A Swing at Love E-Book

Harper Bliss

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Seitenzahl: 285

Beschreibung

On the fairway of life, love comes when you least expect it.

Diane Thompson is happy enough. Her successful accounting firm allows her plenty of time to play all the golf she wants and enjoy her life in small Sussex village Tynebury. She’s finally over the divorce from her husband, but potential suitors are few and far between for a fifty-something woman in the English countryside.

Tamsin Foxley is determined to keep matters of the heart separated from her new teaching job at the Royal Tynebury Golf Club after a disastrous romantic experience put an end to her previous employment. She has also vowed to no longer fall for women almost half her age.

When the new season starts at the golf club, Diane and Tamsin become fast friends. Their feelings for each other quickly go in an unexpected direction and they both have to reevaluate what it is they want from life.

Can Diane overcome her fear of falling for a woman? And can Tamsin accept her taste in women may have changed?

Find out in this sweet romance by best-selling lesbian romance author Harper Bliss and her wife Caroline in her debut effort.

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

Special Offer from the Author

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

A Word from the Authors

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To all the lady-loving Lady Golfers.

PREFACE

Dear Reader,

Before you start this book, I feel as though I have some expectation management to do. You’d be hard-pressed to find a Harper Bliss book without a steamy scene… until now. After a long discussion, Caroline and I have decided to make this golf romance a ‘sweet’ romance. My claim that it wouldn’t be a proper Harper Bliss book without a sex scene was rejected by Caroline’s argument that this isn’t a Harper Bliss book, it’s a ‘Harper & Caroline Bliss book’. And she was right. Caroline and I wrote this book together. It was a shared effort across the board and, in the end, I’m glad we chose to write A Swing at Love this way. More than anything else, it’s a heart-warming, cosy village romance and for this particular co-write, it felt very natural to just fade to black. All of that being said, I hope you enjoy our joint effort. For us, married-to-each-other writers, it was a struggle at times, but no divorce lawyers were called and we’re very proud of the end result.

Harper Bliss

CHAPTERONE

Diane’s ankle twisted as the heel of her shoe caught in between two cobbles. She steadied herself on a parked car and gave her foot a tentative turn to determine if there was any serious damage. A light pain jabbed through her ankle but it was nothing unbearable.

She continued her walk to the clubhouse at a more careful pace. She was already late, but being one minute less late wasn’t worth ending up in a wheelchair for. The bloody high heels were a couple of inches taller than Diane was used to wearing. But they matched her maroon evening gown so well, or so the lady in the shop had told her, rightly seeing her as easy prey.

She climbed the steps to the main entrance and hurried towards the cloakroom.

“Good evening, Mrs Thompson,” the attendant greeted her.

“Has the presentation started yet?” Diane asked as she took off her coat and handed it over.

“I’m afraid it has.” The girl smiled apologetically.

Diane made her way to the clubhouse’s main function area. She could already hear the booming voice of the club’s president. She reached the room and slipped in at the back.

The sofas and armchairs that usually clustered around the elegant coffee tables had been pushed to the side. Behind them the large bay windows overlooked the putting green and eighteenth hole, now shrouded in dusk. Several elaborate flower arrangements adorned the ledge in front of the windows. The decorating committee had obviously spared no expense for the event.

Diane craned her neck to try and see the front of the room, where Stephen, the Royal Tynebury Golf Club’s president, was giving his speech to open the new season and introduce the new members, but even her higher heels didn’t make Diane tall enough to see above the heads in front of her.

“In conclusion, I wish you all the best season you’ve ever had,” Stephen’s voice came over the speakers, “and without further ado, please enjoy the wonderful food and drinks we have lined up for you tonight.”

The crowd erupted in applause and, on cue, waiters brought out trays of Champagne from the large oak bar.

Diane made her way through the crowd, greeting people and making small talk as she progressed. She kept her eyes peeled for her ex-husband and spotted him towards the front of the room, his arm around the shoulders of Debbie. In Diane’s mind that name always came out in a childish tone, probably because Debbie was about the same age as Diane’s own son.

“I think her boobs look bigger, she must have had them done over the winter,” a familiar voice whispered in Diane’s ear from behind.

Diane smiled as she turned around to face her friend, Isabelle. “Not what I was looking at, but now that you mention it.” Diane opened her arms and embraced Isabelle. “It’s so good to see you. When did you get back from Florida?”

“Two days ago,” Isabelle replied. “I would have called you, but the transition from Floridian sunshine to British drizzle was rough.” She shivered. “Anyway, catch me up on the gossip. Did anything juicy happen while I was away?”

Diane laughed. “I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. I haven’t been here much, what with the course being closed a lot because of the weather.”

Isabelle squinted at Diane. “Your absence wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that young Debbie there has been taking lessons and visiting the driving range more often—probably to prove she’s worthy of her new member status?”

“Let’s just say that it didn’t help my motivation to spend time at the driving range.”

A waiter stopped in front of them. “Mrs Thompson, Mrs Avery, can I offer you a glass of Champagne?”

Both women eagerly grabbed a glass.

“Speaking of new members,” Diane said, “where are Rob and Matthew? I only got here at the end of the speech so didn’t get to see Matthew being introduced.”

Isabelle shook her head. “He wasn’t accepted. They’re not here tonight.”

“What?” Diane exclaimed. “Why? What happened?”

Isabelle sighed. “They weren’t given a reason. I haven’t been able to corner our dear president yet to grill him about it, but trust me, I’ll get to him before the night is over.”

