Chapter 18: Competitive

“So, the tournament starts next Wednesday after the regular club session,” Alannah said as we walked across the sports hall to the court where she’d arranged to meet our practice partners. “There’s sixteen teams in the mixed doubles, so we only need to win four matches.”

“I know.” She’d already told me this at least twice in the past week.

“And we’re not seeded, because we’re a new pair, and we’re in the same half of the draw as Ross and Gemma, but we’re due to meet them in the semi-finals, which is something, I suppose. I’d rather it was the final—”

“If we get that far,” I said.

“Oh, we will. I’m sure of it. Anyway, I’ve arranged for us to play two teams from the other half of the draw, so if we meet either of them in the tournament, it’ll be in the final. And if we make the final, we’ll have beaten Ross and Gemma, so we should be winning the whole thing anyway.”

I rolled my eyes but said nothing. I just hoped we did well. God knows how she’d take it if we didn’t.

We were going to play two full matches, each one the best of three games, so I expected we might be there for the whole two hours, depending on how the games went. Even the longest matches rarely lasted any more than an hour, and it could all be over in much less than half that it was a one-sided match.

And our first match was pretty one-sided. I knew both of our opponents, I had even played against them both in singles on occasion over the past year, and they were both very much club members who were there for the fun of the game, the exercise and the social aspect rather than the competition. Alanna and I won the first game by twenty-one points to twelve (and Alannah was annoyed it was as high as twelve) and the second game by twenty-one to eight.

Because our second opponents were still playing, we decided to go ahead and play the third game anyway. I suggested we swap partners to even things up a little, but Alannah was having none of it. She really was incredibly competitive. I thought I was, but her competitive streak was even bigger than mine.

Our second match was much, much closer. So close, in fact, that we attracted an audience.

Geoff Wallace and Maddison Powell were boyfriend and girlfriend and regarded as second only to Ross and Gemma within the club, being runners-up to them in the last three tournaments—which is why the two teams were in different halves of the draw for this tournament.

We won the shuttle toss for the serve, and I kicked the game off with a long, high serve to the back of Geoff’s court. Alannah won that first point for us and I won the second. But Maddison won the third point—and the serve—and after that neither team was able to pull more than two points ahead at any point until the score finally reached twenty-four to twenty-two in our favour with Alannah getting the winning point off my serve.

Alannah served first in the second game and that was just as close, but this time it was Maddison who got the winning point from her own serve to make the score twenty-five to twenty-three.

By the time Geoff served to kick off the third and final game, there must have been more than a dozen people watching us, including Ross and Gemma. I have to say, it was a thrill to be playing in front of a crowd who were reacting to every moment of the game with gasps, cheers and calls of encouragement. It felt to me as if most of the spectators wanted to see me and Alannah beat the more established pairing, but I could easily have been wrong about that and just been caught up in the moment.

I won the first point of the game off Alannah’s excellent short, low return which forced Maddison to hit a very high shot back that I smashed to the floor by Geoff’s right foot. But Geoff made an excellent return of Alannah’s next serve to draw the scores level and win back the serve.

And it was like that for the whole game. At no point did either of us win more than two points in a row. The lead changed hands a few times as one team or the other won the first point on their own serve but the lead never stretched beyond a single point.

It was an excellent game. It was hard fought and very tiring. And the crowd we’d attracted really got into it. A few times I noticed Ross and Gemma whispering to each other—no doubt discussing the strengths and weaknesses of both teams—but for the most part they watched impassively compared to the rest of the spectators.

Eventually, the score went all the way up to twenty-nine all and so the whole match came down to a sudden-death point.

Geoff had the serve. I was receiving. I stood at the front of my quarter of the court, to try and stop him from hitting a cheeky low and short serve. As I expected, he hit it high and long over my head towards the back of the court.

It was well placed. Very well placed. I backpeddled and got behind it as it came down but needed to make a quick call if I thought it would land out or not.

I returned it.

Hard and low down the right-hand side of the court so that it only just cleared the net. Maddison got to it but all she could do was parry it back in the direction it had come from. Alannah was on it in a flash—flicking it just over the net and across the court to the left.

Geoff came forward and flicked it back over the net along the line and I stepped forward to hit it high and long across the court and over Maddison’s head. She stretched up to hit a backhand towards Alannah, who calmly hit it down the middle of the court between our opponents. A moment’s hesitation between them left Geoff to scramble a return high into the air.

“Mine!” I called, positioning myself just to the left and behind the shuttle as it fell and hit an overhead smash with as much force as I could at Maddison’s feet.

She got her racquet to it, but it was no good. The shuttle bounced off the strings onto the floor just in front of her.

Point, Game and Match!

I threw my arms wide. Alannah threw her hands high and jumped. The crowd roared.

Then Alannah turned to me and leapt at me. She somehow managed to throw her hands around my neck without hitting me in the head with her racquet. I wrapped my arms around her back and we bounced, causing two very prominent parts of her body to rub against me, which most definitely wasn’t an unpleasant experience.

