Chapter 16
Sixteen
Cassie checked her watch. Delilah was late.
Delilah had texted to ask for an extra day for her ankle—it’s still a bit tender—and Cassie felt that was probably bollocks.
She was almost certain Delilah hadn’t touched the homework she’d set either.
She’d been thrilled to be injured. Cassie was pretty sure she’d get another text in a minute, asking for a further day.
She checked her phone in case it had already come through.
‘Sorry, sorry, traffic!’ Delilah said, dashing onto the court, a little breathless.’
Cassie looked up, surprised to see Delilah, bright-eyed and all the rest of it.
‘That’s OK,’ Cassie said.
Delilah smiled and dropped her bag. ‘Bet you thought I wasn’t coming.’
Cassie pushed down her smile. She tilted her head. ‘Ankle?’
‘Good enough.’ She did a small hop to demonstrate. ‘Didn’t push it. Did the homework, though.’
‘Did you?’ Cassie asked, unable to hide her surprise.
‘You sound sceptical.’
‘Honesty, I was assuming you’d watch the first five minutes of one match, get bored, and end up on Netflix.’
Delilah snorted. ‘Thanks, Coach.’
Cassie crossed her arms. ‘So? What did you watch?’
Delilah pulled her phone to check her notes.
‘Serena vs Halep, 2019 Wimbledon, as you requested. Then Federer vs Nadal, 2008 final. And I watched Swiatek at the French Open last year. She’s unreal. You can actually see the point where her opponent realises it’s over.’
Cassie blinked.
Delilah went on. ‘I tried to watch some older stuff too, like Navratilova, but it’s hard to find good footage—it’s all about twelve pixels—you can’t really get the detail.
Same problem with Tamsin Rowe, of course, but I watched those anyway.
’ Delilah paused for breath. ‘And then I watched some volleying drills, found them on YouTube—’
‘You watched doubles volleying drills?’
Delilah shrugged. ‘Why not? I didn’t have anything else to do.’
Cassie looked at her. Really looked. There was no smugness in Delilah’s face. No “see, I’m not useless after all” defensiveness. Just curiosity, quiet and earnest. She hadn’t just watched; she’d studied.
‘That’s a good start,’ she said flatly.
Delilah beamed. ‘So I pass?’
‘You don’t fail.’
‘High praise,’ Delilah muttered, but she was still smiling.
Cassie grabbed a basket of balls. ‘Let’s see if it helped. You’re playing me today, not the machine.’
Delilah’s face dropped. ‘Already?’
‘You’re the one who said you’re fine. Prove it.’
Delilah walked to the baseline, still grumbling, but Cassie could see that she did want to prove it. Something had shifted. She held the racket differently now. Firmer. More like she meant it.
This had been the intent. Not to teach Delilah tennis. But to get her interested. It was the best way to do this. Get her in. But she hadn’t expected that level of commitment.
Cassie turned away and busied herself with the balls. No need to let her see the astonishment she was feeling.