Love-40

 

The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way.
Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author's copyright, please notify the publisher at:
us.macmillanusa.com/piracy
.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright Notice

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Epigraphs

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Also by Anna Cheska

Copyright

 

For Rob

 

As always, thanks to my family for being there. To my Mum and Dad for their support, to Luke for helping to make me computer literate, and to my beautiful daughters Alexa and Anna.

Thanks also to all those who helped me write this book – though you might not have known it at the time! In particular, Jeannette, Peter and David for the original tennis inspiration and the American tournament. And to the Friday night tennis group at Davison – coach Graham, Gill, Pat, Sue et al for making me an honorary ‘offshoot' of your group. I shall never forget
chip and charge,
though doubt whether I shall ever do it … Thanks also to Graham Baughan at West Worthing Tennis Club for information about tennis clubs – and I would like to stress at this point that the club in
Love-40
bears no relation whatever to West Worthing (apart from the beautiful blue courts!).

Special thanks must go to the marvellously successful John Otway, for agreeing to give away elements of his stage act to Michael in
Love-40.
Without Otway, Michael would never have been born. And here's hoping that he gets the hit he wants for his 50
th
birthday.

And to Rob Simons for all his help and support – not least his advice on aspects of musical performance and the music business.

Finally, I should like to thank Teresa Chris for being a wonderful agent and Judy, Gillian, Jana, Russell and all at Piatkus Books for being such a pleasure to work with.

 

Be wise with speed;

A fool at forty is a fool indeed.

Edward Young
1683–1765:
The Love of Fame.

 

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs,

Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes,

Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears.

What is it else? A madness most discreet,

A choking gall and a preserving sweet.

William Shakespeare
1564–1616:
Romeo and Juliet

 

Anyone for tennis?

A typical line in a drawing room comedy

Chapter 1

Liam was scowling and so Suzi knew something was up. Even before her brother buried a simple backhand volley into the net.

Something … But how big a something?

Uh huh. She winced as he let rip his first serve to the woman who was supposed to be the love of his life. A big something.

Estelle dodged neatly. Her light toss of the head and deprecatory shrug as she got back into position, spoke volumes.

Uh huh. Suzi sighed. A big something closely connected to Estelle.

‘Shit,' Liam breathed, thrashing the second serve into the tram lines.

‘Love fifteen,' chirped Michael, Estelle's tennis partner for the afternoon and Suzi's lover for rather longer than that.

‘Fuck it,' said Liam, glowering across the net at him.

Mixed doubles, Suzi reflected, never used to be such a dangerous game. She felt a bit of sunshine being taken out of her day. It wasn't fair, damn it. And she wasn't sure if she felt safer being on Liam's side or not. Safer still probably, to be in Chestnut Grove's utterly gorgeous, though somewhat battered conservatory, sipping a well-earned G & T. And a heck of a lot more relaxing. Where had she gone wrong?

She let her gaze wander past the men's doubles being played on the next court, towards the clubhouse beyond; a building made of large honey-coloured bricks – Purbeck stone. The glass conservatory attached to the front of the building looked particularly inviting.

And after the G & T? Would she be expected to sort out Liam and Estelle's latest humdinger from hell? She wasn't sure she could face it. Because maybe she was fed up with being stuck in the middle of these two. Maybe it was time to duck out.

In the meanwhile, it was more a matter of ducking in order to avoid the firing line. Help. Suzi glanced a warning at Michael, who was very sweet but probably had no idea what was going on, poor lamb.

Michael winked back at her. Ignorance is bliss, Suzi thought, even when you're forty years old and should know better. But then, Michael hadn't had the dubious benefit of growing up with Liam, she reminded herself. He imagined this was just a jolly game of tennis amongst friends. The man knew nothing.

Still, the fierceness of the next serve took even Suzi by surprise. She blinked into the sun as the ball screamed past her. While Michael – all sticky-out arms and long, pale legs, in baggy white shorts and Elvis Costello T-shirt – swung a wild forehand and missed the ball completely. Though he'd willingly made up the four since becoming a regular weekend visitor to Pridehaven, Michael and tennis courts weren't a match made in heaven. Suzi watched him sweep the fingers of his free hand through his thinning fair hair in a gesture of defeat.

‘Serve,' he conceded graciously. ‘Didn't even see it.'

Estelle twirled her racket wearily. ‘I'm not surprised.'

‘Well played!' Suzi went for enthusiasm. She was beginning to feel desperate. This was their first game for several weeks, since a grey January and February had drifted into March, and it had seemed almost impossible to coincide the free time of all four of them with the infrequent breaking of murky cloud cover. But today – apart from being a Sunday, so the antique shop Suzi ran with Estelle was closed, Liam was not teaching and Michael had not yet returned to Fareham – there had been a definite promise of spring in the blue and white lunchtime sky. Heat, even.

