Chapter 54
By the end of July, our good run had come to an end. All it took was a couple of losses. Now, we are at serious risk of coming last in the league again, with only two more matches left to turn things around.
I know none of us likes the idea of sitting it out for the whole of next season.
And I do understand the general concern that it could mean the end of our lovely little team.
But ladies, it’s not the end of the world if we finish last!
If the worst happens, we’ve got enough gumption to take it on the chin and use next year for reflection and practice.
That said, we’re not there yet! I haven’t given up and I hope none of you have either.
So, to business: please check your diaries and try to be available for the next match this Thursday. I’ll bring scones, sausage rolls and Deep Heat.
‘I have no idea what I’m going to do if there’s no tennis team next year,’ Lisa sighs, as we warm up during our Tuesday session with Nora.
‘You could go back to running,’ Rose says. ‘You used to like that.’
‘That’s because I didn’t know what it was like to be part of a team. I didn’t know what winning felt like.’
‘I guess we could always join another club,’ Rose suggests.
Nora gasps.
‘Wash your mouth out,’ Lisa says.
‘You really should be ashamed of yourself,’ I add, with a smile.
Rose is aware that we’re all joking, but still closes her eyes and nods, chastised. ‘Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’
‘Which other team would we join anyway?’ Lisa tuts. ‘Hawkford Bridge? Or those bitches at Millchester Priory?’
‘You kept going on about how lovely all those bitches were when we played there,’ Rose points out. ‘And you had two slices of their lemon drizzle cake after the match.’
‘They are delightful, but that’s not the point.’
‘You’re right,’ Rose sighs. ‘I couldn’t bring myself to join the opposition. I just don’t want to give this up, either. We’d have to take up another hobby.’
‘Like what?’ Nora asks.
‘Golf ?’
‘Oh, please.’ Lisa pulls a face.
‘Cricket? Triathlon? Has anyone got a dartboard?’
‘I’m going to pretend I’m not hearing any of this,’ Lisa says.
‘What about you, Jules?’ Nora asks. ‘Are you going to join a tennis club in London when you move there?’
‘I’m sure I’ll look for one once I’m settled. It hasn’t been top of my priority list. Selling the house has taken up all my energies.’
I’ve also reached the stage when I can’t imagine tennis not being in my life.
But what Lisa and Rose say is true. It’s difficult to think about being part of any club other than this one.
Even Kayla has joined after her dalliance with a league match and is now a regular at Rusty Racquets.
Still, I know I’ll get used to the idea, of that and everything else.
During a break in the lesson, when we’re collecting the balls, Nora takes me to one side.
‘How are you doing?’ she asks softly.
‘Me? Oh, I’m fine. Apart from being rushed off my feet with things to do before the move.’
‘And what about . . . well, I wondered how you were after everything that happened with Sam?’
I’m about to insist that I’m fine on that front, but suspect my expression would suggest differently. Trouble is, I can’t fully articulate what I feel about that.
‘That’s hard to unpick,’ is the best I can do.
She gives me a sympathetic look. ‘I can imagine. Well, you know where I am if you need me. I’m serious. Just pick up the phone.’
‘Thanks Nora,’ I say. ‘I really appreciate that.’
She gives a short nod and heads over to get down to business.
‘So, I thought we’d focus on the lob today,’ she tells us all. ‘If you get it right, it’s a good weapon to have in your arsenal in doubles. But it does have the capacity to go wrong.’
‘I think we can safely say that about every part of my game,’ Lisa mutters.
Nora asks Rose to stand opposite her at the net as she demonstrates the shot, hitting it high over her head until it lands in an impossible-to-reach corner. We take it in turns throughout the session, and by halfway through, only one of us has entirely mastered it.
‘Oh my God . . . have I finally found something I’m good at?’ Lisa says in disbelief, as she fires another perfect rainbow over my head. There’s no way I can reach it.
‘That’s clearly your signature shot,’ I tell her.
‘In the final match, do that. Constantly,’ Rose adds. ‘Seriously, if you can repeat this then I’m genuinely hopeful about our prospects of staying up next year.
Lisa grabs a ball and looks up at me. ‘Still won’t be the same without you though, Jules.’
I smile back. But for some reason, the lump in my throat makes it impossible to answer.