my God, the bubbles were for you, weren’t they? I knew it! I knew you had to see it.’

‘Iris, focus! Where in the stands can I go to get his attention while he’s playing? The press box? I could try to get into the box where his team sits if—’

‘Flora, Flora,’ she interrupts, waving her hand in my face to get me to stop rambling, ‘he’s not on the court.’

‘Oh my God.’ I clap my hand over my mouth. ‘Is it over? Did he lose?’

‘No!’ She gestures up to the sky. ‘Play is paused while they close the Centre Court roof. The rain is due to last all afternoon. Even the weather is on your side.’

I inhale sharply, hope bubbling up my throat like lemonade. ‘Where do the players go while the roof closes?’

She shrugs. ‘I don’t know. The locker room, maybe. I know Courtney has moved into the fancy dressing room, but I’m not sure where—’

I don’t hear the end of her sentence because I’ve turned on my heel, already running as fast as I can to the outdoor entrance to the men’s locker room, the one Neil led me to just a few days before, although that feels like a lifetime ago. I finally reach the door with Iris in tow, flustered and out of breath. The security man standing beside it looks me up and down.

‘Hey!’ I wheeze, clutching my side. I really need to do more cardio. ‘Remember me?’

He studies me. ‘Maybe.’

‘I was here with Neil Damon, Kieran O’Sullivan’s coach. He gave me a pass and you let us in?’ I say hurriedly, desperate to jog his memory.

‘Oh yeah.’ He nods, breaking into a smile. ‘I remember you!’

‘Great!’ Iris exclaims, grabbing my arm. ‘So can she go in?’

He chuckles. ‘Absolutely not. This is the players’ area.’

‘Yes, but you know me. I’m not a randomer, I’m with Kieran O’Sullivan.’

‘Uh-huh, it’s nice to see you again. Do you have a pass for this area?’ he asks, amused.

‘No, but—’

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in,’ he states with an apologetic smile.

‘Come on, she needs to speak to Kieran!’ Iris pleads. ‘He sent her a secret message through the TV and now she’s here to tell him how she feels!’

He quirks his brow. ‘That’s nice. I still can’t let you in.’

‘Please! Look, the cab driver gave me a free ride and the security guard at the gate let me in without a pass, just so I could talk to him!’ I plead, biting my lip. ‘Where’s your compassion? Your sense of romance? This is important!’

He narrows his eyes at me. ‘Did you just say one of our security team let you in without a pass? Because they really shouldn’t have done that.’

I blink at him. ‘No. No! Of course not. Don’t be silly. I have a ground pass somewhere, I must have lost it. I—’

Suddenly a movement behind the glass of the corridor catches my eye and I see Neil on his phone, looking flushed and impatient as he tries to make a call.

‘Neil!’ I shout, waving my arms madly at him, because even though he’s the last person who would let me in, he’s my only hope. ‘NEIL!’

He glances up and his face lights up as though I’m the answer to his prayers. Jumping towards the door, he swings it open and ushers me in quickly. ‘She’s with me,’ he tells the security man, who instantly stands aside to let me in.

‘Told you,’ I hear Iris mutter, before she cries out after me, ‘Good luck, Flora!’

Once I’m safely through the doors, to my utter surprise, Neil pulls me in for a hug. I’m too shocked to hug him back, but he doesn’t seem to mind. When he steps back, he keeps his hands on my arms, and breaks into a relieved smile.

‘Am I glad to see you,’ he breathes, before he starts marching down the corridor at speed, encouraging me to keep up with him. ‘I was trying to call you but it’s going to voicemail.’

‘My phone died,’ I explain, hurrying round the corner after him.

‘Listen, I owe you an apology,’ he states, glancing over his shoulder at me so I can see the sincerity of his expression. ‘When I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong. Flora, I was wrong about you and Kieran. You weren’t getting in his way, you were getting him here. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay. I get you were trying to protect him.’

‘Yeah, thanks to me, it’s been one fuck-up after the other,’ he says through gritted teeth as we descend the stairs. ‘But I still think he can win today. Now you’re here, I’m almost certain of it.’

He stops at the locker room and gives me a pointed look. ‘You don’t have long, maybe ten minutes. The roof is closed. They’re waiting now for the air conditioning to acclimatise in there.’ He nods at the door next to him. ‘I’m not allowed in there; technically neither are you. But I’m hoping that even if you’re sent out right away, at least he’ll know you’re here. That will be something.’

‘Okay.’ I nod, raking my fingers through my damp, knotted hair. ‘Thanks, Neil.’

‘Good luck,’ he whispers, before he carefully and quietly opens the door just enough for me to slip through.