Tennis Term at Trebizon (The Trebizon Boarding School Series) Read online

  ‘After a year, yes, remarkable,’ conceded Miss Darling. ‘But the lack of experience shows. I’m not sure that Eddie Burton isn’t the safer bet. It’s going to be a very difficult decision.’

  Lady Edwina Burton was in the Lower Sixth and a prefect.

  Rebecca knew nothing of this conversation, of course; she remained in suspense. There were plenty of other things going on, so she didn’t spend the entire time thinking about the tennis team. Admittedly she gave up two or three surfing sessions in Trebizon Bay, which she loved and which the others were mad about, because those were the times when Robbie was able to get over from Garth College to help her with her tennis. But she found time for some athletics and enjoyed the sprinting in particular.

  There was also the question of electing a new Third Year Head of Games, now that Joss had gone, and that was quite exciting.

  At one stage, to her surprise, her own name was suggested, but she quickly declined. If by any chance she did get into the school tennis team that, together with county junior tennis activities, was going to absorb all her time and energy!

  Mara wanted Tish to stand – Tish was a good middle-distance runner and in any case, didn’t they all want someone from Court House to get it?

  ‘I’ll stand next term, when we start in the Fourth Year,’ said Tish, with that wide smile of hers. ‘That way I could do it for a whole year, instead of just a term! Anyway I’d much rather be Head of Games in the hockey terms.’

  Tish was outstanding at hockey and had already played in the Second Eleven. She would have liked a say in choosing the teams. For now she hit on the idea of asking Aba to stand: Aba was a brilliant sprinter, but not particularly interested in team games. It would be the ideal time for her to have a turn at being Head of Games.

  ‘And you’re in Court, Aba, which is what really matters!’ she told the Nigerian girl.

  ‘Just for you, Tish!’ said Aba, secretly rather delighted.

  Of course, some of the Third Years in other boarding houses had other ideas and Tavistock came up with a rival candidate – Laura Wilkins, who was in form III Beta, nearly as good a sprinter as Aba and a good all-rounder as well.

  The ensuing election was exciting and hard-fought, with a lot of lobbying and campaigning going on, but Aba won – by a mere seven votes!

  While Court House celebrated with barbecued sausages and lemonade on the beach, Tavistock House swore they’d get their revenge in the autumn term.

  Another thing that occupied Rebecca’s mind was the question of writing something for this term’s Trebizon Journal – Pippa’s last issue.

  Helena King, who was Third Year Magazine Officer came over from Norris House one evening and reminded them all that items must be submitted as soon as possible, to give time to select the best and hand it in to Pippa Fellowes-Walker before the magazine went to press.

  Rebecca hardly needed reminding: she had noticed Pippa working away on her painting whenever the weather was fine, obviously in a hurry to get it finished. She so wanted to submit something – something really superlative; she wanted everything about Pippa’s last term to be superlative! That, of course, was in itself a most freezing thought – and the harder she tried to think of something, the blanker her mind became.

  One very exciting thing that happened in the first fortnight was that Rebecca received an invitation – she was going to have the chance to wear her new party dress, much sooner than expected!

  ‘It’s got an Exonford postmark,’ said Rebecca puzzled, taking the square white envelope from the mail board. ‘It feels like a card inside.’

  It was a card, with a gold edge and gilt lettering.

  ‘A May Day party!’ she exclaimed, as the others crowded round her. ‘At the sports centre in Exonford. County tennis party – and draw for Wimbledon tickets. Oh –’ Her voice went up to a squeak. ‘I can wear my dress!’

  But Sue looked slightly disappointed.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, staring at the card and pushing her spectacles up her nose, ‘you won’t be able to hear me and Annie give our duo. It’s the same evening.’

  ‘So it is,’ said Rebecca. ‘Oh, what a shame, Sue!’

  Sue had been chosen to give a violin recital with Annie Lorrimer at a May Day concert in aid of Mulberry Castle restoration funds. It was a great honour and Sue had been practising hard. Like Annie, she was one of the school’s music scholars, but Annie was in the Upper Sixth – she was sharing rooms with Pippa in Parkinson House this year – a very accomplished violinist who in her last term had been made leader of the school orchestra.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Sue with a wry smile, ‘you have – er – sort of – heard the pieces we’re going to play.’

