Read Online Break Point by Kate Rigby - Free Book Online
Authors: Kate Rigby
Tags: tennis, Manipulation, Wimbledon, Relationships, affair, Derbyshire, obsession, nineties, young woman, nostalgia, competitive, seeds, claustrophobia, carers, gay women, elderly woman, centre court, henman, agassi, rusedski, hengist, graf, venus williams, navratilova, june
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isn't
the kind of work where you just clock off at 1 pm."
I remind her
what she said about not needing me in the afternoons.
"That was
before Anne left. The situation's changed now. You need to have
flexibility with this sort of work. People work." The white sticky
thing's forming on her bottom lip. "I need someone to chat with,
not someone buried in the television. Maybe I should try phoning
Anne. She's been so loyal and efficient."
Yeah, phone
her! Then I can see her lovely eyes and feel the frisson. I can
feel the frisson and she can drive you out and I can watch
Wimbledon with a clear conscience.
"It's worth a
try, Gwen. Now that she's slept on it she might think she was a bit
rash."
"Anne isn't
rash. Once her mind's made up there's no changing it." She coughs.
"Anne would never have left if it wasn't for you," and each time
she brings her lips together the white gummy stuff is disturbed and
added to. "I promised her my old room when it was decorated and
newly furnished. But you stole that room."
"That's
twaddle. You asked me to live here."
"Only because
you begged me to let you have it. There's no good shaking your head
in that manner. You know you did. It should have been
Anne's."
Well, she can
have it. I'm out of here once Wimbledon's finished.
"Oh, I know.
It's Wimbledon, it's Wimbledon. Taking over the whole house. What's
the attraction with it, anyway? It used to be such a gentle and
demure game, not like the pantomime that passes for sport nowadays.
"
I force a
smile which feels more like a rictus. "I've just watched it for
years, you know."
"Yunno, yunno.
No, I don't know. There's another one of those
expressions."
"I'm sort of
nostalgic about it, I suppose. It's grown up with me, d'you know
what I mean?"
"Know-what-I-mean? No, I don't know what you mean!"
"We need to
get another afternoon carer for you," I say, watching the expanding
creamy blob on her lip.
"That's right.
As long as it's not you. You won't give anything more than you have
to, will you?"
(I've
given you my most precious resource, duck. Time.)
"Well," she
tuts. "I suppose I'll just have to get onto the agency again. See
if they can come up with a carer who cares. Bring the phone over
here."
*
Later, I
remind Gwen about her appointment with the physio tomorrow and I
hurry round the shops. I take one of Gwen's skirts to the dry
cleaners; her watch in to be mended. I buy bread and milk and fresh
haddock from the fishmonger's. I watch the thin ham from the deli
being sawn into slivers onto the tracing paper, weighed, and
scooped off the scales by the thin surgeony gloves. I see a box of
petit fours, wrapped up all beautiful, which I add to my shopping
bag. A gift for Gwen, a peace-offering. Not that I’ve done anything
wrong.
When I get
back, Gwen is beaming and in raptures about the petit
fours.
"Oh, and by
the way," she says. "We've got a new lady coming this afternoon.
Her name's Kathy or Karen or something. Anyway, she'll be here at
two o'clock ."
*
Today is
Second Monday and big crucial games are about to be played and
Henman and Courier are already warming up, and it starts to rain
before play's even got underway. I start to nod off and am woken by
the sound of a handbrake and just enough time to catch a fleeting
glimpse of the latest Carewise hopeful, though not enough to get
any lasting impression. Except there was no frisson to speak of
Frissons don't come that often, but Gwen's going to be as happy as
a sandboy with that little black Fiat parked out there, ready to
take her off somewhere. I hear the new girl being inducted, and the
Henman/Courier match is about to be resumed again when Gwen calls
up. Robina? Robina? Come downstairs a minute, would you? I'd like
you to meet Karen.
