Cat Sitter Among the Pigeons

Cat Among the Pigeons

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 toward 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 mingey 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.”

“Why I guess that's so.”

“Thank you very much for bringing it,” said Jennifer gratefully.

“It was really no trouble. Only I confess I felt a little shy. Schools always make me feel shy. So many girls. Oh, by the way, I was asked to bring back your old racquet with me.”

She picked up the racquet Jennifer had dropped.

“Your aunt - no - godmother - said she would have it restrung. It needs it badly, doesn't it?”

“I don't think that it's really worthwhile,” said Jennifer, but without paying much attention.

She was still experimenting with the swing and balance of her new treasure.

“But an extra racquet is always useful,” said her new friend. “Oh, dear,” she glanced at her watch. “It is much later than I thought. I must run.”

“Have you - do you want a taxi? I could telephone -”

“No, thank you, dear. My car is right by the gate. I left it there so that I shouldn't have to turn in a narrow space. Goodbye. So pleased to have met you. I hope you enjoy the racquet.”

She literally ran along the path toward the gate. Jennifer called after her once more. “Thank you very much.”

Then, gloating, she went in search of Julia.

“Look.” She flourished the racquet dramatically.

“I say! Where did you get that?”

“My godmother sent it to me. Aunt Gina. She's not my aunt, but I call her that. She's frightfully rich. I expect Mummy told her about me grumbling about my racquet. It is smashing, isn't it? I must remember to write and thank her.”

“I should hope so!” said Julia virtuously.

“Well, you know how one does forget things sometimes. Even things you really mean to do. Look, Shaista,” she added as the latter girl came toward them. “I've got a new racquet. Isn't it a beauty?”

“It must have been very expensive,” said Shaista scanning it respectfully. “I wish I could play tennis well.”

“You always run into the ball.”

“I never seem to know where the ball is going to come,” said Shaista vaguely. “Before I go home, I must have some really good shorts made in London. Or a tennis dress like the American champion Ruth Allen wears. I think that is very smart. Perhaps I will have both,” she smiled in pleasurable anticipation.

“Shaista never thinks of anything except things to wear,” said Julia scornfully as the two friends passed on.

“Do you think we shall ever be like that?”

“I suppose so,” said Jennifer gloomily. “It will be an awful bore.”

They entered the Sports Pavilion, now officially vacated by the police, and Jennifer put her racquet carefully into her press.

“Isn't it lovely?” she said, stroking it affectionately.

“What have you done with the old one?”

“Oh, she took it.”

“Who?”

“The woman who brought this. She'd met Aunt Gina at a cocktail party, and Aunt Gina asked her to bring me this as she was coming down here today, and Aunt Gina said to bring up my old one and she'd have it restrung.”

“Oh, I see...” But Julia was frowning.

“What did Bully want with you?” asked Jennifer.

“Bully? Oh, nothing really. Just Mummy's address. But she hasn't got one because she's on a bus. In Turkey somewhere. Jennifer - look here. Your racquet didn't need restringing.”

“Oh, it did, Julia. It was like a sponge.”

“I know. But it's my racquet really. I mean, we exchanged. It was my racquet that needed restringing. Yours, the one I've got now, was restrung. You said yourself your mother had had it restrung before you went abroad.”

“Yes, that's true.” Jennifer looked a little startled. “Oh, well, I suppose this woman - whoever she was - I ought to have asked her name, but I was so entranced - just saw that it needed restringing.”

“But you said that she said that it was your Aunt Gina who had said it needed restringing. And your Aunt Gina couldn't have thought it needed restringing if it didn't.”

“Oh, well -” Jennifer looked impatient. “I suppose - I suppose -”

“You suppose what?”

“Perhaps Aunt Gina just thought that if I wanted a new racquet, it was because the old one wanted restringing. Anyway what does it matter?”

“I suppose it doesn't matter,” said Julia slowly. “But I do think it's odd, Jennifer. It's like - like new lamps for old. Aladdin, you know.”

Jennifer giggled.

“Fancy rubbing my old racquet - your old racquet, I mean, and having a genie appear! If you rubbed a lamp and a genie did appear, what would you ask him for, Julia?”

“Lots of things,” breathed Julia ecstatically. “A tape recorder, and an Alsatian - or perhaps a Great Dane, and a hundred thousand pounds, and a black satin party frock, and oh! lots of other things. What would you?”

“I don't really know,” said Jennifer. “Now I've got this smashing new racquet, I don't really want anything else.”