Read Break Point for Free Online Page B

big week next week. She truly is Anne
the Infallible.
    Gwen calls out
the minute I put down the receiver. "Who was it?"
    I push my head
round the door. "It was Anne."
    "Oh I do so
wish she'd hurry up and come back. I do miss her."
    "You're in
luck. She's on her way home."
    *
    I switch off
the telly and decide to sit outside for a bit, feel the sun on my
face.
    I give the
shed door a good shove and put up a faded garden lounger. Sinking
my bare feet into the long cool grass I think of Babs.
    There was a
need in both of us to escape our apolitical relationships. We
wanted to experience those Isms again. Feminism. Socialism.
Anarchism. So me and Babs shared Isms for a bit.
    I told it to
June straight, once she knew about me and Babs. I said, June, I
wanted the Isms again. I've missed them. And I also said, June, has
there ever been anything more between us than Wimbledon?
    She went
fucking spare. But Wimbledon is our thing, she said. More passion
in it than all your politics. All those memories. Wimbledon binds
us together.
    Me and Babs
couldn't stay together, not after we got found out. Not with June
and Tash reacting like they did.
    I’m soon
interrupted by the doorbell.
    It's the
fastidious little Mrs Parrott, cake tin in hand. "How is the
invalid?" she says. "May I see her or is she sleeping at the
moment?"
    "I'll just go
and see." I knock gingerly at Gwen's door. "Gwen? Mrs Parrott's
here. Can she come in a sec?"
    "Oh my hair
... where's my brush?"
    "It's only me,
Gwen, dear. I've baked you your favourite little fairy cakes and
iced them. I know how you like something sweet when you're a bit
under the weather."
    "Oh how
kind."
    "Is there
anything I can do for you?"
    Does she not
know how undermining she is? Does she mean to imply that I've
neglected my duties? Does she butt in on Anne like this?
    "Well, I do
need to go to the penny bazaar."
    Mrs Parrott
looks up at me because, though I'm on the short side, I look strong
and more equipped to do this sort of thing than her. I leave her to
her sticky buns as I take Gwen across the hall to the
toilet.
    Mrs Parrott is
still hovering after Gwen's trip to the loo. I go back in the
garden, hoping to shake her off but she follows. She's heading
straight for the shed.
    "This grass is
getting so long again," she says. "The problem is Gwen's mower
doesn't cut terribly well. I'll bring over Richard's strimmer on
Sunday."
    "There's no
need. I know someone who'll do her garden for her."
    "Well, there's
certainly a lot that needs doing to it."
    "Mrs Parrott?"
I start to say, while she’s busy with her faffing, her back to
me.
    "What?"
    "Gwen keeps
talking about Rosemary. Do - did you know her?"
    Mrs Parrott
looks disapproving. Like I've transgressed some sort of
code.
    "Only I don't
want to go putting my foot in it."
    "I gather
there was some kind of feud." Mrs Parrott hauls up a few weeds. "I
don't know what it was about and I don't ask."
    So not dead
then. Just not speaking.
    Mrs Parrott
makes a move towards the shed again. "I think I'll have a go at
that creeper now. There are some hand shears in here
somewhere."
    *
    When
the shadows have lengthened in the garden, I return to the world
between the white court-lines where Monica Seles is playing; where
there's that eight o'clock-shaped shadow creeping over the court. I
take in the analysis of each shot played by Seles and her opponent
Lucic. She's determined to hang onto this
match ( re Seles ).
Breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking (re Lucic ). Seles is looking crimson, out of puff, but everyone wants her
to come through, she's dead dignified, so heroic , fighting her way back after
the stabbing, and as the match reaches its climax, Gwen starts
beating her stick. Gwen doesn't believe in modern equipment, that's
for sure. I make a resolve to see this match through before going
down, but now the players are back to deuce. That means at least
two more points have to be played until the match is over but the
knocking's getting more