The Tennis Party by Sophie Kinsella, Madeleine Wickham Page A

room, she found that her nerve was failing her. Twice she reached for the door handle, paused with her hand on the knob, physically unable to leave the safety of her temporary haven. On the other side of the door were people, reality, Charles, the children. This side of the door there was only herself, the pink satin bed and the letter – which, stuffed into her vanity case, didn’t really exist yet. Not while she hadn’t told anyone about it.
    She looked at her watch. Half-past three. Earlier she had been desperate for time to move on; now she wished it could stay still. She would have to tell Charles tonight, in bed, where there was no chance of anyone hearing. Until then, for a few hours, perhaps she could pretend nothing had happened. But she would have to display her usual confidence. She would have to put on a good show. Summoning up unknown reserves of determination, Cressida grasped the door handle firmly and strode out into the corridor and, staring ahead blankly, unthinkingly, her mind deliberately dead, she made her way out into the garden.

Chapter Six
    Caroline and Annie had taken a jug of Pimm’s down to the tennis court. There Georgina was teaching Nicola to play tennis while Toby sat happily in the umpire’s chair. Nicola grasped the lightweight racquet awkwardly, and swung ineffectually at each ball that Georgina threw, only occasionally making contact. But Georgina continued patiently to make cheerful, encouraging comments.
    ‘She’s incredible, your daughter,’ said Annie quietly.
    ‘I could say the same thing to you,’ said Caroline. ‘Nicola’s made so much progress. You must be thrilled to bits. I mean, did you ever think she’d be able to play tennis?’
    ‘Well,’ said Annie, ‘we never gave up hope. But I have to admit, there were times when I couldn’t see her leading a normal life.’ She gazed silently ahead for a moment. ‘She’s got so much willpower,’ she continued, ‘she’s so absolutely determined tosucceed, it makes one feel quite weak in comparison. She’s got more tenacity than both of us put together.’
    ‘And she’s bright, too, isn’t she?’ said Caroline.
    ‘Oh yes,’ Annie flushed with pleasure. ‘I think in other circumstances she might have been labelled gifted. But it would seem a bit ironic, under the circumstances.’
    They both involuntarily looked at Nicola’s skewed foot, her clenching, uncoordinated arm, her glowing face.
    ‘Poor little sod,’ said Caroline. ‘How does the school treat her?’
    ‘Oh, very well, considering,’ said Annie slightly defensively. ‘It must be difficult for them. She’s so bright, and so enthusiastic to learn, but then when she has to write it all down, of course, she’s much slower than all the others. She gets very frustrated with herself. And then,’ she added, slightly bitterly, ‘some of the teachers seem to think that nothing can be any good unless it’s written out neatly.’
    ‘Doesn’t sound great to me,’ said Caroline. ‘No offence.’ Annie shrugged.
    ‘What can you do? They’re overstretched, they’re busy, they haven’t got time for a child who doesn’t conform. I do all I can to help Nicola at home, but . . . How’s Georgina getting on?’ she added abruptly.
    ‘Oh, great guns,’ said Caroline. ‘Reckons she’s going to be head of junior house next term, whatever the hell that means. I think she’s getting in a bit of practice on poor old Nicola. She’s getting far too bossy.’
    ‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Nicola,’ said Annie laughing. ‘She loves it. She simply gobbles up all those boarding-school books – pretty trashy stuff, really. And to meet someone who actually does all those things – you know, trunks and tuck boxes and dormitories – is utter bliss.’
    ‘Well, tell her she can come and pack Georgina’s trunk any time,’ said Caroline, ‘since I’m the one who always ends up doing it.’
    ‘Oh, but that’s the mother’s job,’ said Annie, grinning