Julia added apologetically: ‘One gets rather bored with all that old war stuff; and I’m afraid I don’t always listen properly.’

‘Well, thank you, Julia. That’s all.’

‘Really!’ said Miss Bulstrode, when Julia had departed. ‘Gone to Anatolia on a bus! The child said it exactly as though she were saying her mother had taken a 73 bus to Marshall and Snelgrove’s.’

II

Jennifer walked away from the tennis courts rather moodily, swishing her racquet. The amount of double faults she had served this morning depressed her. Not, of course, that you could get a hard serve with this racquet, anyway. But she seemed to have lost control of her service lately. Her backhand, however, had definitely improved. Springer’s coaching had been helpful. In many ways it was a pity that Springer was dead.

Jennifer took tennis very seriously. It was one of the things she thought about.

‘Excuse me—’

Jennifer looked up, startled. A well-dressed woman with golden hair, carrying a long flat parcel, was standing a few feet away from her on the path. Jennifer wondered why on earth she hadn’t seen the woman coming along towards her before. It did not occur to her that the woman might have been hidden behind a tree or in the rhododendron bushes and just stepped out of them. Such an idea would not have occurred to Jennifer, since why should a woman hide behind rhododendron bushes and suddenly step out of them?

Speaking with a slightly American accent the woman said, ‘I wonder if you could tell me where I could find a girl called’—she consulted a piece of paper—‘Jennifer Sutcliffe.’

Jennifer was surprised.

‘I’m Jennifer Sutcliffe.’

‘Why! How ridiculous! That is a coincidence. That in a big school like this I should be looking for one girl and I should happen upon the girl herself to ask. And they say things like that don’t happen.’

‘I suppose they do happen sometimes,’ said Jennifer, uninterested.

‘I was coming down to lunch today with some friends down here,’ went on the woman, ‘and at a cocktail party yesterday I happened to mention I was coming, and your aunt—or was it your godmother?—I’ve got such a terrible memory. She told me her name and I’ve forgotten that too. But anyway, she said could I possibly call here and leave a new tennis racquet for you. She said you had been asking for one.’

Jennifer’s face lit up. It seemed like a miracle, nothing less.

‘It must have been my godmother, Mrs Campbell. I call her Aunt Gina. It wouldn’t have been Aunt Rosamond. She never gives me anything but a mingy ten shillings at Christmas.’

‘Yes, I remember now. That was the name. Campbell.’

The parcel was held out. Jennifer took it eagerly. It was quite loosely wrapped. Jennifer uttered an exclamation of pleasure as the racquet emerged from its coverings.

‘Oh, it’s smashing!’ she exclaimed. ‘A really good one. I’ve been longing for a new racquet—you can’t play decently if you haven’t got a decent racquet.’