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It paid off. Another straight sets win – six one, six one. Joel winked at me as he walked into the change room, bumping my fist with his own. I grinned, feeling relieved that the tension between us seemed to have dissipated … for now at least.

Quarter-finals here I come.

Saturn Phillips. The world number one player. She was six feet of pure muscle and she terrified me. Never mind the fact that I’d never played her before, but her sheer power … it was overwhelming. And she didn’t just grunt when she hit the ball. She screamed, which was pretty off-putting.

“Don’t get worked up about it, Stink. Just keep your cool, like you have been for the last four rounds, and you’ll be fine. You’re on fire – the media is touting you the player to watch. You’ve got this in the bag. Saturn’s getting old – you’re younger, faster and fitter.”

I gave Joel a weak smile and let him pat me on the cheek, my head spinning that I was about to face down the world number one player in the quarter-final of the biggest tournament of the year.

I won the first set. Saturn won the second and she was burning up the court. I felt my grip on the match slipping as she won the third game of the final set. I hadn’t won a game in this set yet and judging by the strength with which she was sending the ball my way, I wasn’t sure I would.

I lined up on the baseline and allowed myself a brief glance up into the stands at Joel before I served. He grinned at me. I chuckled under my breath, feeling my fear vanish. I served.

Saturn didn’t score any more points after that. I won the third set and the match.

Semi-final versus Joanne Mercer. I’d only played her once and she’d beaten me.

Again, Joel spent my day off going over her past few matches and together we dissected her game.

“You know, Joel,” I began as we both stretched and got ready to go to bed, “you’re a great coach. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He grinned and tweaked me on the cheek.

“Thanks, Stinky. I was thinking earlier that I can’t remember enjoying myself as much as when I’m helping you win games.”

I smirked. “Oh my God, I’m better than sex!” I teased, relieved that we were back in that comfortable place where we could tease each other.

“You’re better than sex …” he murmured in agreement as he walked towards his room. Everything south of my navel contracted violently.

He looked back over his shoulder from the doorway of his room. “Sleep well, Stink. You’ve got an American to beat tomorrow.”

The morning air was hot and heavy as I walked onto the court. Joanne Mercer smiled at me from the other side of the net. I’d always liked her – she was friendly to everyone and she was a good winner. I wondered if today was my chance to find out if she was a good loser as well .

She smashed me in the first set, six games to two. I took a break, towelled the sweat off and went back out for another try.

The second set went my way, six four. Joanne maintained her cheery facade even as we went into the deciding set. I wondered if that was a tactic to try and throw me off guard. I breathed deep and positioned myself to receive the ball.

I went into a whole other dimension when I won that final set. I looked up at Joel, who was beaming hugely at me.

“Only one more match between me and that trophy, Sensei,” I teased as we prepared to head back to the hotel.

Joel put his hand on the small of my back and ushered me out.

We wouldn’t know who I was up against until the other semi-final was played that evening.

But since it was narrowed down to two players, Joel decided we’d start discussing both of them.

“Di Gunn is older, she’s trying to make a comeback after having a year off to have a baby,” Joel explained. I nodded impatiently – this was information I already knew.

“That she’s gotten to the semi-final means that she’s very focussed on proving herself. But she is older and she’s only been back a couple of tournaments. It’s her home crowd, though, so there’ll be a lot of support for her.”

“What about Heather Roach?” I asked. I didn’t know much about the young Canadian. I hadn’t played her before. I hadn’t seen her play before.

It seemed that Joel didn’t know much about Heather Roach either.

So of course, she was the one that I was facing in the final.

Okay, Mel, you’ve got her number now. She’s got a niggle in her ankle. She seems to be favouring her left leg. Whatever it is she’s definitely not enjoying it when you send her across court. Work her as hard as you can, keep her running back and forth.

I’d noticed Heather limping very slightly when she had to run for the ball. I self-consciously moved my own right ankle around in circles. It was feeling fine, but there was nothing to say that Heather Roach wasn’t over there right now reminding herself about my weak ankle too.

I took a swig of water and searched the stand for Joel.

He met my gaze with an intensity that sent tingles thrumming through me.

I was running on nothing more than nervous energy anyway – that’s what happens when you’re in a tie breaker inside a tie breaker.

What I mean is, we’d each won a set and now on the third we were locked at six games each.

So, there was very little fuel left in the tank. The only thing keeping me going was the knowledge that if I won, I’d won at Wimbledon. I’d never even imagined I’d get to the final, let alone have a shot at winning it.

I thought about Steve and Natalie, and I prayed silently that the Atheists were wrong, and that they were both watching me from Heaven. I looked up at the watery British sun, sending a silent promise to both of them. This one’s for you.

The bell went off and I walked back onto the court silently. Heather Roach nodded at me across the court.

I served and all thoughts of everything else disappeared – Joel, Steve, Natalie – everything except winning.

Serve, return, forehand, backhand, volley, run, run, run, backhand. That was the extent of what was going on inside my brain. I didn’t even have room to keep score.

