Break Point by Kate Rigby

Author:Kate Rigby
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: nostalgia, relationships, affair, obsession, competitive, manipulation, tennis, nineties, seeds, wimbledon, derbyshire, claustrophobia, carers, young woman, gay women, elderly woman, centre court, henman, agassi, rusedski, hengist, graf, venus williams, navratilova, june
Publisher: Kate Rigby

SECOND MONDAY

Gwen starts knocking with her stick before six in the morning.

"I'm still feeling tired and giddy," she says, when I bring in her fizzy liver salts and early morning breakfast. "I'm not sure whether I should get up."

And I’m thinking to myself, it would be a lot easier if you didn't, duck.

Easier for me now we're into Week Two, with the countdown to the Semi's and Finals, and with Anne gone, I'm not sure what's ... oh what a cow. Fancy hoping that she'll stay in bed. Poor Gwen.

"I did warn you about that brandy last night, Gwen."

"I only had a drop." She's now heaving herself out of bed, having only toyed with her breakfast. "Still. The show must go on. Steady me, would you? That's the way."

Mrs Parrott's gift, the raffled lamp with a heavy slate base, has its flex all bound up still. "Should I unwrap this for you, Gwen?"

She screws up her nose. "I don't really care what you do with it. It's a vulgar thing. Now run me a sink of water, would you ... and then, after you've done your duties we could go out somewhere this afternoon. What do you say?"

"Out? Looks a bit unsettled, Gwen."

"I like it fresh," she insists. "Clears away the cobwebs. Anyway it's summer. It's not going to be that cold."

"But you did say I'd have the afternoons off. I've got to have a break."

"A break? You've got a very cavalier attitude sometimes, my girl. This isn't the kind of work where you just clock off at 1 pm."

I remind her what she said about not needing me in the afternoons.

"That was before Anne left. The situation's changed now. You need to have flexibility with this sort of work. People work." The white sticky thing's forming on her bottom lip. "I need someone to chat with, not someone buried in the television. Maybe I should try phoning Anne. She's been so loyal and efficient."

Yeah, phone her! Then I can see her lovely eyes and feel the frisson. I can feel the frisson and she can drive you out and I can watch Wimbledon with a clear conscience.

"It's worth a try, Gwen. Now that she's slept on it she might think she was a bit rash."

"Anne isn't rash. Once her mind's made up there's no changing it." She coughs. "Anne would never have left if it wasn't for you," and each time she brings her lips together the white gummy stuff is disturbed and added to. "I promised her my old room when it was decorated and newly furnished. But you stole that room."

"That's twaddle. You asked me to live here."

"Only because you begged me to let you have it. There's no good shaking your head in that manner. You know you did. It should have been Anne's."

Well, she can have it. I'm out of here once Wimbledon's finished.

"Oh, I know. It's Wimbledon, it's Wimbledon. Taking over the whole house. What's the attraction with it, anyway? It used to be such a gentle and demure game, not like the pantomime that passes for sport nowadays.

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