Chapter TWENTY-ONE
There had been all-round improvement at the Newman household by the time the day of the tennis party came round. Firstly, Benji’s tennis had now reached the stage that he could hold an extensive rally with David, even though David had to make sure that he kept hitting the ball to his forehand, otherwise it was quite likely to end up in the swimming pool. His ukulele playing likewise went from strength to strength, the only times that he was ever seen without the instrument being when he was playing tennis or at school, not yet having the confidence to show off his newly discovered prowess to his fellow pupils.
Despite this, he had decided that he would try entering a little song of his own for the school talent competition, his motivation for this being derived from the fact that David had himself written a little ditty about Dodie, specifically for Benji to play on the three chords that he had learned. However, throughout its first recital, Benji had criticized the song endlessly for its lack of accuracy and bad rhyming.
“So the chords are just straight G, C and D-Seventh—like that. Okay?”
“Yup. Can I do it now?”
“Hang on! You don’t even know how it goes yet!”
“Okay. But I’ll do it next time.”
“All right. Now, are you listening?”
“Yup.”
“Life is filled with such wonderful things
Like beer and hot apfelstrudel—”
“What’s apfelstrudel?”
“It’s a sort of a German apple-tart.”
“Do you always eat it with beer?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Well then, why beer and hot apfelstrudel?”
“Because it rhymes, Benji.”
“With what?”
“Just hold your horses! We haven’t got there yet.
“But it’s beaten by far
By a ride in the car
With Dodie the fun-loving poodle—”
“That’s ridiculous! Can’t you think of anything else to rhyme with poodle?”
“Hey, give me a break! It only took me an hour to write this!”
“An hour! But it’s only five lines long!”
“Just wait, Sir Tim Rice, I haven’t finished yet!”
“Who’s Sir Tim Rice?”
“Listen, do you want me to go on or not?”
“Okay.”
“We ride around the town
With the top folded down
And in Leesport I tell you that’s freezin’—”
“No, it’s not!”
“Not what?”
“It’s never freezing in Leesport. Well, not in summer, anyway. In winter, it sometimes goes down to minus—”
“Benji!”
“Okay, I suppose you only used the word to rhyme with—”
“Look, do you want me to go on or not?”
“Sorry.”
“Then the air becomes thick
You think Dodie’s been sick
But it turns out that she’s only breathin’.”
“Hey! I like that!”
“Thank goodness! I’ve made an impression at last.”
“Only freezin’ doesn’t rhyme with breathin’.”
“Oh, forget it then!”
“No, please, David, do it again!”
“No. Couldn’t be bothered. Anyway, I haven’t finished it yet.”
“Please, David, sing the whole thing! I promise I won’t interrupt again.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, promise. Go on, how does it start?”
“Life is filled with such wonderful things
Like beer and hot apfelstrudel
But it’s beaten by far
By a ride in the car
With Dodie the fun-loving poodle.
“We ride around town
With the top folded down
And in Leesport I tell you that’s freezin’.”
“Though it’s not!”
“You said you weren’t—”
“Sorry!”
“Then the air becomes thick
You think Dodie’s been sick
But it turns out that she’s only breathin’.”
“Right, all together now!”
“Life is filled with such wonderful things
Like beer and hot apfelstrudel.
But it’s beaten by far
By a ride in the car
With Dodie the fun-loving poodle.
“Well, she sits in her seat
Growls at all that she meets
’Cept the boy, and her boss who’s a
navvy.”
“Is the boy me?”
“Yeah.”
“Great! Er, David?”
“What?”
“Can I ask another question?”
“What?”
“What’s a navvy?”
“A workman. That’s me.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Can I go on?”
“Okay.”
“But although she goes wuff!
She’s just a bundle of fluff
And you can use her to clean out the
lavvy!”
“A lavvy?”
“A loo—a toilet. I don’t know what you call it.”
“Hey, that’s really rude!”
“Well, those are the lyrics.”
“I think it’s great! But I bet I could do just as well!”
“Well, do it then!”
“Okay, I will. But can I do that one now?”
* * *
It soon became their constant anthem, both of them singing it out loud as they drove back and forth through Leesport on the school run, with Dodie, ever present in the back seat, lapping up every moment of reflected glory.
