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tennis courts, listening dreamily to the sound of the players, with nothing to worry about but prep and choir practice and what would be for supper. Although of course, she reminded herself sternly, some of those things had been far more worrying at the time than they sounded now. Double biology had blighted her week far more than any of the duties she had to carry out nowadays. But still, in retrospect, she thought, her life was easy then. It had order, proportion and a definite framework constructed by others. What would the school timetablers make of her life as it was at the moment? Inefficient, rushed and ill-proportioned? Or maybe hers didn’t count any more. As a mother, perhaps her function was simply to make sure her children’s lives were as ordered as her own had been.
    As the thought of the children passed through her head, she experienced the customary irrational stab of fear that she always had when they weren’t in front of her – that they were in danger, injured, killed, through her own irresponsible fault. But the dart of pain as her heart jumped was muffled; the sensation of fear slight. They were with Georgina, a sensible girl; Stephen was up at the house and would hear any screams of distress; she was feeling too indolent to get worked up. She felt her mind drift further and further away from consciousness. Should she make an effortto watch the game? Or should she allow herself to fall asleep?
    She was woken what seemed like a moment later by Stephen placing an ice-cube on her forehead.
    ‘Aah!’ she screamed, and opened her eyes to see his upside-down laughing face above her. ‘You rotter!’
    ‘I think Valerie should be allowed to take that serve again,’ came a voice from the court. She swivelled her head, to see Don gazing disapprovingly at her.
    ‘This is quite an important point,’ he added meaningfully.
    ‘What’s the score?’ called Stephen cheerily.
    ‘Three-all in the tie-break,’ said Don, and turned back. ‘Take two, Val.’
    ‘I told you to watch and tell me what happened,’ complained Stephen quietly as he sat down beside Annie. ‘I’ve obviously missed all the excitement.’
    ‘Well, what took you so long?’ retorted Annie.
    ‘It took me half an hour to find the kitchen,’ said Stephen. ‘And another half-hour to find the ice-cube dispenser. But I knew madam wouldn’t like her Pimm’s warm.’
    ‘You were right there,’ agreed Annie. She took several long gulps of the amber liquid.
    ‘Mmm, lovely.’
    ‘Good stuff, isn’t it?’ agreed Stephen. ‘Now, tell me how a tie-break works.’
    ‘Three-six,’ called Don.
    ‘Don and Valerie need one more point to win,’ said Annie. ‘Look, we must watch.’
    Patrick was preparing to serve. The first went slamming into the net.
    ‘Fault,’ said Don and Valerie in unison.
    Patrick threw up the second ball and sent it gently curving over the net, landing neatly in the service box.
    ‘Foot-fault,’ came Don’s voice. Valerie, who had been running for the shot, stopped in her tracks.
    ‘Was it?’ she said breathlessly.
    ‘Foot-fault?’ said Caroline incredulously.
    ‘I’m afraid so,’ said Don. ‘I saw it quite clearly. Your foot was over the line. If you’re not happy about it, we could play the point again . . .’ He raised his eyebrows at Valerie.
    ‘No, no,’ said Patrick, attempting a genial voice. ‘I’m sure you’re right. So that must be . . .’
    ‘Our set,’ said Valerie promptly. ‘And match.’
    ‘Well, what a thrilling end,’ said Caroline, in sarcastic tones. Patrick glanced at her sharply.
    ‘Was that really a foot-fault?’ Annie asked Stephen quietly. He shrugged.
    ‘Christ knows. I can’t see from here.’
    ‘I shouldn’t think Don can see very clearly, either,’ she said, catching his eye meaningfully. They bothturned and looked at Don, shaking hands with a beaming face. He looked utterly satisfied with himself.
    ‘Oh well,’ said Stephen. ‘If it’s that important