Topspin (14 page)

“Yes, quite so. I don’t intend to keep you here long. But before we get to the reason for calling this meeting, I’d just like to say that there’s nothing personal in all this.” He turned toward Trina with a smile that didn’t trouble his eyes. “We all know how much time and effort Trina has put into running the club and I, for one, would like to express my appreciation for her hard work.”

Trina’s imperious glare had enough venom behind it to make Ed cringe. Jack caught her eye and winked at her.

“But?” contributed the same back-seat heckler.

“Yes indeed. You all know how the tennis scene on the Island has changed over the past few years. Porchfield was once unbeatable, but nowadays we have two rivals, both of whom appear to be attracting a better standard of players.”

“So what?” shouted someone else. “We can only take new members when there’s a vacancy. And the main committee don’t look too hard at tennis standards when they consider the applications. If it’s playing ability you’re worried about, it’s a question for them. We can’t do anything about it.”

There was a general rumble of agreement across the room. Heads nodded approvingly.

“Perhaps some of the better players who’ve gone elsewhere can’t afford the extortionate buy-in fee here,” Karl said. “We all know that, so why call an EGM?”

“If you’d just give me a chance to explain.” Ed waved his sheaf of rescued papers and waited for the mumblings in the body of the room to die down. “We believe that the reason we’re missing out on recruiting better players is down to our selection process. Yes, the main committee are interested in standards that have little to do with playing ability, and rightly so, but we do have some input. Rule Seven of our constitution stipulates that new members have to play a trial game with one of the membership committee.”

“And they do,” Karl said.

“Indeed, but sub-paragraph iii stipulates clearly that the membership committee should consist of players of a suitable standard to play against prospective members and assess their ability. We don’t want to be frightening away better quality players by taking on too many beginners. And therein, ladies and gentlemen, lies the rub.”

“Who the hell does he think he is?” Jack muttered to Joe. “Fucking Shakespeare?”

“With all due respect to Lawrence and Rosie, who take on the job of assessing new players, we feel they’re no longer fit for that purpose and are preventing Porchfield from attracting the pick of the crop as a result. This in turn is affecting our standing in the local league. If we’re to move forward as a modern, competitive club, then we need to address this problem.”

“At the next AGM,” Karl said. “It’s no reason to try to bully poor Trina just because you want to be king bee.”

“A rule is being infringed,” insisted Ed stiffly, “and I’m within my rights to call this meeting. I’ve gone through the proper process, and those of us that care about the future of the club think this issue is too important to leave things as they are.”

“Yes, indeed,” Colin said, rising to his feet and clearing his throat. “I haven’t been here for more than five minutes and openly acknowledge that I wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for Trina.”

“So sit down and button it,” shouted someone from the back.

“Way to go!” Jack grinned at Joe.

But Colin wasn’t put off by a spot of heckling. “That said, I was brought here with a remit to improve standards, which I can’t do if we don’t have the raw material.”

“By raw material, do you mean decent players?” Joe asked politely.

“Yes, yes, of course, I was speaking figuratively.”

“What standards precisely do you mean to improve?” The chilling gaze Jack transferred to Colin was in direct variance to his mild tone. “If memory serves, our men’s first team won the league last season, the mixed team was runner-up in theirs, and the ladies did well too. I don’t think any of the other clubs eclipsed that achievement.” Murmurings of agreement rumbled through the room, reminding Jack just how easily people could be led—something he’d been counting on to swing opinion in his favor. “Or is there something I’m missing here?”

“Not at all.” Colin, having no better luck at maintaining eye contact with Jack than Ed had managed, looked away from him. “But, as I understand it, you and Joe, Karl, and Gordon are the mainstay of the men’s first team, with no obvious contenders to give you a run for your money.”

“Then perhaps,” Joe said, fastening a disdainful expression upon Ed, “those who wish to play in the team would be better advised to practice more and spend less time stirring up trouble.”

Jack didn’t take any further part in the debate. It rumbled on for another half-hour, getting more and more heated. And more personally directed at Trina. Accusations flew back and forth with increasing acrimony. Those who’d lost interest were starting to get restless. A paper airplane flew from the back of the room and landed in Ed’s water glass, earning its designer a stirring round of applause. Jack and Joe exchanged a glance.

“What do you think?” Joe asked.

Jack shook his head. “Good aerodynamics, but too much weight in the nose. Look what happened to the Concorde.”

Karl was occupied with sending a long text. One of the ladies noisily turned the pages of
Okay
magazine, pointing out some of the dresses worn by stars at a red carpet affair and discussing them at length with the women behind her. Gordon and Nigel had sloped off to the bar. Ed’s ability to retain order was woeful and Jack, who was also in urgent need of a drink, decided the time had come to do something about it. He rose to his feet and the whole room magically fell silent.

“For the sake of argument, to say nothing of getting back to the bar, let’s ignore the fact that this EGM is illegal and take it seriously,” he said.

