‘Well, yes, I’m sure I could, but I’m not sure that I want to make a fool of myself in front of lots of-’
‘The only person you will be in front of will be me. The professionals don’t come on duty till nine. And, anyway, you’re far too poised and beautiful a woman ever to make a fool of yourself.’ He was silent. ‘Cheesy again?’
‘Pretty cheesy, yes.’
‘Ah well, I’m afraid you’ll just have to learn to live with my cheesiness, Jude. Just as you will with many other less appealing aspects of my character.’
‘And what are they?’
Piers let out a low whistle of admonition. ‘I’m not going to screw up my chances by enumerating them now. Wait till we know each other a bit better.’
‘As you wish,’ she said. ‘Anyway, what about after the game?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Will you be returning straight to London? Or do we get the chance to spend some time together?’
‘We spend all Wednesday together. Including, if I could impose on your hospitality, Wednesday night.’
‘Sounds good to me. I will introduce you to the delights of Woodside Cottage.’ She was about to suggest an introduction to Carole Seddon as well, but no. Too soon, too soon.
‘I look forward to it, Jude.’
‘And then?’
‘Then?’
‘Sorry, it’s just me being practical. There are some healing sessions I’ve got to book for Thursday, but I don’t want to cut across any mutual plans we might have.’
‘I see what you mean. Well, no, sadly on Thursday morning we face another separation.’
‘Oh?’
‘I have to go to Paris on business for a few days. Back on Sunday, I hope.’
‘And what kind of business is it?’
‘Boring stuff,’ said Piers Targett airily. ‘Money, you know.’
And before Jude could ask for a bit more detail, he went on, ‘So the booking at the court’s seven forty-five am on Wednesday. Arrive a little earlier to give yourself time to change. And the dress code is strictly white.’
‘That was the new man, was it?’ asked Carole as a somewhat shamefaced Jude returned to the bar.
‘Yes. Yes, it was.’
‘The one who introduced you to real tennis?’
‘Mm.’
Carole Seddon was desperate to ask more about the mystery man, but equally desperate not to be seen to be desperate about it. She looked around the crowded pub. ‘Ted certainly seems to be doing good business. Excellent for a weekday, isn’t it?’
Jude was quite organized that afternoon. She cleared the messages on her answering machine and set up a couple of healing sessions for the following day. There was a third she said she might do, depending on how drained she was after the first two.
But though she felt better for having made the arrangements — and made a desultory gesture towards cleaning Woodside Cottage — she was still uncharacteristically twitchy. She didn’t enjoy every aspect of being in love. Though no one realized it, the serenity she showed to the outer world had been hard won. She had thought her emotional equilibrium was secure. The arrival of Piers Targett in her life had made her conscious of its central fragility.
She was also annoyed with herself for not telling Carole about him. She should just have cut through her neighbour’s assumed lack of interest and given her the facts. Not having done so left Jude feeling guilty; it was not a sensation that she was familiar with. And not one she enjoyed.
These thoughts were circling unhelpfully around her head when the phone rang. She answered it.
‘Oh, hello, it’s Wally.’
‘Sorry?’ She couldn’t immediately place the claret-soaked voice.
‘Wally Edgington-Bewley. We met up at Lockleigh on Sunday.’
‘Oh yes, of course I remember.’
‘You probably also remember that I mentioned a little book I’d written.’
‘Erm. .’ She had no recollection of it, but didn’t want to sound rude.
‘Little, self-published thing. About some of the world’s real tennis courts I’ve visited with some chums. Called
‘Oh yes,’ said Jude vaguely.
‘Anyway, I said on Sunday I’d like to give you a copy.’
‘Of course.’ This time she gave a better impression of knowing what he was talking about.
‘Well, I was wondering how to get the copy to you. .’
‘It shouldn’t be a problem. .’
‘. . and then Piers said he was taking you up to Lockleigh for a knock-around on Wednesday.’ How quickly news spread in the world of real tennis. ‘Which is going to work rather well, because I’ve got to be up at the court tomorrow, so I could leave a copy for you on the table in the club room.’
‘Well, that’s very kind, Wally.’
‘No problem at all. Be in a brown envelope with “Jude” written on the front in my almost-legible scrawl.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Incidentally, I’m very glad to hear you’re going to take up the game.’
‘I’m not absolutely sure that I-’
‘You’ll love it. Takes about ten years to get used to the dimensions of the court and the scoring and what- have-you.’ Exactly what Oenone Playfair had said. ‘After that it’s plain sailing.’
‘Well, I’ll certainly do my best to work it all out,’ said Jude.
‘And, incidentally — ’ Wally Edgington-Bewley paused and his voice became deeper, more personal — ‘I’m so glad that Piers has got you. .’
‘Oh?’
‘. . you know, after all he’s been through.’
Which didn’t do a lot to make Jude feel more settled. She was becoming preoccupied with how much she didn’t know about Piers Targett.
SIX
On the Wednesday morning Jude got a cab from Woodside Cottage to Lockleigh House. She could have asked her neighbour for a lift in her Renault and the request would undoubtedly have been granted. Despite her denials, Carole was infinitely curious about Jude’s life and wouldn’t have turned down the chance of a visit to Lockleigh House. . not to mention the possibility of catching a glimpse of Piers Targett.
But for the time being Jude was inclined to play things close to her chest. If her relationship with Piers continued, there would undoubtedly come a moment when his introduction to Carole would have to be made. But Jude was in no hurry to rush that encounter. Carole had met a few of her lovers over the years, but never one about whom she was so serious.
Following Piers’ instructions, Jude had managed to get together a white ensemble suitable for Lockleigh House. It was a while since she’d worn the shorts and she had to breathe in quite severely to get them on. Picking one of many white cheesecloth shirts was less of a problem and the top she chose was voluminous enough to hide her struggling waistline. She also succeeded in tracking down some white socks and a battered pair of whitish trainers. Piers had advised that they’d change at the court, so she packed her kit into a woven straw basket of African origin.
It was a perfect autumn day when the cab dropped her at the gates of Lockleigh House. Though there had been rain during the night, that had gone now. The air felt crisp so early in the morning but with a promise of warmth later. The Victorian mansion looked huge and impressive. The Wardock family must have had many children