* * *
June had also brought out an abundance of new colour in the garden, which helped to create a fresh and exciting vibrancy to the already perfect setting of the house. Roses of every hue bloomed majestically, while flocks and Japanese irises, encouraged by the warm weather, stretched their spindly necks above the hydrangeas and spicy-smelling geraniums, splashing their pin-points of colour against the blue backdrop of the bay. The trumpet-vine that grew at the front of the house and climbed high onto the veranda above the conservatory broke open its flowers, spreading them outward so that they licked like tiny incandescent flames at the white wooden railings and the shingles around the upper windows.
This all helped give David even greater impetus in his work. He had found a small garden centre five miles out of Leesport on the Montauk Highway, where he had bought an abundance of herbaceous shrubs and bedding plants to fill in the gaps that had been left by the previous gardener. However, his eccentric appearance whilst shopping, pushing his laden trolley along the paths with a poodle attached by its lead to the handle, soon drew the attention of the young couple who owned the place, and subsequently, during his third visit, they introduced themselves and asked him into their office for coffee and muffins. Visits thereafter gradually lengthened in time, and even though they became firm friends, he eventually had to try stockpiling his lists in order to cut down both on the time he spent away from the garden and on his intake of caffeine.
Nevertheless, it was these friends, really genuine friends, that he had made during his short time in Leesport who helped him prove to himself that his own healing process was well under way. No longer did he wish to head home each night to sit alone in the house. He actively sought company, and when he was not having supper with Jasmine and Benji, he either dropped in at the Leesport Bar for a beer and a chat with the locals, or he was being invited out for dinner with new-found acquaintances. On one such occasion it had been at the house of Clive and his friend Peter. While David was made to sit at the kitchen table, the two men accompanied the preparation of the meal with a hilarious and obviously well-rehearsed two-man act, each singing and dancing around the other, saucepan and mixing bowl in hand, to the strains of an old recording of My Fair Lady.
But the closest relationship he had of all was brought about by his daily contact with Jasmine and Benji, the bond that he had now formed with the young boy helping to bring thoughts of his own children constantly to the surface of his mind. Every second night he would sit down to write each a letter, starting always by knocking off the number of days left to the end of term with the words “Then Holiday Time!!” written after the scored-out figure. He really missed them so much, and although he felt apprehensive about eventually having to return to Scotland, there was also a profound excitement at the thought of being with them again.
Yet at present it was the environment of the Newman household which gave him the strongest indication that he was returning to normality, both the simplicity of his own existence and the innocent, uncomplicated chemistry engendered by his two friends helping to reduce the tangled mess of barbed wire in his brain to a smooth, straight line of clear thought.
Consequently, life for him revolved around his work in the garden: the tennis matches with Benji, for which Jasmine, at Benji’s insistence, had now been made to perch on a step-ladder at the side of the net, calling out what was invariably the wrong score, but all adding to the authenticity and importance of the occasion; the ferry trips to Fire Island with Benji, who, more often than not, was allowed to demonstrate his nautical skills by taking over at the helm; the evenings in the kitchen or on the terrace, drinking wine with Jasmine whilst Benji interrupted them constantly to sing Dodie’s song or yet another line of his own “hit” single; and then Jasmine’s driving lessons up the drive, which numbered only one and a bit, Jasmine having stormed off halfway through the second, leaving her passengers bent double with uncontrollable laughter at her total inability to master clutch control.
However, despite their ever-deepening friendship, David never mentioned anything about his past, unprepared to start revealing any of his innermost thoughts. This was not through any lack of trust or opportunity in confiding in Jasmine, but more that he was frightened of the reaction that he himself might have to his own revelation, knowing that it could so easily open up healing wounds and allow the infection of unwelcome sorrow to penetrate his mind again.
Friday had been such a beautiful day, with the sea breeze picking up enough to blow away the sticky humidity which had hung about since the previous weekend, that David had picked up Benji from school and, with Jasmine’s permission, they had gone straight to the marina to catch the ferry to Fire Island. There they had spent the late afternoon and early evening, happily playing football on the beach and swimming in the sea, making it back across the boardwalk just in time to catch the last ferry home. Because it was too late to complete the work that he had scheduled for himself that day, David decided to return to finish off his tasks on the Saturday.
He arrived at the house at his usual time of eight-fifteen in the morning, to be met by Benji, who came running out of the kitchen still wearing his pyjamas. He proceeded to rattle off a garbled explanation about why he wouldn’t be able to keep him company until later, seeing that his father was home and he wanted to play him his new song. David excused him, secretly relieved that he would now be allowed to complete the rest of the mowing without interruption.
