Grand Slam: A Winning Ace Novel (Book 3)

by Tracie Delaney

  The kitchen had clearly been cleaned down for the day, ready for the next day’s trade. Tally began to wonder whether the owner had left without locking up.

  “Hello,” she called out. “Is anyone here?”

  Greeted with nothing but silence, she ventured farther inside. At the far end was another door. That one was ajar, allowing a light breeze to waft through Tally’s hair. Tentatively, she pushed it open. It led onto a small courtyard. Sitting at a table, silently sobbing, was a girl who couldn’t have been more than twenty.

  “Are you okay?” Tally asked.

  The girl’s head snapped up. “Who are you? How did you get in?”

  She spoke English with barely an accent, although her appearance was Greek.

  Tally pointed behind her. “The front door is unlocked, and the lights are on. I’m lost, and you seem to be the only place open.”

  “Shit.” The girl brushed past Tally and walked into the shop. She grabbed a set of keys from behind the small counter and waved her hand at the open door. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Wait. I’m looking for directions back to the harbour. I’m staying at a hotel close to there.”

  The girl sighed. “Turn left at the end of the street. Walk about fifty yards, then turn right. Follow that road all the way, and it will take you to where you need to go.”

  “Thanks.” Tally began to leave, and then she stopped. “You were crying.”

  She huffed. “So?”

  “Can I help?”

  “I don’t know.” The girl rested her hands low on her hips and gave Tally an exasperated look. “Do you have twenty thousand euro?”

  Tally smiled. “I do, actually.”

  Surprise flitted across the girl’s face before she painted her aloof mask back on. “I’d be careful who you tell that to. People round here are poor. It’s been tough since the recession.”

  “What’s your name?” Tally said.

  The girl paused. “Nerissa,” she eventually replied.

  “I’m Tally. Today is my first day on the island.”

  “Good for you. Now, can you go? I need to lock up.”

  Something about this girl called to Tally. Maybe it was Nerissa’s obvious despair, which she hid behind a stiff, proud posture, or maybe Tally was more attuned to heartache since her own experiences.

  “I’d like to help, if I can.”

  Nerissa let out an exasperated sigh. She marched across to the door and locked it. “Sit down,” she said, directing Tally to a table. “I’ll make a drink.”

  Tally took a seat by the window at a table covered in a blue checked cloth. Nerissa came across with two hot chocolates. She sank into the seat opposite Tally and rubbed her eyes.

  “You speak really good English. I mean, everyone I’ve met so far does, but I can barely detect your accent.”

  Nerissa reached for a packet of sugar and tipped the granules into her drink. “My grandmother is English. She moved to Greece after meeting my grandfather. She schooled me from a very young age.”

  “She did a good job,” Tally said, feeling the need to set the girl at ease.

  Nerissa shrugged.

  “Why do you need twenty thousand euro?” Tally said.

  Nerissa smoothed her skirt, a threadbare, tatty affair. “I don’t even know you.”

  “Sometimes, it’s easier to talk to a stranger.”

  Nerissa laughed, but the sound was hollow. “This place,” she said, waving her hand around. “I run a soup kitchen with my grandmother for the refugees. We were doing okay, but then she was taken ill, and she can’t help out anymore. And now, more come. I can’t keep up with it.” She angrily dashed away her tears, almost as though she was embarrassed to show any weakness. “I need more space, a bigger kitchen. More help. But it’s hopeless.”

  “Don’t say that.” Tally squeezed Nerissa’s hand and half expected the girl to shake her off, but she seemed too exhausted to bother.

  As they sat in silence, an idea began to form in Tally’s mind. It was insane. Totally and utterly insane. But after what she’d been through, a bit of crazy would do her good.

  “Look, I’m going to be sticking around here for a few months. Why don’t I pay for the extension? I’ll help out here, too, if you like.”

  Nerissa’s mouth dropped open, and she blinked several times, a look of astonishment mingled with hope on her face. “Why would you do that?”

