Confessions of a Physical Wrac. Rosie Dixon

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СКАЧАТЬ and move towards the door with ‘Dames’ on it – a memento of a reciprocal exchange visit with a French tennis club that was never reciprocated. A quick glance towards Tharge tells me that he has his nose in his lime and lemon so I veer left sharply and head out on to the verandah. Dusk is falling and I am disturbed to find that there is no sign of Geoffrey and Penny. I glance towards the courts. Perhaps they have gone to look for Geoffrey’s balls? No, they couldn’t have. Derek Tharge was grumbling about the fact that he had to bring them in.

      I am about to turn back when I hear a noise. At first it is difficult to place but then it reminds me of someone pouring water over a cabbage leaf. I stick my head round the corner of the verandah and am met with the unpleasant sight of Mr Westbury, the club treasurer, responding to a call of nature.

      ‘Ooops,’ he says, clearly causing himself some discomfort in his attempt to take evasive action. ‘Didn’t know there were any ladies about.’

      I cannot think of an appropriate response to this statement so I turn on my heel with the intention of going back into the clubhouse. Perhaps Penny has gone into the Ladies without me noticing.

      I have taken half a dozen steps when my attention is attracted by another noise. It is that of a sharp intake of breath – more a gasp, in fact – and it comes from male lips. I notice that the light is on behind the frosted glass windows of the small room where the tea urn is kept and visiting ladies’ teams sometimes change. As my blood freezes, I hear Penny’s voice.

      ‘Sorry, I was trying to be gentle.’

      ‘Oh you were – I mean, you are.’ Geoffrey’s voice sounds on edge. What are they doing? Surely they couldn’t be – No! The thought is too awful.

      ‘Which way do you want me to stick it?’

      ‘I don’t mind. I’m in your hands.’

      ‘Up, I think. Hold on a minute, I’ll just peel the end back. Now, here we go. Gently does it. How does that feel?’

      My senses reel and for a moment I think I am going to faint. Can this be true? My best friend and – and my fiancé!

      ‘Lovely. You put something on it, didn’t you?’

      ‘Just a dab of Germolene to be on the safe side.’

      How cold-blooded can you get? The shameless hussy! I take a stride towards the door intending to expose them in ‘fragrantly delicious’, or whatever it is called, but I control myself. In my present mood I cannot be responsible for what might happen if I got my hands on Penny. There is a tray of knives and forks beside the plastic beakers in the tea-room and if I snatched one of them up –! Who knows? They are plastic, too, but you can do yourself a nasty injury nonetheless. I remember when Geoffrey was trying to prise open a rusty racket press with one of them and it – Geoffrey! How could you do this to me? I don’t know whether I shout the words aloud because I am concentrating on holding back the hot scalding tears. I rush back into the clubhouse and try and pull myself together in the Ladies. There is no point in me staying here any longer. I will go home and Penny can do what she likes. No doubt Geoffrey will bring her back when – when they’ve finished.

      Through the flimsy plywood door I hear the haunting strains of Blue Moon and nearly lose all my newly found composure. Why did they have to play that tune? ‘Blue moon, why am I standing alone? Without a something in my heart, without a dream of my own.’ I remember dancing with Geoffrey to that after Rodney Neasden and Janine Smallwood went down with jaundice in suspicious circumstances and had to scratch from the final of the mixed doubles making him and Althea Hodge the champions. It wasn’t much of a victory because only three couples entered and Geoffrey and Althea had a bye in the first and only round but it had seemed a triumph at the time. Now, bitterness and a new insight into Geoffrey’s character helps me to put it in its true perspective. I take a deep breath, stand up, unlock the door and go out to meet the combined glare of the four girls who have been waiting outside the cubicle. I glare back. They can all go and hang themselves as far as I am concerned. I am never coming back to the Eastwood Lawn Tennis Club as long as I live. Tinny dump.

      I leave the Ladies and push past the couples on the now crowded dance floor. They are not dancing because the record has stuck. ‘Alone, alone, alone, alone –’ How symbolic. I sweep through the open door and welcome the enveloping darkness.

      ‘Hey! You’re not going, are you? I’ve just got you another drink.’ Derek Tharge looms up behind me holding a half empty Babycham glass. ‘I’ve spilled most of it now. That’s fifteen p down the drain.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I came over a little faint. It was rather hot in there.’

      ‘You want to put your head between your legs,’ says Tharge. ‘That’s what I always do. Take a few deep breaths while you’re down there.’

      ‘I don’t think that’s going to be the answer,’ I say.

      ‘Maybe you ought to loosen some of your clothing,’ says Derek. ‘You’re not wearing tights, are you?’

      ‘No,’ I say. In fact I am wearing one of the few suspender belts that I have managed to rescue from Natalie’s thieving fingers. I have a nasty suspicion that she wears them to make herself more sexy when she goes out with her disgusting little boyfriends. I must talk to Mum about her.

      ‘Good. They’re very unhealthy, you know. I read an article about it.’

      ‘Really,’ I say. ‘Well, thank you for –’

      ‘What do you wear?’

      This question coming completely out of the blue rather throws me as does the sudden pressure of Derek’s hand on my elbow. We are walking along the line of dwarf conifers that lead from the courts to the road and I had thought that Derek was escorting me to the gate. Am I now to believe that his horizons extend beyond the two lines that border the edge of a tennis court?

      ‘That’s an unusual question,’ I say.

      Derek tightens his grip on my arm and brings me to a standstill. ‘Look,’ he says. ‘I’m not much good at flowery talk but I’d like to break training with you.’

      ‘You mean –’ I leave the words suspended because I don’t like to say what I think he does mean.

      ‘I find you very attractive. You don’t play tennis, do you?’

      Derek’s arms slide round me and he makes a clumsy dive at my mouth. I take evasive action and am about to tell him to pull himself together when I see the handle of the heavy roller silhouetted suggestively against the sky. That too brings back memories. Geoffrey and I doing – whatever we were doing. I am still not certain. When you are emotionally involved with someone your senses blur the details. Suddenly, I feel angry. Angry and bitter. Why should Geoffrey be the only one? Why should Penny move in on all the men in my life? They deserve to be punished. I will show them that they are not the only ones who can plunder love. Here, near this object which once held so many tender associations for me, I will forever exorcise myself of the memory of perfidious Geoffrey Wilkes. My principles will not be compromised. This is an act of self-protection, not self-gratification.

      ‘Why don’t you find out?’ I say.

      ‘But we can’t play now,’ says Derek. ‘It’s too dark.’

      ‘I wasn’t talking about tennis,’ I say. СКАЧАТЬ