Page 30 of Be More Capybara

NIGEL

‘Ready?’

Helen was standing outside the Grange, next to her Fiat 500, wearing her winter coat, leggings and a pair of bright white trainers.

‘New shoes?’ Nigel asked.

‘I hadn’t got any non-marking ones, so I sported out on these beauties with their improved lateral stability and state-of-the-art shock absorption.’

Nigel chuckled. ‘Mine look pathetic by comparison.’

‘Don’t use them as an excuse if you lose,’ she said, opening the boot for him to put his gym bag inside. ‘You did say you’d booked balls as well as racquets?’

‘Yes, my old balls have lost their bounce.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s your age.’

He grinned. They really were back to how they used to behave together. ‘No comment.’

She jumped in the driver’s seat. ‘Come on, Farnham, we’re going to be late otherwise.’

Nigel got into the car. It felt odd being a passenger. He’d driven them everywhere as soon as he’d learnt to drive because he had his own car. He loved that old Volvo - not flashy, built like a tank, safe and reliable. The complete opposite of a boy racer. That said a lot in hindsight.

It wasn’t the only thing that was odd. When they reached the main road, he could’ve been anywhere in England. He’d driven this route to the tennis club many times in the 1990s, but it was barely recognisable now. Straighter, wider and lined with new housing estates instead of rolling fields, it had lost its rural Devon charm.

‘You’re quiet,’ Helen said. ‘Still jetlagged?’

‘No. I was thinking how everything changes, and not necessarily for the better.’

She smiled at him. ‘But they can get better again - sometimes.’

‘40 love,’ Helen said with a grin.

Nigel wiped the sweat from his brow. ‘I think you’re enjoying this more than I am.’

He’d been able to keep up with her for the first few games, but now he was shattered.

‘I thought you said you went to the gym several times a week.’

‘I do, but it looks like I need to do more cardio. Mind you, I’m being a gentleman by hitting the ball back to you. You’re having me running all over the court.’

‘Are you saying you’re going easy on me?’

‘Might be.’

‘I see.’

She had that steely look in her eye. He was going to pay for that comment.

He went back to the baseline and waited for Helen to serve. Yep. The ball whizzed past him before he could get his racket to it.

‘Game!’

‘Making a point?’

‘Just playing a point,’ she grinned.

‘I think you’ve been secretly getting lessons from Andy Murray while I’ve been away.’