by Jen Silver
Sam left Beth to unpack after she’d carried her case up to the guest bedroom and drove the short distance to her friends’ house. Hermy didn’t even shift her gaze from the fish tank when she walked into their living room and called her name.
“Guess she’s not missed me.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Barb said. “She disappeared for long periods at times and that’s where we found her, back at yours.”
After thanking Barb for all she and Scott had done, including getting in the provisions, Sam took Hermy home.
“Beth’s here, so play nice,” she said to the cat as they entered the house. Hermy jumped out of her arms and ran into the living room. Sam watched as she rubbed herself against the furniture then jumped up onto the coffee table and sniffed around. She looked up at Sam and gave a plaintive cry.
“Oh, the iPad. I see. It’s not me you want, it’s your fish app.” Sam retrieved the device from the bag she’d left by the stairs.
With Hermy settled on the sofa, watching the fish on the screen, Sam went upstairs to start her own unpacking. It didn’t take long as most of it went straight into the laundry basket.
When she came down, Hermy was still in the same place and she could hear movement in the kitchen. Beth had put the oven on and unwrapped the pizza. She was pouring out two glasses of red wine when Sam entered.
Sam accepted a glass and sat down at the kitchen table. “We might as well stay in here. Hermy’s occupying the sofa.”
“I guess she’s still mad at me. I thought she was going to bite me when I tried to pat her on the head just now.”
“More likely worried you wanted the iPad. I’m going to have to either get her one of her own or buy an aquarium. She’s spent most of the last two weeks sitting in front of Barb and Scott’s.”
Beth put the pizza in the oven, and then joined her at the table. “The garden needs some work.”
“Yeah. I guess I’ve let it go a bit.”
“Well, I could make a start on it. I’ve got two weeks before school starts, three before the kids come back.”
Sam nodded. “I’ve got to finish up my report for Sandra, but that shouldn’t take long. I was planning to repaint the fence once we had two dry days in a row. Looks like a possibility this week.”
They sat in silence until the oven timer pinged. Sam got up to retrieve the pizza and almost tripped over Hermy as she was carrying it on the cutting board over to the table.
“You won’t want any of this, fuzz-face. There are no anchovies on it.”
Hermy jumped onto her lap when she sat down to inspect it anyway.
“And I know you’re not really hungry. Barb told me you’ve had your supper.” Sam looked up to see Beth staring at her. “Yeah, I know. Bad habit.”
They were both on their second slice of pizza when Beth said, “I know I wasn’t Lydia’s first. I wonder what happened to her other lovers.”
“You should talk to Webby.”
Beth swallowed and took a sip of wine. “I doubt whether either Troy or Webby want to speak to me again.”
“No, really. Webby worked with Lydia. He was Head of Geography at the same school where she was teaching History. He said she needed a push in the right direction to convince herself she was gay. He took her to a club.”
“You’re kidding. I can’t see Lydia at a gay club.”
“This was some time ago. Anyway, he said she always seemed to hook up with other women who weren’t keen to come out. He knows she dated a doctor and a lawyer at different times. But after she moved on to a different school they lost touch.”
“Well, well. Walter Webster and Lydia Carmichael at a gay club. That I would have liked to see.”
“Webby also said Lydia would never call him by his nickname, always Walter.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. When she first arrived at the school she met with all the staff individually. When I went into her office, my personnel file was on the desk in front of her, but she greeted me as Elizabeth. I pointed to the file and told her I’d been christened Beth. It’s not short for anything. I left her office thinking I’d made a pretty lousy first impression.”
Hermy had curled up on her cat bed by the patio door. That was an unusual sight as she usually ignored it in favour of the living room furniture or one of the beds upstairs. Looking back at Beth, Sam could see the hint of tears gathering in her eyes. She wanted to give her a hug but something held her back. Was Beth grieving for the loss of Lydia, or was coming back to this house overwhelming her?
“The cat’s got the right idea. I think I’ll turn in. I’m bushed.” Sam stood and placed her wine glass by the sink.
“Okay. I won’t be far behind. I’ll clear up.”
Sam retrieved her iPad from the living room. Fish were still swimming across the screen. Perhaps she could teach Hermy to switch it off to save the battery life. She only stopped in the bathroom long enough for a final pee, quick wash of hands and face, and brush of teeth. Dropping her clothes on the floor, she crawled under the duvet and tried to relax with calming thoughts. But this didn’t last long as the sound of Beth coming up the stairs and going into the bathroom intruded. She waited for the sound of the toilet flushing to end, shortly followed by footsteps across the hall and the soft closing of the other bedroom door.
Tired as she was from the long journey, Sam didn’t think sleep was going to come easily. Having Beth back in the house felt right, but she wasn’t sure how long she could resist not having her in her bed.
†
Beth closed the bedroom door and gazed around. The room had all the personality of a cheap hotel room. The few guests they entertained generally only stayed one night so they hadn’t given much thought to making it more attractive. The bed was barely adequate for two people to sleep in comfortably but a larger one would have significantly decreased the chances of fitting anything else in. There were no pictures on the walls and nowhere to place any ornaments. The bedside table was full now with a lamp, an alarm clock, and her hairbrush. Beth thought a small chest of drawers would just fit in the space between the window and the wardrobe.
