She serves an ace. Then another. The crowd on Court 1 give her all the credit she deserves.
The next point turns into a tussle, the ball flying all over the court. But she battles through and places a perfect cross-court winner.
Championship point.
And she's done it!
The girls' Wimbledon champion is a Brit!
All in all, I'm forced to conclude that British women's tennis is going to be all right without me.
We turn over to the ladies' final.
I can't help but wonder what it would be like to be in it. An ecstatic crowd screaming me on all the way to victory. I guess I'll never know if I leave the tour. Mind you, I'll probably never know if I stay.
I can imagine it though. Visualise it as I've been doing all my life. No one can ever take that away from me.
We watch in varying stages of tension, as Diana Ivanova goes on to become Wimbledon Champion. At least I can say I lost to the winner.
'It's always hard watching the ladies' final,' I muse later, cuddled up in bed with Sam. 'Another year when I'm not in it. By now, you'd think I'd be used to it.'
'Second thoughts?'
I laugh. 'I think I'm up to several hundredth thoughts by now. But like this guy I know said once, thinking doesn't necessarily get you anywhere.'
Sam shifts his arm around me. The brush of our bare arms against each other somehow manages to be comforting and exciting both at once.
'Maybe you should just toss a coin.'
'Forget it.' I turn to glare at him. 'That's how I lost my kitten. Although I suppose it doesn't matter now, since someone's reserved him.'
Sam treats me to a lingering kiss. 'I know. Me.'
'Oh.'
'He's yours if you want him. That is, if you decide you're staying home. If not, I'll keep him. I just didn't want us both to miss out.'
I smile. 'Maybe you should have him anyway. It'll give me an excuse to visit.'
Sam grins back. 'Who says you need one? I encourage you to drop in as much as you like. Especially if you have designs on my naked person.'
'I think it's safe to say I will have. In fact, I'd have them right now if it weren't for the match tomorrow.'
'I know. But, as much as I hate to admit it, I can't manage a repeat of this morning and survive tomorrow.'
I rub a hand over his chest. 'But then, sex doesn't have to be strenuous to be satisfying...'
Sometime later, I start to worry.
'What's wrong?'
'I don't know.' I curl up tighter against him. 'Maybe we shouldn't have done this. You're supposed to be resting and focusing and I'm interfering with both.'
Sam reaches up to stroke my face. 'That's for me to decide. Do you see me trying to get away?'
'No,' I whisper. 'But would that change if you lost tomorrow?'
'No.' Sam rolls me back over so I'm facing him. 'Look, on the face of it you're right. You shouldn't be here tonight. In fact, none of the last fortnight should have happened. Not during Wimbledon. But, start to finish, I haven't been focused like I have in previous years. From the moment I announced my retirement my head's been in the future as much as the present. And that would have been the case even if we'd never spoken. If anything you're a help, because you make me happy and when I'm happy I play better.'
He pushes my hair back. 'I'll play the best I can tomorrow and I hope to win. But if I don't, it won't be your fault. And I won't let anyone say otherwise. Not even you.'
I stroke his chest and give a tiny nod.
'Do you want to come and sit in my box?'
I smile. 'Be Official Girlfriend?'
'Well, I can tell everyone we're just good mates if you prefer. They won't believe me, but I can.'
'They'll call it gamesmanship. Having your opponent's ex in your box.'
Sam chuckles. 'Let them. I'm retiring, what do I care?'
I lie there, feeling a warm glow spread through my body. 'Do you have a coin handy?'
Sam rolls over and returns moments later with a fifty pence piece.
'Heads I take a break from the tour, tails I stay on. Flip it.'
Sam hesitates a moment, then tosses it neatly and slaps it onto the back of his hand.
'Ready?'
I feel my heart begin to thump. 'Ready.'
He lifts his hand. It's tails.
My heart sinks. Which tells me everything.
I take a deep breath. 'Well, I guess that's decided then.'
'I guess it is.'