Then she kissed me.

It was a firm kiss. No tongues. A kiss filled with competitive excitement at winning rather than any lust, passion or love.

But it was a kiss.

And it wasn’t unpleasant either.

Then she pulled away and took a few steps back.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Alannah, it’s fine, I—”

“No. It’s not. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Really, it’s fi—”

“Just drop it, Paul.” Her tone was harsh. Final.

I nodded. Then flicked my head towards the net, where Geoff and Maddison were waiting for the post-match pleasantries. She nodded back and we quickly went over to them.

“Good game,” said Geoff. “I enjoyed that.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Me too.”

“Yeah,” said Maddison. “I don’t think anyone has pushed us that hard over the past couple of years other than...” She nodded off to the side of the court. I turned to see Ross and Gemma walking towards us.

“I tell you what,” said Geoff. “I’m glad you’re not in our half of the draw!”

“Great game,” Ross said in his thick Scottish drawl. “You two have come a long way in ... What’s it been? Three weeks?”

Alannah nodded. “Something like that.”

“Yes,” said Gemma. “You’re communicating now, which is good. It’s not instinctive, but that only really comes with playing time. But you’re talking to each other or making other signals and that’s good. With any luck we’ll send three teams to Nationals this year rather than just two.”

“That’ll depend on the draw,” Geoff said. “You two will need to enter some more smaller ranking tournaments like the one next week. I think we have a list somewhere, don’t we Ross?”

Ross nodded. “I have it on my laptop. Give me an e-mail address and I’ll send it over.”

“Why would we need to do that?” I asked.

“So that you get seeded at regionals,” Gemma said. “We don’t want to meet either of you until the semis at least.”

“You need ranking points to get seeded,” Geoff explained. “Next week is a ranking tournament, but it doesn’t carry many points because it’s restricted entry—university students only. Open tournaments carry more points and you get more points for the better quality of opponent you face. It’s pretty complicated to be honest, but it works.”

“The Westmouthshire qualifiers are held here in February,” Ross explained. “The four semi-finalists qualify for the South-East Regionals in April. The four semi-finalists from that qualify for the Nationals in August—although we don’t strictly have to qualify this year.”

“Defending National Champions,” Geoff said with a smile.

“That’s only because the best teams were taking a break,” Gemma said. “It’ll be much harder to retain this year with them back. Anyway, see you guys in the semis, yeah? I’m looking forward to it.”

“If we get that far,” I said.

“Oh, you will. I don’t doubt it,” Ross said. “But no further, right?” He laughed.

“We’ll see,” said Alannah. “We’ll see.”

“I guess we will. See you guys later.”

Ross & Gemma left. Maddison tapped Geoff on the bum with her racquet and he nodded to her as she left, I assume to have a shower and get changed.

Once Ross & Gemma were out of earshot, Geoff said, “You can beat them, you know? I really hope you do. Bring them down a peg or two. They’ve been unbearable after winning in Birmingham last August.”

“You think we can?” Alannah said. “Really?”

Geoff nodded. “That was the closest match we’ve had with anyone other than those two in a long time. And we’ve beaten them in the past, so...” He paused. “Seriously, it’s not often we get taken to three games at this level and I can’t even remember the last time I was involved in a fifty-nine-point game. That last game was something special.”

Alannah and I were both quiet as we walked over to the entrance to the sports hall. She seemed deep in thought—I thought I already knew why. She was also limping a little—favouring her left leg.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Huh?”

I nodded towards her leg. “You’re limping. Not much but...”

“Oh, yeah. My calf is a little tight and my knee’s a little sore. Old injury. But I’ll be fine. I’ll ice it up when I get in.”

The entrance to the men’s changing room was just outside the sport’s hall door on the right. The entrance to the ladies’ was on the left a bit further up the narrow corridor that led to the foyer.

“I’ll wait for you in the foyer and then walk with you back to the flat,” I said as I went into the men’s. “It’s dark and we can’t be too careful with this nutter on the loose.”

She waved an acknowledgement as she walked up the corridor, to let me know she’d heard, but she didn’t say anything.

It was that kiss, wasn’t it? As brief as it was, that kiss had changed something for her. Why would she apologise if it didn’t mean something?

I shook my head as I headed for my locker. I retrieved my bag, hauled it over to the nearest bench and undressed. I needed a shower because those two matches had left me a sweaty mess and there was no point in putting clean clothes on if I still stank like a used jockstrap.

Men’s changing rooms have a unique odour to them. There’s the underlying stench of sweat and body odour, but it’s masked by masculine scents from the shower gels, shampoos and body spray——mix of spicy scents like cinnamon and ginger, citrusy ones like lemongrass and orange, and earthy, musky smells like sandalwood.

It was pretty grim, to be honest. But you can’t smell most of it when you’re in the shower. I just let the hot water wash me clean and ease my aching muscles.