  They all laughed because Sue had been bringing her violin back to Court House from the Music School most evenings and playing the pieces over and over again.

  ‘But I was dying to go to the castle!’ protested Rebecca. The concert was to be held at the castle itself, in the banqueting hall if it were wet, but otherwise in the castle keep. The castle was perched high over Mulberry Cove with spectacular sea views and it belonged to the National Trust. ‘Oh well, I suppose that will make room for one more in Mrs Barry’s car.’

  Mr Barrington was the Director of Music and would be taking Annie and some of the Upper Sixth over, while Mrs Barrington – because she was House Mistress at Court House and apt to spoil Sue – was borrowing a car to take Sue and as many friends as she could squeeze in.

  ‘Don’t expect us to feel sorry for you, Becky,’ said Tish. ‘It should be a smashing party. All those dishy tennis boys! And – let’s see – first of May –’ she caught Rebecca’s eye, ‘– maybe you’ll have something to celebrate by then.’

  ‘Maybe, maybe not,’ replied Rebecca quickly, making a face.

  ‘Miss Darling must announce the team before then. She must!’ exclaimed Mara, who was even more pent up than Rebecca about it, if such a thing were possible!

  It was just as well for Rebecca that she had the party to take her mind off things because, in spite of Mara’s protestations, Saturday the first of May arrived and Miss Darling still hadn’t announced the team. And the first cup match was only days away!

  It was common knowledge now that the team was all but decided. Kate Hissup and Della Thomas were going in as a first pair. Alison Hissup had leapfrogged straight into the team as second pair, with either Jilly Good or Pippa Fellowes-Walker. The other one of those two would go in as third pair with – whom? Everyone said it would be either Rebecca Mason or Lady Edwina Burton. Nobody knew which and the juniors were running a sweepstake on it over at Juniper House.

  For Rebecca, the suspense was getting unbearable. What a relief to change into her new party dress and to go right away from Trebizon for a few hours, to what was bound to be an exciting and interesting party! Mrs Barrington drove her to the station.

  ‘Do you mind getting a taxi back from the station this evening, Rebecca?’ she asked. ‘I’ll be tied up with the group at Mulberry Castle.’ Rebecca didn’t mind. She loved riding in taxis! ‘Are you sure you’ll be warm enough tonight, with just that stole? Silly girl!’

  Rebecca enjoyed the train journey to Exonford, especially as Toby, who was in her training squad and was also going to the party, got on at the next station down the line from Trebizon. The party she enjoyed even more.

  It was an annual get-together organised by the county tennis officials. Its main purpose was to give all the young county prospects a chance to meet up again early in the season, because indoor training stopped in the summer, and it was also a way of saying ‘thank you’ to the various west country businessmen who generously sponsored junior tennis events throughout the year. There was lots of delicious food, some dancing and games, and a talk outlining some of the arrangements for the coming weeks and what the key fixtures would be. The high point of the evening was the draw for Wimbledon tickets and although Rebecca longed to be one of the lucky ones, she drew a blank.

  At th
e end of the evening, just when Rebecca had managed to put all thought of the school team out of her mind, her coach drew her aside.

  ‘Thank you for letting me have your results from the competitions you entered in the holidays,’ said Mrs Ericson. ‘You did quite creditably. You’ve heard we’ve got a little round-robin tournament coming up – that will be useful for you. As the season goes on, I’d very much like to see if we can promote you to the next squad – but that all depends, of course. You must get plenty of tennis in at school. I hear Trebizon’s entered for the Inter this year. Are you in the team?’

  ‘I–I don’t know yet,’ said Rebecca dully.

  ‘I’m sure Greta Darling will put you in if she possibly can,’ said Mrs Ericson. ‘My, but you’re lucky to have got her!’

  Toby walked with her to the station and Rebecca wrapped her stole round her head, as a cool breeze was blowing her hair about. He cracked a few jokes on the train but the party mood had left her now. As soon as he got off at his station she started thinking about her chances all over again.

  ‘Cheer up!’ said the taxi driver, outside Trebizon Station. ‘Where’re you going to?’