By mid-day, the lawn tractor was back in the shed, and he had moved down to the flower-bed at the farthest end of the tennis court to plant the rest of the shrubs that he had purchased from the garden centre two days beforehand. He was in the process of digging in a new dwarf rhododendron when he heard voices coming from around the side of the hedge and turned to see five figures dressed in tennis whites slowly make their way towards the small summer-house at the other end of the court, chatting as they walked. Dodie let out a short bark to warn him of strangers in their garden.
“Dodie! That’s enough!” he said quietly, watching them long enough to see Benji careering around the corner on his bicycle before turning back to his work.
“Benji! Watch out! You nearly ran over Sam!”
“Sorry, Sam! Sorry, Dad! HI, DAVID!”
David looked up and gave him a brief wave before returning to his work.
“Who’s that, Jennifer?” David heard a female voice say.
“That’s David, the new gardener. God, look, I’d better go and have a word with him. I haven’t spoken to him since he first arrived. Listen, Alex, darling, why don’t you play with Molly—no, that’s not fair—Russ, you play with Molly, and Alex, you play with Sam.”
“Christ, Jennifer, I still think it’s too hot to play. I mean, it’s the middle of the day!”
“Come on, moaner, you’ve been sitting on a plane all week. It’ll do you good, and anyway, it might sweat off some of those extra pounds that total inactivity has put on your middle!”
There was an outburst of laughter.
“Thanks for nothing!”
“Can’t I introduce Dad to David, Mom?” Benji asked.
“Yeah, why can’t I meet Superman?”
“Sssh, Alex! For God’s sakes, he might hear. Just go play some tennis.”
There was the general mumbling of voices and the sound of tennis-racket covers being unzipped, and David had just heard the clink of the bolt being slid across on the court gate when a voice spoke at his side.
“Hi.”
He turned in his bent position to look at a pair of long brown legs, his eyes following them upwards to the fringe of a short white tennis skirt. He stood up quickly, not wishing to make it look as if he was lingering on the sight, to find Jennifer standing beside him. He’d had only had a fleeting glimpse of her since their first meeting, that being on the previous Saturday, when he had come over especially to give Benji a tennis lesson. She had come out onto the veranda above the conservatory to watch them play for five minutes before going back into the house. Benji had said something about her being busy working on a new contract.
“Hullo. I hope you don’t mind my coming over today. It’s only that—”
“No! Not at all!” she cut in. She looked down at the rhododendron that he had just dug into the ground. “Are you putting in new plants?”
David followed her eye-line downwards. “Yeah, I’m afraid that the last gardener did leave a number of holes, so I thought I’d fill them in.” He looked back up to her. “I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course it’s all right. Where did you get them?”
“Oh, I found a small garden centre out on the Montauk Highway. They’ve really got good stuff out there.”
“How much have you bought?”
“Oh, well, it’s all right,” he said, realizing that she might be thinking that a huge bill was imminent. “I just thought one or two here and there might help.”
“But how are you paying?”
“No, I mean, that’s all right. I just thought it would look better.”
“But you must give me the bill. I can’t expect you to pay for them.”
“Well, I—”
They were interrupted by a ball coming high over the back netting of the court and landing on the lawn ten yards from David. He walked over and picked it up and lobbed it back over the netting.
“You must tell me how much I owe you, David.”
He smiled, embarrassed, rubbing his hands together to rid them of the loose soil. It was the first time she had mentioned his name.
“Okay.”
“And in future, if you go there, open an account, okay?”
“Right.”
She turned and gazed around the garden. “It looks wonderful.”
“Well, it’s getting there.”
“No, it’s not. I think it looks wonderful now. I mean it. You really do know how to garden, don’t you?”
David scratched at the back of his head. “Well, I have had a bit of experience.”
They stood looking at each other for a moment, and David, unsettled by their lengthy eye contact, picked up his spade and made to start digging again.
“David?”
He straightened up again.
“I, er … well, I just want to say how much I appreciate what you’re doing for Benji. He really loves his tennis with you, and his ukulele … and er, I’m quite happy to pay you extra for what you’re doing, especially for taking him to school.”
“For heaven’s sakes, no!” David said, almost too forcefully. He smiled to mollify his tone. “I mean, no, I really don’t want to be paid for that. It’s a pleasure, believe me. He really is a great boy.”
