Tennis Shoes (19 page)

‘Don't you forget that, though, of course, you've got to have a racket, and you've got to have a ball, and your body's got to be the right way round, and the arm that holds the racket has got to strike the ball, in the end it's the way you think that matters. You must think of every match you play as one person's brain against another's. I can give you, and other people can give you, all the strokes. You can have a natural gift, but it's all wasted unless your brain is just that much better than your opponent's. No matter how good a stroke may be, it's only worth half if it isn't used cleverly.'

Nicky nodded. They were sitting together in the gallery, waiting for a court.

‘You mean, in the end you could stop thinking if you were doing things right or wrong, or whether you were standing right, but you couldn't ever stop thinking how best to win.'

‘It's exactly what I do mean.' He looked at her in rather a puzzled way. ‘How old are you?'

‘Eleven.' Nicky gripped one of her knees with her arm and rested her chin on it. ‘I've had a very troubled life. Do you know, my twelfth birthday will be one of the only birthdays I ever had when I could have all my presents. First I had umbrellas and umbrellas. Then, when I joined this, it was part of grandfather's birthday present and one Christmas too.'

‘Why did you have umbrellas?' he asked.

Nicky told the story of the umbrella man. He was interested to hear about the tennis house.

Nicky lolled back.

‘It's not so bad just now. There's quite a lot of money in it. That's because Pinny keeps knitting jumpers, then mummy had a little windfall over something that she thought would never pay again and did. Then daddy had a few bad debts paid up. But it wouldn't have anything in it at all, if it wasn't for grandfather. He's giving us you, and he is giving us all our subscriptions to the club for Christmas presents. The house has to get all the extra things, tennis-rackets, balls, and entrance fees for the tournaments.'

He nodded sympathetically.

‘Bit of a struggle, I should think. Still, maybe in the end it will be worth while.'

At that moment the court below was empty.

‘There's our court,' said Nicky. ‘I hope to be worth while, and Susan's sure to be. Come on!'

That Christmas only Jim and Susan entered for the Junior Hard Court Championship. Nicky and David had a piece of disgusting bad luck. They went to a party two days before Christmas, and soon afterwards a child who had been at it came out with chicken-pox.

Nicky stamped with rage.

‘Quarantine for Christmas! I can't play in the tournament. Oh, it is mean!'

‘It isn't even as if it was an exceptionally good party,' David pointed out. ‘Life is most outrageous.'

As a matter of fact, neither of them got chicken-pox. Their grandfather sent them seats for the circus to make up for the quarantine. He also sent them five shillings each to spend on sideshows.

Pinny took them. She had a most miserable afternoon. She was afraid to let them go on the sideshows alone for fear she lost them, so she joined them on scenic railways and whips and ghost trains and grew greener and greener. In the end they had to take her to a chemist and give her sal volatile. Nicky and David enjoyed the day all the same.

Neither Jim nor Susan shone in the tournament that Christmas. They were both unlucky in the draw and were knocked out in the first round. Susan, however, put up a very good fight. Once more she got a certain amount of notice in the press. It did her good. She was even getting quite a confident air at St. Clair's. When people talked to her about her tennis, she stopped getting red and stammering. Everybody said she was good, even the papers. She herself began to believe it at last.

One day before Easter Nicky and Susan were going up to practise at the club. They had had their last coaching some time before and were back again playing games with each other. Just as they were starting, it came on to pour with rain. Dr. Heath put his nose round his surgery door.

‘If you two will wait five minutes I'll drive you up. I might wait and have a look at you. I'd like to see what that coach has done for you.'

They drove up to the club. It was raining cats and dogs. They ran in laughing and shaking themselves like Agag did when he had been out in the wet. The secretary had his door open. He looked out to see who was coming. He gave them all a friendly smile. Then he seemed to remember something. He came into the passage.

‘Oh, Dr. Heath, I was wanting you. As you know, or perhaps you don't, our coach makes a report on all the pupils he's had through his hands. If anybody is outstanding, or shows promise, the county sometimes gives them six lessons. They have decided to do so in this case.

