The rolling news on the TV screens above the bar showed clips of Foster charging across Centre Court and bowling into the umpire’s chair. They ignored it and dug deeper into the drinks menu.
Abbot had a plane to catch mid-afternoon. He clasped hands with Foster, firmer friends than ever, and promised he wouldn’t leave it three years next time.
When Foster came back to Kirsten, she was watching the London sky, which had clouded over and was suddenly grey and forbidding.
‘I hardly knew Jake Saunders,’ she said, ‘let alone Noah. We only went out for a few months. When I heard he’d killed himself, I couldn’t believe it.’
Foster watched as her brow furrowed.
‘You must have been upset?’
‘Sure. But I was confused, too. I mean, we weren’t soulmates. We weren’t life partners. It was no big deal, as far as I knew. Does that make me a complete bitch?’
Foster shook his head.
‘Not at all. I guess Jake Saunders was just a time-bomb waiting to go off.’
Keller’s eyes warmed with gratitude.
‘Same as his brother. I keep thinking that if I hadn’t gone out with Jake, Maria would still be alive.’
Foster shook his head.
‘Thinking like that will drive you mad,’ he said. ‘I know. I did it for three years. Who knows how many times you saved Maria’s life? Maybe she coached you one day, rather than catching a bus that plunged over a cliff. Or maybe if you hadn’t offered to work with her, Basilia might have accidentally tripped her down the stairs one day. You can’t trace consequence to a single action. The bottom line is that a guy decided to kill Maria, and that’s his responsibility, not yours.’
She turned down the corners of her mouth and cocked her head to one side, as if she was trying to believe him, but couldn’t quite let herself off the hook.
‘Thank you for what you did. I’ll never forget it.’
Foster shrugged.
‘It’s my job.’
‘Just your job?’
He held her gaze, but said nothing. Eventually she smiled and the worry began to lift from her face.
‘Just doing your job,’ she said.
‘That’s such a cliché.’
Foster smiled.
‘There’s no pleasing some people.’
They ordered food, and for once Kirsten Keller demolished hers without looking up from her plate.
‘You sure I couldn’t tempt you to join my team?’ she said after dessert.
‘I could show you the world.’
Foster shook his head.
‘I’ve seen enough of it already, Kirsten.’
She smiled, unsurprised by his answer.
Their eyes locked for a moment, both of them imagining how it could be, if they were together.
‘Well,’ Keller said eventually, ‘if you ever change your mind …’
They both smiled, and Foster went back to watching the sky.
‘When do you fly?’ Foster asked.
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Straight home?’
She shook her head.
‘I’m taking a few days in Florence. Maria’s family are flying her home, and her funeral is next week. I want to be there. Basilia’s coming, too. I guess some things are more important than tennis.’
‘Will you replay the final?’ Foster asked.
She shook her head.
‘I’ll come back if they can organise it,’ she said. ‘But I don’t think they will.’
Foster told her she’d win the next tournament, and she told him he could bank on it, suddenly sassy and confident.
‘Do you feel safe now?’ Foster asked her.
‘I’d feel safer if you stayed tonight,’ she said, and her eyes sparkled like the late sunshine glinting on the Thames far below.
STORIES AT THE SPEED OF LIFE
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First published in Great Britain in 2016 by BookShots
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