The remark had the most staggering effect on Jennifer, suddenly unleashing the full natural beauty of her face. Her mouth broke into a wide grin which wrinkled her cheeks into smile lines that had been imperceptible beforehand, her lips drawn back to reveal the perfection of her glistening white teeth. David was so taken aback by his own reaction to her that he looked down at the ground and started to kick nervously at the blade of his spade.
“Thank you for that.” She let out a resigned sigh. “Well, at least promise me you’ll open an account at the garden centre.”
He looked up at her and smiled. “Okay, I’ll do that.”
“Jennifer!” Alex’s voice called out from the court.
“What?”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, fine.”
“What’re you doing? Gerry’s arrived. Come and see him.”
Both Jennifer and David looked to the other end of the court where a tall, thin young man was sitting down on the bench outside the summer-house. He was dressed in tennis whites, his hair sleeked tight to his scalp and gathered in a pony-tail at the back of his head.
“Okay, I’m coming!” She turned and gave David a smile. “See you.”
“Right.”
He watched her for a moment as she walked back up the side netting of the court, then turned back to his work in the flower-bed.
The players had just started on the second set when Jasmine came out from the house and called Alex to the telephone. David glanced out the side of his eye to see him leave the court immediately, asking the pony-tailed young man to take his place. As he ran towards the house, Jennifer, who had been knocking a ball back and forth with Benji on the lawn, watched him intently. After a brief discussion as to the score, the game continued, with the older man called Sam serving to the athletic and fiercely competitive Russ, who partnered Sam’s dumpy little wife, Molly, at the end nearest to where David was working.
The first ball of the new game had hardly been hit across the net before Russ was jogging over to Molly to whisper urgent words of encouragement and new tactical ideas in her ear. The effect on her game was immediate, and of the next two balls that came to her, one was missed completely and the other dribbled harmlessly into the bottom of the net. Russ turned round and stood looking at her, hand on hip, his tennis racket over his shoulder and his head cocked to one side.
“Come on, Moll, what the hell’s gotten into you? You were doing better than that before!”
“Sorry,” Molly said meekly, returning to the backhand court and trying to give her partner the impression that she really was trying by crouching in concentrated readiness for the next ball to come to her. Sam wound himself up for the serve and it winged its way down to Molly’s backhand. This time she made perfect contact, so much so that it sailed clean over the back netting of the court, landing at Benji’s feet on the lawn.
“Oh dear!” she said, her voice faltering slightly. “I do apologize, Russ.”
“That’s game!” Sam called out from the other end, and proceeded to hit the balls down to Molly’s end of the court. They finished in a clump against the back netting beside David.
“Right, your serve now, Moll,” Russ said, his voice sulky at the thought of inevitable defeat. “Try and get them in.”
Molly walked over to retrieve two balls from the back netting next to David, talking to herself as she did so.
“Oh dear! Oh dear! What am I doing wrong, I wonder?”
David tilted his head slightly towards her, never stopping his work in the flower-bed.
“Nothing,” he said quietly.
Molly, being in the process of picking up a ball, glanced up at him. “Sorry?”
“You’re doing nothing wrong. Just play to your husband’s backhand. It’s very weak.”
“But I can’t even get the ball over the net!”
“That’s because they’re playing to your backhand. Just run round the ball and play it on your forehand. You hit them well enough.”
Russ turned round from his position at the net. “Molly! What’s holding you up?”
“I’m coming.” She looked at David and smiled.
David did not watch the next point, but listened to the ball being hit hard and often across the net. The rally ended with a shout of frustration from Sam, and a whoop of joy from Russ.
“Great shot, Molly! That’s a helluva lot better!”
David smiled to himself in satisfaction as he dug his fingers into the ground to loosen the roots of a particularly stubborn dockleaf. He heard the squeak of tennis shoes approach him, and Molly bent down to pick up another ball.
“Thank you so much,” she said quietly, and he turned to see her upside-down head grinning at him. He gave her a wink just as the weed came away in his hands.
* * *
Jasmine waited for Alex by the door that led into the hallway, and watched as he bounced his way up the steps at the side of the terrace.
“It’s the phone in the study,” she said, standing aside to allow him into the house first.
“Okay, thanks.”
He walked down the hall and entered the drawing-room, closing the door carefully behind him, while Jasmine returned to the kitchen to finish putting the bottles of beer and iced tea into the cooler. She was just pushing the door of the refrigerator closed with her backside, a bowl of mixed salad in one hand and a plate piled high with tuna sandwiches in the other, when Benji ran into the kitchen.
“Have you seen Dad?”
“He’s in the study, darlin’.”