Susan gasped with pleasure. Dr. Heath gave her a quick smile. The secretary looked at the list in his hand.

‘Nicolette Heath.' He looked at Nicky. ‘Congratulations, my dear.'

The whole family was completely stunned. When as a family you have accepted one person as being supremely good at something, that authorities who ought to know should pick out one of the others, upsets all preconceived ideas. Of course, nobody said very much about it at home because of Susan. Dr. Heath told Mrs. Heath and Pinny. Then he wrote to grandfather. Susan wrote to Jim:

D
EAR
J
IM
,

This is only a short extra letter. You know that sometimes the county gives extra coaching at tennis if they think anybody is worth while. We heard to-day that they are giving some to Nicky.

With much love,

S
USAN
.

David heard the news from Pinny.

‘Nicky's had a little honour done her in tennis, dear. Something we won't talk about. We don't want to upset poor Susan.'

As David must not tell anybody, he told Agag.

‘Nicky has been chosen for something at tennis. I'm not sure what. I thought you'd like to know.'

Nicky told Annie. Annie was dishing up the dinner. She just nodded in an off-hand way.

‘That's right. Someone's got some sense, I can see. Now run along. No need to think you can hang about in the big top just because someone is giving you lessons for nothing.'

Nicky found it a little hard to comport herself decently in the face of her triumph, while at the same time sympathizing with Susan. She thought she ought to have had a bit of a party to celebrate, or at least threepence to spend at Mrs. Pettigrew's. Instead, Annie brought in one mince-pie and put it in front of Susan.

‘That's the last, dear, I've been saving it for you.'

Pinny said:

‘Susan, dear. There's the duckiest little frock in
Vogue
I want you to look at. I've seen some very cheap material at Lewis's. I thought you'd look sweetly pretty in it.'

Nicky felt that she was being neglected.

‘Well, if I haven't got a mince-pie and nobody's making me a frock, suppose I choose the game for to-night.'

Her father looked at her with a twinkle in his eye.

‘If I know my Nicky, she's had enough choosing for to-day.'

‘Yes, darling,' Mrs. Heath said, ‘we'll play Lexicon. You're fond of that, aren't you, Susan?'

In spite of her triumph, Nicky got into bed feeling cross. There was absolutely nobody to jump about and be pleased with. ‘Oh, well,' she thought, tucking in her back, ‘if nobody else is pleased, I am.' She settled down for the night. ‘Good night, Nicky, dear. Many congratulations.'

Susan heard by Nicky's regular breathing that she was asleep. Suddenly she began to shake. Her teeth chattered. Ever since the secretary had said that at the club, she had been trying not to show anybody that she minded. She had managed to smile and say ‘Well done' to Nicky, but inside she felt as though she would burst, she was so miserable. All her feelings of not wanting to be looked at, to be just the same as everybody else, came crowding back on her. What a fool she would look now. She had let everybody say how good she was. She had let the girls at school tell her she was marvellous. Why had she never said: ‘But you ought to see Nicky. She plays better than me'? Perhaps people had always known it. Perhaps they had been laughing at her. How odd that you could wake up in the morning so happy and sure of yourself, and go to sleep the same night with everything gone wrong. She did not mind Nicky being good enough for the county to coach. She only minded that she seemed to have been bolstered up by something that was not true. She sat up and looked into the night. ‘You're not good at tennis, you conceited fool. Nicky's better than you are. You're not good. People have been telling you lies. You're not good.' Suddenly she could not say it any more. She rolled over on her face on her pillow and sobbed as if she would never stop.

CHAPTER XII

NICKY'S CAREER

It was the first day of the Easter holidays. Susan asked Jim if he would come to Hampton Court. She was learning about Cardinal Wolsey at school and wanted a good look at where he had lived. Besides, she wanted to talk to Jim somewhere with nobody to bother or interrupt.

On the Underground it was too noisy for talking. Besides, they were busy discussing the advertisements. They played the game of marking them all. Ten for full marks. One advertisement they thought so bad they gave it a nought.

After the Underground they took a bus to Hampton Court. They got the front seat. Susan looked round. No one was near them to hear what they were talking about.