And the courts of Chestnut Grove Tennis Club – four grass and four green hard courts – seemed to beckon. Spring, Suzi thought, was summed up by the gently dappled sunlight that crept through the leaves of the ancient horse-chestnut trees bordering the driveway that had given the club its name. Spring was the first time you got to play on the bouncy grass turf, though it was unusual, she knew, for the courts to be ready this early in the season. They had to be fertilised, rolled, marked out and the weather had to be kind. Suzi loved this place with a fierce passion. She turned her face upwards to the sun, felt the warmth, smelled the fragrance of freshly mown grass, heard the thwack of racket strings on slightly damp yellow tennis balls.

But spring, it seemed, had not brought any warmth to the relationship of her brother and Estelle. It had brought heat of a very different kind.

‘Fifteen all,' Liam said in a crisp tone, eyeing Estelle with hostility. ‘Ready?'

‘And waiting,' Estelle called back, smoothing one hand along the length of her lycra shorts and bending to rub a grass stain from her white trainers. ‘Do your worst.'

This time at least Liam's serve dipped in, producing a sweeping forehand drive from Estelle that Suzi managed to reach with an athletic leap to her left and a slightly scary skid across the grass in the tram lines. She hobbled back into position, reminding herself to do an extra ten minutes of yoga tonight.

She wasn't exactly in the first hot flush of youth (the big four oh was looming round the corner and would belong to her body and soul before Christmas) so maybe her days of skidding across grass tennis courts were numbered. She didn't want to have hip replacement surgery at her age.

Meanwhile, the G & T in the sunny conservatory became an even pleasanter prospect. But she felt somehow, that Liam was depending on her. And how could she let him down?

Michael just got to the next serve, but Suzi intercepted and put it past him. That was the great thing about grass. The serve/volleyer would always win through in the end.

‘Good girl, Suze.' Liam grinned as he squinted into the sun to serve. ‘Now we've got 'em.'

And some people thought tennis was a game? Suzi pulled in her pelvic floor and raced to retrieve what Estelle had probably assumed to be an outright winner of a return, slamming it across court with her two-handed backhand. Being small, she needed such techniques to match the power of the others. But had anyone ever proved that strenuous exercise was actually good for you, she wondered. Didn't it have side effects like exhaustion, strokes and heart attacks?

The shot was well placed, the ball hardly seemed to bounce at all and Estelle didn't even bother to run for it. ‘Game,' she said in a bored voice. ‘As per.'

‘And set, I think,' Liam said, shooting her one of his hyena-smiles. ‘Change partners?'

Here we go, thought Suzi. Trouble.

‘Maybe…' Estelle began, as they gathered by the net, ‘… we need some
new
partners.' She adjusted the strap of her black vest-top and began rubbing suntan oil into her pale skin. It might be only March, but Estelle was always prepared and she wouldn't burn for anyone. ‘Completely new partners,' she reiterated.

Liam's plastic bottle of mineral water bounced on to the grass, Michael said, ‘whoopsie, mate,' as he scooped it back up for him, and Suzi went on red alert. ‘How d'you mean?'

‘New blood,' Estelle elaborated. ‘From the club.' With a wave towards CG's clubhouse, she proceeded to untie her pony tail and shake out the mass of dark red hair, before smoothing it from forehead to nape with one hand. This gesture held what was perhaps an unconscious sensuality, but Suzi saw Liam look sharply away, focusing his attention on the grip of his racket, which was worn and beginning to fray.

‘But we're a foursome,' Suzi said, just as Liam chimed in with, ‘Why the hell not? Suits me.'

Michael looked from one to another of them, blissfully unaware. ‘What's the big deal?' he asked.

Estelle made a little pout. ‘These two have won every match so far,' she said. ‘It was a challenge to start with, but…' she fixed Liam with an accusing eye ‘… it gets boring after a while.'

To what degree, Suzi wondered, was Estelle referring to tennis? There were plenty of other club players, and some of the courts were also used by Chestnut Grove Youth Club, which had existed even before the tennis club had grown up by its side. It was the youth club, many of them felt, that stopped the tennis club from becoming too elitist. For tradition was all very well, but any club that didn't accept change, youth and evolution was likely, Suzi thought, to die. The youth club kept the tennis club on its toes; prevented the old-school blazer brigade from taking over and elbowing them out.

But if they were to change partners, who out of their foursome, Suzi asked herself, would be left out? And surely Estelle wouldn't
leave
Liam – not after all this time?

‘Suze and I play well together,' Liam said, flinging a protective arm around her as if Estelle's criticism had been directed at her alone. ‘We've got complementary games. We understand each other.'