When she and Sam had discussed her moving back in, it had seemed like a simple idea. Back on the beach at Temperley Cliffs, anything had seemed possible. They could manage living together, separately, but now she wondered for how long? Was she just a guest here? Tolerated by Sam as long as she could help pay the mortgage? Tolerated by Hermy as long as she didn’t mention the word “cattery?”
†
Lydia gave the hotel room an approving glance. The academy trust members must be truly interested in obtaining her services if they were happy to pay for her two night stay in the best hotel in town. City, she reminded herself. Chester was established by the Romans in the first century with a bigger fortress built there than in any other of their established bases, including York. In the morning, before her first interview, she planned to treat herself to a walk around the ancient wall that still encircled the medieval part of the city. The brisk two-mile circuit would set her up nicely for the day of interviews and presentations ahead.
The invitation to attend the interviews had been a pleasant surprise on her return from the aborted holiday trip. With the upset over Beth, she’d forgotten about the application she’d sent at the end of the summer term. Although she hadn’t really thought about changing jobs, the opportunity to be a super-head managing three newly set up academies was tempting. And she knew that her track record spoke for itself. All she had to do was convince the board of trustees that she was the right person for the job.
The drive hadn’t been arduous but she decided to treat herself to a luxurious bath before going downstairs to dine in the Michelin star restaurant. It was all on expenses after all.
Part Four: Match play
Chapter Nineteen
Two weeks later…
Andi sat on the edge of the bed and wondered whether or not she should just withdraw from the tournament. It was short notice but th
ere would be a lower-ranked player on standby who would welcome the chance to play in the prestigious Ladies European Masters. The caddy she had booked had left a message at reception to say she was ill. The only clothes Andi had brought with her couldn’t pass as suitable golf wear. Her sponsor usually provided outfits for each day, including the pro-am, but it looked like they had dumped her as well, without even an email or text to let her know.
She had been looking forward to playing. The three weeks at Temperley Cliffs, enjoyable as it was to be with Freya, had only increased her craving for competition. It was tempting to lay all the blame for her present circumstances on Goran. When she met him in London the day before to sign off on the divorce papers, she had been ready to blast him full force with the “how could you do this to me?” speech that rattled through her head during the long train journey from Exeter. But when she met Ryan and saw the happiness that shone through both of them, all her pent-up anger fled. She hugged them both and wished them all the best.
A knock on the door brought her back to the present. She went to open it thinking maybe her sponsor had come through after all.
“Jordan?”
The Temperley Cliffs golf pro was carrying a large box. She gave Andi a shy smile. “Lady, uh, Freya, asked me to deliver this.”
“Thanks, but she could have sent a courier.”
“I’m part of the delivery. In case you need a caddy.”
Andi motioned her inside and shut the door. “What’s in the box?”
Jordan set it down on the bed. “Only one way to find out.”
The box wasn’t sealed, so Andi tore back the flaps with one swift motion. She pulled out the first item, a white polo shirt with a fairly discreet Temperley Cliffs logo on the front. Turning it round, she almost dropped it. “Yggdrasil.”
“What?”
The outline of an ash tree covered most of the back, the letters T and C carved into the trunk.
“Yggdrasil. The tree from Norse mythology that holds up the universe. You’ve seen it before. It’s part of the club’s logo.”
“Oh. I thought it was just a tree.”
Andi smiled. “It’s more than just a tree. It’s Freya’s tree, symbolising not just her roots, but also her aspirations.”
She laid the shirt on the bed and checked out the other items in the box. An outfit for each day, shirt and shorts. There was a list at the bottom telling her which ones to wear for day one, day two, and so on. And even a plain green polo and tan chinos to wear for the pro-am.
“Oh, and there’s these as well.” Jordan handed her the bag that Andi hadn’t noticed she was holding.
The bag held an assortment of hats and visors, also with the TC logo. Andi sat down on the bed and looked up at Jordan. “She’s amazing, isn’t she? When did she do all this?”
“I don’t know. She only told me yesterday morning that she thought you might need a caddy and would I be willing to do it. I said yes, obviously. But I did think she had asked you first. I mean, you might not think I’m caddy material.”
“Can you carry the bag?”
“Yes.”
“Can you interpret a pin chart?”
“Yes.”
“Can you put up with me telling you what to do for five days?”
“That I’m not sure about. But Freya told me that if you get frustrated with your game, I’m to start singing the Robin Hood song. I’ve only learned the first verse so far.”
Andi flopped back onto the bed overcome with laughter. When she had recovered she sat up and rubbed the tears from her eyes. “Oh, God! What a woman.” She looked at Jordan. “Have you got somewhere to stay? Everything within a twenty-mile radius is probably booked up.”
“Yes. I’m in a bed and breakfast. It’s not far away.”
“Fantastic. How about we meet on the driving range in an hour. Does that work for you?”
“Yes. No problem.”