“Great! I want him to come and meet David,” he said, running back the way he had come.
Jasmine called after him. “Just leave him be, darlin’. He’s on the telephone right—”
“Dad, come and meet David!” Benji’s voice carried through the house, as he yelled into the study.
She smiled and shook her head, and transferring the plate and bowl to one hand, she picked up the cooler in the other, and walked back through the hall.
The door of the study was slightly open, Benji obviously having failed to close it properly before running back out into the garden. Jasmine tutted and put down the cooler and walked over to the door. She was about to put her hand out to close it, when she heard Alex laugh quietly into the telephone.
“That’s wicked!” he said in a hushed voice. “You shouldn’t say those kind of things over the phone! Are you sure there’s no one there that can hear you?”
Jasmine drew back her hand, wondering if she should close the door or just leave it as it was.
“Look, I really don’t know if I can make it. I promised Jennifer that I’d be here this weekend.” He laughed again. “I know you are. I’m horny too. But we’ll just have to wait until next week.”
Jasmine clasped her hand to her mouth and turned slowly away, feeling a sudden flush of panic burn at her cheeks.
“When are you off?… Monday? … Christ, you didn’t tell me you were going away … yeah, and I want to see you too … goddamn it!… Okay, listen, I’ll get out of this thing today … no, no, I’ll just say I’ve been called away on business … no, just leave it with me. I really want to see you before you go … okay, meet you at your place in a few hours…”
Jasmine had heard all that she wanted. She tiptoed over to where she had left the cooler and, picking it up, hurried out of the door into the garden.
Alex put down the telephone and sat for a moment drumming his fingers on the surface of the desk. He turned to look out the window and caught sight of Jennifer and Benji hitting a tennis ball to each other on the lawn. Pushing back the chair, he rose and walked over to the window, where he stood watching them as they counted out the number of shots in their rally. It ended with Jennifer lobbing a ball high over Benji’s head and he threw his racket up in the air in a desperate attempt to intercept it. He leaped to pick up the racket and the ball, then directed a yell towards the new gardener at the other end of the court. Jennifer looked round and laughed at the remark, as the man straightened up from his task and smiled in their direction, acknowledging whatever it was that Benji had said with a wave of his hand. As Alex watched this, he felt an unexpected pang of jealousy course through his body, as sudden and as powerful as an electric shock. He shook his head and turned from the window, giving the chair at his desk a kick as he walked towards the door.
“Shit! What a fucking mess you’ve made of this!” he said, slamming the door shut behind him.
Jasmine was on her way back to the house when he passed her on the terrace. Alex smiled at her, but she kept her eyes low and hurried past. He turned to watch her enter the house, then, pulling a face at her odd, unfriendly behaviour, he walked down the steps of the terrace and around the side of the hedge, arriving at the summer-house just as the players were coming off court. Jennifer and Benji had brought their own game to an end and were moving across the lawn to meet them.
“Hey, Alex,” Russ called over to him as he approached. “You really should have seen that! Molly played like a woman possessed! She won that match single-handed!” He turned to his blushing partner and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Alex smiled and stuck his hands into the pockets of his shorts.
“Yeah, I wish I had,” he said in a flat voice.
Jennifer looked at him, a worried expression on her face. “Are you all right, darling?”
“Yup.” He glanced down at his feet and rubbed the toes of his tennis shoes together. “Listen, Jennifer, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news. I’ve got to go.”
Jennifer let her tennis racket fall limply to her side, and Benji ran over to his father and grabbed hold of his hand.
“You can’t go, Dad. You haven’t met David yet, and I want to show you how well I can play tennis now! Please, Dad!”
“I know, Benji, it’s a real pain. I want to see you play tennis as well, and meet David, but this is sort of an emergency.”
“How much of an emergency?” Jennifer asked.
“I’m not sure. That was Harry. Something’s not good with the contract in Dallas. I have to meet him at the office in two hours. He says we can’t afford to leave it until Monday.”
Jennifer threw down the racket. “Oh, for heaven’s sakes! Can’t they manage without you for once?”
“Doesn’t look like it. I may have to fly out there. I’m not sure.”
Jennifer turned to the rest of the tennis party and held up her arms resignedly. “Sorry, folks.”
Alex nodded. “Yeah, sorry about this, everyone. I’m afraid it’s just the nature of the job!” He walked over to his wife and took her by the arm and led her around the hedge towards the terrace steps. “Look, I really am sorry about this.”
