A Fantasy about Love Pt. 11

"Ladies, I go and do it, but first I've a deadline to meet Alan and I want a lot of Brownie points!"

When I was in the bathroom, I heard a lot of giggling and Maureen whispered "I told you he would fall for it!" Hah -- they would pay for this.

I went to the kitchen without passing the two, collected no kisses and prepared the feast. I knew that they hated chamomile tea, so there was a big pot of it. The toast was just a bit burned, the jam was almost finished, and the only part shining was the carafe full of ice-cold water. I put on Stravinsky's Firebird (we all hated it) and went back to change. They were still gossiping and giggled when I entered.

"Ladies, breakfast is ready, and I'll have to leave soon. If you want to stay in, please advise since I'll have to take my car to go to Allan." They said that they would get up immediately; I turned around to go back ignoring the whistles.

Within five minutes they appeared, both in their normal football shirts. There was a big smile on their faces. "James, you did not come back when we whistl....." They had seen the table: "James, what is this? This is breakfast? You always make coffee for us. What happened?"

Maureen came up to me and stared at me. "James, darling, are you angry with us?"

"Maureen, my love, why should I be angry with you? Did you give me any reason? Did you, for example, conspire with your so-called sister-wife to avoid working? Did you, for example, make me believe that you needed some more rest and manipulated me to get up early? No, you would never do this! You love me too much, don't you?"

She did not know what to say and glanced at Jenny, who studiously ignored her. She hesitated but tried to avoid an admission.

"James, do you really believe that I could do this to you?"

I nodded. "You are a woman, and women do this. But look -- since nothing like this happened, let's have breakfast and then we all have to leave."

I pulled their chairs and they sat; when I poured the tea, their faces showed their lack of enthusiasm.

"Unfortunately, I didn't find the coffee, but we must have used it all, and this was the only tea left. I apologize also that the toast is burned; I was thinking about last night and how wonderful it was. But I'm certain that you'll have a wonderful lunch and don't worry about me, I am quite capable of standing a little hunger."

For a moment I thought that I had it laid on too much, but Maureen was worried. "My love, I can go and get some fresh bread. And I'm certain that I had coffee left!"

She got up and looked for it, but came back with empty hands. "I don't know what happened. I thought we had a well---stocked larder." Actually we had one, but I had hidden it where she would not look. All this time Jenny was glancing at me and suddenly her face lit up. I looked at her and shook my head. She hesitated but obeyed.

Maureen hugged me. "Darling, I'm not looking after you properly. Please forgive me. The first thing I'll do is go and buy coffee, bread and all that is missing. Don't worry, it'll not happen again."

I hugged her back, looking over her head at Jenny. She was undecided what she should do: keep quiet as requested or tell Maureen what had happened to relieve her stress. I waited for her decision, but at the end she nodded. She would do what I wanted and that was good enough for me.

I got up, went to the food cupboard and took out the coffee, and added the fresh bread and two tins of jam. When I came back to the kitchen, Maureen looked first with consternation and then with anger at me. "James, you hurt me. I was worried."

"Maureen, my love, you were giggling that I fell for your joke; now you fell for mine."

Jenny added slowly. "James, we made a little joke, but your act hurt Maureen because she loves you so much. It is not the same. Please think the next time you want to do something similar."

Maureen was still uneasy, but then she relaxed. "James, this is not the end of it. I fell hard for it because I always want you to have everything, and I feel guilty when there is a problem. But you had your fun, and can I have now my coffee now, please?"

We finished a decent breakfast, they changed and off we went. They looked beautiful as always -- Maureen in a little dark green summer dress that swirled around her slender hips, and Jenny with a dress in yellow that looked stunning with her black hair. They turned around so that I could admire them, and Maureen drove us to Allan. They got out to compliment Ellen and seeing that she seemed better, asked her to join them.

Ellen was tempted. "Girls, I really would like to go, but tonight is the dinner with Bill Cunningham and I don't want to appear tired."

