‘I tried to work it out at the time. He’d made a brief appearance at my tenth birthday, and then when I was fifteen he came to the tennis club where Mum worked and they had a row and the owner had to ask him to leave. That had been the last time I’d seen him before Eastbourne, so thirteen, fourteen years?’
‘What did he say? What had made him just rock up there after all that time?’
Marcus shrugged. ‘He started banging on about how much he missed me. How much he regretted disappearing on me. I told him I had a match to focus on, that it wasn’t a good time, but as usual what I wanted didn’t seem to count for a thing. In the end I had to threaten to call security if he didn’t leave.’
‘That must have been hard,’ I said.
‘It was. Is. Sometimes. It’s worse that I don’t really speak to my mum anymore. My dad I can live without, I’ve pretty much always had to anyway.’
Before I could ask him more, Colette brought the group together to watch her knead the dough in the bowl.
‘Remember, keep checking the temperature of your dough. If it is too cold, we have a problem. If it is too hot, we have a problem.Oui?You understand?’ she said.
We all nodded.
‘And be aware of the texture of your baguette dough. When it is ready, it will feel smooth on the outside, but also soft, like a beach ball.’
‘Why am I thinking this is the point at which this all goes badly wrong?’ I said, grimacing in Marcus’s direction.
‘Ditto,’ he said, prodding nervously at his dough.
‘Mesdames et messieurs, please do not forget to flour your hands before you touch the dough!’ instructed Colette.
‘Well, you’ve ruined it now,’ I said to Marcus.
He hurriedly dipped his hands in some flour and then returned to work his dough.
‘We’ll see about that. As you know, I never give up.’
We simultaneously kneaded in silence for a while, until my dough began to work itself together and I felt confident that it wasn’t going to be a total disaster. Dare I go back to the conversation we’d been having before? I’d finally been getting somewhere with my questions about his parents, and I didn’t think I should stop now – there might never be another opportunity this good. I’d keep it casual, off the cuff – he could tell me as much as he wanted to tell me.
‘I was wondering why your mum never comes to watch you play anymore,’ I said, keeping my voice light, as though it wasn’t the one piece of Marcus’s history I was just dying to know the truth about. ‘Did you have a falling-out?’
Marcus paused, his hands hovering over his bowl. ‘You want to talk about that now?’
‘No time like the present,’ I said. ‘Also, it can be easier to talk about difficult stuff when you’re focused on something else. It feels less intense or something.’
Not to blow my own trumpet, but that had actually sounded quite knowledgeable, particularly from someone who had a pathological hatred of talking about difficult things herself. If this worked on Marcus, perhaps I would try it on Cassie next time I was home. We could bake together, even if she would think that was an odd suggestion coming from me, and then I could slip in a question about her love life, or why she hadn’t managed to make any friends, or whether she wanted to spend her entire life acting like a victim. That last one was a bit harsh, but I’d thought it, so it must – in my head at least – be true.
Marcus sighed. ‘Fine. Sometimes I forget you’re actually here to interview me.’
‘Well, what else would I be here for?’ I asked, raising my eyebrows at him.
‘That is a very good point. So my mother ...’
‘Your mother . . .’ I prompted.
‘We were close when I was a kid. Because it was just her and me against the world, I suppose. We went everywhere together, partly because I had to because she couldn’t afford childcare, but also because she liked having me around. If it wasn’t for her, I’d never even have picked up a tennis racquet. I’d be hanging around the tennis club waiting for her to finish her shift and she’d persuade one of the coaches to give me a knock-around out on court. I don’t think anyone had expected that I’d be good at it.’
‘I bet all the rich kids at the club hated you.’
Marcus shrugged. ‘I honestly couldn’t have cared less what they thought. It made it easier for me to beat them out on court if I didn’t like them.’
‘Ah, so that’s where you cultivated yourI don’t give a damn what people think of meattitude.’
‘Oh, I had it way before that, Ava. I’ve always had it.’
I shook my head at him, baffled. ‘How? Did you come out of the womb full of confidence and bravado, or was it something you learned?’
