‘A damn good thrashing I’d say,’ said Douglas. Evie felt a glow of pride. Her satisfaction was underscored by the fact that Veronica Leighton’s face was transfigured by anger. The slight woman was unable to match the strength and power of Evie’s groundstrokes and her frustration was increasingly apparent. As Evie smashed another return across the net, the ball bouncing too high for her opponent to reach, she said to herself, ‘That one’s for Mary.’

Veronica began to argue with virtually every line call by the umpire, a retired army officer, who was distinctly unamused. This behaviour earned her a quiet reprimand from her husband and loud murmurings from the crowd.

Then it was over. The second set went to the Barringtons, six–two.

Veronica picked up a stray ball, hitting it broadside straight into Evie’s ribcage, causing her to double over in pain. ‘Frightfully sorry. Didn’t notice you were standing there.’

To Evie’s astonishment, Arthur grabbed Veronica by the arm, jerked her towards him and told her to get her things as he was taking her home.

‘I’m not going home. I’m having a drink. Don’t be a bad sport, Arthur. We have to drink the health of the victorious couple. Surely you’re not going to be a sore loser?’ Her words were spoken with venom.

But Arthur was in no mood to argue and the Leightons left the court.

Evie and Douglas won their next two matches but were knocked out in the final by a young army officer and his former gym instructor wife. There was no sign of the Leightons.

Evie basked in the admiration of Jasmine who insisted on holding onto the runners-up shield on the short car ride home. She secured her parents’ permission to display it in her bedroom, alongside the ribboned medal she herself had won the same day in the egg and spoon race.

16

That night, when Douglas came to her bed, Evie told him she had been to see the doctor. ‘I wanted to be sure before I told you, but it looks like we’re going to have a baby. Apparently, it will be in about six months.’

Douglas’s face was transfigured for a moment by amazement and joy, but to Evie’s horror his expression quickly changed to anger.

‘You’re pregnant and thought it was a good idea to fling yourself around a tennis court all day? What the hell do you think you’re doing! You’re putting my child at risk.’

Evie gaped at him, taken aback. ‘But I asked the doctor and he said exercise was a good thing. He says it’s a lot of old-fashioned stuff and nonsense that pregnant women should go into a kind of purdah.’

‘Going for a gentle walk, he means. Maybe a couple of lengths of the swimming pool. He certainly didn’t mean pounding around a tennis court for the best part of a day.’

‘It wasn’t all day.’

‘It was several hours all told.’

‘But I feel fine. Better than I’ve felt in ages. I enjoyed the exercise. I thought you enjoyed it too.’