‘Partly,’ he said.
‘And the other part?’
‘I don’t know, Ava. I guess I just feel like being a bit nicer to people these days.’
‘I like this version of you,’ I said.
‘The old version is still in there somewhere. It was still me. I’m still teetering on the edge of going back there. One bad loss and I could come crashing down again.’
‘Then I should make the most of you being this amenable while I can,’ I said.
He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The feel of his fingers was intoxicating, but we weren’t doing this. We’d decided. And yet when he removed his hand, all I could think about was that I wanted him to put it right back on me.
‘So I found something out today. Worked something out, maybe. And I’m not sure when would be a good time to tell you,’ I said.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘A good thing or a bad thing?’
‘Bad, but with the potential for good,’ I said. ‘And I know you’re in the middle of a tournament and that you need to focus and so I probably shouldn’t have said anything. But on the other hand, I can’t help thinking that it might, in a roundabout way, help you?’
He shifted in his seat to face me. ‘Hit me.’
‘What, now?’
‘Why not? I’m a captive audience. And how bad can it be?’
‘It’s about your mum,’ I said, wincing.
‘Ah,’ he said, looking uncomfortable. ‘Thatbad.’
I gave him time to stop me, to say he didn’t want to think about that now, that having his mother on his mind might throw him off his game at a time when he needed to be at his absolute best.
‘Tell me,’ he said.
‘Okay. Stop me if at any point it feels too much and you change your mind.’
‘Noted,’ he said.
Perhaps it would be easier to show him. I’d bookmarked the article on my phone and loaded it on to my screen.
‘Now, before I show you this, I want to put it in context. Was the tournament your mum wanted you to play in Dubai? And wasit so that you could use the prize money for a deposit on the house in Richmond?’
He looked confused. ‘Yes, Ava, it was.’
‘And was it just after you refused to play in that tournament that your mum distanced herself from you?’
‘Correct,’ he said, dubious, perhaps, about what relevance any of this had now.
‘Okay, so hear me out,’ I said. ‘I found this article.’
Bracing myself – because I could be making a huge mistake here – I handed him my phone, watching his expression change as he read the horrible piece that had painted his mum in such a terrible light.
‘And this was published when?’ he said, his voice thin and strained.
‘The same week the Dubai tournament went ahead without you,’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen this. After Mum and I fell out, I stopped reading the papers, especially the tabloids. The last story about her I saw was the one of her being shown around that house. After that, I refused to look, and I told my team that I didn’t want to be informed of any stories that showed up in trashy newspapers. Stories that weren’t true, or had been exaggerated at the very least.’
‘So this is the first time you’ve seen this?’ I checked.
