Read Online Break Point by Kate Rigby - Free Book Online Page A

this rain has passed
over."
    I've never
been much good on accents, but I've narrowed it down to Scottish or
Irish. Karen tosses her rich brown hair this way and that - not the
straight-down plain-speaking hair of Anne but hair all gelled and
corkscrewed - and panders to Gwen's every last request. It's hard
to refuse Gwen, especially on your first day; especially with all
the would-you-be-so-kind prefixes.
    But just you
wait, Karen. Give it a few days and she'll drop all that, and then
she'll drop you.
    *
    They've gone
out for their wee spin, Gwen and Karen, though it's still grey out
there while rain has interrupted live play at Wimbledon for a
second time and it's going to be one of them raggedy old days with
live and recorded tennis plaited throughout the
afternoon.
    But it’s like
a mantra, the way some of the umpires say deuce. It's got a lot
going for it that word.
    I wonder if
Rosemary enjoyed the sound of deuce.
    I wonder if
June's thinking about the sound of deuce.
    Or
Babs?
    I've not dared
contact Babs much, since it all blew up. Babs has been taken back
and forgiven by Tash but Tash won't ever let Babs forget that she
betrayed her. She'll use it against her for all
eternity.
    Should I call
Babs? I want to. It'll upset Tash though. Babs can't ever leave
Tash because of the way Tash gets all mardy. She once found Tash in
the bathroom with all the pill bottles out, all lined up in a row
with their caps off. She's always looked after Tash, knowing Tash
gets unstable. She was a bit of a mess when Babs first met her.
Babs rescued her, helped sort her out. But Tash has always got that
on Babs, she plays on it. Colin says Tash is a Poor Me.
    *
    The live
tennis is back on; Gwen and Karen back home. I hear Karen dusting
down the stairs with the hard wire brush, she's using big powerful
strokes, you can tell by the way the brush knocks against the wood
at the side of the stairs. Gwen must be leaning on her stick at the
bottom of the stairs as she talks up to Karen because I can hear
her over and above the crowd on Centre Court whose roaring I've
turned down.
    "It's good to
see someone working so hard ... things just don't get done properly
in the morning."
    Let it go.
Let the deuces flow and soothe
    "Robina is
lazy. She sits around drinking tea and she tells lies like
Rosemary."
    Brush brush
brush. The enthusiastic Karen works on.
    "It's
marvellous that you have a car and that we can go out ... maybe
you'd like to think about moving in here, Kathy."
    Let. Second
service.
    "Do you have
any other commitments?"
    "My little
boy."
    (Irish. Defo
Irish.)
    "Oh of course.
You did tell me. My memory isn't always so ... anyway there is my
old room upstairs."
    Brush knock
knock brush. "I thought you said Robina was living
there."
    "She's just
here to watch television. She sits upstairs and even takes her
meals up there. Treats the place like an hotel. I'm all alone down
here. I do like to have some company in the evenings."
    "Of course you
do."

    "I practically
live downstairs, you see ... the main thing is compatibility and
getting along with my helpers and we seem to get on
splendidly."
    (Where have I
heard that before?)
    "It's my
arthritis. That's why I have to live down here. It gives me such
pain, you see."
    "Oh I can give
you a massage after I've done this if you like. I'm fully
qualified."
    "Are you?
Would you? Oh you're so kind."
    And now she's
thanking Karen for the petit fours but it's not even worth playing
their game. You can try all you like, with all the shots in your
repertoire, but it's a waste of time. Here comes another attacking
ball. Gwen singing The Skye Boat Song. It sounds all shrill and
roupy against the mellow thunks of Wimbledon, and now Karen's
joining in with a good hearty Celtic voice.
    "I haven't
sung that song in ages," roars Gwen. "Let's do it again. One two
three ... "
     
     

SECOND
TUESDAY
     
    Karen phoned
this morning. "Hello? Is that Robina? I'm awfully sorry but my
childminder's let me down. Would