  Tally shrugged. “Let’s just say I’ve had my priorities reorganised recently. Made me want to take a few more chances.”

  And helping those much worse off than me might put my own problems into perspective.

  Nerissa paused, and then she thrust her hand out. “You’re mad, but I’m desperate. Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  6

  “I’ll be over next weekend,” Rachael said as Cash zipped up his suitcase.

  Cash ignored her. He was having trouble holding his emotions in check, and the last thing he needed was to lose it in front of his mother.

  He glanced around his bedroom, the one he’d shared with Natalia. So many memories. So much love. He bit his lip. He had to find the person he’d been before the accident. Would find the person he’d been. Dr Bauer had explained how it all worked. Brain injuries like his changed things forever, but the doctor had given him hope. He’d told him about cases where miracles had happened.

  Cash was going to be one of those fucking miracles.

  He startled when his mother laid a hand on his arm. “You’re doing the right thing.”

  He scrubbed a tired hand over his face. “Yeah.”

  “You are, Cash. I know you’re scared, but—”

  “For Christ’s sake, stop fussing.”

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  He raked a hand through his hair, taking deep breaths as the doctor had told him to whenever he felt the horrible churning in his stomach—the one he was feeling at the moment. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

  “It’s okay,” Rachael said with a tentative smile.

  He wanted to scream, No, it fucking isn’t, but he said nothing as he heaved his suitcase off the bed and started down the stairs.

  Isaac was already waiting outside with the car. He rushed forward and tugged the bag from Cash’s clenched fingers. The rear door of the car was open, and Cash slipped inside, followed by his mother. He’d prefer she didn’t come to see him off, but he’d hurt her too much already, so he bit his tongue and let her have her way.

  The trip to the airport only took twenty minutes, but the atmosphere in the car was thick and heavy, making the journey seem twice as long. Rachael made two attempts to speak, both of which Cash shot down with a glare. She spent the rest of the time fiddling with the strap on her handbag and staring out of the window.

  He was a shit. A useless good-for-nothing shit of a son, lover, friend. Good job he was taking off for the next few months. They all needed a break from him. It was a shame he couldn’t get a break from himself.

  The car pulled to a stop, and Cash quickly climbed out. And then he groaned. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Rupe gave him a goofy grin, the one that used to make him laugh. Now it got on his nerves. “To see you off.”

  “I told you not to bother.”

  “And I ignored you.”

  Cash stepped up close, getting right in Rupe’s face. “Well, take a good look. Because you won’t be seeing my ugly fucking mug for a while.”

  Rupe’s brow creased as his eyebrows shot in the air. “Is that right?”

  “Yep. I don’t want you coming to see me in the loony bin. Or you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at his mother.

  “Cash…” she began.

  Rupe held up his hand, stopping her. “Two things.” He stood up straight to give himself a little more height but was still an inch or so short of being able to stare Cash squarely in the eye. “One, it’s not a fucking loony bin, and if I hear you describe it like that once more, so help
me, I’m going to kick you in the balls.” His cheeks coloured with frustration and annoyance. He reached behind Cash, clasped Rachael’s hand, and gently pulled her forward. “And two, I am your best friend, and this is your mother. We will be coming to see you whether you fucking like it or not.”

  A sharp retort was on the tip of Cash’s tongue until he caught sight of his mother’s face. Her watery gaze signalled she was close to tears, and she kept pulling on the strap of that damned handbag. Cash turned his back and, for the second time that day, took a few deep breaths. He hated being like this.

  “Fine,” he said, facing them once more. “But don’t expect me to be dancing on the fucking tables.”

  Rupe gave a half laugh, half snort. “Thank Christ for that.”

  Cash smiled then, his dark mood momentarily lifting. “You’re a bastard.”

  “I know.”

  Cash wrapped his arms around his mother. “Step one of a million,” he whispered.