‘You never answered that letter about Nicky.'

Jim felt in his pockets for the fares.

‘Nothing to say. I don't suppose it means much. I suppose she's good for her age, that's all.'

Susan nudged him because the conductor was coming. The conductor said it was a nice day for Hampton Court. They agreed with him. When he had gone, Susan went on with the conversation as if they had not been interrupted.

‘She's more than that. I know because of the club. You know how everybody hears things like that People look at her and point her out. Sometimes they watch her when she's playing. I heard they think she shows more promise than any one they've ever had.'

Jim gave Susan her ticket. He stuck his in a crack under the window.

‘Seeing the names on the board I just don't believe it. If it's true, why didn't we notice it?'

Susan rolled her ticket into a tube.

‘She had her wrist at the tournament last summer, then she was in quarantine at Christmas. It's ages since anybody saw her play properly. The person who ought to have known was me. I'm always playing with her. But I suppose if you're trying to do something yourself, you don't notice the other people.'

‘'Course you don't,' Jim agreed. ‘Anyway, I dare say you'll be the best in the end.'

Susan shook her head.

‘Oh, no.' She hesitated. ‘I suppose you'll say “Sour grapes,” but, honestly, I'm not keen on being good any more. Just at first I minded, but afterwards I suddenly knew I was glad. Tennis is fun if you just enter for doubles and try to get through a round or two of singles, but not when people are expecting you to do something grand. They can do all their expecting about Nicky now.'

Jim frowned in a puzzled way.

‘I shouldn't think just Nicky being good, if she is, would be enough for dad. He wants us all to be.'

Susan nodded.

‘I know. But I think even trying to make us will cost too much. You know, even with all the bits there's never enough in the tennis house for everything. Of course, grandfather gives us our club subscriptions, and he gave us our first coaching, but he can't go on for ever. Think of all the getting about to tournaments, and the rackets and the clothes it will take, if she gets really good.'

‘Well?' Jim looked at her inquiringly. ‘What do you want to do?'

‘I've been thinking a lot. I'd like dad and grandfather to have one of us Wightman Cup Wimbledon standard; they'd be so pleased. I think Nicky could be. Well, let's try and make her. There isn't the money for all of us. I vote it mostly goes on her as the likeliest one.'

Jim sighed.

‘I can't think of anything more awful than Nicky as a star turn.'

Susan considered Nicky.

‘I don't suppose she'll be awfuller than she often is, anyway. Look! This is where we get off. Now let's pretend Cardinal Wolsey still lives here.'

After tea that evening, when Pinny had taken Nicky to the club for her lesson, Dr. Heath came into the drawing-room. Jim and Susan were playing bezique. They stopped. Susan thought it was a good moment to talk to him. She explained her idea about Nicky.

‘Of course I don't mean,' she finished, ‘that we'd stop working. Only it's quite different just working at something and being a sort of professional at it.'

Dr. Heath sat down.

‘Professional, indeed! I should hope not.' He looked at David, who was lying on his chest, sticking stamps into his album. ‘What about him? He may have the makings of something good for all we know.'

David did not look up from his album.

‘Don't trouble about me. I'm fixing my ambitions on my voice. I want to be the man who sings with the band on the wireless. I shan't have much time for games.'

Dr. Heath took his pipe out of his pocket.

‘I think you're looking ahead a bit, Susan. I don't know we've any grounds at the moment for thinking Nicky's our only hope. Besides, although the coaches speak well of her, it may be only a flash in the pan.'

Susan sat on the arm of her father's chair.

‘Well, anyway, she's a flash in the pan. The rest of us aren't that. You know, darling, if you were absolutely honest, you'd own you never have believed much in me.'

Her father looked up at her over the match he was holding to the bowl of his pipe.

‘You miserable daughter, pinning your poor father down. I thought, and I still think, some day you'll be a very nice player. Quite honestly, I don't think you've the champion's temperament. If it comes to that, all I think about Nicky is that quite suddenly she has come on and is at the moment out of the ordinary promising. As for match play, we don't know. We haven't seen her.'