  ‘Court House, please,’ said Rebecca. ‘Up at the school.’

  He peered closely at her face in some surprise and recognised her as the girl he brought from the Bus Station sometimes on the first day of term.

  ‘Well, I didn’t recognise you in them clothes, me dear!’ he exclaimed. ‘You look like a princess!’

  That made Rebecca’s evening.

  She smiled all the way along the top road, looking out at the last dark red streaks of sunset across Trebizon Bay, and was still smiling as she swept into Court House – regally, of course.

  Sue and the others had got back only five minutes before and Mara was holding the typewritten message in her outstretched hand.

  ‘It’s for you, Rebecca!’ she cried, rushing out of the kitchen.

  ‘It’s from Miss Dreadful,’ giggled Tish excitedly, who tended to call Miss Darling by that name.

  ‘What – what’s it about?’

  ‘It’s about the tennis team!’ exclaimed Sue. ‘It’s between you and Eddie Burton –’

  ‘And it’s going to be decided tomorrow,’ finished Tish.

  THREE

  The Cedar Tree

  Rebecca held the narrow slip of paper under the light by the coinbox phone, in the main hall of the boarding house.

  Her name, Rebecca Mason, was handwritten at the top. The message was typed and quite brief:

  Re First Tennis VI

  Play-off – Edwina Burton v. Rebecca Mason

  2.30 p.m. South tennis courts. Sun. 2 May

  G. Darling

  ‘So the rumours are true,’ Rebecca said at last, taking a deep breath. ‘It is between the two of us – for the last place in the team!’

  ‘It’s knife-edge,’ said Elf. ‘Must be!’

  ‘The Dread can’t make up her mind between the two of you. That’s why she’s been dithering so long about announcing the team!’ theorised Tish. ‘Silly old –’

  ‘You’re much better than Lady Eddie!’ interrupted Mara. She gazed at Rebecca with liquid brown eyes. ‘She is such a dull player. Backwards and forwards – backwards and forwards – that’s all she does.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Oh, it is going to be so exciting. You will smash her!’

  They all herded into the kitchen and made coffee and talked non-stop about how Rebecca was going to thrash Lady Edwina Burton the next day . . . Pulverize her! Grind her into dust!

  There wasn’t much love lost between the six and the titled girl in the Lower Sixth. She’d become bossier than ever since being made a prefect this year and was definitely on the generous side when it came to giving out reprimands, lines and the like.

  ‘Pity it’s straight after Sunday lunch,’ said Elf prosaically, when they’d finished with the thrashings. ‘You mustn’t eat a heavy meal, Rebecca.’

  Rebecca had been listening to all this in silence.

  ‘I don’t expect I’ll be able to eat a thing,’ she confessed.

  Then quite suddenly she said, ‘Let’s stop talking about it. How did it go for you tonight, Sue?’

  The duo had gone off very well, it seemed. Sue had made one or two small mistakes, because the pieces were difficult, but Annie Lorrimer had played beautifully.

  ‘Do you know she’s in the running for master classes in Tokyo when she leaves Trebizon?’ said Sue. ‘With this incredible Japanese woman –’

  ‘Not mistress classes?’ laughed Margot.

  ‘Shut up,’ giggled Rebecca.

  ‘– they have to live in total seclusion, like a closed order, and just live for music for a whole year and nothing else. Fantastic discipline! But students fight to get in her classes, from all over the world. She’s really fussy who she takes . . .’

  ‘Japan!’ exclaimed Rebecca. ‘Why don’t you try for that one day, Sue?’

  ‘You deaf?’ asked Tish. ‘She said she’s really fussy who she takes.’

  They all laughed.

  ‘I expect Annie will get in though,’ said Sue.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ nodded Mara wisely. ‘She never puts a foot wrong.’

  Rebecca was relieved that they’d changed the subject and even more relieved when – just as she was trying to stifle a yawn – Margot suddenly stood up, extended a hand and tugged her to her feet.

  ‘Come on, you need a good night’s sleep. Let’s all go to our beds.’

  ‘I’m glad we can lie in, in the morning,’ murmured Rebecca, now in the middle of a really good yawn. ‘I’m tired!’

