The Tennis Party

by Sophie Kinsella

  ‘Oh dear!’ Charles’ voice was vindictively triumphant. ‘It looks like our gracious host hasn’t quite been doing the right thing by his guests. Aren’t there some regulations somewhere about selling investments? Isn’t there some sort of complaints procedure?’

  ‘Look, I said we’ll cancel the whole thing,’ said Patrick, avoiding Stephen’s eyes.

  ‘You deliberately misled me. You conned me.’ Stephen tried to drum up some anger. But the relief he felt was so strong, it wiped out any other emotion. It was almost euphoria. The whole thing was cancelled. He was in the clear. It was all OK. Suddenly he felt his legs buckling underneath him.

  Flopping down in the deck-chair, he met Annie’s stern gaze.

  ‘Not now,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, now! Tell me exactly what’s been going on!’

  ‘It was nothing,’ he said. ‘I just said I’d invest some money with Patrick. But I’m not going to now.’

  ‘What money? We haven’t got any money!’ Stephen was silent.

  ‘Oh, come on. You might as well tell me, because I’m going to find out somehow.’

  ‘I was going to take out a mortgage,’ Stephen said quickly. ‘But it’s all cancelled now. Isn’t it, Patrick?’ Patrick nodded, his face expressionless.

  ‘A mortgage? What were you thinking of?’

  ‘Oh, don’t you start,’ said Stephen irritably.

  ‘How much for?’ Stephen was silent again. ‘Stephen . . .’

  ‘Eighty thousand.’

  ‘What?’ Annie gave a shocked laugh. ‘You’re not serious.’ Stephen shrugged. ‘Eighty thousand pounds? Eighty thousand pounds worth of mortgage? When we haven’t got any income?’

  ‘Oh Christ! Shut up! Yes, I made a mistake. Yes, it was with a lot of money. Yes, I’ve realized in time. Could we just drop it?’

  ‘Eighty thousand pounds,’ said Annie wonderingly. She turned to Caroline. ‘Can you believe it?’ she said. Caroline tried, too late, to adopt an astounded expression. She gave Annie an apologetic look and Annie gazed at her with unbelieving realization.

  ‘You knew all along,’ she said flatly. ‘You knew Stephen had signed away all that money. Didn’t you?’ Caroline shrugged.

  ‘I can’t help what Patrick does. I told him I thought it was wrong.’

  ‘But we’re supposed to be friends,’ said Annie incredulously.

  ‘That’s what I said to Patrick,’ said Caroline defensively. ‘I said you were my only real friend.’

  ‘Well, if I’m your only real friend,’ said Annie, in a voice which was dangerously quiet, ‘why didn’t you tell me what was going on?’

  ‘I couldn’t,’ said Caroline uncomfortably. ‘Patrick said he’d lose his reputation if I went around telling people to pull out of deals.’

  ‘So you think it’s better for him to succeed in persuading people to take out mortgages when they can’t afford to?’

  ‘Well, you probably could have afforded it,’ said Caroline, rattled. ‘I mean, it’s not that much. And with us paying Nicola’s fees . . .’ She stopped abruptly.

  ‘Hang on a minute! That’s why! That’s why you offered to pay Nicola’s school fees! I don’t believe it!’

  Nicola, running down the path to the tennis court to see who had won the match, heard her mother’s distressed voice rising above the hedge, and didn’t understand what she meant. Bursting out onto the bank, she looked around, from shocked face to shocked face, and, in a voice that trembled slightly, said, ‘But I don’t have school fees. I go to a state school. You don’t pay fees at a state school.’ She looked around, her glasses shining, but none of the adults seemed able to speak. Then Valerie took a breath.

  ‘Your mummy was talking about a different school,’ she said, in a sugary voice. ‘A lovely school in the country, with kind teachers and lots of space to run about.’ She smiled at Nicola.

  ‘A . . . a special school?’ stammered Nicola.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Valerie gaily. ‘A very special school. For special little girls.’

  Nicola’s face turned ashen, and she swallowed. She looked from Annie to Stephen and back to Annie. Then she turned on her heel and ran back up the path, her bad leg dragging pathetically behind her. As she turned the corner, she gave a huge sob.

  ‘Oh Christ,’ said Stephen, getting up. ‘Nicola!’ he called.

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Annie angrily. ‘Haven’t you done enough already?’

