by Anne Doughty
The very last opening of the dark-green gate into the RUC court was planned for Wednesday 7th September at 2.00 p.m. If rain were to interrupt or even prevent play the Club would still be meeting thanks to a marquee provided by the Committee from funds raised at the Annual Dance in the City Hall. All members were urged to attend for as much of the event as possible.
If the weather was fine there would be a knock-out tournament, names to be drawn for mixed doubles at two o’clock and at six o’clock. Tea would be served from five thirty onwards and play would go on as long as the light lasted, or until the winning couple had been found. Dancing would follow in the marquee.
Daisy could talk about nothing else and Ellie felt sorry for Susie. It was bad enough that she was already a good player but too young to join the club, but worse still, for a girl who so loved dancing, was the thought of missing this opportunity. However small and informal compared with the Annual Tennis Club Dance in the City Hall, a dance was a dance and not being there was almost more than she could bear.
There was little comfort in Daisy telling her she could join when she was seventeen and that she and Ellie would introduce her to everyone. But, to her great credit, Susie cheered up as the day approached and insisted on helping the two girls make the loaf of sandwiches they’d been asked to provide as their contribution towards the tea.
‘Make sure one of you wins the prize,’ Susie said, as they wrapped the sandwiches in a damp cloth and packed them carefully into a cardboard box.
‘Depends who we draw, Susie,’ explained Daisy. ‘Can’t do it without a good partner. If one of us draws Harry or Stanley we’d have a chance, they’re among the best of the men, but it’s a lucky dip. Two lucky dips actually. One for those who have the half day and one for those that haven’t. There’ll be a play off then between the winners.’
‘Well, good luck to you both. I hope you have a great time. I’ll want to hear all about it tomorrow,’ she said, beaming at them both, as they changed their sensible shop footwear for something prettier they could dance in later and gathered up their bags and tennis shoes.
The three girls walked together down the dim, high-walled entry which led from the back of the shop and emerged into Scotch Street. Bright sunlight spilt down from a cloudless sky.
‘Well, that’s a good start,’ said Susie enthusiastically, as she turned away. ‘See you win.’
A few minutes later they were cycling into the Palace Grounds, the path to the left entirely visible, especially scythed for the occasion by the elderly groundsman who mowed the court and marked out the white lines. As well as the bicycles parked against convenient trees, they spotted a couple of motorbikes pushed into the thicker undergrowth. On the narrow road that ran in front of the two estate houses and lead up to the Palace itself, three motors and a police tender were lined up neatly one behind the other.
The familiar dark-green door was propped open and all around the still empty court people moved backwards and forwards, some of the men in whites, girls in summer dresses, some delivering baskets and boxes of food to the back of the marquee, others joining the queue at the Secretary’s table to write their names on slips of paper ready for the partner’s draw.
‘Here, I’ll take the grub to the tea-ladies, you away and write our names down,’ said Daisy, her face shining. ‘There’s Harry waving at you. You’d better away and say hello to him’.
Ellie filled in the two slips of paper, folded them as instructed, dropped them into a cardboard box covered with pink wallpaper and went over to tell Harry how smart he looked. Both he and Stanley had acquired new white flannels and she couldn’t help noticing how dazzling their well-worn tennis shoes were. Even the laces had been carefully coated with whitener.
‘Ladies and gentlemen …’
The Secretary, a non-playing member with a neat tooth-brush moustache, small round spectacles and a balding head, raised his megaphone and requested their attention.
In the complete silence that followed, he repeated the details of the afternoon’s arrangements most of which they were perfectly familiar with already. He then went on to explain how the draw for partners had been designed to incorporate the draw for opponents as well. The first pair drawn, one from each of the two boxes, pink and blue, would play the second pair drawn. Pair three would play pair four. And so on. The winner of each two pairs would play the next winning pair and so on in similar fashion. One set only and sudden death if it went to five games each. He would read out the names of players drawn together and then post a printed list on the side of the pavilion.
Ellie sat down in the deckchair Harry had been keeping for her and lay back briefly with her eyes shut, her face turned towards the sun.
‘Wake me up if you need me,’ she said laughing, just before the first names were announced.
‘Daisy Hutchinson and …’
Ellie’s eyes opened immediately. She sat up and they listened intently.
‘Frank Armstrong.’
‘Ohhhh. He’s good,’ said Harry quickly. ‘That’s the Sergeant Armstrong I told you about.’
‘The one who wanted to paint the tennis balls?’
‘The very one. But he was only fooling. He plays a lot.’
They stopped talking and waited, their eyes upon the woman who was picking out the slips of paper and handing them unopened to the Secretary.
‘Adele Simpson and … James Nethercott.’
‘He’s police as well. Not as good as Armstrong. Don’t know her,’ Harry whispered quickly, as a tall, blonde woman stood up just a few yards away.
‘Sadie Ballantine and … Stanley Orr. Dorothy Trimble and … George Montgomery.’
Some minutes later Harry was drawn with one of the policemen’s wives. Sitting some distance away, her small daughter parked in her pram beside her, she raised her hand in acknowledgement.
‘Is she any good?’ Ellie asked, sensing the young man’s disappointment.
