Chapter 40
Forty
The camp’s dining hall was modest. Rough-hewn beams, simple tables, and a low ceiling. It was designed to be Spartan, lest you forget… This ain’t no holiday camp.
Cassie watched Delilah slowly picking at her food, the fork trembling slightly as she prodded at a piece of some type of vegetable.
Her skin was flushed, beads of sweat still drying along her hairline, and the exhaustion was written clearly in the slump of her shoulders.
This kind of physical training was a shock for someone unused to the rigours of sport.
But she hadn’t complained about how hard Cassie worked her.
Not once. That surprised Cassie. Delilah wasn’t averse to the odd moan.
Cassie could only assume the stoicism was her way of expressing gratitude for what Cassie was doing for her.
Which, in and of itself, Cassie was happy to do.
If it hadn’t been for the Petra element, she’d have been having something close to a good time today.
But knowing Petra lurked nearby was salt in a paper cut.
Delilah, apparently a mind reader, broke the quiet. ‘So,’ she began, casually, ‘what’s the deal with Petra? She was your trainer, right?’
Cassie’s fork paused mid-air. She wasn’t ready to spill any type of tea and certainly not within possible earshot of Petra herself. She forced herself to keep her tone even, neutral.
‘Yep,’ Cassie said and put the food in her mouth.
Delilah didn’t look satisfied. ‘I read a bit online,’ she said quietly, lowering her voice like she was confessing a secret, ‘about how she coached some of the top players. People say she’s one of the best.’
‘Look, Delilah,’ Cassie said, voice firmer now, ‘I’m here to help you with your tennis, not to dish with you about Petra.’
Delilah was chastisement itself. ‘Oh god. Sorry. You’re right. None of my beeswax.’
Cassie felt angry with herself. That had been a bit too hostile. She tried to soften her tone. ‘How’s the food?’
Delilah managed a small smile as she pushed her plate away. ‘You weren’t kidding about the food. Do they really have to boil everything?’
Cassie chuckled, wondering if she should apologise for her little outburst. Delilah had only tried to make conversation, and who could blame her for the topic choice? You’d have to be totally self-involved to miss the poisonous atmosphere between her and Petra. And Delilah wasn’t that.
Cassie wanted to be honest, but the truth was embarrassing. She didn’t want Delilah to see into her in that way. Delilah respected her as a coach. All that messy stuff would muddy those waters.
Pushing her plate aside, Cassie stood and stretched. ‘We should turn in. You need the rest.’
Delilah nodded and stood, and they left the dining hall together. And Cassie realised what came next. Shared quarters.