"Nice to meet
you," says Karen all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and holding out a
nail-polished hand when I get downstairs. She's got a soap opera
smile and lipstick on her teeth. "I'm just hoping to take
Gwendoline out for a wee spin once
the kind of work where you just clock off at 1 pm."
I remind her
what she said about not needing me in the afternoons.
"That was
before Anne left. The situation's changed now. You need to have
flexibility with this sort of work. People work." The white sticky
thing's forming on her bottom lip. "I need someone to chat with,
not someone buried in the television. Maybe I should try phoning
Anne. She's been so loyal and efficient."
Yeah, phone
her! Then I can see her lovely eyes and feel the frisson. I can
feel the frisson and she can drive you out and I can watch
Wimbledon with a clear conscience.
"It's worth a
try, Gwen. Now that she's slept on it she might think she was a bit
rash."
"Anne isn't
rash. Once her mind's made up there's no changing it." She coughs.
"Anne would never have left if it wasn't for you," and each time
she brings her lips together the white gummy stuff is disturbed and
added to. "I promised her my old room when it was decorated and
newly furnished. But you stole that room."
"That's
twaddle. You asked me to live here."
"Only because
you begged me to let you have it. There's no good shaking your head
in that manner. You know you did. It should have been
Anne's."
Well, she can
have it. I'm out of here once Wimbledon's finished.
"Oh, I know.
It's Wimbledon, it's Wimbledon. Taking over the whole house. What's
the attraction with it, anyway? It used to be such a gentle and
demure game, not like the pantomime that passes for sport nowadays.
"
I force a
smile which feels more like a rictus. "I've just watched it for
years, you know."
"Yunno, yunno.
No, I don't know. There's another one of those
expressions."
"I'm sort of
nostalgic about it, I suppose. It's grown up with me, d'you know
what I mean?"
"Know-what-I-mean? No, I don't know what you mean!"
"We need to
get another afternoon carer for you," I say, watching the expanding
creamy blob on her lip.
"That's right.
As long as it's not you. You won't give anything more than you have
to, will you?"
(I've
given you my most precious resource, duck. Time.)
"Well," she
tuts. "I suppose I'll just have to get onto the agency again. See
if they can come up with a carer who cares. Bring the phone over
here."
*
Later, I
remind Gwen about her appointment with the physio tomorrow and I
hurry round the shops. I take one of Gwen's skirts to the dry
cleaners; her watch in to be mended. I buy bread and milk and fresh
haddock from the fishmonger's. I watch the thin ham from the deli
being sawn into slivers onto the tracing paper, weighed, and
scooped off the scales by the thin surgeony gloves. I see a box of
petit fours, wrapped up all beautiful, which I add to my shopping
bag. A gift for Gwen, a peace-offering. Not that I’ve done anything
wrong.
When I get
back, Gwen is beaming and in raptures about the petit
fours.
"Oh, and by
the way," she says. "We've got a new lady coming this afternoon.
Her name's Kathy or Karen or something. Anyway, she'll be here at
two o'clock ."
*
Today is
Second Monday and big crucial games are about to be played and
Henman and Courier are already warming up, and it starts to rain
before play's even got underway. I start to nod off and am woken by
the sound of a handbrake and just enough time to catch a fleeting
glimpse of the latest Carewise hopeful, though not enough to get
any lasting impression. Except there was no frisson to speak of
Frissons don't come that often, but Gwen's going to be as happy as
a sandboy with that little black Fiat parked out there, ready to
take her off somewhere. I hear the new girl being inducted, and the
Henman/Courier match is about to be resumed again when Gwen calls
up. Robina? Robina? Come downstairs a minute, would you? I'd like
you to meet Karen.
"Nice to meet
you," says Karen all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and holding out a
nail-polished hand when I get downstairs. She's got a soap opera
smile and lipstick on her teeth. "I'm just hoping to take
Gwendoline out for a wee spin once
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