I was happy that Bill had invited them also, as it would be much more fun. My ladies drove off, but not before giving me a real kiss (Ellen had to cough to make Jenny stop) and Maureen whispered "Just wait for my turn; perhaps you'll see how it is to be on the receiving side."

Allan was satisfied: "James, I hope that you know how lucky you are. These two will be there for you for the rest of their lives whatever happens. But let's go to the club."

He called Giovanna (Eileen had found a widow looking for a job; she had a daughter finishing university and was already lonely, because her daughter would go for a year to the UK). The two had clicked and Ellen seemed to be very well cared for. She gave me a kiss and told me not to believe all that would be said to me at the club. "These old scoundrels always try to get you into trouble!"

I promised to be careful and Allan took out his stately Bentley. He warned me that his friends were always looking for someone to pay the bill for the lunch, and if someone outside their circle lost the game, the bill was high: the most expensive food, champagne, single malt whisky, etc. The drive was short and when we arrived his friends were already waiting.

"Allan, we decided that your young friend will play with us -- here are clubs" and looking at my shoes "there will be some proper shoes in the club house. Come on and hurry, tee time is up."

I protested and negotiated a half hour delay to go to the range to see whether the clubs fitted me. They were impatient: "Golf, my friend, is a gentleman's sport and we assume that you are a gentleman?"

I agreed and before I could say anything further, was led to the club house. There was a golf bag with a lot of clubs, which I took to the driving range and called the club professional. He had heard the conversation and asked me what I wanted: should he hit me by mistake with a club so that I could walk away from the challenge? Any other excuse I might come up with, because the players were known hustlers?

I only wanted to test the clubs as the shoes fit well. The others did not know that I had taken some lessons when we visited Eileen, because both she and Maureen liked the game; I also had taken two lessons in Sydney in a public course, where the pro was quite good, and learned a bit of what not to do.

I hit some balls and the pro looked suddenly a bit more optimistic. "There will be 11 players and nine of them you cannot beat. One plays well one day, badly the other. The last one is normally a good player, but quite emotional and when he gets angry, he'll hit a ball anywhere. Try to be in his group and make the appropriate remarks on one hand to motivate him to hit a long ball; he can do this, but at the end of the game he'll hook and slice with the best of them! When he putts, tell him how sorry you were that he lost the stroke. Don't do anything unethical, as there's a quite well-developed etiquette around the game of golf, but they are setting you up to pay a very significant bill. Play an old man's game: hit the ball in the middle of the fairway, put close and don't try to hole it immediately, and keep your calm. Don't use the driver: that will lose balls. It is OK to lose some; that's normal on this course and the others will, too. Focus on your game and you might have a chance."

I hit the clubs (but not the driver, as suggested) and went to the putting range. I did not like the putter they had given me, and the pro exchanged it for another one that was much better for my game.

They called me to the tee and told me that we would play in three group of four. Since I was new to the group, I could choose with whom I wanted to play. The rules were that the loser would pay lunch for all the others; they had good food at the club and an extensive wine list.

Allan called me aside and whispered: "Be careful: they are setting you up!" I nodded and selected Allan and the two players the pro had mentioned. I needed to see their game to control my fate. They wanted to change the group, but Allan said that they had given me the right to choose and I had chosen; rules are rules. We negotiated a handicap for me; unfortunately lower than I wanted, but higher than they intended thanks to Allan's quiet intervention.

The first group teed off and I saw why the pro had said I could not beat them; long, straight balls in the middle of the fairway. The second group was also in good form and when it was our turn, Allan hit his ball right down the middle. Jimmy, the second player hit an even better ball and the third, Cedric, hit a long ball to the right, almost going into the trees. I focused on my stroke; control was easy for me due to these long years of martial arts. My mantra was 'easy, don't go for it, keep it on the fairway' and I did exactly this. The ball was almost 60 yards shorter, but in the middle. My second stroke did not make the green, but was in front of it for an easy approach. Allan was on the green with two, as was Jimmy, and Cedric had hit into the bunker. I walked with him up to the green and since we were still talking among us, I told him that I was looking forward to seeing him hit his ball, since I wanted to learn how to do it properly. The few times I had tried it I never hit a decent ball out of the bunker; either I hit too much behind and the ball stayed in the bunker, or I tried to the copy the professionals and the ball flew miles. He was friendly.

