Strawberries at Wimbledon

He looked at her for a long, silent moment and she didn’t think he’d drop it, but then he shrugged and took a sip of tea. ‘Okay. Whatever you want.’ His expression was full of understanding. ‘Right, we’ve established you’re not called nineteen. So, what is your name?’

She hesitated, noticing a poster of the Arctic Monkeys taped up on the far wall, the right-hand corner loose and drooping over. She’d gone to one of their début world tour concerts a few years before. It’d been amazing, her blood thrumming with the bass of the music, heart pumping madly, grinning so widely that after half an hour her cheeks ached. Her parents had been amused by how she’d raved on about it for days, smiling at her indulgently as she babbled on, her mum leaving their latest album on her fold out bed as a random gift. That was…before.

And now here she was, in the after. Without them. Completely alone, apart from her grandparents, who were on a world cruise, distancing themselves from her behaviour.

‘So?’ Adam’s voice jolted her.

‘Huh?’

‘Do you have a name?’

‘I, I-’ she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t gulp the grief away. It wasn’t fair. She wanted her dad here, to heave the boxes around and help her unpack. She wanted her mum here, to hug her and murmur words of reassurance, to soothe her nerves about starting uni. There were so many things that would happen in her life that her parents should be here for, but never would be. What had she ever done to deserve losing them? She had to leave. The emotions were too close, the urge to cry on this stranger’s shoulder too strong. ‘Ask me another time,’ she choked, ‘I’ve gotta go.’ She shot up from the chair. ‘Catch you later.’ Spinning around, she sprinted down the hallway.

Adam didn’t say anything. He just let her go.

Rayne relaxed in the green chair on Centre Court, the plastic warm beneath her bare thighs in the denim cut-offs, revelling in the early afternoon sun burning high in the cloudless sky. The ball kids were shading themselves under striped Wimbledon Championship umbrellas on the side of the court and the stands were rammed, no seats unoccupied, anticipation of the forthcoming match creating a noisy buzz and ripples of energy. The crowd wore an assortment of outfits, some in casual shorts and t-shirts, others in posh dresses and beribboned sun hats. The smart ones had brought water with them and purchased red cushions to sit on. Wimbledon veterans obviously. Not like her, a Wimbledon virgin. The word made her smile. Virgin. Like Adam, when they’d met. Until one very memorable night.

‘What are you smiling about?’ Lily asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Nothing!’ Rayne wrinkled her nose. ‘Was I?’

‘Yes. Were you thinking about Adam?’

Guilty. ‘No! Why would you say that?’ She tucked her black shoulder-length bob behind her ears.

‘You’ve got that dreamy faraway look you always wore when you were together. I’ve never seen you like it with anyone else, or since.’

‘Pfftt! Whatever.’

‘Just saying. Plus, I know you’re busy and I go on about this a lot, but you really should think about getting a love life.’

‘Please. Don’t go there.’ Rayne turned her attention to two teenage ball girls walking onto the white-lined grass. ‘Did you know around two hundred and fifty ball girls and boys help out during Wimbledon?’ If she didn’t make direct eye contact with Lily, maybe she’d drop the subject. ‘Or that what we call Henman Hill is actually Aorangi Terrace? And why do you suppose Murray Mount isn’t as popular as Henman Hill as a name?’

‘Henman Hill has a better ring to it, I guess.’ Lily ignored the deflection. ‘Come on, Rayne. I’ve seen that look in your eye recently, as well as that hunched shoulder thing you do. You’ve been biting your nails too. You need sex, and soon.’

‘Have not! And do not,’ she denied, sliding her nearly-nibbled-down-to-the-knuckle fingers under her bum. Lily had come a long way since the uni days, she never would have made those types of remarks so openly back then, wouldn’t have had the confidence. But gradually Rayne, Frankie and Zoe had brought her out of her shell. It was a shame she didn’t see Frankie much now, even though she lived in London as well, and that Zoe was abroad. She missed the girls. But at least she still had Lily, who was a work colleague as well as a friend, even if she was being annoyingly and unusually blunt today.

Lily’s eyes flickered down at Rayne’s hidden hands and she raised an eyebrow in amusement. ‘Thousands would believe you. I don’t. How long has it been?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Rayne tried out her best back off look. It didn’t work.

‘You don’t usually mind talking about this stuff, so it must be a while. Everyone needs it. It’s natural, normal. Like wine, chocolate, shoes,’ she wiggled both fair eyebrows. ‘You know, all of life’s essentials. Speaking of which,’ reaching under the chair she produced the punnet of strawberries and fresh cream she’d bought earlier, and held them out, ‘here you go. Fresh from Kent.’

