Love Game - Season 2012 (28 page)

Sasha followed Tom’s glance. She too
checked the score.

“Besides playing for another Grand Slam
title I have a lot of other things on my mind,” she said, lost in thought. “I
would really like to help you but I don’t know how to handle all this right
now.”

The fragileness in her voice startled Tom.
He suddenly was overcome by a realization – they had forgotten about the
wedding. Sasha had to be swamped at the moment with all the organization for
the ceremony.

“Oh, Ted, we are so inconsiderate,” he
exclaimed, slapping Ted’s forearm, then turning to Sasha. “How are the wedding
preparations going?”

Sasha turned around from the scoreboard.

“Oh, the wedding,” she shrugged. “Yes, yes.
I’d almost forgotten about it.”

***

“Polly!”

The cheerful voice rang over the court and
Polly Duke turned around. Elise was running towards her and when she reached
her she gave the Canadian a big hug.

In the back, Polly could see Amanda with
two guys approaching the practice courts.

“Congratulations,” Elise blurted out. Polly
laughed. Elise’s excitement was infectious.

“Thank you,” she replied. Polly and
Bernadette had made it to the doubles final which would be played later in the
afternoon, after the ladies’ singles final and the gentlemen’s doubles final.

“Too bad you and Amanda didn’t play this
year,” Polly stated. During the Championships Elise had prepared for the
Olympic Games, playing doubles with fellow German, Angela Porovski. However,
the pair didn’t get very far as they were both busy making it to the quarterfinals
in singles.

“Next year we want to play again,” Elise
explained turning around to her girlfriend who had now reached the group.
Amanda nodded.

“Well done,” she also congratulated Polly.

“Still a long way to go,” a voice said from
behind. Bernadette, the strict task master, had arrived.

Polly grinned at Amanda and Elise. “Got to
go,” she said.

“We’ll keep our fingers crossed for you
both,” Elise smiled. Then she and Amanda exited through the little gate and
joined the two guys on the next practice court.

“Looks like they will play mixed at the
Olympics,” Bernadette mumbled.

“Yes, that’s Angus and Christoph,” Polly
realized. Amanda and Angus had played mixed doubles a couple of times in the
past, while Elise and Christoph had teamed up for the Hopman Cup in the
previous season, however they never played together as Christoph had gotten
injured.

Polly took her racquet out of her bag and
was about to walk to the baseline when she saw a familiar face.

“Hello, Mr. Wilson,” she greeted the
groundskeeper.

“Oh, hello Polly!” the elderly gentleman
said and approached her. “Congratulations on your wonderful achievement. One
more match!”

Polly laughed. Mr. Wilson opened the little
gate and stepped onto the grass. “How long are you planning to practice today?”
he wanted to know, addressing both Bernadette and Polly.

“Perhaps forty-five minutes,” Bernadette
answered. She frowned. The clock was ticking. “Why?”

“We need to get the courts ready for the
next big event, you see,” Mr. Wilson explained. “I have to survey the condition
of the grass and see how to get it perfect for the Olympics.”

A few players had decided to make use of
the good weather in Wimbledon and stick around as long as the grounds were
available for the players. Soon, the whole site would be turned upside down to
get it ready for the Olympic competition.

“Should we use another court?” Polly asked.

“No,” Bernadette threw in. “We need to get
going. We are in the doubles final.”

Mr. Wilson nodded knowingly. “I will attend
to the other courts first. No worries. You can play as long as you need to.”

Bernadette pulled Polly away and guided her
to the baseline again.

“This is a conspiracy,” she hissed. “First
that stupid German girl keeps us from practicing, now this old fool.”

Polly felt like protesting. “They are
nice.”

Bernadette shook her head. “Oh, please. You
don’t know human nature. Elise is a finicky, oversensitive little princess.
Look what happened to Amanda since they’ve been together. She’s been demoted to
Elise’s servant.”

Polly shook her head in astonishment. What
the hell was going on in Bernadette’s mind? Elise and Amanda were the sweetest
couple she knew. Yes, Amanda was very attentive, but Elise was terribly
affectionate, too. They seemed to complement one another quite well.

It had to be all the pressure Bernadette
put on herself. It sure had paid off in the last several weeks, and especially
here in Wimbledon. Reaching the final was the ultimate test before the Olympic
Games and with every match they played the better they became. But her doubles
partner’s abnormal ambition had its dark sides, too. A quick look to the right
told her that it was much more fun to practice mixed doubles with your
girlfriend and two friends.

***

“Next year we have to play together again,”
Elise purred into Amanda’s ear.

Amanda grinned. “Yes, I hate to see our
title go to Bernadette.”

“Why does nobody like her?” Elise asked.

Amanda put her racquet bag on the chair and
looked at her girlfriend. Checking that Angus and Christoph were not listening
in, she leaned over to Elise.

“I heard a couple of stories that don’t
really cast a positive light on her,” she murmured. “Even though I don’t know
the details, but Monica doesn’t have one good word to say about her. As I
understand the reason is mainly that Bernadette is jealous for not having the
same success as Monica and her friends.”

Elise nodded but didn’t reply as the two
guys approached them.

“Ready?” Angus asked. Amanda nodded. They
were about to walk to the other side of the net, when Angus suddenly stopped.

“What is this?” he exclaimed. Then he bent
over and reached out for Elise’s racquet bag.

Amanda swallowed hard as her Australian
compatriot took out the wooden racquet.

“Do you carry that as a lucky charm?” he
asked Elise.

Amanda looked at her girlfriend and nodded
slightly.

“Yes, exactly,” Elise stammered,
understanding Amanda’s gesture.