‘Yes, better than you are, but guess who I’d like to have drawn,’ he said, smiling down at her.
He walked away, spoke to Mrs Edwards, smiled and knelt down beside the pram to speak to her daughter. The little girl regarded him solemnly, then stuck out her hand and offered him her rather grubby stuffed rabbit.
Ellie watched them out of a corner of her eye as the remaining names were read out amid a chorus of comments, of delight, chagrin or amusement. Harry had such a gift for being easy with people. Old or young, titled lady or servant, it was all the same to him. Some girl would be fortunate in five or ten years time if Harry were in a position to marry. But that was the problem, wasn’t it. Even when he was more experienced, what Harry could earn at Freeburns, might pay his keep, buy him a new suit for the shop every two years, pay his subscription to the club or replace his worn racquet, but it wouldn’t look at supporting a wife and children.
Just like George had been. She sighed inwardly. Just like he still was, for the moment at least. She put the thought hastily out of mind as she saw the first two couples walk onto the court and toss for sides and service.
‘Miss Ellie Scott?’
The Secretary stood in front of her looking apologetic.
‘I’m afraid we were one man short for the afternoon draw. I’m so sorry, but I assure you, you’ll have the first man out of the blue box at six o’clock.’
Ellie laughed and was pleased to see him looking relieved.
‘I’m quite glad really,’ she said to reassure him. ‘Three of my friends will be playing each other and I’ll be able to watch them all.’
‘Good. Good,’ he said, ‘Enjoy your afternoon. You’ll hear from me at six o’clock.’
The afternoon passed quickly, the couples urged to change over promptly at the end of each set. Daisy and her partner, a tall serious-looking young man took their opponents to five all and had Ellie sitting on the edge of her seat. One game up, she realised it was Daisy’s service, her one weak spot. But Daisy was on form, not even a foot fault and once her service wen
t over the net, both she and her partner, now well adjusted to each other, slogged it out through one of the longest single games of the afternoon. In the end, they just made it, shook hands with their opponents and came off the court dripping with sweat, Frank’s arm lightly around Daisy’s shoulders as Ellie walked over to congratulate them.
By late afternoon, to the Secretary’s great satisfaction, all the necessary matches had been played. There would be fewer couples arriving for the evening and as it was still fine and dry, he could be almost sure the light would last and he’d not have to declare a draw between the finalists, or even, as had happened in previous years, to ask the semi-finalists to share the honours as darkness fell.
Tea was very welcome and Ellie realised how hungry she was.
‘Excitement, that’s what does it,’ Harry announced as he loaded up her plate from a passing tray of sandwiches.
‘You played well, Harry. Sorry you didn’t manage it. Richard Sleator is very good isn’t he?’
‘I wish I’d a serve like his,’ Harry replied ruefully between mouthfuls. ‘I think Mrs Edwards was frightened of him. Though she did her best,’ he added quickly. ‘But we gave them a run for their money.’
‘You did indeed,’ she agreed vigorously. ‘Have you seen Daisy anywhere?’ she went on, looking around the moving figures in the marquee.
Harry smiled shyly.
‘I think you’ll find she’s getting to know her partner better before they play in the finals.’
The megaphone was not working properly. Strange whining noises issued from it as the Secretary picked it up and looked at his watch. The newcomers had got as far as the cake, but were still munching when it was finally persuaded to work.
‘Ellie Scott and … Sam Hamilton.’
Oh goodness, Ellie thought, her heart leaping to her mouth. Someone I’ve never even met. He must be a policemen who’s been on duty. She took a deep breath, stood up and walked slowly towards the Secretary’s small table as he read out the next pair of names, their opponents in the first game of the evening.
‘Ellie Scott?’
She looked up and saw a tall, broad-shouldered young man in white flannels gazing down at her, a strange look on his face she couldn’t quite make out.
‘Are you Sam Hamilton?’
‘Yes, I am.’
He seemed to be about to say something else when the Secretary finished his much-shorter list of names and hurried them on to the court to shake hands with their opponents and toss for sides and service.
‘Which side do you like?’ he asked, turning to her, when he won the toss.
‘The other side, please.’
He looked anxious and uncomfortable as they walked round the net together and headed for the baseline.
‘Are they good?’ he asked quietly.
‘I’ve never seen either of them before,’ she whispered back.
‘Nor have I. What should we do?’
Suddenly Ellie thought of the day she’d gone to Sleators to deliver the matinee coat for wee Johnnie and she’d had to search for brown paper in the receptionist’s office. Now, perfectly clean, his face shining, not a trace of oil in sight, he looked just as awkward as he had in his dungarees.
She laughed up at him as they turned to face their opponents.
‘We can only do our best. Sure we delivered the parcel between us.’
‘Aye, you’re right there,’ he said more cheerfully, as he caught the new balls deftly from the ball boy and asked her if she would like to serve.
They won the set with ease.
CHAPTER TEN
Ellie lay on her right side, her eyes closed, but aware of the dim moonlight that filtered into her bedroom through the rustling leaves and fading blooms of the climbing rose outside her window. In the deep silence of the late evening she could still hear the rhythm of the little three piece band who appeared to enjoy playing as much as she and her friends had enjoyed dancing.