"You have to open the club face and hit two inches behind the ball, and you have to hit firmly into the sand. Let me show you."

He stepped into the bunker, looked at me "Two inches!" and hit the ball over the green into the water on the other side. He was visibly irritated and after discussing with Allan what the rule was, dropped his ball according to the rules (there was some discussion on where the right place was), and hit his ball back to the green. I made my approach to within four yards of the hole, missed the putt and made a bogey. Allan converted his putt for a birdie and Jimmy made a four. Cedric was furious and overhit his putt, and then did not hole it. Triple Bogey. It seemed that I was on the right path.

The next hole was longer, and Allan and Jimmy made their pars; I decided, however, not to worry about them. They were much better players and I had just one enemy: Cedric. He stayed on the fairway, hit a long ball close to the green and made his par. I continued my strategy 'Stay focused, keep it on the fairway' and reached the green in four. A lucky putt close to the hole: Bogey. The next hole was a par three where you had to hit over water. All three made it and I hit the ball into the water. I remembered the pro. 'You'll lose balls, but don't get nervous - the others will, too.' I went to the drop area, put my ball onto the green: Double Bogey.

And so it went; Allan looked at me worriedly, but I shook my head. Jimmy and Cedric were very friendly, playing a better game, telling me stories but at the end of nine holes I was a net five strokes behind Cedric, who had just made a beautiful birdie. This meant that I had to make up at least six strokes.

The conversation at the bar was hilarious; after checking my score they were laughing and asked for the menu, ordering the most expensive dishes that were on the card and asking for 'real' champagne to be put on ice. Allan tried to intervene, but is was useless: they had found their prey.

When we teed off on the tenth, Cedric tapped my shoulder. "I hope that you've more luck now; some of your balls really should have dropped. But don't worry: there'll always be another game and what really counts is the company of friends!"

I did not continue his phrase "especially if he pays the bill... " but thought that now I had to play golf. No more jokes, focus, focus and focus more. It paid off: he had sliced one ball into the water, hit another one into deep rough and somehow seemed to be irritated that my ball stayed always on the fairway: short but on the fairway. When we teed off on the 18^th hole Cedric was still one up but was not talking anymore with me. This hole was a dogleg to the left and Allan and Jimmy hit their balls over the trees onto the fairway, and Cedric was on. I tempted him. "Cedric, you're leading and if you want to be safe, just hit it like I do, close to the corner and then play the bend. Do you really think you can hit it over the trees? Is it not better to play safe?"

He took a deep breath and hit with all his might; unfortunately, his stroke was undecided and the ball vanished to the left in the trees. He must have thought at the last moment to change his swing, and that is always dangerous. I hit my ball short to the start of the bend, and then we looked for his ball. He was getting rather furious and Allan had to remind him that his five minutes for searching for the ball were over. He walked back to the green and this time he hit short, as I had done.

Allan glanced at me, starting to grin. He had discovered what I was doing. Cedric hit his ball well forward and my ball was again behind his. It had become a match play and both Allan and Jimmy paid more attention to our play than worrying about their own. The hole was protected by a creek and I could try to go over it to the green or play safe. I played my ball rather short, just five yards before the creek and about thirty yards to the green. Cedric looked at his score card; he realized that with my handicap, he was now one down to me. He had to make a bogey at all cost and decided to go for the flag. It was on the left side of the green close to a bunker. He hit it too well: the ball hit the flag and bounced into the bunker. I learned some new expletives and Allan had to remind him that this was supposed to be a gentleman's game. He shut up but glowered at me. I hit my approach shot well, but into the bunker also and to my dismay, it was a difficult lie, close the edge of the bunker. Suddenly he was friendly again; he would hit to the green and make his putt whilst I might come out or not, but there was no way that I could make less than a six and I would lose the game.

He stepped into the trap and came out well, about eight feet away from the pin. He was satisfied and turned to Jimmy. "That champagne will sure taste nice!" and then he came back to me.

