‘Ow,’ he howled, as it hit him squarely in the eye.
‘Oh, no.’ Evie sprinted round the net to see if he was okay. ‘I’msosorry.’ This was reminding her of the time she’d inadvertently headbutted her ex-fiancé.
Matthew, his hand over his eye socket, shook his head. ‘It’s fine. Don’t worry.’
‘Are you sure? I think we should put ice on it.’
‘I’m sure I’ll be fine.’
‘Ice is a good idea,’ the coach said.
A couple of minutes later, Evie was sitting with Matthew by the side of the court while he held an ice pack over his eye area.
‘You don’t need to sit here with me,’ Matthew said. ‘I’ll be completely fine in a minute. I don’t want you to miss the session.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Evie smiled at him. Thoughtfulness could really make someone a lot more attractive. ‘Probably better if I stay here anyway until the volleying practice has finished. I don’t want to injure anyone else.’
‘You did whack it impressively hard. When we do our matchplay, can I be your partner so there’s no risk of you hitting me again?’
Evie laughed. ‘It’s a deal.’
An hour later, at the end of their session, they strolled outside together.
‘I’msoexcited to have beaten Ruth,’ Evie said. ‘I mean, I know it was all down to you and the fact that she was partnered with Gerald.’ Ruth was the seventy-two-year-old ex-GB player and Gerald was well into his seventies too, and by the signs of things, not an ex-GB player. ‘But still very satisfying.’
‘It absolutely wasn’t down to me. You played a couple of killer winners. Fancy a quick drink now in the pub over there to celebrate our stunning win?’
‘I actually would,’ said Evie, banishing thoughts of drinking with Dan in Vegas. ‘That would be lovely.’ A good way of celebrating the fact that their annulment had come through yesterday. She’d felt a bit low since then, and going for a drink with a nice man would be a good thing to do.
Eleven
Now – February 2022
Dan
Dan sucked in a big gulp of cold February evening air as he left the hospital by its wide revolving doors. That was a welcome head-clearer. He’d spent the last couple of hours with the parents of a girl with suspected leukaemia and it was hard not to take some of their devastation home with him. They’d caught it early and the prognosis was fairly good, but it was still not news that you ever wanted to have to share with anyone.
He could do with a drink. He pulled out his phone to call his friend Zubin, one of the other emergency doctors at the hospital, who he’d trained with. Thursday evening: he’d hopefully be free.
He had a couple of email notifications and a message from his ex, Hannah. Odd. He was vaguely surprised that he still had her number in his phone; they’d literally only dated for a few weeks, in the autumn, and then they’d split up by what had felt like very mutual agreement and hadn’t been in touch since. Hannah had actually been the one to say that she wasn’t sure things were going anywhere, but Dan had just been relieved, really.
Maybe she’d messaged him by mistake.
Dan, hi, it’s Hannah. I have something important to tell you. Could you call me?
She must know more than one Dan, and have texted the wrong one. She clearly didn’t have anything important to tell him.
Hi Hannah. Just to let you know that I think you sent your message to the wrong Dan
She pinged straight back before he’d even managed to find Zubin in his contacts to call him.
Not the wrong Dan. I have something to tell you, Dan Marshall. Is now good for you to talk? Hannah
Shit. It felt like there weren’t many things an ex who you’d only been with briefly might have to tell you. All of them related to sex and none of them were good.
He pressed the call button.
‘Hi, Dan.’
