15. Nigel
NIGEL
Later that afternoon, Nigel was working on his MacBook at the desk in the kitchen when Nancy walked in.
‘I’ve borrowed your charger, Mother dearest. Hope that’s ok?’
‘You can have the spare. It’s in the top drawer.’
‘I’ll get you a replacement.’
‘Whenever. No rush. Tea?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘How did it go with Helen?’
He was surprised it had taken her two hours to get around to asking.
‘She’s fine, thanks. We had a long chat.
’ He stopped short of saying what a relief it was to be able to talk to her, and how he’d loved the way they’d slipped back into the easy friendship they had years ago.
It was as if that kiss had never happened.
Nancy was unloading the dishwasher now. ‘That’s good. And is her hand okay?’
‘It’s healing nicely.’
She turned round and gave him that knowing look that always preceded a particularly probing question. ‘Will you be seeing her again?’
‘Possibly. We talked about playing tennis.’
‘It’s a pity our tennis court is out of action.’
‘I wanted to talk to you about that. I had a look at it on my walk back from the village.’
His mother had been right. It was out of sight of the house, so no one had bothered with it for years.
Weeds were pushing up through the tarmac, there was hardly anything left of the net, and the surrounding fence was leaning at an angle at one end and mostly smothered in ivy.
He suspected that if he cut that off, the whole thing would collapse.
‘You saw what I meant.’
‘Yeah. How would you feel if I got a tennis court specialist to come and look at it? I could get an estimate of what it would cost to get it in a usable state again?’
‘But once you’re back in the States, I doubt any of us will use it.’
‘That assumes I’m going back.’
She nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well, it wouldn’t hurt to find out how much it would cost.’