As soon as Jordan was out the door, Andi reached for her phone. Freya answered on the third ring.
“You got the delivery?”
“Yes. I don’t know what to say.”
“A simple ‘Thank you’ will do.”
“Thank you. But I didn’t know you were psychic. You had to have planned this weeks ago to get the shirts printed in time.”
“Not psychic. I keep my ear to the ground, though. And I thought it was a good idea to be prepared for the likely eventuality that your clothing sponsor would get cold feet.”
“Freya…” The words stuck in her throat again. Andi couldn’t deal with the emotions running through her right now. She had a tournament to prepare for and she thought Freya would understand.
“Just play your game. You’ll be fine.”
With those words she was gone. Andi sat on her bed looking down at the phone. After the tournament, she would make it up to her. Which tournament, though? Would it be this one, or the next, or the one after that? How many times had she made this promise to herself and how many times had she chickened out? Too many to count.
†
Jordan was thrilled with everything. She had been to live tournaments as a spectator but never as a participant, inside the ropes, walking the fairways with camera crews following. She just hoped she could play the part of caddy well enough for Andi.
When Freya asked if she would do it, Jordan had been taken aback. They had a new group booked in for the week arriving at Temperley Cliffs in the next few hours.
“These guests don’t need much instruction. They’re all golfers and are here for the pleasure of playing this course and experiencing our Cornish hospitality. You’ll be back in time for our next intake of beginners.”
During the pro-am event, Jordan tried to concentrate on watching Andi’s playing style, noting which clubs she used for different distances. There were a lot of distractions though. The interaction between the pro golfers and their amateur playing partners for the day was cause for some amusement. Andi was paired up with an Olympic field hockey player who could hit the ball a good distance but her lack of control generally meant extended periods of looking for her ball in the woods or the long grass.
On one occasion while they were standing in the fairway waiting for the hockey player to decide which club to use from an undesirable position behind a tree, Andi volunteered the information that she had met Lady Temperley at a pro-am.
“Did you know she was married?” Jordan asked.
“She wasn’t wearing a ring, but some people take their rings off when they play. So I asked if there was a Lord Temperley. She told me there was, but that he wasn’t interested in golf. By the end of the front nine she’d made it pretty clear what she was interested in.” Andi winked at her.
“Wow! She seems so, I don’t know…” Jordan struggled to find the right word, “…regal.”
“Don’t let outer appearances fool you.” Andi gazed into the distance, a wistful smile playing on her lips.
Jordan recalled the day she had seen them lying together naked on the beach and found herself smiling as well.
The hockey player finally took the advice of her caddy and took a penalty drop from the tree.
Compared to the pro-am, the first day of the golf tournament was nerve-wracking. Jordan arrived at the course early. Andi was in the second half of the draw and wasn’t teeing off until one o’clock, but Jordan wanted to do what she knew was expected of caddying for a top pro. She would walk the course before any of the play started to make notes on the pin placements. The caddies were given a chart for each day which showed the distances of each hole from the edges of the green, but it helped to know the contours involved—whether it was best to aim for landing the ball to the right or left of the flag, if there was a run-off at the back making an over hit dangerous, or if there was a helpful rise to give the ball a spin back towards the hole.
She’d checked everything in Andi’s bag three times to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Spare gloves, balls, and tees. There would be sponsored water cool
ers at each tee so she didn’t need to add that. Andi preferred energy bars for snacks rather than bananas, so Jordan added six of those. She remembered to count the clubs. Fourteen was the maximum allowed and well-known players had been penalised for carrying more, even if inadvertently. Luckily Andi only had twelve so it wasn’t likely to be a problem, but Jordan checked and triple-checked. She wasn’t going to be responsible for Andi losing shots before she started.
With only an hour to go before the tee-time, Andi was going through her practice routine on the driving range. Jordan didn’t know how she could concentrate with everything going on around them. Other golfers were on the range with coaches and caddies offering advice, journalists were angling for interviews, and from the course, the spectators became more vocal as the day went on. It only helped to reinforce the fact that she could never have competed at this level. Jordan’s nerves were shot and they hadn’t started the round yet.
When the woman approached and stood nearby, Jordan just thought it was another fangirl wanting to ogle Andi. There had been a lot of those after the pro-am but Andi was gracious in stopping to talk or sign autographs. Another side to her that Jordan was only now seeing.
“Hi, I’m CJ.” The woman offered her hand.
“Jordan.” She noticed the hand was pale compared to the other body parts on display. Sure sign of a golf enthusiast. “If you want to speak to Andi, you’ll have to wait until she’s finished.”
“Sure.” CJ leaned back against the wall next to her. “It was tough out there this morning. The afternoon players are going to be luckier with the weather. The wind’s dying down now.”
Jordan thought she detected an accent, similar to Andi’s. “Oh, you’ve been out already?”
“Yeah. First out this morning. Not my favourite time of day.”
“Who do you caddy for then?”
Andi had stopped to change clubs and chimed in. “You ignorant sod. Don’t you recognise CJ Hart? She’s almost as famous as me, for a Canadian, that is.”