I scored a point and the crowd erupted. I looked at the umpire, who was calling the game – I’d won.

I’d won.

I’d WON !

I dropped my racquet right then and there, hands pressed over my heart. Heather Roach was standing at the net waiting for me to come and shake her hand. I practically floated towards her.

“Congratulations, Mel!” Heather greeted me in her mellow Canadian accent. “You deserve this. I’m a big fan of yours.”

“Thanks, Heather!” I said with feeling. It wasn’t often that a competitor was so nice after you beat them.

And then I looked up and saw Joel. I’d just won my first ever Grand Slam event, at Wimbledon no less, and without him I couldn’t have done it.

I raced across the court, skidded to a halt briefly to shake the umpire’s hand, and then I climbed the barrier into the shocked and delighted crowd.

I navigated my way up the stands, people clapping and cheering as they moved aside.

I ascended towards the coach’s box, Joel watching me, eyes burning.

I flung my arms around his neck and clung to him.

I could feel his laughter where our bodies were touching (which was a lot of places), and his lips pressed against the side of my neck.

He didn’t even seem to care that I was oozing sweat and I probably stunk.

My top had ridden up a bit at the back and Joel’s hands sneaked up under it, his fingertips caressing my spine.

“You did it, Mel! You really did it – I told you that you could do it!”

“You did tell me, Joel.” I couldn’t fail to notice that his hands were still under my top. I felt dizzy from the win and from his proximity to me.

I was about to throw caution to the wind, to open my mouth and just blurt out the words that had been on the tip of my tongue for weeks now, but just as I took a breath to say “kiss me” to Joel, he turned me back towards the court. His eyes weren’t on me anymore.

“Go, Mel, this is your moment!”

I turned and raced back onto the court, to where I was being beckoned by the match officials to the podium that had been hastily erected.

I stood in a daze, not paying attention to anything happening around me – not the words that the match official said into the mic, not Heather Roach receiving her runners-up award, not Princess Kate waiting to present the trophy to me.

I just watched Joel. I watched the way his facial muscles moved as he grinned down at me from his place in the stands. I let my eyes rove over his impressive body as he clapped.

It was probably a good thing that the presentation had started when it did – who knows what would have happened if Joel and I hadn’t been interrupted then .

And then Princess Kate was shaking my hand and passing the trophy over to me.

I held it above my head and the crowd cheered.

I grinned stupidly, my eyes prickling when I thought about all the people I’d done this for.

Steve and Natalie. Brad and Amanda, who’d always been there for me.

Even Mum, who had gotten me into tennis in the first place.

And Joel. Of course, Joel.

When it was over, when I’d blurted some unknown words into the microphone for the crowd, when I’d done a lap of the court and shaken the hands of the people who were hanging over the edge, when I’d mindlessly answered press conference questions, finally I was able to leave the spotlight.

“Do I have to do my recovery today?” I whined at Joel when I found him waiting in the change room for me. “I don’t think I can sit still long enough.”

Joel laughed and took the trophy from my hands. “Ice bath and take a shower and then we’ll get out of here. I can always give you a rub down when we get back to the apartment.”

I was on such a high I didn’t even bother reacting to his innuendo. I iced myself and showered in record time, slipped into clean underwear and a dress, and we avoided the worst of the rabble outside the players’ entrance to get into a taxi.

“Well Mel, we’re going to have to make an appearance at the WTA party tonight now – you’ll be the star attraction.”

I grimaced. I didn’t like tennis parties. But I could see his point.

The taxi dropped us out the front of the building and we clambered out, weighed down with all my tennis gear. Joel carried most of it. I followed him in a daze.

The staff in the reception area crowded around to congratulate me. I accepted their praise with grace, all the time backing towards the elevator.

I sighed out a deep breath when the doors closed and we were finally alone.

“I can’t believe it, Joel, it just feels so surreal,” I said, leaning against the side of the lift .

He beamed at me. “Better get used to it fast, Stink. Everyone’s going to want you – you’re a piece of history now.”

I grunted at him. “That makes me feel old – a piece of history.”

“Oh, you’re so old, almost twenty-three!” he teased.

I wrinkled my nose at him. “Well, sorry that I’m not ancient like you. Twenty-eight this year. Do I need to start reminding you to book in for your prostate exam?”

Joel snorted and I giggled.

“Stink, get the key out of my pocket – my hands are full.”

“Could you be any less subtle about making me fumble around in your pants?” I said, but reached into his shorts pocket for the key, blushing as my hand brushed against his crotch.

I dragged the key out and swiftly turned to unlock the door, biting my lip hard because words wanted to spill out – words that I just couldn’t say.

Joel dumped our gear just inside the door. I walked in, sucking in a deep breath. He came up behind me, hands spanning my hips, fingers caressing.

“Mel, I’m so proud of you,” he whispered in my ear. I turned around to face him, trying to figure out what was safe to say. There were too many things I wanted to say.

Joel didn’t give me a chance to say anything.

His lips crashed into mine and my resolve crumbled.