I take the coin and toss it onto the nightstand. 'I'm leaving the tour,' I say, sure it's the right thing to do. I grin at him. 'I'm coming home.'
Chapter 16
Sunday. Week 2, Day 7 (Men's Final)
Sam and I start the day with a shower together. He seems perfectly relaxed and dabs foaming shower gel on my nose, nipples and belly button. I'm horribly tense, but try to smile at him. I'd rather play this match than watch it any day.
'So, this is it,' I say, as we towel each other off.
'The end of the road.'
'The final hurdle.'
'By sunset tonight I'll be officially retired.'
'And I'll be on indefinite leave. It's the end of an era.'
He embraces me, our still-damp bodies sticking together. 'When one door closes...'
'... another opens. But that's not much use if it leads to a dead end.'
'It'll be fine. We'll adjust.'
'I know. It's just...'
'I know.'
I turn in his embrace, wind my arms around his neck and kiss him. 'Go out there and crush him. Win the title again. It should be yours. You deserve it. Go get it.'
Sam rests his forehead against mine. 'Because if I don't, I'm going to disappoint all of Britain. And you.'
'Britain maybe. But it won't change a thing for me.'
'That's all I need to know.'
'I really, really wish I could get to see Joe's face when he spots you in Sam's box,' Adrienne sighs, as we catch up in the bar. 'He'll be furieux! '
'I don't know,' I say, toying with the straw in my lemonade. 'I'm wondering if it's such a good idea. Precisely because it will make Joe angry. That seems to be agreeing with him and I don't want to give him any advantage.'
Adrienne sips her Coke. 'And?'
She knows me too well.
I start picking my nails. 'I'm nervous. About us... well, coming out for want of a better phrase. I mean, it's been less than a week since I broke up with Joe. There's bound to be backlash. I don't want Sam to get grief and I don't much want any myself.'
'Well, since you're both retiring you could just tell them to jump off a cliff. Your friends know the truth and are happy for you. You're Sam's girlfriend now, so go cheer for him. Anyone who makes a snooty comment is just jealous because you've got the best-looking man on the tour.'
'I do, don't I? Not to mention the nicest. And the funniest. And the best lover. And...'
'All right, I get the message.' Adrienne flicks a peanut at me. 'You're newly in love and you think your man is perfect. Enjoy it, but don't tell the press too much.'
'I'll be the model of discretion,' I promise, hand on heart. 'I won't tell them anything about what he's like or what we've done. Not even the really, really great stuff like last night when he was spelling out the alphabet with his t...'
Adrienne leans over and clamps a hand over my mouth. I smile sheepishly when she removes it.
'Definitely don't tell them anything like that,' she advises. 'The rest of the world doesn't need to know. Just smile smugly and say, "No comment."'
'Will do.'
Adrienne pokes the ice cubes in her drink with her straw. 'Since you're going to be keeping secrets, I've got one more for you.' She smiles coyly. 'Henri and I have been talking a lot these past two weeks and...' she leans in close '... he's finally agreed that we can start trying for a baby.'
I get a stab of jealousy even as I congratulate her, but try to force it away. I guess I have to wait a while for that.
'It's strictly confidential,' she warns. 'Don't even tell Sam. It'll probably take months and it could even be years. We don't want the pressure of everyone knowing we're trying. So... state secret.'
'Absolutely. But I hope it happens quickly.'
'Oh mon chou, me too. I know I have to be patient, but I'm so ridiculously broody! I've already been out today and bought one of those ovulation testing kits - although I'll have to hide it from Henri since he says we should just relax and let it happen. But I got this book and it has an entire thirty-page chapter on how to conceive! I thought you just had lots of sex, but apparently it's way more complicated than that.'
I blink several times. 'How so?'
She shrugs. 'I don't know. Henri confiscated it. He said reading it would do more harm than good. I suppose he should know, being a doctor.'
'So what's his strategy?'
'Have lots of sex.'
I laugh. 'Is it? What a surprise.'
Adrienne laughs back. 'I'm not complaining! And if it doesn't happen in six months, maybe he'll agree to get a bit more scientific. I'm just impatient.'
