Match Point

Chapter 31

31

An official is sitting on a bench to the left, staring at the lockers opposite him, his eyes glazed over with boredom. Kieran is seated on a bench at the other side of the room with his head in his hands. Hunched over like that, he looks defeated.

I start walking towards him with purpose. The official notices me and springs to his feet. ‘Hey!’ he says, bewildered. ‘You’re not allowed in here!’

Kieran’s head snaps up. I hear his sharp intake of breath.

‘I have to talk to you,’ I tell Kieran, as he jumps up.

‘You need to leave!’ the official orders, looking panicked.

‘You’re here,’ Kieran says, ignoring him and striding over to me.

We stop in front of each other, while the official hovers to the side, his eyes darting between us. ‘Excuse me, miss, but you really can’t be in here.’

‘This won’t take long, and I’m not here to coach or comment on the game, I promise,’ I insist, giving him a hopeful smile. ‘Thank you so much for understanding.’

‘What? No, I don’t—’

‘Flossie, I’m so sorry,’ Kieran cuts across him, his face crumpling. ‘I’m so sorry about everything. I convinced myself I was trying to protect you by ending it, but as soon as I walked out on that court today, I realised I’d lost what I’d been looking for this whole time. You were right about me. I pushed you away because I was scared. Scared to let someone else in again, scared to get hurt again, scared to hurt you. Because you’re so precious, Flossie. You’re everything, and I couldn’t hurt you.’

Blushing, the official clears his throat. ‘I really must protest—’

‘But last night I couldn’t sleep,’ Kieran continues brazenly, looking down and shaking his head. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing, but how could it be the right thing when nothing else seemed to matter? Winning Wimbledon has meant everything to me, and here I am in the final, and as I walked out on Centre Court today I realised—’ He pauses to take a deep breath and bring his eyes up to meet mine. ‘I realised that, without you here, winning doesn’t seem to mean that much at all.’

His eyes glistening, the official gulps, before quietly saying, ‘You’re not really allowed—’

‘I’m so sorry, Flossie,’ Kieran concludes, his throat bobbing, his brow creased. ‘I’m sorry for everything. I hope you’ll find it in you to forgive me, but I understand if you can’t, and I want to thank you for what you gave me the last few weeks. For the first time in a long time, I felt that someone really saw me. You reminded me to have faith in myself.’

The room falls into silence as I process his words. A warm, tingling sensation is flooding my body and I feel like I’m floating, like none of this can possibly be real. Everything around us seems to have faded into a dreamy haze and it’s just me and Kieran. He’s looking at me so intently, so earnestly, that it’s difficult to remember to breathe. I could happily lose myself in those eyes all day long, forever more.

I forget that we’re not alone until I hear the official emit a small whimper, moved by Kieran’s speech. ‘This shouldn’t… this shouldn’t be happening,’ he reminds us in a hushed tone, but turns to me expectantly, willing me to answer.

I take a beat, my heart thudding against my chest.

‘You forgot to ask me for a secret,’ I say.

Kieran looks puzzled.

‘When we were playing ping-pong, you told me a secret – the one about Lingfield Road – and then I was supposed to tell you one in return, but we never got to mine,’ I begin to explain. This wasn’t how I planned this to go at all, but my brain is insisting on taking us in this direction, so I’m going with it. ‘My secret, Kieran, is that I’m writing a graphic novel.’

He frowns. ‘I… I know that one.’

‘Yes, but you don’t know what it’s about. No one knows. I’ve been too scared to tell anyone because when you put your heart into something – your whole heart – it takes a lot of courage to show it to others. So, here goes.’ I clear my throat. ‘It’s a romance, about a girl at school who feels… lost. She doesn’t have much family or many friends, and she’s never felt like she’s fit in or understood what her purpose might be. She’s kind of muddling through hopelessly. She loses herself in books, because she doesn’t feel alone when she reads. But then a new boy starts at the school. He’s not particularly warm and friendly, he’s got that sexy brooding thing going on—’ I notice Kieran’s lips twitch here and the official nod with approval–. ‘He keeps himself to himself, doesn’t talk much or attempt to make friends. They get partnered together for a school project and they clash. But slowly, as they’re forced to let each other in, they begin to understand each other. She sees him play tennis and she can tell that’s where he comes alive, where he’s truly himself. He lost someone close, you see, and tennis… it saved him. And his motivation and kindness inspires her to write her own stories. Slowly, these two lost, hopeless outsiders both start to feel that they are found.’

The official sniffs.

Kieran’s eyes are gleaming. ‘And how does it end?’ he asks softly.

I shrug. ‘I haven’t worked out the ending yet. But I think their story will continue way past the end of the book.’

The corners of his mouth twitch. ‘There’s a sequel?’

‘I hope so.’

‘Me too.’

‘Kieran,’ I say, reaching forwards to take his hands in mine, our fingers entwining, ‘I’ve never really felt like I mattered to anyone, but you’ve changed that. So, really, I should be thanking you. Not the other way round.’