  There was silence when Annie had left. Stephen looked around. Valerie was still sitting in her chair, watching the events with gleaming eyes. Martina and the twins were nowhere to be seen; Ella had also absented herself. Patrick and Caroline were glaring at each other; Cressida had quietly sat down on the tennis court, and was curled up, hugging her knees. She ought to realize, thought Stephen, that her skirt was a bit too short to be sitting like that. But his thoughts were interrupted by Charles.

  ‘Stephen, you’re a fucking moron!’ he exclaimed. ‘What were you doing signing something like that? You’re supposed to be the bright one around here.’

  ‘Yes, well, it’s all right now,’ muttered Stephen.

  ‘But it might not have been all right! You might have been ruined! I can’t even bear to think about it! I don’t know what could have possessed you.’

  ‘How about simple envy!’ exclaimed Stephen in a sudden angry retort. ‘How about the simple fact that everyone here is rich, and we’re poor? How’s that for starters?’ Charles stared at him.

  ‘I never knew you felt like that . . .’

  ‘I never did feel like that! I really didn’t. But look at us! We’re approaching middle age, everyone’s getting on in the world, and I haven’t even got a job!’

  ‘You’ve got your thesis,’ said Charles awkwardly. ‘That’s more than a job. It’s an achievement.’

  ‘That’s all right for you to say! But it doesn’t pay the bills, does it? We’re not all in your privileged position, Charles.’

  ‘My privileged position!’ Charles gave a short bitter laugh. ‘Christ, you have no idea what my position is.’

  ‘It seems all right to me,’ said Stephen shortly.

  ‘That’s because you don’t know anything about it.’ Charles paused, and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, it was in a different voice.

  ‘I might as well tell you,’ he said. ‘We’re as good as ruined.’ He exhaled sharply; there was a stunned silence. Caroline’s eyes darted quickly to Cressida, but she remained motionless, her head bowed. The others looked uncertainly at each other. Charles looked up at the sky.

  ‘It’s almost a relief to have said it,’ he murmured. Patrick looked at him curiously. Was the man serious? Was he mad?

  ‘What is it, the Print Centre?’ hazarded Caroline. ‘It can’t have gone bust, surely?’

  ‘I wish,’ said Charles bitterly. ‘At least then I’d go bankrupt and that would be it. At least it wouldn’t be unlimited.’ He enunciated the word carefully, with a self-mocking despair. ‘Unlimited fucking liability,’ he added. ‘Never-ending liability. Oh Christ!’ He gave a despairing, shocking cry, which echoed round the court. Nobody moved for a few moments. Then Patrick spoke.

  ‘Lloyd’s of London?’ he said quietly. Charles’ head jerked up in surprise.

  ‘How on earth . . . ?’ His eyes swivelled round to Cressida, still sitting, curled up on the court, as though trying to block the world out. ‘I suppose she told you,’ he said contemptuously.

  ‘Actually, she didn’t,’ said Patrick calmly. ‘It was just a guess.’

  Cressida slowly lifted her head. Her face was pale, and she was shaking. ‘Do you mean’, she said, in a voice barely above a whisper, ‘that it’s not a mistake?’ Patrick’s heart contracted.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he said gently. ‘But I should think it’s probably not.’

  ‘Of course it’s fucking well not!’ yelled Charles. ‘You stupid bitch! Is that what you thought? You really are retarded, aren’t you?’ Cressida’s face crumpled, and she
huddled closer to her knees. Caroline looked indignantly at Charles, but naked curiosity kept her mouth closed.

  ‘Go on, say it!’ exclaimed Charles to Caroline, catching her expression. ‘You think I’m an evil bastard who married Cressida for her money! Of course you do. Well, maybe I did. But all I can say now is much fucking good it did me.’ Stephen flinched.

  ‘Honestly, Charles,’ he said solidly. ‘You don’t mean that.’

  ‘Don’t I?’ Charles’ eyes were glittering. ‘What would you know? Christ, you start whinging about a mortgage of eighty thousand. Do you know how much we owe?’ He paused for effect. ‘I’ll tell you. A million pounds.’ He looked round, to see the effect he’d made. Caroline looked astounded. Patrick was looking unsurprised. Stephen was staring down at his knees uncomfortably. ‘Maybe less,’ Charles continued, in a calmer voice. ‘Or maybe more. Our debt is unlimited. We could still be paying out when the twins are twenty-one. Christ knows if we’ll be able to send them to proper schools. But I should think it’s most unlikely.’ His eyes glittered more brightly. ‘How do you think that feels?’ He looked around, and his glance fell on Stephen, bright red with embarrassment.

