bowls of soup, or dishes of pasta, could I?
Just as I was leaving the kitchen, Mum turned to me and said, ‘I’ve an idea, Megan. Why don’t I leave Rosie with Kathleen up the road for a while, and you and I can have a nice girlie afternoon? Maybe we could go to town. We could gofor hot chocolates, and than shop for some new school shoes for you. Wouldn’t that be nice?’
Normally, I’d have loved that. But I could hardly skip off to town leaving Alice on her own in my room, could I? It was time for one of my special, reserve ideas. I’d joined the local tennis club a few months earlier, and whenever Mum and Dad couldn’t think of anything else to complain about, they’d go on about what a waste of money it had been, since I hardly ever played. It wasn’t my fault though. All the other girls who hung out there had been having private coaching since they were about six months old. They were probably playing tennis while they were still in nappies. Once, before I knew any better, Mum persuaded me to enter a competition. I can remember her encouraging smile. ‘It’ll be an experience, Megan, if nothing else.’
She was right. It was an experience. It was the most embarrassing, humiliating experience of my entire life. My opponent, Ciara, had travelledall the way from Cork for the game. Her mother and father had come with her to encourage her. (My parents hadn’t thought to travel the half a mile from our house to support me. Which was just as well - I didn’t need two more witnesses to my total humiliation.) Ciara had two tennis racquets , like someone who was planning to play in Wimbledon. She was dressed in designer gear from her cute white headband, down to her mega-expensive runners. And she never called when a ball went out – she just did this cool flicking thing with her fingers. After a while, when she realised just how bad I was, she started to apologise every time she sent the ball whizzing past my ear. As if apologising made it better. I only scored two points in the entire match, and that was when she double-faulted. The first time that happened, she threw her racquet on the ground in temper. If my parents saw me do that, they’d have dragged me off the court and grounded me for about six months. Ciara’smother just cooed softly to her: ‘Now Ciara, don’t forget about your anger management. Breathe deeply and let the tension flow away.’ Sad thing was, Ciara didn’t even look embarrassed.
I was put into the competition for first-time losers, but I pretended to be sick, and went home. Mum and Dad met me in the hallway. ‘Well, are you our little champion?’ asked Dad.
‘Do we need to book tickets for Wimbledon?’ asked Mum.
I shook my head, and smiled as brightly as I could. ‘Oh, it was a good match, but she just about got the better of me in the end.’
I think they knew I was lying, because they didn’t ask me any more.
Anyway, after that, who could blame me for being less than enthusiastic about tennis?
Still, Mum was pleased, that afternoon, when I said, ‘Thanks, Mum. I’d love to spend the afternoon with you, but I was thinking of going overto the tennis club for a while. Some of the girls in my class said they might be there.’
I felt a bit mean when I saw how happy that statement made her. She gave me a big smile.
‘That’s great, Megan. I’m glad you’re getting on with the other girls in your class. Would you like me to drop you over to the club?’
I smiled back. ‘No, Mum. It’s fine thanks. The walk will warm me up for the game.’
I ran to my room to change into my tracksuit and runners, and to tell Alice to get ready. A few minutes later, she climbed out the window, and I locked it behind her. Then I got my racquet from the hall cupboard, and called out, ‘Bye, Mum. I’ll be back in time for tea.’
She came to the door to see me off. ‘Bye, darling . Have a good time.’
Luckily I’d told Alice to go out through the gate at the bottom of our back
Just as I was leaving the kitchen, Mum turned to me and said, ‘I’ve an idea, Megan. Why don’t I leave Rosie with Kathleen up the road for a while, and you and I can have a nice girlie afternoon? Maybe we could go to town. We could gofor hot chocolates, and than shop for some new school shoes for you. Wouldn’t that be nice?’
Normally, I’d have loved that. But I could hardly skip off to town leaving Alice on her own in my room, could I? It was time for one of my special, reserve ideas. I’d joined the local tennis club a few months earlier, and whenever Mum and Dad couldn’t think of anything else to complain about, they’d go on about what a waste of money it had been, since I hardly ever played. It wasn’t my fault though. All the other girls who hung out there had been having private coaching since they were about six months old. They were probably playing tennis while they were still in nappies. Once, before I knew any better, Mum persuaded me to enter a competition. I can remember her encouraging smile. ‘It’ll be an experience, Megan, if nothing else.’
She was right. It was an experience. It was the most embarrassing, humiliating experience of my entire life. My opponent, Ciara, had travelledall the way from Cork for the game. Her mother and father had come with her to encourage her. (My parents hadn’t thought to travel the half a mile from our house to support me. Which was just as well - I didn’t need two more witnesses to my total humiliation.) Ciara had two tennis racquets , like someone who was planning to play in Wimbledon. She was dressed in designer gear from her cute white headband, down to her mega-expensive runners. And she never called when a ball went out – she just did this cool flicking thing with her fingers. After a while, when she realised just how bad I was, she started to apologise every time she sent the ball whizzing past my ear. As if apologising made it better. I only scored two points in the entire match, and that was when she double-faulted. The first time that happened, she threw her racquet on the ground in temper. If my parents saw me do that, they’d have dragged me off the court and grounded me for about six months. Ciara’smother just cooed softly to her: ‘Now Ciara, don’t forget about your anger management. Breathe deeply and let the tension flow away.’ Sad thing was, Ciara didn’t even look embarrassed.
I was put into the competition for first-time losers, but I pretended to be sick, and went home. Mum and Dad met me in the hallway. ‘Well, are you our little champion?’ asked Dad.
‘Do we need to book tickets for Wimbledon?’ asked Mum.
I shook my head, and smiled as brightly as I could. ‘Oh, it was a good match, but she just about got the better of me in the end.’
I think they knew I was lying, because they didn’t ask me any more.
Anyway, after that, who could blame me for being less than enthusiastic about tennis?
Still, Mum was pleased, that afternoon, when I said, ‘Thanks, Mum. I’d love to spend the afternoon with you, but I was thinking of going overto the tennis club for a while. Some of the girls in my class said they might be there.’
I felt a bit mean when I saw how happy that statement made her. She gave me a big smile.
‘That’s great, Megan. I’m glad you’re getting on with the other girls in your class. Would you like me to drop you over to the club?’
I smiled back. ‘No, Mum. It’s fine thanks. The walk will warm me up for the game.’
I ran to my room to change into my tracksuit and runners, and to tell Alice to get ready. A few minutes later, she climbed out the window, and I locked it behind her. Then I got my racquet from the hall cupboard, and called out, ‘Bye, Mum. I’ll be back in time for tea.’
She came to the door to see me off. ‘Bye, darling . Have a good time.’
Luckily I’d told Alice to go out through the gate at the bottom of our back
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