Her phone rang. She ignored it. It rang again. Cassie looked at it. Delilah.
‘It’s Sunday,’ Cassie said when she picked up, not unkindly.
‘I know,’ Delilah said, sounding off. ‘But I need to ask you something, and I want the truth.’
Cassie sat forward on the couch, braced. ‘Go on.’
‘Brutal honesty, please. No soft coaching voice.’
Oh, this was about tennis. Thank God. ‘I don’t have a soft coaching voice,’ she pointed out.
Delilah didn’t laugh. That was how Cassie knew she was serious.
‘Do I look like a tennis player?’ she asked.
Cassie took a moment to consider the most real answer that wasn’t cutting. ‘You don’t look like someone who’s never picked up a racket. Which is where we started.’
A pause. Then: ‘But not like someone who’s played all her life.’
‘No.’
Delilah sighed like she’d been hoping for a different answer but knew the truth.
‘I need to be better,’ she said. ‘A lot better. Before rehearsals.’
Cassie leaned back on the couch. ‘Why? They’ll have a double. They’ll bring in a coach.’
Delilah was quiet for a moment. Then, flatly: ‘Exactly. I have to be able to match up to someone who’s playing serious tennis. I’m not there, am I?’
Cassie rubbed a hand over her face. She didn’t know how to respond.
‘I thought I could fake it. And I’m trying, but… I’m still shit, Cass.’
‘You’re not shit,’ Cassie said. ‘You’re better.’
‘I need to get there,’ Delilah said desperately.
Cassie said nothing for a long moment. Then: ‘If you want to go hard, like actuallyhard, we can. I’m talking all day, every day. Playing every minute the sun’s up.’
Cassie was sure Delilah wouldn’t take that offer up. That she’d only want something more. Maybe three hours a day. But she said, eagerly. ‘Really?’
Cassie hesitated. ‘Yes. But I don’t think the club is going to work for that. I can book a court in short blocks, but it’s used for other things too, like classes and private games. They won’t let me use one all day every day, not like we need.’
‘Do you know another place?’ Delilah asked.
Cassie did. The Larchfield Programme. She hadn’t been back in years. With extremely good reason. It was run by her former coach. Her former, well,everything.
She hadn’t spoken to Petra in years. Not properly. Not since it all happened. This was a big ask, this last minute, at the height of the season. Nobody else would grant this favour. Petra might not, actually. Cassie could only hope there was a teaspoon of guilt she could exploit.
‘It’s a serious place. It’s not a holiday.’
‘I’mserious,’ Delilah said stubbornly. Cassie had to smile.
‘Give me a bit of time. I’ll see what I can work out.’
Delilah’s silence was immediate and grateful. Then she said softly: ‘Thanks.’
They hung up.