Jennifer smiled and shrugged. “It’s not your fault. It’s only that sometimes I wish that we had the weekends to be a little more like a normal family—if not for our sake, for Benji’s.”
“I know.” He paused. “Listen, I don’t know if I will be going to Dallas, but I’m certainly heading back to San Francisco Wednesday night. So I was wondering if we might have an early dinner together?”
For a moment, Jennifer held off giving an answer, thinking about the work she still had to do on the Tarvy’s proposal. Then she nodded. “Okay. Where?”
“We could try the new fish restaurant on Forty-eighth between Lex and Park. I think it’s called the Ocean Floor. Supposed to be good.”
“What time?”
“Have to be early, I’m afraid. Can you make it seven o’clock?”
“Yup, okay.”
“Good. Well, look, I’d better be off. Apologize to Russ for not giving him a game.”
“Oh, I think he’ll survive,” Jennifer sighed. “As will we all.”
Alex smiled without looking at her directly. “I’ll see you Wednesday then.” He turned and began running up the steps.
“Alex?”
He stopped and looked back. “Yeah?”
“Could I have a kiss?”
Alex came down the steps towards her and gave her a peck on the cheek. “See you Wednesday.”
He took the steps two at a time and, without a backwards glance, headed along the terrace and went into the house. Jennifer stood where she was, her arms folded, looking up towards the empty terrace. Then, with a shake of her head, she turned and walked slowly back to join the others at the tennis court.
“That’s a goddamned shame,” Russ said, taking a swig of beer from the bottle. “I’m not going to get my game now.”
“Well, I sure as hell ain’t going to take you on!” Sam laughed, sitting back in his deck-chair and taking a drag on his cigar. “I’m not going to risk spoiling an enjoyable afternoon by having a coronary.”
“You don’t need to play tennis to do that, Sammy,” Molly said in a matronly voice. “You smoke too many of those things for your own good.”
“Oh, don’t start on that, Moll! Hey, Gerry”—he turned to the pony-tailed man—“why don’t you give Russ a game?”
Gerry shook his head. “No, I’m really not into tennis as a competitive sport,” he said in the mildest of Irish accents. “I just like to have myself a gentle runaround.”
“Mom?” Benji had been sitting cross-legged on the ground, pulling up clumps of grass.
“Yes, darling?”
“Can I whisper something to you?”
Everyone turned to look at Jennifer, raising their eyebrows in intrigue.
“Okay.”
Benji jumped up and walked over to his mother’s chair, and putting his arms around her neck, he whispered in her ear.
“Oh, I don’t think so, Benji.”
“Why not? It’s a great idea.”
“I know, darling, but he’s busy right now.”
“Well, can’t we ask him? Or at least ask Russ.”
“Oh, this involves me, does it?” Russ said, moving towards Benji with his hands held out in strangle formation.
Benji screamed and sought refuge behind his mother.
“Go on, quick, Mom, ask him before he gets me!”
Jennifer laughed. “Okay—Russ. Benji has suggested that you play David.”
Russ stopped and looked at her inquiringly. “David? Who’s he? I heard his name mentioned earlier.”
Jennifer leaned sideways in her chair to look past Russ and pointed to where David was working.
“The gardener.” She watched as he tamped at the ground around a newly planted shrub with his hands. “Look, Benji, I don’t think he’ll want to be disturbed. He’s extremely busy.”
Russ turned round and looked to the other end of the court. “Can he play?”
“You bet he can!” Benji said, moving quickly to stand by Russ so that he could convince him of the idea. “He’s really good, Russ, ’cos he’s teaching me how to play, and he can hit the ball real hard!”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Molly said quietly, and everyone turned to look at her.
“Now why would you say that, Moll?” Sam asked in a surprised voice.
Molly smiled. “Let’s just say that he had a hand in turning my game around during that last match.”
Russ looked at Jennifer. “Well?”
She shook her head. “Okay, Benji, you win! Go and ask him.”
And with a whoop of joy, Benji ran off round the side of the court to fetch David.
Dodie, who had been sniffing around the pine-trees next to the shore of the bay, let out a short bark as she saw Benji approach, and ran past David at a gallop to greet him. David looked up from his work. “Hi! How are you getting on?”
“Great!—David?”
“Where’s your father? I thought you were going to introduce me to him?”
“Yeah, I know,” Benji said in a disheartened voice. “He had to go off to work.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe I’ll meet him next time.”
“Yeah—but, David?”