'You? Never.'
'Okay, okay! You'll be the same when your turn comes.'
'Yeah, well.' I sip my drink. 'We'll have to see.'
Joe is chatting to a journalist in the lobby when we leave the bar. Adrienne heads upstairs to her room, but Joe beckons me over. I hesitantly approach.
'I've just been telling Mark how you're my secret weapon,' Joe informs me. 'You'll wear Pennington out so bad he won't be able to play.'
Christ, I can't believe him sometimes.
'What happened to "I don't want you fucking him"?' I whisper.
Joe shrugs. 'If it gives me the advantage, who cares?'
Four years dismissed just like that.
'So are you and Sam Pennington officially a couple?'
'Well, he's fucked her,' Joe answers. 'But then, who hasn't?'
I turn and stare at him. Even Mark looks taken aback.
'That's totally out of line, Joe,' I say, when I can speak. 'And you're one to talk. You've had more than your fair share of women, and many of them behind my back.'
'Well, I'd have had them in front of you if you'd asked.'
I turn to Mark. 'Excuse us, please.'
I grab Joe's ear - I'm sorely tempted to grab his balls instead - and pull him into a quiet corner.
'Ow! Fuck. What do you think you're doing?'
'What do I think I'm doing?' I demand, jabbing my finger into his chest. 'Were you listening to yourself just then? You can call me anything you like to your mates, but not the fecking press!'
Joe adopts his macho stance; arms folded, legs apart. I really want to knee him in the crotch.
'I can say anything I like,' he declares. 'I'm the good guy who got cheated on and you're the lying whore who betrayed me.'
'What you are is a self-styled Casanova who's had his ego bruised. No more, no less. You don't love me; you're not pining away. If you were I'd be sympathetic, but as it is I realise you're just a bastard. No one who knew what I do would be remotely surprised that I'd rather have Sam. So for Christ's sake shut your mouth.'
Joe leans against the wall. 'Or what?'
I meet his eyes. 'Or I might just start talking to the press myself. And everyone else on the tour.'
'And say what?'
'Well...' I say, tapping my finger against my lips, '... I could start by telling them all the reasons why Sam's twice the man you are - in all departments.'
Joe glowers, but shifts uncomfortably. 'You're lying.'
'Oh, I'm not. And even if I were, that doesn't mean I couldn't make people believe I was telling the truth. And after that... do you remember that little problem you had a while back that I was very understanding about?'
Joe grinds his teeth. 'I was fucking ill!' he hisses. 'And it was one time.'
'Three,' I correct sweetly. 'Or was it four? And, of course, we weren't together all that time. It might have been weeks, even months, that you were imp...'
'Don't say it!' Joe grabs my arm and pulls me to him until our faces are inches apart. 'You breathe one word about that to anyone - especially Pennington - and I swear I won't be responsible for my actions.'
'Oh, but you will,' I whisper fiercely. 'And on that note, don't forget that I have a rather lovely bruise on my cheek under all this makeup. If you don't keep your mouth shut, I may just decide to reveal it. And how I got it. And I won't say it was an accident either.'
Joe's jaw works furiously.
'Okay,' he says finally. 'I'll say nothing about you, if you say nothing about me. Deal?'
'Deal,' I reply and offer him my hand to shake. He takes it with a very bad grace. No change there then.
'Good luck in the match today,' I say, fairly sincerely. 'I'm looking forward to watching it.'
'Too bad you won't get to see it live.'
'Oh, but I will,' I reply. 'I'm going to be in Sam's box.'
I smile at his murderous expression and stroll off.
I have to keep myself occupied and so I call Maddy from Sam's room.
'How did your date go last night?'
'Oh... okay.'
'Not much in common again?'
'Oh no. Lots actually. He was really nice.'
'But?'
'But nothing. It was good. We're seeing each other again, I think.'
Maybe she's just coming down with something.
'How's your dad?'
I run a finger over the pattern on the bedcovers. 'Coping, but nothing more. Mum's said she's going to file for divorce.'
