Chapter 23
23
A fter a long, lazy lunch featuring the promised charcuterie board, three different salads, an open rustic heirloom tomato tart and a long, lazy digestive period, it was time for tennis.
Cassie was still in her yoga gear, not that she had tennis whites. She needn’t have worried on that score, though, because apart from Heather, who wanted them all to know her tennis dress was from Lululemon, everyone else was in shorts and T-shirts as they assembled by the tennis court.
‘Shall we play in our couples then?’ Bill suggested. He pointed his racket at Russell, who looked the part in white Fred Perry and navy shorts but was sitting on the wooden bench in front of the court. ‘We let you skip the run but you are playing tennis, aren’t you?’
‘He’s not. Still got that pulled muscle from our London Marathon training,’ Marc said smoothly. ‘Just as well. I live in fear of his backhand.’
‘Still?’ Azad frowned. ‘Are you sure it’s only a pulled muscle? I know a great guy who specialises in sports medicine, if you want his details.’
‘Um, that would be great,’ Russell said without any of his usual bluster, because keeping the truth from your friends for the greater good was all very well, but in reality, it felt kind of awful.
‘You can umpire,’ Marc continued in his high-handed way, which usually made Cassie seethe. ‘I can double up and partner Cassie, then Lucy.’
That was very kind of him. He kept being very kind and it kept being … very disconcerting.
But Cassie hadn’t brought a sports bra with her, plus she hadn’t been to the sort of school where you played tennis in summer, so she seized the opportunity: ‘I’m going to sit this out too. I have stuff to sort out quite soon. The massage guy,’ she added vaguely.
‘You can be ball girl,’ Heather decided, as she tapped the heel of her trainer with a racket.
‘Bet you’d love to get your hands on my balls, eh, Casserella?’ Davy said with a snigger.
‘In your dreams,’ Cassie said as she sat down next to Russell. ‘Also, I think that counts as sexual harassment.’
‘It does,’ Anita agreed. ‘I’m happy to represent you pro bono, Cass. So, who’s playing first?’
Anita and Azad, and Heather and Davy, who was still muttering about how you couldn’t say anything any more because people were so woke, were drawn to play the first set.
‘I hope this isn’t going to take forever,’ Cassie said to Russell. ‘The massage guy has just messaged to say he’s going to be early.’
‘I reckon about half an hour a set.’ Russell took a coin out of his pocket. ‘Heads to serve. Heads or ta—’
‘HEADS!’ Davy shouted before Russell could even finish his sentence. Then he wanted best out of three when the coin landed tail side up.
It set the mood for the game. Though it was less a game and more of a slaughter. Anita and Azad were clearly the better players, effortlessly breaking Heather and Davy’s serve and winning the first three games without summoning up a single bead of sweat between them.
The more points they won, the more appallingly Davy behaved. He was all over the court, making it impossible for Heather to take a shot, then he’d scream at her when they both missed the ball.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he shouted after he’d skidded for the ball, even though it was heading in Heather’s direction. She’d looked ready to smash it back over the net, but couldn’t because Davy was in the way. ‘A child could have hit that. For fuck’s sake!’
Heather wasn’t the sort of woman who was going to take that kind of abuse lightly. ‘Not my fault,’ she snapped back after Davy couldn’t get his serve over the net and blamed her for distracting him. ‘God knows you’ve had plenty of practice shooting blanks.’
‘That’s a bit close to the bone,’ Cassie murmured. Even though Davy argued every point they lost, the set was over in twenty minutes with Anita and Azad winning six games to one, and only because they’d let Heather and Davy win a game to be sporting. It was very unlike Anita. She was the reason why Monopoly wasn’t on the itinerary.
‘Fuck this!’ Davy flung his racket down the length of the garden and stormed off, while Heather rolled her eyes.
‘I’ve never wanted him more,’ she said in a deadpan fashion. But she wiped away a tear with an impatient hand in a way that tugged on Cassie’s heartstrings – even if she hadn’t forgiven Heather for the previous night.