It had been a quite extraordinary day. She smiled as she stretched her weary body between the cool sheets, feeling the throb of music, the joy of dancing again after this long, long time. She thought of Susie and of how amazed she would be at the story they had to tell her in the morning. She still couldn’t quite believe it herself.
For a start, she and Sam Hamilton had won the tournament. Between six and seven, they had beaten two couples, their first two opponents quite unknown, the next pair known only by sight. They had then met the winners from the afternoon in the final play off, her dear friend Daisy with her partner Frank Armstrong.
They’d beaten them too, in a long, hard game, she and Daisy playing better than they’d ever played before. At the end of the set, instead of the customary handshake they’d hugged each other over the net. The applause of the rest of the Club, the cheers and whistles from Harry and Stanley, Richard Sleator and the other young men defeated in the earlier rounds, followed them all the way to the Secretary’s table.
She and Sam had both won subscriptions for next season, Daisy and Frank tokens for sportswear, and the Secretary himself presented both her and Daisy with a bouquet of flowers from his own garden.
It was the Secretary who insisted it should be the winning couple who led off the dancing. She had given her flowers to Daisy to hold, laid down her borrowed racquet, and turned towards her partner. She wondered if Daisy’s cousin ‘Sammy’ could dance as well as he played.
With the same ease as he’d moved round the court, sure-footed and knowing exactly what he wanted to do, he held out his arms and swept her round the floor using every inch of its limited space. After two circuits, they were joined by Daisy and Frank and then, moments later, by the rest of the remaining players.
The first sequence of dances was a long one, but not long enough for Ellie. Tired as she was from the sustained effort of the winning set she could think of nothing nicer than to go on moving as easily together as they had on the court. But all too soon, the music stopped. They clapped enthusiastically.
‘Next dance, please’.
‘D’you think I might have another dance later on, if your boyfriend can spare you?’ Sam asked quietly.
‘Boyfriend?’ she queried, puzzled by his manner.
‘That nice looking lad over there,’ he said, nodding gently towards Harry. ‘He never takes his eyes off you.’
She smiled up at him and shook her head.
‘Harry’s not my boyfriend. We work together at Freeburns. My boyfriend is in Canada. He’s working in a lumber camp. We’re saving up to get married.’
It was fully dark outside now. The marquee was lit with Christmas tree lights and storm lanterns covered with red crepe paper, so she couldn’t see his face properly. The only strong light played on the faces of the band, thrown up from two Tilley lamps placed so they could see their music.
‘Aye, it takes a bit of saving up to put a home together these days,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll come and ask you again later,’ he said, drawing her away from the floor and disappearing out into the darkness.
She’d danced with Harry and Stanley and Frank and Richard Sleator, who told her he was Susie’s elder brother, so he’d heard all about her. She’d enjoyed herself so much, she couldn’t believe it when they called the last dance. Before she’d even had time to think about Sam Hamilton, she felt his hand on her elbow. They had danced the long sequence of slow dances in silence and then spun round the less crowded floor in the final quickstep. ‘Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight.’
For another moment they stood side by side as the band played God Save the King and then it was all over, the band already packing up, couples streaming out into the darkness.
‘Thank you, Ellie, for a lovely evening,’ he said quietly.
It sounded, she thought, like a well-brought up child doing what it had been told. Doing it with a good grace, but not being quite sure of itself or the response it might meet.
‘Thank you too, Sam. I haven’t enjoyed myself so much for a very long time.’
>
As the strains of dance music began to fade and the warmth that precedes sleep began to creep over her, she wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t have said that. But it was true. She hadn’t. There couldn’t be much harm in telling the truth, could there?
It was fortunate indeed that Miss Walker was absent on business the following morning when the young people arrived for work. Despite the fact that she was no longer required to oversee the female staff, that the morning jobs were done in record time and that the establishment was temporarily without customers, the poor woman would have been hard-pressed to control her disapproval at the level of excitement. Even Joe, the eldest and most serious-minded of the young men, broke into a broad grin when Harry and Stanley relayed the news that both the girls had reached the final.
Susie hopped up and down and demanded that they all acknowledge the fact that she had told them so. With a solemn face and a mischievous look in her eye, Daisy assured them that her failure to win was entirely her own fault.
‘How do you make that out, Daisy?’ demanded Harry, ‘You were in great form. I’ve never seen you play so well.’
‘Well, ye see, if I hadn’t nagged away at my big cousin, Sammy, when he and his Da came over to give us a hand on the farm, sure he wouldn’t have been there to give Ellie a hand to beat me and Frank.’
Even Charlie Freeburn was anxious to hear the outcome of the previous day’s activities, and he seemed genuinely pleased when he heard how both girls had distinguished themselves. When he requested a word with Ellie about their range of autumn curtain fabric, later in the morning, he repeated his congratulations.
‘I’m afraid my own youth did not provide the opportunity for much in the way of amusement,’ he said unexpectedly, ‘but unlike some I could name, I see no virtue in that whatever. ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’ He paused and smiled wryly. ‘Are you old enough, Miss Scott, to have written that in your copy book?’