Night School: Legacy

When she pushed a button on the base of her own racquet it instantly came to life, glowing blue.

Across the court a glowing orange orb was suddenly whacked with a red racquet – the lighted tennis ball flew through the darkness. The players on the opposite side were virtually invisible – the lighted racquets and the ball seemed to operate of their own accord.

Delighted, she laughed out loud. ‘This is crazy!’

‘This,’ Jo said, returning Lucas’ volley with the smooth ease of somebody who has been coached, ‘is night tennis.’

‘Come on.’ Rachel nudged Allie. ‘Let’s warm up.’

‘I’m not that great at tennis,’ Allie admitted reluctantly.

Rachel pulled her on to the court with a laugh. ‘We don’t care, Allie. You’re not auditioning for the Olympics. You’re playing tennis in the dark in the freezing cold.’

A glowing tennis ball whizzed by their heads and they both ducked.

‘My bad!’ Zoe’s voice called, but all Allie could see was her green racquet waving apologetically.

‘See?’ Rachel said. ‘We all suck.’

But Allie knew that wasn’t true.

While she tried swinging the racquet a few times, Sylvain returned, standing just outside the glow of the lights. ‘Does everyone know Nicole?’

Allie squinted into the dark but couldn’t see the person with Sylvain.

‘Of course,’ Jo called. ‘Bonsoir, Nicole.’

Musical laughter came from the general direction of Sylvain, and then a husky French voice responded, ‘Bonsoir, Jo. Your forehand is lovely.’

‘Ta muchly,’ Jo said whacking the ball hard at Lucas, who lobbed it back with ease.

As Sylvain and Nicole stepped into the light cast by the net, her full lips curved into a smile. She wore a creamy cashmere scarf around her neck and an expensive-looking white wool coat. Sylvain’s hand rested lightly on her back, and Allie was staring at them open-mouthed when the ball hit her on the side of the head hard enough to knock her down.

Everyone rushed to her at once.

Lucas vaulted the net. ‘Allie, are you OK? I’m so sorry. I thought you were ready.’

Rachel held Allie’s head in her lap as Zoe knelt beside them asking, ‘What day is it? Who’s the prime minister?’

‘Sorry,’ Allie said. ‘I think I was more surprised than hurt. But then again, it could be brain damage.’

She could hear a collective relieved sigh from the group. Rachel smiled at her and squeezed her fingers.

‘Don’t fall asleep,’ Zoe said urgently.

Everyone turned to her.

‘I read an article,’ she explained. ‘If it’s a concussion you have to stay awake.’

‘I’m awake,’ Allie joked feebly, as Rachel and Lucas helped her to her feet. ‘But if I fall asleep playing tennis please call an ambulance.’

‘Yay!’ Zoe said, racing to the other side of the net. ‘Allie’s alive and we can play!’

Rachel studied her face with worried eyes. ‘You really OK?’ she asked.

Although she was still a little dizzy, Allie nodded. ‘I’m good. In a blindsided, cracked-skull kind of a way.’

‘That’s less good than usual,’ Rachel said.

‘True,’ Allie agreed. ‘So … I think I’ll sit out the first game.’

‘Somebody has to sit with Allie and make sure she stays awake and knows who’s prime minister,’ Zoe called from across the grass court.

‘What is your obsession with the prime minister?’ Lucas asked.

‘It’s a question people get asked when they hit their heads,’ Zoe said. ‘In films. I mean they’re usually American films and they ask who the president is. I guess brain damage knocks all the politics out. But this is England so there’s not a president. And you can’t exactly ask them who the Queen is, can you? She’s just … the Queen.’

‘I know who the prime minister is,’ Allie said sitting down on the frozen grass. ‘So you can all relax.’

‘Is it still that same man?’ Nicole’s voice came out of the dark right beside her and Allie jumped. ‘The one with the funny face?’

‘Yeah,’ Allie replied. ‘It’s still that one.’

‘I like him,’ Nicole said. ‘He seems very good with children. And that is a proven sign of kindness.’ As she spoke, Allie glanced over at her furtively – her expressive brown eyes were surrounded by thick lashes; her bone structure was as fine as a fawn’s. ‘I’m sitting out this game, too.’ Nicole’s French accent was more delicate than Sylvain’s; it seemed to curl around each word lightly before letting go. ‘I will help keep you awake. Sylvain will sit with us when he reappears. I don’t know where he’s gone.’

But at that moment, he walked up with a bottle of water, which he handed to Allie before sitting on the cold grass beside Nicole.

‘How do you feel?’ He studied her with concern.

Her head was starting to throb, but she knew if she said that they’d make her go and see the nurse. ‘OK, I think. A bit fuzzy maybe. But I think that’s an I-just-got-hit-on-the-head thing,’ Allie said.