‘The massage guy is here!’ Cassie stood up. ‘You can have the first session, if you want?’
Heather nodded tersely. ‘He’s going to have his work cut out for him.’
Poor Rob, the masseur. He was young, fair-haired and very smiley. His smile started to slip as Heather interrogated him about his technique, which was mostly Swedish, but he could go harder if needed.
‘Much harder,’ Heather insisted as she toed off her trainers. Cassie was glad to leave them to it.
She stopped off in the kitchen to grab some cold drinks, then went back to the court, where Iris and Bill were facing off against Lucy and Marc.
‘This is a bit more like it,’ Russell said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. ‘Both couples evenly matched, both fiercely competitive. Why are all our friends so competitive?’
‘Beats me.’ Cassie sat cross-legged on the bench. ‘Life’s too short to get so invested in whacking a ball over a net.’ Then she thought about what she’d just said and winced. ‘I’m so sorry, Russell.’
‘Nothing to apologise for. It is short. Far too short.’ Russell patted Cassie on the back. ‘I would give anything for a bit more time.’
‘But good time,’ Cassie said softly. ‘Not managing to snatch a couple of extra months but feeling so wretched, you wish you hadn’t bothered.’
‘That’s the rub of it. It doesn’t benefit anyone.’ Russell looked and sounded so lost that Cassie felt frightened to touch him, in case he shattered. But when she put her arm around him, rested her head on his shoulder, he felt reassuringly solid, as if he wasn’t going anywhere. ‘Thank you for understanding. I know this must be hard for you.’
‘There’s nothing to thank me for,’ Cassie insisted past the lump in her throat. ‘I get it. You know I do.’
‘Russell, was that in or out?’ Iris shouted because even if Russell was planning to bow out early, life was still going on. The sun was still shining, the birds were still chirping in the beech trees that bordered the near side of the garden, and a ball was still being hit over a net and landing too close to the baseline to call.
‘In,’ Russell said with great confidence. ‘Definitely in.’
‘Are you sure?’ Bill asked.
Russell nodded. ‘Quite sure.’ He turned to Cassie with a ghost of a grin. ‘Haven’t got a clue but obviously I’m going to find in favour of my wife.’
‘Obviously,’ Cassie said, as she opened a can of Diet Coke.
She settled back to watch the rest of the set. It was four games all. Lucy played tennis twice a week in spring and summer and still got a regular game in during the colder months. She could handle all her shots with ease and Marc let her. Unlike Davy, he was effusive in his praise.
‘Oh! Great shot,’ he said, clapping his palm against his racket when Lucy just nudged the ball over the net after a fast-paced rally. And when Bill served an ace, Marc let out an appreciative whistle.
In much the same way that she’d got a secret thrill from watching him dick about with the coffee machine, Cassie felt the same frisson as she watched Marc play a game he clearly enjoyed and was good at. Also, the way his biceps bulged as he clutched his racket and the way his T-shirt rode up when he was serving were very pleasing to watch.
‘Cass? You’ve got something on your face,’ Russell pointed out.
She managed to stop looking at Marc, who was in the crouch position, waiting for Bill to serve, his thigh muscles taut and … ‘What?’ She touched her right cheek. ‘Where?’
Russell delicately dabbed the corner of his mouth. ‘A little bit of drool.’
‘Oh, piss off, no I haven’t,’ she huffed half in jest, half in mortification. If they were meant to be convincing their friends that they were genuinely attracted to each other, then Cassie was clearly doing a bang-up job.
‘Marc is a really good bloke,’ Russell said softly. ‘One of the best. I’m glad you’ve finally realised that.’
‘Russ, we’re just getting to know each other …’
‘Technically, you’ve known each other for sixteen years.’ Russell shrank back from Cassie’s exasperated look because no one liked a pedant. ‘Yes, he was a bit of a prick back then, all part of the agent provocateur image, but he definitely improves on acquaintance.’