  Her head bobbed against his chest. “Step one,” she repeated. “But that means you’ve started the journey.” She moved back, her palms cupping his face. “I love you. You can yell, scream, shout, punch walls. None of it will ever change the fact that you’re my son, and I will always love you.”

  Cash slowly blinked. “I’ll call you.” He walked towards the metal steps leading into the cabin of the plane. “Look after her,” he muttered in Rupe’s ear as he passed by.

  Rupe nodded and clapped him on the back. Cash took off up the stairs and didn’t look back.

  7

  “Go on—hit it.”

  Tally glanced over her shoulder at Nerissa, who’d plonked herself on top of an old washing machine. “What if the roof falls in?”

  “It won’t.” Nerissa rapped her knuckles against the peeling plaster. “Solid building, this. Been here for hundreds of years. Go on. It’s only an internal wall. Good for getting out your aggression.”

  Tally grinned. She swung the sledgehammer and slammed it against the wall. A small crack appeared.

  “Terrible,” Nerissa said. “Go on, Tally. Give it all you’ve got.”

  Tally swung again and again until a hole appeared in the wall. She dropped the sledgehammer and peered through. “Wow, there’s tons of space back there. It’s going to make an amazing room.”

  Nerissa jumped to the floor and picked up the sledgehammer. “We’ll be here all day. Move aside, weak little English girl. Let the tough Greek girl have a go.”

  Tally laughed. “I can’t wait to see this.”

  Nerissa took hold of the sledgehammer, one hand firmly gripping low on the handle, the other right behind the head. She twisted her body as though preparing to throw a discus. The sledgehammer smashed into the plaster. A large portion of the wall fell away, revealing the room behind.

  Tally was about to make a joke about tough Greeks and weak English when a loud creak sounded above her. She glanced up in time to see an enormous crack speeding across the ceiling, almost like an upside-down earthquake, and then a huge chunk of plaster came crashing to the ground.

  “Shit.” She covered her head with her arms as debris peppered her and Nerissa.

  Once the dust cloud settled, their eyes met. The two girls fell about laughing.

  “You’re a mad bitch,” Tally said. “You told me the roof wouldn’t fall in.”

  “The roof is intact. That’s the ceiling.” Nerissa was still laughing as she shook the dust out of her hair. “Besides, you love being around a mad bitch.”

  “You’re right, I do.”

  Nerissa turned on the tap above the old, rusty sink. Brown, sludgy water spluttered before eventually running clear. She dampened a cloth. “Here,” she said, passing it to Tally.

  Tally wiped her face and hands and ruffled her hair, coughing when she breathed in dust particles. She passed the cloth back to Nerissa then walked over to the huge hole in the wall and peered inside.

  “Definitely the right decision to knock through, even though I’m wearing half the ceiling.”

  “And I’m wearing the other half,” Nerissa said with a grin. “But you’re right. It will be a great space once we’ve finished with it.”

  “Better get onto your builder friend and tell him the job is a little bigger than we first thought.”

  “I’ll call later after I’ve cleaned myself up.”

  Tally giggled. “Think they’ll let me in the hotel looking like this?”

  Nerissa nodded. “This is a small island. Anything out of the ordinary will be talked about for weeks. Maybe months in your case.”

  “Better get it over with then.”

  “Want to come for dinner tonight?” Nerissa reached for a brush and began sweeping the floor.

  Tally swiped her bag off the floor and shook the dust from it before slinging it over her shoulder. “Thanks, but no. All I want is a bath, a quick catch-up with Em, and bed.” She was halfway out of the door when she hesitated. “Nerissa?”

  Her friend looked up from her vigorous brushing. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for everything. For letting me help with the refugees. For this place. It’s a bit of a building site, but once it’s done up, it will be a perfect little apartment.”

  Nerissa shook her head. “It’s me who should be thanking you. If you hadn’t come along when you did, well, I’m not sure what I would have done. This place has been lying empty for years. Probably because it’s a death trap.” She grinned, and then her face fell. “Will you tell me how you ended up here? One day?”