“I have a really old one from 1938,”
Christoph threw in. He walked over to Angus and now the two guys were examining
the racquet.

“You put a new overgrip on it?” Angus
laughed. “Admit that you take a hit with it sometimes, don’t you?”

Elise grinned.

“We did the other day,” Amanda coughed,
trying to save the day.

“May I?” Angus asked Elise. The German
nodded awkwardly.

Swinging the heavy racquet carefully
through the air, he walked to the baseline, followed closely by Amanda. What if
the handle broke off? The screw had been really small. The racquet was probably
unusable now.

“This is a great grip,” Angus mumbled,
weighing the racquet in his hands. “So nice and sleek.”

“Careful, careful,” Amanda squealed,
hurrying after him. “It’s really old.”

“I really love that grip,” Angus exclaimed.

Amanda frowned. He had taken hold of the
mara
handle and was swinging forehands and backhands with the racquet.

“Give me some balls,” he shouted to
Christoph who dutifully hit a ball over the net.

Amanda winced when the old racquet touched
the ball. Did she hear the wood moan? Was that a creak?

“Please, don’t hit it that hard.” She made
a step towards Angus, reaching out her arms to hold him back.

“Amanda, don’t be such a killjoy,” he
chuckled while clubbing the ball from one corner to the other. “This is so much
fun.”

“Give it back,” Amanda yelled. She grabbed
the wood racquet and pulled, but Angus wouldn’t let go. “It’s expensive.”

“How much did you pay for it?” Angus asked,
lifting his arms so Amanda couldn’t reach the racquet.

“Quite a bit,” Amanda retorted. “Please,
put it down.”

Angus hesitated, but then he smiled.
“Alright.”

Amanda watched him walk to the back of the
court with the racquet dangling in his hand. He swung it like a pistol but
finally leaned it against the green fence. Amanda exhaled in relief.

“Can we play tennis now?” Elise shouted
from the other side. She too had grown nervous as the guys were hitting balls.

“Yes, ladies, your wish is my command,”
Angus grinned and sprinted to the baseline to join Amanda.

After a few rallies Amanda relaxed.
Actually, this little intermezzo only showed that Elise’s camouflage worked.
Angus had held a wooden prick in his hands, thinking it was a racquet handle.
He didn’t even notice the weird shape at the end of the grip.

Thirty minutes later they sat down to drink
some water. From Centre Court they could hear the first cheers for the women’s
singles final.

“I want to see the final,” Elise muttered.
“Can we skip practice and go over?” Gabriella was playing against Sasha
Mrachova. This was bound to be a great match.

“Yes,” Angus added. “I want to see it,
too.”

“Okay, let’s get moving. Get the old
racquet, please,” Amanda said to Angus. The Australian dutifully ran to the
corner while Amanda began packing their bags. When she had finished she looked
up. Angus was standing next to her. His smile was suspiciously wide, his hands
were empty.

Amanda stopped breathing.

“It’s gone,” Angus said.

***

Sasha Mrachova sat down in her chair and
closed her eyes for a short moment. She needed to stay calm, stay positive. Let
the thoughts come – and go. Come and go, Sasha thought. On the outside her
emotional turmoil wasn’t visible. She sat upright on the chair, to the right of
the umpire, and looked straight ahead.

But she wasn’t calm. In fact, there was
nothing she would have liked to do more than run these stupid thoughts out of
town with a good smack of her racquet. Go away, she screamed in her mind. Get
the hell out!

Sasha had three minutes to catch her breath
and gather herself, having just lost the first set of the Wimbledon final to
Gabriella Galloway. The same procedure as every year. Only this year, Gabriella
was playing for herself, not her sister. Gabriella playing for herself. Her
sister not in the box. Was all of this a grand scheme to make Sasha lose her
mind? After last year’s Wimbledon win the Galloways had stopped switching
matches. They had begun to play for themselves.

Sasha remembered the moment after the
final. She had gone back into the locker room to get her shoes – and had found
Gabriella sitting there, still in delighted shock.
I know your little secret
.
That’s what she had told the Galloway. In hindsight it had clearly been a
mistake. The Galloways had reacted immediately, going clean and covering their
swindle. Instead they had come up with a new plan – a revenge plan obviously.
Not just to drive her insane over the question of who was whom in the Galloway
mystery. Not just to break her nose. But to break her heart.

Sasha was known for her unbreakable will.
Never would she let go of a match. She fought until the last point. But how
much worth was your will when your heart was broken?

“Devilish,” she whispered into the towel
she had put around her shoulders. It really was a diabolic plan.

Systematically, the twins had approached
her – whether it was Lulu or Gabriella in Paris or Cincinnati didn’t matter –
and made Sasha believe that one of them was in love with her, or at least
interested in one way or another. Whenever she had opened up and had made a
step towards them however, they had played games with her, leaving her in the
dark after their first encounters, and eventually on the cold floor in
Istanbul.

They had played cat and mouse with her
heart and finally clawed it in Dubai when she was most vulnerable. How clever
to slowly build Sasha’s confidence and self-esteem, making her more and more
dependent on the twin’s soothing attention. So clever.

“Fuck you. Fuck you both,” she whispered,
then she bit her lip. There were microphones everywhere on the court.

Calm. Let the thoughts come and go.

But it didn’t work. She had been tricked
and deceived. How could she let go of that thought? It had taken her all the
way to the final. She wanted this confrontation, she had anticipated this match
with Gabriella. The plan, of course, had been to dispatch the Galloway twin in
straight sets, even handing her a bagel or two.

But, now what? She had lost the first set
2-6. A terrible start to this final and not an ideal way to teach the traitor
on the other side a lesson. Now she had to come back from a set down.