  She hung her party clothes up carefully, washed her face and cleaned her teeth. Then – in order not to talk to the other two – she got into bed and pulled the bedclothes right up over her head. Soon she was fast asleep.

  ‘Give us an R!’ shrilled a junior voice. It sounded like Lucy Hubbard’s.

  ‘R!’ came the chorus.

  ‘Give us an E –’

  ‘E!’

  ‘Give us a B –’

  They spelt out Rebecca’s name, letter by letter. With each letter the chorus got louder until finally –

  ‘And what do you get?’ chanted Lucy.

  ‘REBECCA!’

  ‘And who’s going to win?’

  ‘REBECCA!!’

  The juniors had turned up in force at south courts to watch the match. The two players were warming up, knocking the ball back and forth, and the juniors were letting off steam whilst they could.

  Rebecca didn’t mind; she needed something to buoy her up!

  She’d been a bag of nerves all morning, and glad to have half an hour on the phone with Robbie. He’d tried to tell her how to play her opponent. ‘She’s a defensive player – attack her, attack her! And run after everything – she lobs a lot – just keep getting everything back and she’ll get demoralised because she won’t have anything left. The other thing Rebecca – keep up the fast swerving service, you’ve really got it now . . .’ And so on. That had all steadied her for a while.

  But by two o’clock, Rebecca’s legs were feeling like jelly again and she’d forbidden the others to come and watch her.

  ‘If you come, I’ll let you all down – I just know that’s what will happen!’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ said Tish, disappointed. ‘We’ll push off to the beach then. Crikey, isn’t it hot! Who’d ever have thought it?’

  It had been a lonely moment, stepping out on to the court, though. The support from the juniors was just what she needed – it made her feel good but at the same time she knew they weren’t nerve-racked the way Tish & Co would have been.

  ‘Give us an E!’ shouted Nicola Hodges, whose money was on Eddie.

  ‘E!’ cried the pack.

  ‘Give us a D –’

  They were in full voice when Eddie walked up to Miss Darling in the umpire’s chair.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, can’t we tell these brats to shut up?’ she asked.

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nbsp; So the prefect was on edge, too, Rebecca realised. That improved her spirits still further. But did Edwina have to look so bad-tempered? Didn’t she like having supporters? ‘Come on, let’s make a game of it, then!’ thought Rebecca.

  Up in the chair, stiff-backed and unsmiling, Miss Darling produced a whistle and blew a long blast, at the same time lifting a hand for silence. She looked like a policeman on traffic duty.

  ‘Let’s begin!’ she said.

  Some distance away, beyond the old cedar tree, Pippa was putting the finishing touches to her painting. As she heard the whistle, she laid her brush down and got to her feet. Tall and elegant in a fully flared cotton skirt, she drifted across the school lawns in the direction of south courts. ‘Might as well see how Rebecca gets on,’ she thought.

  Rebecca had never known such a hot sun in early May! It seemed to be right overhead, burning down on the top of her head. At times, as she raced backwards and forwards across the width of the court, up and down its length, retrieving each ball in turn, the build up of heat became so intense that she felt as though her arms and legs would melt away and the dry red dust of the court underfoot would fry her to a cinder.

  Eddie Burton was a very deceptive player. Her service was quite slow. She played mainly from the baseline, sending down first a forehand, then a backhand, with such stolid unimaginativeness, that Rebecca at first became over-confident. There was no fire in Eddie’s play – she would be easy to beat!

  It wasn’t until she suddenly found that she’d lost the first three games that Rebecca realised that her opponent was placing the ball with great skill. So often it looked as though it were going out and Rebecca would let it go, only to see it land right on the line, first in one corner of the court, then the other, and Eddie would get the vital point.

  It was then that Robbie’s words came back to her . . . run after everything . . . just keep getting everything back and she’ll get demoralised because she won’t have anything left.

  Then began the marathon battle for supremacy between the two girls that kept Rebecca running, running, running, retrieving impossible-looking shots, inching her way back into the game until the score stood at 2–3 and the sweat was pouring down her face. Some of the rallies in those two games went to ten and fifteen strokes, and there were a dozen or more in each game.