He bows his head to press his forehead against mine and closes his eyes.

‘I love you,’ I whisper. ‘Win or lose today, I’ll be waiting for you after.’

He exhales slowly. ‘Then it sounds like I’ve already won.’

‘Oh my,’ the official sighs, wiping his eyes. ‘I’m so happy!’

A knock on the door makes the three of us jump.

‘It’s time,’ a voice declares.

‘Coming!’ the official calls back in a shrill voice, before looking up at Kieran. ‘All right, Mr O’Sullivan, it’s time to go back on court. Please follow me.’

He turns and marches over to the door.

I place my hands on Kieran’s shoulders and offer what I hope to be an easy, nonchalant smile. ‘Shut out the noise, remember?’

‘I’m just going to play a bit of tennis,’ he says, his smile widening and the dimples turning my insides to mush.

‘And then come home for cake.’

‘Victoria sponge?’

‘Of course.’

‘And there will be a banner, right?’

‘I’m going to put my all into it. It will be the best one you’ve ever seen.’

The official clears his throat pointedly and, taking one last deep breath with me, Kieran goes to pick up his tennis bag and sling it over his shoulder. I beam at him as he strides to the door. He looks taller somehow.

He quickly turns back to me. ‘You’ll be there watching, right?’

‘Are you kidding?’ I grin, putting my hands on my hips. ‘I wouldn’t miss it.’

‘Good,’ he says, whipping his cap out a top zip in his bag and putting it on. ‘I’ll look out for you.’

With a nod to the official, the door is opened and he walks out, on his way back to play in the final of the Wimbledon Championship.

The official hisses, ‘You were never here,’ over his shoulder at me and winks, before hurrying out after him.

This is it. I’d better go find a seat.

*

3–6, 2–6, 6–1, 6–4

Standing at six all in the final set, it has gone to a ten-point tie-break.

The tie-break score is currently 8–8.

I feel like I can’t breathe. My stomach is knotted, my heart in my throat, my body so tense that my fingers are trembling. I have to sit on my hands.

Kieran is readying himself to return as Courtney requests another ball from the ball boy before he serves.

This is unbelievable. He is unbelievable. The way Kieran’s fought back has been nothing short of miraculous and the crowd are absolutely loving it. I’ve never been anywhere before with such an electric atmosphere. There are thousands of people in here but at the start of a point, it’s so silent, you could hear a pin drop. One tiny cough echoes through the whole stadium, especially with the roof on. Then as the rally begins, the volume of the chorus of gasps begins to increase until it erupts with noise when the point is won. And Courtney has a solid support base, but Kieran is stealing hearts with every stroke that he makes. It started out so one-sided, they must have thought it was nearly over, but he’s given them the sort of match that the Wimbledon final deserves: it’s nail-biting, thrilling, dramatic, entertaining, epic. And they love him for it.

Everyone likes an underdog.

Bloody hell, I’ve never been so sweaty in my life.

I don’t know how Neil is sitting next to me so calm and collected, his mouth a straight thin line the entire time. I feel like my heart is thudding so hard, Kieran might be able to see it pounding through my skin every time he looks up.

His glances to me have not gone unnoticed.

My face has been beamed up onto the big screen a couple of times, and the first time, when I’d just entered the box to take my place next to Neil, there was a ripple of intrigued whispers around the crowd. I flushed furiously. But when he won the third set and a shot of me appeared on the big screen again, I barely noticed. I didn’t care one jot. I was too busy cheering him on. Brian acknowledged me with a curt nod when I came to sit in the box with Kieran’s team, but he’s sitting too far away to speak to me.

That’s probably for the best. I don’t really have anything to say to him.

Kieran’s fight back to level with Courtney has been astonishing, and Courtney looks like he can’t believe that he’s here battling for the Championship with a tie-break. Frustration is creeping into Courtney’s game as he faces Kieran’s relentless aggression. He looked dumbfounded at the start of the fourth set, and by the end, seemed consigned to the fact that this was going to lead to a tie-break: he double-faulted twice in his last service game. In between the third and fourth set, Neil passed me his phone to give me a glimpse of Iris’s blog as she keeps her followers updated with constant posts:

O’Sullivan is finally playing like he’s just remembered he really wants to win. He believes now, and so do we.

As much as I dislike Courtney, I have to admit that the standard of tennis is unbelievably high on both sides. This really could go either way.

Okay, Courtney has selected a ball for his serve and he’s stepping up to the line.

‘Silence, please,’ the umpire requests.

Centre Court abides.

It’s a powerful serve from Courtney down the middle, but Kieran’s reflexes are on fire and he’s there with a backhand, reacting fast to return the serve to Courtney’s backhand. Courtney sends a beautiful shot cross-court, before rushing towards the net. Kieran gets there to send it back hard and flat, to try to pass him down the line but Courtney reacts with an incredible lunging volley. Rushing forwards, Kieran just reaches it, lobbing it high over his head to the back of the court. The crowd gasps in unison as Courtney races back. The ball bounces a foot in front of the baseline. Courtney closes the gap sprinting back and manages to twist, swiping a messy forehand lofting over the net. Kieran has time. He gently slices the ball, taking the pace off and it drops just over the net, rolling to a standstill.