  ‘You’re the lucky one,’ he said, without rancour. ‘You’ve got friends who can afford to help you out.’ He looked around. ‘Has anyone got a spare million they can let us have?’ he said, in a mocking voice. ‘We’ll be terribly grateful. And we’ll try to pay it back. Honest.’ He gave a short, painful laugh, tossed a tennis ball, and slammed it hard across the court. Then he threw his racquet after it, slumped to the ground and buried his head in his hands.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nicola was sobbing uncontrollably when Annie found her, curled up on the ground, half hidden by a bush. She looked up, startled, at Annie’s touch and tried to scramble to her feet. But Annie clasped her firmly in her arms and pulled her back. There was a brief, tacit struggle before eventually Nicola surrendered and buried her hot, wet eyes in Annie’s shirt, shuddering and gasping for breath. Annie hugged her tight, not saying anything but rocking gently, stroking her hair, soothing away the sobs.

  ‘Now,’ said Annie, after a while, when Nicola seemed to have calmed down. ‘What’s all this about?’

  ‘I d-don’t want to go away!’ Nicola’s wail turned into a sob, and a fresh stream of tears landed on Annie’s shirt. ‘I don’t want to g-go to a s-special school.’

  ‘A special school?’

  ‘You know, for people like me. For weirdos.’

  ‘My darling!’ Annie held Nicola away from her in shock and peered intently at her face. ‘Is that what you thought? That we were going to send you to a special school?’

  ‘Th-that’s what the g-girls at school s-say,’ shuddered Nicola. ‘They say I’ll b-be sent away to a special school for p-people like me. They say it all the t-time.’

  Annie stared at Nicola in shock. Control your anger, she thought. It won’t make it any easier for Nicola if you lose your temper.

  ‘Listen to me,’ she said, slowly and clearly. ‘You aren’t going to any special school. You’re going to stay just where you are. Those girls are crackers.’ Nicola gave a half giggle, but her eyes were distrustful.

  ‘Valerie said . . .’ she said.

  ‘Valerie was talking about something else,’ said Annie. She felt Nicola stiffen. ‘Now listen,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you what Valerie was talking about. What we were all talking about. Then you can think about it. All right?’ Nicola nodded, her body still tense. ‘When you’re a bit older,’ said Annie, ‘you’ll go to senior school.’

  ‘Marymount,’ agreed Nicola.

  ‘Maybe Marymount,’ said Annie. ‘Maybe somewhere else. Has Georgina told you about the school she goes to?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nicola cautiously.

  ‘Do you think it sounds nice?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, just maybe, if you wanted to, you could think about going there.’

  ‘St Catherine’s,’ said Nicola thoughtfully. Annie felt her relax slightly.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Annie. ‘But you’d have to think very hard about whether you want to go. It’s a boarding-school.’ Nicola nodded.

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘You sleep in dorms. And you have exeats.’ Annie tried to read her expression, but the afternoon sun was glinting on her glasses.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘we won’t talk about it any more if you don’t want to. There’s heaps of time to decide.’

  ‘Can I really go if I want to?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet,’ said Annie honestly. ‘It depends on a few things. Would you be disappointed if you couldn’t?’ Nicola gazed at her for a while. She shook her head, then nodded, then giggled.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said.

  ‘You silly cuckoo!’ said Annie, starting to tickle Nicola’s tummy. ‘You silly cuckoo! Are you still ticklish here? I think you might be!’ Nicola shrieked with laughter.

  ‘Stop, Mummy!’ she gasped.

  ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you,’ said Annie. ‘Did you say something?’ Nicola roared with laughter.

  ‘Stop! Stop!’

  Eventually Annie relented. She put her hands above her head.

  ‘Look! I’ve stopped.’ Nicola remained keyed up for a few seconds, ready for another attack, then flopped down, still giggling. Annie looked down at Nicola.

  ‘Shall we go back to the others? Or shall we stay here for a while?’

  ‘Stay here,’ said Nicola. She buried her head into Annie’s lap and closed her eyes. After a while, she said, ‘Why did Valerie say I was going to a special school?’