“It’s not illegal,” Ed and Colin said together. “Rule Seven—”

“In your haste to convene this meeting you obviously didn’t take the time to look at Rule Fourteen. It states that grievances should be put in writing to the committee, and that they should be given the opportunity to respond before a member can resort to an EGM.” Ed and Colin shared accusatory glares. “However, we’ll be charitable and put that oversight down to zeal.” He turned to include the people seated behind him. “Now, if we’ve all agreed that this unauthorized meeting should go ahead, if only to clear the air, I think I’m right in saying that ordinary members like me get the opportunity to table alternative motions.”

“What do you have in mind?” Colin’s conciliatory tone made it sickeningly clear that he was already preparing to abandon Ed. “All we want is to settle this matter amicably.”

“Then you’ll join me in a vote of confidence in Trina and her committee, coupled with a request that a sub-committee be formed to look into our induction procedures.”

“The voice of reason,” said someone. “Can we go to the bar now?”

“Do I have a seconder?” Half the hands in the room shot upward. “Thanks, Colin,” Jack said, making no attempt to moderate his sarcastic tone. “All those in favor.”

Ed stomped off the platform before the count had been made. As he left the room the rousing applause for Trina must have been echoing in his ears like the sound of gunfire. Stella, Jack noticed with interest, had remained on the platform and was clapping as loudly as anyone.

Claire admired Jack’s adroit handling of the whole stupid business. What the hell had Ed been hoping to achieve, anyway? The level of pettiness that grown men could be reduced to never failed to amaze her. She looked across the room to where Jack was now talking quietly to Stella. She’d been about to run after her obnoxious husband and Jack was trying to persuade her to stay for the dinner instead. He was saved from having to try too hard because at that moment Ed returned to the room, smiling as though he’d done nothing more than slip out for a pee and hadn’t been the one responsible for exposing so many raw nerves. He headed straight for Trina and offered her his hand. A hush fell over the room and everyone watched to see if Trina would take it.

“No hard feelings, Trina,” he said. “I’m glad Jack thought of a good compromise.”

“Perhaps if you’d had the courtesy to bring your concerns to me first, then we could have saved ourselves a whole lot of heartache.” She addressed him in her head teacher voice, ignored his hand, and stalked away. Ed was left gaping at her retreating back, opening and closing his mouth without any sound emerging.

“Come on, love,” Joe said, putting his arm around Claire’s shoulders. “Let’s get a drink before the feeding frenzy begins.”

“I need one after all that.”

She snuggled against her husband, her heart full of love. She still couldn’t get her head around how stupid she’d been to take such risks. Chris’s suspicious reaction to her injuries had frightened her silly. And brought her to her senses. Rod hadn’t called since their last escapade, but when he did she’d tell him it was over. Chris’s inexplicable about-face was the answer to her most fervent prayers. She had her family back, her injuries had healed, eradicating all outward signs of her temporary insanity, and from now on she’d be a model wife and mother.

Claire smiled up at her husband, accepting the glass of wine he placed in her hand, grateful that no one had been hurt by her actions. She’d had a nasty scare, which had taught her a lesson. And even if she did still sometimes daydream about Rod, especially when Joe was making gentle and unsatisfactory love to her…well, that was no one’s business but her own.

“I wonder what this husband of Angela’s is like,” she said. “If the improvement in Sheba’s attitude is anything to go by, then at least he has a beneficial effect on her.”

“Kids!” Jack said with an eloquent shrug. “Who knows what makes them tick.”

“Who indeed,” Joe agreed. “Our Chris has been sullen and uncommunicative for the past couple of weeks. Wouldn’t say what was wrong. Wouldn’t talk to us at all, in fact. Then, all of a sudden, everything’s all right again.”

“I thought it was only teenage girls that got moody.”

“Don’t you believe it,” Joe said with feeling. “You did the right thing, Jack, not having any, I mean.”

“Yeah, so I’m told.”

“Shall we grab a table?” Angela said, emerging from the direction of the cloakroom and joining them.

“It’s already in hand,” Joe told her.

“Good, because I suppose my
beloved
will have to sit with us. We can’t really put him on a table with the kids. But I’d prefer not to have him sitting by me. It’ll only give him ideas. Claire, will you have him next to you? Sorry to land you with him, but you’re so good with people.”

“Of course, Angie.” Claire was more intrigued than ever. She’d never seen Angela so agitated before and was burning to know what this husband of hers had done to upset her so badly. “I’ll be glad to help.”

They were moving together toward their table when the sound of Sheba’s voice made them all turn to look at her. “Hi, Mum, are we late?”

“No, you’re right on time for once.”

“Hi, Angie.” Rod kissed her cheek. “You look absolutely stunning.”

Ignoring her husband, Angie turned toward her friends and reeled off their names in a lackluster voice. “Everyone,” she said, “this is my husband, Rod.”

Claire felt her jaw fall open and knew her eyes must be bulging with shock. Struggling to remain in control, she was too stunned to notice the glass slipping from between her slack fingers, splashing the contents across her Jimmy Choos as it smashed to smithereens on the tiled floor.