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‘I didn’t think. After last night, of course you wouldn’t—’
‘It’s not—’ Hannah ran out of words, realising that Rob thought the issue was the memory of Matt’s hands on her. But how could she tell him that the issue was actually something else entirely? That Rob had awoken something in her that she’d never felt before? That conversation could go one of several ways, and every one of them would leave Hannah looking like a lovesick idiot.
Rob shook his head. ‘I’m really sorry, I should have left it until tomorrow. Let’s finish our pizza and head back.’
Hannah nodded, still glad that this evening had happened, even though the magic was gone.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rob watched Hannah serve for the match in the final of the mixed doubles tournament, which was scheduled each week as an opportunity for guests to break out of their groups and play with someone different. All the Surrey ladies had made it into the latter rounds, but Hannah had made the final, paired with a seventy-year-old man from Wiltshire called Keith who had two replacement hips. On paper he hadn’t seemed very promising, but it turned out that Keith had been playing for sixty years and had a tricksy slice that killed the ball dead. They’d breezed into the final without dropping a set, and Rob was pretty sure this tournament was going to be all over in about three minutes.
He stood on the terrace and watched Hannah follow her serve with a furious rally. Despite him being a thoughtless wanker last night, she’d taken his advice about hip rotation on board and given her topspin forehand some extra punch. Even if you knew nothing about tennis and didn’t fancy women, she was spectacular to watch.
He glanced at Jess, Gaynor and Trish on the benches, cheering every point and leaping around when Hannah wrapped up the match with a thundering backhand down the line. Trish had laid her cards on the table on Monday, and he’d gently but emphatically said no, and made it clear that it wasn’t just because of his job, but because he wasn’t interested. She definitely wasn’t his type, although neither was Hannah, at least on paper. And yet.
Hannah finished shaking hands with the other three players, then looked up at him. He gave her an appreciative nod and a round of applause, and was rewarded with a beaming smile that made the breath catch in his chest. She’d consumed his thoughts like no other woman he’d ever met, and the whole incident with Matt had forced him to reflect on what the intensity of this feeling reallymeant. Was the connection between him and Hannah because of what happened? No, he had felt something before that, but Monday had taken it to another level, made him feel protective, somehow. He loved women, treated them well, didn’t fuck them around, but none of his relationships up to now had ever felt thatdeep. So what was this all about? Right now it felt like there was only one person who could help him.
Rob hurried through the clubhouse to the car park, pulling his phone and earbuds out of his pocket and scrolling to his dad’s number before he changed his mind.
‘Hey, Dad, it’s me.’ Rob started walking laps around the outside of the courts, the sultry heat of the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the ochre walls. He could see Nick and Aaron watering the clay courts furthest from him, the last job of the day once private lessons were wrapped up. But everyone else was celebrating the end of the tournament on the terrace, and the only living things who could hear him were the cicadas in the spiny bushes.
‘Hey, son, how’s it going?’ said Guy. Rob could hear him rattling drawers in the background, suggesting he was in the kitchen.
‘Good, just fancied a chat. Is now a good time?’ He felt inexplicably nervous, like he was about to uncover the secrets of the universe.
‘Hang on,’ said Guy. Rob heard him close more drawers, then move into a different room with a more muffled sound. A chair creaked and he let out an ‘oof’ of expelled air that all men over sixty seemed to do whenever they stood up or sat down. ‘That’s better. Everything OK?’
‘Yeah,’ said Rob. ‘Tennis is great, sun’s shining.’
‘But . . .?’ said Guy.
Rob laughed awkwardly, seriously considering just hanging up and going to the nearest bar. ‘What makes you think there’s a but?’
‘Because you’re calling me at four thirty on a Wednesday and you haven’t asked to speak to your mother.’
‘Yeah, OK,’ said Rob. Was he actually going to have this conversation? He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. ‘I have an, um, weird question for you. About when you met Mum.’
Guy was quiet for a moment. ‘OK, that wasn’t what I expected you to say. Are you all right?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ said Rob, feeling like he was on a runaway train. Destination: Awkward. ‘Just tell me about when you met Mum.’
‘Okaaay,’ said Guy. ‘That would be May seventh, 1981.’
‘Right,’ said Rob, swallowing hard. ‘Look, here’s the thing. You said something in the car on the way to the airport, about being knocked sideways by a woman. And I know this sounds really fucking weird, but I wondered if you could tell me what that feels like.’ He was talking too fast, his hands twitching with anxiety and sweat running down his back.
Guy was quiet for a moment, and Rob heard the creak of wood and leather as he leaned back in his office chair. ‘Well, that’s quite a big question,’ said Guy. ‘What’s this all about, Rob? Have you met someone?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Rob, pressing his hand to his burning forehead.
‘You don’t know?’ said Guy, and Rob could practically hear his dad’s bushy eyebrows being raised. ‘You’re ringing your dad to ask what it feels like to fall in love and you don’t know?’
‘I . . . it’s confusing. I barely know her, but there’s . . . something about her. I don’t know what it is and it’s totally messing with my head.’
‘OK, OK,’ said Guy soothingly. ‘Well, look, maybe I can tell you what it felt like when I met your mother, and you can tell me if any of that seems familiar. How does that sound?’
‘Yeah, great,’ said Rob quickly. ‘Let’s do that.’
‘Right. Well, then, let’s see.’ There was another creak of leather, and Rob could imagine his dad leaning back in his chair, his right foot on his left knee, lost in distant memories. ‘The day I met your mum. I can’t remember what she was doing, but I do remember that once I started looking at her I couldn’t stop. And when I wasn’t looking at her, I was thinking about her; wondering what she was doing, what she was thinking. And I did completely irrational and stupid things to create opportunities for me to spend time with her.’