“What?”
“Russ usually plays Dad at tennis, and Dad’s gone now.”
“That’s a pity.”
“Yeah—but Russ … well … David, would you play Russ?”
David pushed himself off his knees and stood up, and glanced to the other end of the court where everyone was looking in his direction. He turned back to Benji. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Well—for a start, I’m not wearing any of the right clothes.”
“You can play in those, can’t you?”
“Well, then, I don’t have any shoes.”
“You’re wearing shoes!”
“I know, but—well, I don’t think I should, Benji. I’ve got work to do.”
“Mom says it would be all right. Please, David, I think she wants you to, otherwise she’ll have to listen to Russ grumbling all afternoon!”
David smiled at him and, after a moment’s thought, nodded slowly. “Why not?”
Benji’s face lit up. “You mean you’ll play?”
“Yeah, if your mother doesn’t mind.”
Benji let out another whoop. “He’s going to play you, Russ! He says he’s going to play you!” He grabbed hold of David’s hand and began pulling him as fast as he could around the side netting of the court.
Jennifer got to her feet and walked a few paces towards the corner of the court to meet them.
“I’m sorry about this, David. I hope you don’t mind. It was Benji’s idea.”
“Yeah, I guessed that. Look, I’m afraid that I don’t have proper shoes to wear.”
“I told him that the shoes he’s wearing would be okay, Mom,” Benji cut in, still holding on to David’s hand. “Dad’s would be too small for him.”
“I expect they would be.” She looked down at David’s battered pair of boating shoes. “They’ll do fine, David.” She turned and started to move back to the others. “Well, come on, you’d better meet your opponent.”
Jennifer introduced David to Russ and the rest of the assembled company, Molly giving him the biggest smile as she shook his hand. Gerry jumped up from his chair and spun his racket round in his hand, offering it, handle first, to David.
“You’ll be needing a weapon.”
David bent down and cleaned his hands by rubbing them hard on the grass, then took the racket with a smile. “Thanks.” He turned to look onto the court, where Russ was already hitting booming and faultless practice serves down to the far end. “Well, I’d better go and start doing battle.”
After a brief knock-up, during which Russ had David running from one side of the court to the other in order to gauge the weaknesses of his new opponent, Russ felt confident enough in his appraisal of David’s game to knock all the balls down to his end.
“Okay, we won’t toss. You just serve.” He walked over to the forehand court, giving Jennifer a smile and a wink before settling himself in readiness for the first ball of the match.
He made no contact with the serve at all. Not with the racket at any rate. The ball came over the net like a bullet, swinging straight in towards his body. The spin kicked it up viciously from the service line causing Russ to throw his head to the side to avoid being hit in the eye, and the ball struck him with a resounding thwack just above the left cheek-bone. There was a gasp from the spectators, followed by a muffled grunt of pleasure from Sam and a much less subtle yell of joy from Benji.
“Shit!” Russ exclaimed, standing stock-still and looking down the court at David.
He held up his hand in apology. “Sorry about that!”
Rubbing at his painful cheek, Russ made his way slowly across to the backhand court, and, giving his racket one quick spin in his hand, he readied himself for the next serve.
This time, the ball slammed down into the backhand corner of the service box, without a trace of the spin that had been put on the first serve. Having expected it to slew back in towards him once more, Russ found himself having to lunge sideways to try to reach it, doing so with such force that he continued on into the side netting. Dropping his racket, he spread-eagled his hands against it to prevent his face from being shredded through the wire.
As he turned to pick up his racket, there was a silence from the audience, save for a few throats being cleared. He walked back to the forehand court, glancing at Jennifer as he went.
“Where the hell’s this guy from?” he whispered to her out the side of his mouth.
“Scotland,” Jennifer said quietly.
“Hey! I didn’t even know they played tennis there!”
He whacked at the soles of his shoes with his racket, more to vent his anger than for any constructive purpose, and once more settled himself down to face both the power of David’s serve and the ignominy of his task.
By the time that four games had been played, Russ realized that he was no match for his opponent, never once being able to premeditate what he was going to do. If he powered a serve down towards him, David would take all the speed off the ball and plant it at such an angle across the net that Russ was invariably left stranded somewhere in the middle of the court. If he relied on his slower spin serve, then David would come in like an express train to hit the ball so early that it would be thumping hard against the back netting before he’d even had the chance to move off the baseline. Swearing in frustration to himself at being four games down and avoiding now the looks of the hushed spectators, he hit the balls hard down to David’s end to prepare himself for the coup de grace.