  Tally crossed the room and pulled her new friend into a warm hug. “I will. See you in the morning, partner.”

  It took Tally ages to get all the dust and pieces of plaster out of her hair, leaving her hotel room a mess, but finally, she was able to sit on the balcony with a cup of tea and a sandwich. The last three weeks had been a whirlwind of activity. Getting the extension to the café underway. Meeting Nerissa, who was fast becoming a close and wonderful friend. Finding out that she also owned the space above the café, which Tally could move into once they’d renovated it to liveable standards.

  She was so busy that most days she managed not to think about Cash. But once she had time alone, her mind inevitably turned to him, and she would allow herself five minutes to cry. Five. Not a second more.

  She put her laptop across her knees and opened Google, typing the same words into the search bar that she had every night since she’d arrived on Safome: “Cash Gallagher.”

  Several pictures of Cash appeared on the right-hand side of the page, underneath which was a short biography, all terribly familiar:

  “Cash Gallagher, Tennis player. cashgallagher.com

  “Cash Gallagher is a tennis professional from Northern Ireland. Formerly ranked number one, a recent car accident led to him retreating from public view.”

  Underneath that were his date of birth, height, and number of Grand Slam victories.

  Tally scrolled down the page.

  “People also search for Miroslav Ilic, Anatoly Mishnev, Rachael Gallagher, Rupert Fox-Whittingham, Natalia McKenzie.”

  The first time she’d seen her name there three weeks earlier, she’d almost had a heart attack, and the sight of it still caused her to snatch a breath. She’d clicked onto her name to find she had her own Wikipedia page in exactly the same format as Cash’s. The amount of information in the public domain had been shocking, although in hindsight, she shouldn’t have been surprised.

  She ignored her own name this time and clicked onto the news tab. Nothing new. There were still no sightings of Cash. It was as if he had truly disappeared, removed himself from the world. There was lots of speculation, though. He’d died. He’d fallen back into a coma. He’d been abducted by aliens. Anything to fill up the web pages and sell newspapers, and all utter rubbish. Tally had no doubt that if Cash had died, she’d have heard the news directly one way or another.

  Her thoughts turned to Em, and she reached for her phone. They hadn’t managed to catch up for a coupl
e of days, and she missed their nightly talks.

  “Hey, Shirley Valentine,” Em said when she answered the phone. “Thought you’d forgotten me.”

  “Who on earth is Shirley Valentine?”

  “It’s a cheesy eighties movie about a bored housewife who runs off to Greece to find herself. It was on some obscure TV channel the other night.”

  Tally chuckled. “You really need to get out more. And I’m hardly here because I’m a bored housewife.”

  “How are the renovations going?”

  She peeled back the cellophane on her sandwich and took a bite. “Great. The extension to the café should be finished next week, and the apartment is coming along. We knocked down the wall between the living room and the kitchen today, and then the ceiling fell in. Nerissa and I got covered in dust and plaster.”

  Em laughed. “Only you, Tal. But it’s going okay?”

  “Yeah, it is.” A wave of empathy swept over her. “There’s something about helping those worse off than yourself that puts things into perspective.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “Do you know when you’ll be able to come over?”

  “Going to be difficult this side of Christmas, babes,” Em said in an apologetic tone. “Party season and all that. It’s my busiest time.”

  “Sure, I understand,” Tally said, swallowing a huge chunk of disappointment.

  “But if we leave it until the new year, I should be able to come for a week. January is always shit for beauticians. Everyone’s skint and covered in unwanted body hair.”

  Tally laughed. “Sounds good.”

  “Rupe came round last weekend,” Em said

  Tally sucked in a quick breath. “He did? How is he?”

  “Same old Rupe. Was good to see him, though. I miss the old bugger.”

  “Me too.” She sighed. “You didn’t tell him where I was?”

  “What do you take me for? No, of course I didn’t tell him. He asked, though, several times. Seriously, I think I could stand up to torture after his grilling.”