"James, remember what I told you: open the clubface and hit firmly two inches behind the ball and follow through, my friend, follow through!"

I thanked him for his suggestion and stepped into the trap. "Cedric, open the clubface and hit firmly two inches behind the ball! OK?" He nodded and turned away, rubbing his hands, probably already tasting the champagne. That made me mad, but then I remembered the pro: 'Relax, focus!' I stepped away from the ball, took a deep breath, stepped back and hit two inches behind the ball, with a courageous follow through. The ball lifted gently, came out of the trap and rolled slowly towards the pin. There was a slight break to the right and at the last moment, the ball followed the break and rolled in. I had made a miraculous par, had won my game against Cedric, and he had to pay the bill.

Cedric was absolutely furious, threw his putter onto the green and started to yell that I had deceived them on my handicap. There was no way that I could play better then he and I had probably ..... he stopped at the last moment before accusing me of cheating; both Allan and Jimmy told him to shut up. It was a gentleman's game and he should behave like a gentleman; he had lost a game and would have to pay the bet.

The other two groups had watched us and did not know what to do: the prey had escaped, and the bill was expensive. Unfortunately for them, the head waiter appeared and told us that the table was set and ready for lunch. No escape for poor Cedric. He had vanished, mumbling all the way to the club house.

I was lucky that Cedric had behaved so badly that it turned his playing partners against him, and they decided that food, champagne and single malt was always welcome, regardless who paid for it, as long as it was not one of them. At the end it was actually fun: Cedric had come back, sat beside me and congratulated me for my game.

"Tell me, how often have you played golf before?"

I confessed that I had taken four lessons in Brisbane when we visited my mother-in-law and two in Sydney, and that I had actually played with her and my wife twice and had been beaten thoroughly by both of them! Perhaps it was understandable that it had turned me off the game? But I had beaten them in Scrabble!

Allan added his comment. "Gents, as far as I know, James has not played serious golf before, but I can tell you his secret: Concentration and focus. He has a fifth Dan black belt and is a master in Krav Maga, so don't get him angry. You would regret it!"

That shut them up, but suddenly, the mood was better. We enjoyed the food and the wine, and Cedric was teased mercilessly all the time. It was obvious that he was embarrassed and wanted to make up for his behavior and I thought it would be better to accept his unspoken apology. Before we left, Allan pointed out an elderly man sitting alone on a table, with a whisky tumbler in his hand.

"That's Jason Simpson, the owner of the trucking company you are going to see on Monday."

I asked Allan for a moment and walked over to him.

"Mr. Simpson? My name is James de Winter and I believe we have an appointment on Monday morning."

He looked up; it was a sad face, with deep lines. "Yes? Oh, Mr. de Winter. Yes, we'll see each other on Monday. Have a nice weekend." and he looked into his tumbler again. This was not the way I wanted to start a relationship, but there was nothing I could do at this moment. When we walked through the parking lot, the Pro passed. "Mr. de Winter, I heard already about your bunker shot. Good on you, mate!" I explained to Allan the recommendations he had given me, especially not to go for a long ball. Allan nodded. "You did a good job, and he was an excellent student. Perhaps I should take some lessons, too?" We smiled and I thanked him once more.

In the car Allan regarded me. "James, I have told you before, but I do it again: you continue to surprise me. You seem to be very 'judgmental', but I believe what drives you is really your curiosity. You are curious about things; about the how, and the what, and the why. And, of course, those are the qualities, the desire to learn the how and the what and the why of this world, that drives you forward and that makes you the man you are -- and the man we respect, love and admire. Now this game put you in a difficult situation and you escaped a major problem only because it happened on the last hole in front of all of them. I assume that it was a lucky stroke, since nobody could hit that ball intentionally into the hole. Don't expect that miracles will appear every time you need them! They will not bet with you again, however! But it served them right -- they wanted to fleece you mercilessly!"

My phone rang and it was Maureen. "James, my dear, go home directly. We are still quite busy and there will be not enough time to pick you up, go home, change and go to the dinner. Will you do this please?"