It was a fair point. But Marc had really only improved on acquaintance in the last twenty-four hours. Before then, he’d given every indication that he disliked Cassie as much as she disliked him. Or thought she did …
‘Fantastic shot, my love!’ Russell shouted as Lucy did one of those tricky sleights of hand which made it look as if the ball she’d just hit would be out, but actually it was in. Cassie was relieved that this disconcerting conversation was over.
After a nail-biting last game, Marc and Lucy won seven games to six and after a short break, with Iris being dispatched to have her massage, Anita and Azad and Lucy and Marc squared up to play the set that would determine the tournament winners.
Cassie made a valiant effort not to sit in a heart-eyed daze as she admired how firm Marc’s arse was in his shorts. Instead she admired his serve, and his grin every time he and Lucy won a point, which was often.
Anita and Azad crumbled under the combined firing power of Lucy and Marc. The set was over in just under thirty minutes.
Because the four of them were adults, they shook hands and hugged each other at the net, then walked off court to be met by Cassie.
‘I have trophies for the winners,’ she said, handing Lucy and Marc the little silver-plated trophies she’d had engraved.
‘She thinks of everything,’ Lucy said, giving Cassie a sweaty hug. ‘You always go above and beyond.’
‘Don’t I get a hug too?’ Marc asked and as their four friends looked on approvingly, Cassie allowed herself to be drawn into the hard heat of his body. She wondered briefly how it would feel to be skin to skin when he was breathing hard and had a faint sheen of sweat, which might have been repellent on another man, but on Marc it seemed very arousing.
Marc tightened his hold on her waist and when he kissed the top of her head so she could smell that fresh sweat mixed with the subtle richness of his aftershave, she felt …
‘Cass, you’re drooling again,’ Russell pointed out, which she absolutely wasn’t but she pulled herself free of Marc, who was now smirking. Of course he was. They all were.
‘I hate each and every one of you,’ Cassie said, which just delighted them even further. The only solution was to cling to the authority that the itinerary gave her. ‘Iris should be finishing up in the next five minutes so Anita, it’s time for your massage. Lucy, you’re booked in after Anita. You get a full hour, though quite frankly, neither of you deserve a massage.’
‘Well, I’m ready for a disco nap,’ Russell said, touching the side of his head in a farewell salute.
Lucy and Anita were already heading to the house and Azad was back on the court – he and Marc planned to play a couple more sets after Marc had finished standing a little too close to Cassie for comfort.
‘What are you planning to do for the rest of the afternoon?’ he asked. He hadn’t seemed to move but his leg was brushing hers and his hand was burning hot at the small of her back, fingertips just making contact with the curve of her arse.
‘The karaoke system should be here soon,’ Cassie said thickly as his hand slipped down not even a centimetre but still it made her catch her breath.
‘I can sort that out,’ Marc said easily, at odds with the intense look he was giving her.
Cassie tried to wrest back some control. ‘That would be great because I really want a bath.’
They were facing the tennis court where Azad was knocking balls over the net and couldn’t see Marc’s hand dipping ever so slightly under the waistband of her leggings so his fingertips grazed her bare skin.
‘So soft,’ he murmured almost to himself. ‘Is that an invitation, Cass?’
Their lie, their big lie, which Marc had been so furious about, was now charged with sexual tension.
She moved away from his hand. ‘Not an invitation,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t have a bath at home so I’d really like one now. I’ll be done in about an hour.’
Marc nodded, his face now aloof so it was impossible to know what he was thinking. But then, did Cassie ever really know what he was thinking?
‘An hour then,’ he confirmed.
‘Then we should probably have a proper talk about how we’re going to do this. You know, set some boundaries,’ Cassie said in a low voice, although the thought filled her with a leaden dread.
‘Can’t wait,’ Marc replied, his attention on a stray ball that had settled at the bottom of the grass verge just outside the tennis court.
Like he didn’t have a care in the world.