‘Thanks.’ Freeing her hands and picking a ripe, red strawberry up Rayne twisted off the green stalk. ‘Okay, I forgive you. Thanks for the lecture, Mum. So, what are you suggesting I should do about my non-existent love life, if I was interested in having one?’

Lily pursed her lips. ‘Well, you could always go out to a bar, have a few drinks, and meet a hot, willing guy.’

‘As much as I’m amused you of all people would advocate that I go trawling in bars, I’m fine thanks.’

‘Why? What’s the problem, if it suits you-’

‘And you’re safe. I know. But you don’t do it.’

‘I’m not you.’ Lily flushed at the look Rayne gave her and concentrated on rooting around for the fattest strawberry. ‘Sorry, I- I mean… argh.’ She looked up. ‘Yes, I only believe in sex in committed relationships. But at least I date.’

‘I don’t have an issue with dating. I’m just not bothered at the moment, that’s all.’ Rayne was aware her voice had a defensive tone to it as she rolled a small, firm strawberry between her fingers. ‘And it’s not like I’ve never had a hook-up before. I’ve been with guys since-’ for some reason, Adam’s name stuck in her throat. ‘The problem is that when I think about it, I want relationship sex.’ She sighed. ‘But without the relationship.’

Lily frowned. ‘Explain.’ She dipped her strawberry into lashings of cream and dropped it in her lip-glossed mouth.

‘I’m not after a serious relationship right now. Sex without strings would suit me, but,’ she sighed, ‘the sex isn’t usually that great. They don’t know what I like, and vice versa. They don’t know me, there’s no connection, no cuddling afterwards. It’s just physical.’ She held up a hand. ‘Before you say it, I know that’s the whole point of no strings sex; the physical without the emotion or affection. But if the sex isn’t that good, if I don’t get that much out of it, what’s the point?’

‘Right. Hmmm… not complicated at all then.’ Her friend sat back, plucked up another plump strawberry and chewed it slowly, expression thoughtful.

‘I know,’ Rayne groaned, stifling a laugh. ‘I’m not hard to please, am I?’ She rolled another strawberry in the cream and ate it, lush fruitiness and smooth sweetness coating her tongue as she closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sun’s glorious heat.

There was an announcement over the speakers that the match was about to start and a few good natured, excited cheers erupted among the spectators. People started returning to their seats, the general volume increasing as the commentator said something about it being a beautiful day for a match.

Lily said something, but Rayne didn’t catch it, opening her eyes and leaning closer. ‘What was that?’

‘I… something…something… perfect!’ Lily beamed, looking pleased with herself.

‘Huh? What is?’ Lily’s lips moved again but Rayne still didn’t hear. ‘Say what?’

‘You need to have sex with an ex!’ Lily exclaimed, just as the crowd around them fell silent. ‘Oh.’

A few sniggers and titters sounded, and a lady in a straw hat with a white ribbon wrapped around it turned and raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow at them. Two rows down, a group of guys sporting We did Wimbledon t-shirts looked over and let out a round of good-natured wahey’s!

‘Oops. Oh, God.’ Lily went scarlet, closing her eyes and leaning forward to bury her face in her knees.

Rayne choked on laughter, holding her side. ‘Good one, Lil.’

‘Stop it!’ Lily hissed, sitting up and fanning her face with one hand.

’S-sorry.’ Rayne sniggered.

‘I was just trying to help.’

‘I know. Sorry. Great timing though; now everyone’s going to think I’m desperate.’ Her wry smile took any sting out of the words. ‘Not that I care.’

‘Of course not. You never do.’ The red in Lily’s cheeks started fading to a pretty rose pink. ‘I do think my suggestion’s worth considering though. If you sleep with someone you already know you’re compatible with, you’d have a good time. Plus you’d be comfortable because they’ve seen it all before and you wouldn’t fall for them because you’d know all the reasons it wouldn’t work, because of the break-up. See? Sex with an ex,’ she finished triumphantly. ‘The idea rocks.’

‘Thanks for sharing your logic with me, but really I have no intention of going there.’

‘Why not?’ A sickeningly familiar, deep voice quipped right behind them. ‘I agree with Lily. Sounds like a great idea to me.’

Something in her midriff plummeted to the floor through the soles of her feet. Time slid sideways and she nearly did the same out of her seat.

Oh, shit.