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he’d take it all so seriously. Besides,’ he added defensively, ‘Don’s quite a good client of mine. It doesn’t hurt to show a bit of goodwill.’
    ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake! I should have known it was something like that.’ She looked sideways at Patrick. ‘I suppose that’s why you invited the Mobyns, wasn’t it? Because they’re good clients?’ Patrick shrugged and looked away. ‘This is supposed to be a party, Patrick. For our friends. Not some bloody corporate hospitality event.’ She took a furious drag on her cigarette. Patrick glared at her.
    ‘Just remember’, he hissed, ‘that it’s people like Don who pay for all of this, for your new tennis racquet and your new hairdo and those poncey cigarettes. Not to mention the house, and the car, and the pony . . .’ He broke off as Don came to the side of the court.
    ‘Discussing tactics, are you?’ he said in a jovial voice. ‘Now remember, no playing on Valerie’s injured hand.’
    ‘Oh for Christ’s sake,’ muttered Caroline.
    ‘Of course we won’t,’ said Patrick loudly. He avoided Caroline’s gaze. ‘Right, come on, darling. Let’s give them hell.’ He grinned at Don who chuckled appreciatively. Caroline rolled her eyes and stubbed out her cigarette.
    As the four began to knock up, it was soon obviousthat Don and Valerie were serious players. Valerie was slogging the ball determinedly at Patrick, while Don was hitting cunningly sliced shots to Caroline. She swiped wildly at each spinning ball, then stared in distaste as it swerved away beyond her reach.
    ‘These balls aren’t bouncing properly,’ she announced eventually. ‘I’m sure that’s not allowed.’
    ‘It’s called a spin shot,’ said Patrick. ‘It’s perfectly legal.’ Caroline gazed at him crossly.
    ‘Well, it’s fucking annoying.’
    ‘It’s the action of the racquet, you see,’ put in Don. ‘It’s very simple.’
    ‘Well, could you not do it, please?’ said Caroline firmly. ‘It really puts me off.’
    Don and Valerie stared at her in amazement. Patrick smiled hastily at them.
    ‘Caroline’s sense of humour on court is something else,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t take her seriously.’
    Don and Valerie won the toss and chose to serve. Patrick waited, eyes narrowed, as Don bounced the ball twice, drew back his racquet with a contorted, looped action, and hit the ball smartly over the net. Patrick lunged for it and promptly sent it out.
    ‘Bad luck, Patrick, good serve, Dad,’ hooted Valerie. She was standing right up at the net, jumping up and down, clearly ready to blast to oblivion any shots that came her way.
    ‘Patrick, that was complete crap,’ said Caroline loudly. Annie, sitting on the bank, began to giggle.
    ‘Look at Valerie’s face,’ she whispered to Stephen.
    Valerie gazed in bemused horror at Caroline as she sauntered to the back of the court. She turned to exchange looks with Don, but he hadn’t heard Caroline’s comment and was preparing to serve again. He bounced the ball twice, tossed it up, and hit it elaborately to Caroline’s forehand. Caroline drew back her racquet and slammed the ball straight at Valerie.
    ‘Ouch!’ cried Valerie, clutching her shoulder.
    ‘Sorry, Valerie,’ drawled Caroline. ‘I was trying to pass you. Fifteen-all, I think that is.’
    Stephen caught Annie’s eye and snorted with laughter. ‘This is priceless.’ He got up, and took her empty glass. ‘I’ll get some more drinks. Tell me what happens while I’m away.’ Annie nodded, then leant back on the grass, feeling pleasurably the cool blades of grass against her bare arms; closing her eyes and listening to the irregular sound of ball against racquet. Thwack, thwack, thwack. ‘Out!’ ‘Fucking hell!’ ‘Thirty-fifteen.’ Then silence, then thwack, thwack, thwack, again.
    Annie felt calm, happy, slightly numbed from the alcohol, and almost perfectly content. She was suddenly reminded of summer afternoons at school,lying by the