Skinner’s round

Fifty-six

The third-day matches were going out in leader-board order, at half-hour intervals, and so it was 1 p.m. when Darren Atkinson led his team on to the first tee, before a gallery which had swelled into the thousands.

The day was as hot and humid as the morning had threatened, gasping for want of a breeze.

As Skinner looked down the first fairway, he saw wisps of steam rising from the trees on Witches' Hill, and from the patches of thick, rough grass around its base. He was wearing his lightest slacks and a short-sleeved shirt, but already he could feel sweat trickling down his spine.

Atkinson grinned at him. 'Couldn't ask for better conditions than this, Bob. The course will still play two shots longer than on Thursday, but for us pros, there'll be no excuses today.' He glanced across at the nearest scoreboard. Skinner followed his gaze and saw that M'tebe had moved from four under to seven under par after six holes, cutting his captain's lead to five shots. 'Oliver seems to be the main threat. That's what I'd expected. 'Too bad he had that upset over the first couple of days.'

You're not worried, are you?' asked Skinner.

`No. My game's in good nick, and the boy's too far back. Still he should be second. A tasty percentage for DRA Golf 'Management. My dear brother will be pleased with us both.

All I have to do now is to play the golf. Of course the same goes for you, with the amateur prizes to shoot for.'

Skinner marvelled that Atkinson could be so relaxed, after the events of the week, and under the pressure of playing for a million pounds. His thoughts were interrupted by the announcer, who introduced Norton Wales. He eased himself backwards as the singer took his applause and prepared to drive, and found himself standing between two familiar figures, McGuire, in a white caddy's bib, and Mcllhenney. `Had a good look around the crowd, lads?'

`Yes, sir,' McGuire muttered. 'I don't see any cause for concern.'

`Neither did Bravo, or Masur, or White,' said Skinner. 'Just remember, the pair of you, the real reason why you're out here. Keep your eyes peeled and your wits about you. If you see anything or anyone out of the ordinary, then give me a shout… as long as I'm not at the top of my back-swing at the time.'