'He said.'
I scrunch up the covers in my fist. 'Why is she doing this? Can't she just... snap out of it? 28 years over just like that? And how can she not want to be married to Dad? He's great.'
'There's a little more to making a marriage work than that. And if she doesn't want to stay, there's not a lot that can be done. A marriage can only survive as long as both parties are committed to it.'
'I know. I just hate that it's my retirement that triggered all this.'
'You're definitely leaving, then?'
I nod to myself. 'I'm calling it a break initially. I need to see how I'll feel being off the tour before I make a final decision.'
'What does Sam think?'
'He suggested it actually. It would be hard being away from him - if things go well, that is. But we're agreed that I should only stay home if I'm happy to do it.'
'That sounds like a good attitude.'
'Yup.' I hug my knees. 'He's a good guy.'
I got knowing smiles from Sam's coach and manager when I showed up in his box. A Mexican wave of whispers started round the stadium. I wonder how many of them believe the published version of our story. They probably hate me and think I've no business being here.
Tough. I'm not budging.
The stadium surrounding Centre Court is full of nervous energy. It's flying, jumping, breeding. Union flags are all around on T-shirts and faces, along with banners and posters. There's not an empty seat anywhere. Even the Royal Family is represented.
Applause breaks out as Sam and Joe walk onto court to start the match. Fans clap as if somehow, someway, the force of their hands smacking together will control the outcome of the match. My palms sting and they haven't even played a point.
It's Joe's serve to start, but Sam wins the first point. The crowd roars like it's match point. For a split second, I feel almost sorry for Joe. If there are any Americans here, he'll struggle to hear them. This is a home crowd all the way, a tsunami of support for Sam.
After only a few points, it's clear there won't be an easy victory. There's a reason these men are numbers one and two in the world. The crowd calms a little as everyone realises they're in for the long haul. This will go beyond a nail-biter towards a finger-gnawer.
Joe seems more focused than I've ever seen him before. He craves the title. Or he can't bear Sam to have it. In his mind, Sam is the enemy. He's wielding his racq
uet like a sword. This is war.
Sam is equally focussed, but less aggressive. Clever tactics and impeccable placement are winning him points rather than brute force, though he has the power to match Joe in a brawl.
I think of what Sam said last night and wonder how badly he really wants this. As much as Joe?
It's Sam who breaks first and takes the first set on the strength of it. The crash of applause is worthy of the entire stadium collapsing. I'm part of it - hollering out nonsense. Adrenaline gushes through every vein in the place. Two sets away.
I can practically hear Joe grinding his teeth. Please, let him get angry enough to throw away the second set.
At first, I think that's happening. Joe fluffs several points, giving away a break in his first service game. Sam grabs it before he can recover. The atmosphere is buzzing; this could be a rock concert. As the set progresses, people keep glancing at the scoreboard and pinching themselves. Sam Pennington (GBR) 7-5 4-2 - winning.
After the change of ends, Joe comes back with a vengeance. He doesn't swagger, but strides purposefully. His head is up, jaw set, eyes flashing, racquet tightly gripped. No doubt hearts are fluttering just a little in the crowd. He's pulled himself together and is out for blood. Sam's expression hasn't changed a bit.
Joe holds his next two service games to love, while taking a battering ram to Sam's serve. The collective groan is like a roll of thunder as Joe breaks back to make it 6-6.
It's hard to judge how much applause to give. Some is required to acknowledge the excellent play, but too much and people will wonder whom I'm supporting. Which is already enough of a problem.
The tie-break is fast and furious. Sam finally manages a mini-break, but Joe is quick to break back. This spurs him to another and, to the crowd's horror, he takes the second set. There's a world of difference between 1-1 and 2-0, especially when the momentum is with your opponent.
The third set sees Joe in control and Sam struggling to regain it. Nails are down to the quick by the end, as Sam's wonderful play is found lacking. Joe breaks him twice and claims the third set.
After Wimbledon Page 21