There is a moment’s silence of disbelief at the skill displayed, before the stadium breaks into astonished applause, cheering and whistling. At the back of the court, Courtney throws his racket in fury.

Oh. My. God.

Kieran just broke his serve. He’s taken the lead. He’s winning.

Championship Point.

Kieran is serving for Championship Point!

You wouldn’t think it from the look of him. While the audience is up on their feet, congratulating him on his last point, he’s busy checking the tennis balls in his hand, selecting two and storing one in his pocket with an inscrutable expression. He makes his way to the baseline, and the umpire asks the crowd to quieten down, issuing Courtney with a warning.

‘Fucking hell,’ I hear Neil mutter under his breath beside me.

Swiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, Kieran glances up in my direction. I give just the hint of a smile. A smile that tells him that it doesn’t matter what comes next. Either way, I’ll be here. A smile that says, always.

He responds with a fleeting frown. It’s gone as soon as it arrived, but I caught a glimpse of it and I wonder what thought has just flitted across his mind. Whatever it was, he sets it aside to focus on the next point. A rather important one.

As he bounces the ball in front of him, the silence is deafening.

I hold my breath, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

He tosses the ball up into the air. It’s a powerful serve across Courtney’s body, forcing Courtney to respond with a backhand that soars across the court. Kieran backhands it down the line and chalk flies as it brushes the inside of the white paint. But Courtney is there with a mighty forehand back across the court. Kieran’s wrong-footed and manages to just reach and return a floating ball down the centre of the court. Courtney races in towards it and hits another superb forehand into the back right corner of the court and follows his shot up to the net. Kieran instantly reacts, sprinting to the right and lunging to reach the ball. He hits an exquisite forehand straight down the line. Courtney is rooted to the spot, helpless as he watches the ball soar past him out of reach.

It all happens in slow motion.

There’s an explosion of noise as Centre Court erupts in a roar of celebration. I spring up from my seat, my heart leaping. Kieran collapses to his knees on the ground, burying his face in his hands, his body trembling with sobs of joy and disbelief. The stadium seems to shake beneath the thousands of people jumping to their feet. Even with the roof on, the applause must echo for miles.

‘He’s done it! He’s done it!’ Neil is yelling next to me, hugging the assistant coach and hopping up and down on the spot. He spins round to pull me into him, holding me close and whispering, ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you’, repeatedly in my ear.

When we break the hug, both of our cheeks are wet with tears of joy.

Serenaded by thunderous applause, Kieran rises to his feet and goes to shake hands with Courtney, who is forcing a congratulatory smile through a sour expression. After reaching up to shake hands with the umpire, Kieran turns to wave at his adoring audience, overwhelmed by emotion. He tips his head back and closes his eyes to soak in this glorious moment. The Irish in the stands are giddy with excitement, their flags vigorously waving, their chants of his name reverberating through the stadium and piercing my heart. It is as if they all know him personally and couldn’t be prouder. When he opens his eyes, they are glistening and he sets them straight at me. I lift my hands, stinging from the amount of clapping, high above my head and grin at him, tears streaming freely down my face.

He jogs across the court towards the box and begins to climb the stand to get to us.

The cheering has a new lease of life, another loud wave erupting as his fans watch him make his way up to the player box, people clambering forwards to clap him on the back as he goes. Neil is ready to greet him with a tight embrace, his eyes red and watery as he holds Kieran close and tells him he earned this, he deserves this, he knew he had it in him. The rest of Kieran’s team join in on the hug, all of them crowding in with their arms around each other, Kieran somewhere at the centre of it all. As he breaks away, Brian is there with a brief hug and a clap on his back. Over the noise of the crowd, I can’t hear what he says, but I hope he’s finally telling Kieran he’s proud of him. But I’m not sure Kieran is even listening, because he’s craning his neck to look for someone else.

His eyes meet mine and he smiles, forging his way through the parting group surrounding him to get to me. As he wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me up, the crowd goes wild. It sounds as though they’re as invested in our story as we are.

‘You won Wimbledon!’ I laugh into his ear. ‘Kieran, you won Wimbledon!’

‘I forgot to tell you something,’ he says breathlessly, putting me down and gazing down at me. ‘I remembered just before I served for the final point that in the locker room, I forgot to tell you that I love you, too.’

My breath catches, the booming noise of Centre Court drowned out by the thudding of my heart, aching with love and hope and happiness. All those things you dream of.

As he leans down to kiss me, I forget the world is watching. It’s just me and him. Nothing else matters. And I smile against his mouth as I realise that everything that came before – all the mess, all the pain, all the chaos and joy – it was leading us to this one perfect moment.

It was leading us to each other.