At that point, things started to go very wrong with David’s game. Serves began to go inches wide or whack against the white tape of the net, and his returns either ballooned over the baseline or hit the side of the racket and skidded off to the edge of the court. Russ, encouraged by his sudden change in fortune, began to play once more to his audience, winking at them when he managed to win a point, or yelling out “Yes!” every time that David double-faulted. Within twenty minutes, Russ was poised at match point, victory and vindication for his earlier inabilities within his grasp. He swung a service down to the backhand court, and David, moving to the wrong side, missed the ball completely. Russ threw his racket in the air and ran to the net, and stood with his hand outstretched, happy to end the match at that point. David approached him and grasped his hand.
“Well played, Russ, that was good fun.”
“Yup, good game. Damned lucky I began to read your game right. I thought you had me there for a minute.”
They both walked off court to applause and many congratulatory comments on the standard and enthralment of the game. Benji, however, approached David with a profound look of disappointment on his face.
“We thought you were going to beat him, David, but you started to play like me!”
David laughed. “That’s what happens in tennis, Benji. Things go right for a time, and then suddenly, whoosh! everything goes wrong.”
Russ threw his racket on the ground and went over to the icebox and took out a beer. “Do you want one, David?”
“No, thanks. That’s very kind, but if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just finish off what I was doing.”
“You won’t go brooding on defeat now, will you?” Russ said, flipping off the bottle-top and taking a mouthful of beer. “It was pretty evenly matched throughout.”
“No, I won’t do that.”
Jennifer looked up at him from her chair. “You really don’t have to go back to work, David.”
“Well, actually, I do. I really need to get the rest of those shrubs in by this evening, otherwise there’s every chance they won’t last.”
“Okay—but thanks again for giving Russ a game.”
David nodded, then walked back around the court to continue his work in the flower-bed.
By five o’clock, the final shrub was in place. He gave each of the new plants a final watering, then, gathering up his tools, he made his way back around the side of the court, giving Dodie a whistle as he went. There was no one left at the summer-house, the tennis party having finished an hour before.
As he reached the corner of the hedge, Jennifer appeared around it, accompanied by Gerry. They stopped as he walked towards them.
“All done?” Jennifer asked.
“Yeah, they’re all in.”
Jennifer smiled. “David, I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced to this mad Irishman, Gerry Reilly.”
David stepped forward, and transferring his tools to one hand, stretched out the other. “Hullo, Gerry, pleased to meet you.”
“David,” Jennifer continued, “Gerry has a recording studio here in Leesport, and he’s just had a … what is it again?”
“A new mixing console.”
“Right—well, he’s just had a new mixing console delivered, and he can’t manage it into his studio by himself, so he was wondering if you might be able to give him a hand. That is, if you haven’t got any other plans.”
“No, I’d be delighted. I’ve got nothing at all on this evening.”
“Oh, that would be great, David!” Gerry said, rubbing his hands together. “It’s just that I’ve got to get it ready for this group coming in tomorrow, and I’d be struggling by myself. Look, I’ll go and get my things from the house and meet you round at the back. Have you got a car?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, so you can just follow me. Are you sure this is no imposition?”
“Not at all. As I said, I’m doing nothing else.”
“Great—well, see you at the cars, then!” He turned and ran back up the steps onto the terrace and disappeared into the house.
Jennifer made a move to follow him, then stopped and turned back to David. “You could have beaten him, couldn’t you?”
“Sorry?”
“Come on, you know what I mean. You could have beaten Russ, couldn’t you?”
David smiled and began to waggle his head from one side to the other. “Well … maybe.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Well, I just thought that it might not be, erm…”
“Diplomatic?”
“Yeah, that sort of thing.”
Jennifer flicked at a piece of grass with the toe of her tennis shoe. “Well, it’s totally un-American, but nevertheless a very kind thing to do. My life would’ve been hell on Monday morning if Russ had lost.”
David nodded. “Yes, well, I guessed he might not take it in the best spirit.”
Jennifer laughed quietly. “You guessed right.” She folded her arms and once again looked down at her feet as she smoothed over the grass with her shoe. “Well … I suppose I’ll see you next week then.”
“Yeah, okay.”
She turned and made her way back to the steps, and David watched her as she stretched her long legs out to take them effortlessly two at a time. Then, giving Dodie a whistle, he set off across the lawn towards the garden shed.