  ‘She meant a lovely, pretty, friendly school,’ said Annie. ‘Special doesn’t mean bad, you know. Lots of things are special because they’re so wonderful.’ She paused. ‘Like you in that play this afternoon. You were special because you were so funny.’ Nicola looked up, her cheeks rather pink.

  ‘It was Georgina’s idea,’ she said.

  ‘But Georgina couldn’t have done it nearly as well as you.’ Nicola went pinker and looked pleased. ‘I think my favourite bit’, continued Annie, ‘was when you told the poor pig that the sticks were wolf-proof.’ Nicola suddenly gurgled with laughter.

  ‘That was so funny,’ she said. ‘And then the wolf just came and blew them all away.’

  ‘Poor little pig,’ said Annie.

  ‘Silly pig, more like,’ said Nicola robustly. ‘He shouldn’t have believed me. He should have thought, Will sticks keep the wolf out? No, they jolly well won’t.’

  ‘I know,’ said Annie. ‘That’s what he should have thought. But, you know, not everyone’s as sensible as you.’ She smiled down at her daughter and gave her a sudden, fierce bear-hug. ‘Not everyone’s as sensible as you,’ she repeated quietly. ‘Not by a long way.’

  After a while, Nicola got to her feet. She pushed her hair back and sniffed.

  ‘I was supposed to find out who was winning the tennis match,’ she said. ‘To tell Georgina.’

  ‘I’m not sure anyone did,’ said Annie. ‘I think they decided to stop.’ And thank God you didn’t come along any earlier, she thought, feeling suddenly ashamed of the ugly bickering that had gone on; the screams and fighting by people who were supposed to be civilized friends.

  ‘Well, I’ll go and tell them that,’ said Nicola. She looked suddenly anxious to be away, suddenly embarrassed, perhaps, Annie thought. Well, she was almost getting to that awkward age of embarrassment. And maybe it started younger these days.

  ‘You go off then,’ she said. ‘You can tell Georgina the score was quite close.’

  ‘All right.’ Without looking back, Nicola ran off, leaving Annie with a damp patch on her shirt and a feeling of emptiness where Nicola’s head had rested in her lap. She sat for a few minutes more, with her head thrown back, feeling the sunshine against her face, letting her mind wander, until a cloud moved slowly over the sun, turning the air cool, and a gust of wind blew at her skirt.

  Slowly, feeling old and creak
y, she got to her feet, and brushed down her clothes. She walked slowly and unwillingly back to the tennis court, wondering what dreadful scene of confrontation would await her. But the only person there was Stephen, sitting in a deck-chair, sipping at a can of beer.

  She went and sat down beside him. For a while neither of them spoke. Then Stephen said, ‘Is Nicola all right?’

  ‘She’s all right now. She thought we were going to send her away to some special school.’ Annie sighed. ‘Those girls at her school have been saying she’s going to be sent away. To a school for weirdos. Can you believe it?’

  ‘I can believe anything of that lot.’

  ‘I told her she might be able to go to St Catherine’s.’

  ‘And what did she think of that?’

  ‘I couldn’t really tell.’

  There was a short silence.

  ‘Christ, I’m a fool,’ said Stephen suddenly. ‘I don’t know what happened to me this weekend. I wanted . . .’ He broke off. ‘I don’t know, I wanted to be rich, and successful, and, you know . . . like the others. I thought Patrick might make me a bomb of money, and we could buy a bigger house or something . . .’

  ‘But I don’t want a bigger house,’ said Annie.

  ‘No,’ said Stephen. ‘Neither do I. But it’s easy to forget things like that.’ He smiled foolishly at Annie. ‘I’m not level-headed like you.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not level-headed,’ said Annie surprisingly. ‘I have my own fantasies.’

  ‘Do you?’ Annie flushed.

  ‘You know. Silly things. Clothes. Jewels.’

  ‘I’ll buy you clothes and jewels,’ said Stephen robustly. ‘I’ll buy you all the jewels you can eat.’

  ‘Will you?’ Annie’s eyes softened.

  ‘You wait’, said Stephen, ‘till my thesis is published to widespread acclaim. We’ll celebrate with a double order of clothes and jewels.’ Annie giggled.

  ‘How lovely. I can’t wait.’ Stephen took a slug of beer.

  ‘I thought I might do some work on it tonight. I’ve had a few ideas.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Annie enthusiastically. She looked around and surveyed the empty scene. ‘Is the party over, then?’