“Would you like me to make some enquiries?” Diane asked. “I know at least one other person on the admissions committee.”

“No, not yet,” Isabelle answered. “I want to see what pretext he gives me first. Of course, he won’t tell me openly that this place is still so stuck in the fifties that the same-sex spouse of one of their lifelong members is less acceptable than the classless bimbo your ex now calls his wife. No offence.”

“Oh, none taken.” Diane smiled at her friend. She knew Isabelle was probably much more affected by her son-in-law’s rejection than she was willing to let on tonight. “It’s so good to have you back. Let’s set up a date this week to play a round. I need to get back in shape before the Ladies’ trip next month. You can show me again how wintering in the Florida sun does wonders for your game.”

“Diane.” A male voice came from behind her.

Diane cringed and turned around to face her ex-husband. “Lawrence.” She offered a cheek for him to peck, grateful at least that he’d had the courtesy to come and greet her alone. “How are you?” She had to admit he still looked quite dashing, especially in his tuxedo.

“Jolly good, my dear. And yourself?”

Diane tried to keep her tone neutral as she replied, “I’m very well, thanks.”

An awkward silence followed. Diane and Lawrence’s divorce had been finalised five years ago, but they had not yet reached the stage where small talk came easily.

Diane hoped Isabelle would say something to break the tension, but when she turned her head to give her a pointed look, she found her friend had scarpered off somewhere, abandoning her to face Lawrence alone.

Diane turned back towards him. “Have you seen Timothy recently?” At least their son should be a safe topic.

“He and Lucy came over for dinner the other night. Debbie made shepherd’s pie. You know that’s still his favourite.”

Diane fought to suppress an eye-roll. “How lovely.” No way did Debbie cook a shepherd’s pie as good as hers. “I hear Debbie is now a full member of the club. You must be delighted.”

“Ah, yes,” Lawrence beamed. “Very happy, quite right. She’s been working hard, trying to get certified so she can start playing on the course.”

Diane could see Debbie moving through the crowd, making her way towards Lawrence. “Excuse me, would you? I need to powder my nose before we get ushered into the dining room.” She turned around and walked towards the exit into the hall. Attempting a civil conversation with her ex was one thing, but having to be polite to his new wife was not on the cards yet.

On her way out, Diane deposited her empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter and grabbed a new one. More bubbles were required to fight back the bad taste she got in her mouth every time she saw Lawrence and Debbie together.

She took her glass into the ladies’ changing room, hoping to find a quiet spot to gather herself before having to sit down for the dinner, which was bound to last too long. It was the same thing every year.

She sat on a stool in front of a vanity unit and checked her make-up in the mirror. She rifled through her small evening purse to find her lipstick.

The door to the dressing room opened. A short-haired woman Diane didn’t know walked in and looked around uncertainly. She must be one of the new members.

“Are you looking for the bathroom?” Diane asked. “It’s past those lockers on the right, then through the first door.”

“Thank you,” the woman replied with a smile. “I haven’t quite got the lay of the land yet.” She walked in the direction Diane had indicated and disappeared into the bathroom.

Diane turned back to face her image in the mirror. She applied a new coat of lipstick, checked her eyeliner was still as it should be, and stood. The pain in her ankle had all but disappeared—probably thanks to the two glasses of Champagne she’d consumed. She took one last look in the full-length mirror—her shoes did indeed match her gown perfectly, she couldn’t take issue with the salesgirl’s taste. Debbie might have almost thirty years on her, but youth could never make up for elegance. At least that was the mantra Diane was going to stick to tonight.

She pulled back her shoulders and headed out towards the function room as the bell was rung to call people to dinner.

CHAPTERTWO

Tamsin hurried out of the ladies’ room and into the grand dining room. Long tables were set with folded name cards next to the plates. Good. She wouldn’t have to scour for a seat—all she’d have to manage was to find her assigned spot. A wooden lectern displayed the seating plan. A crowd huddled around it, so Tamsin waited and cast her glance over her new place of employment. This evening might be just a dinner, but to Tamsin it was as nerve-racking as the first day on a new job. So many unknown people, so many names and faces to put together and remember.

The crowd at the lectern had dispersed and Tamsin scanned the large piece of paper for her name. Now all she had to do was locate the table. A few people were already sitting there. They probably all knew each other—but mingling with the members was part of her job.

She walked over to her table and spotted the friendly lady who had shown her where the bathroom was earlier. She smiled and found her seat, right next to her.

“Hi,” the woman said, extending her hand, “Diane Thompson.”

“Tamsin Foxley.” Tamsin shook the woman’s hand. Her grip was firm. Her blue-eyed gaze on Tamsin unwavering.

“Lovely to meet you, Tamsin,” Diane said. “You must be one of the new members.” She smiled apologetically. “I arrived late so I missed the introductions.”

“I’m the new club pro, actually,” Tamsin said. “I’ll be replacing Darren when he leaves in a few weeks.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Diane said, turning towards her more. “My game’s always a bit rusty after the winter break. I must book some lessons.” Diane pushed her glasses up her nose.

Tamsin felt a little under-dressed next to her, but she’d never really been one to dress up.

“Of course. That would be lovely,” Tamsin said.

“Diane, how are you?” An elderly man had approached and put his hands briefly on Diane’s shoulders. “I believe you’re stuck with me for the evening.” He pulled back the chair on the other side of Diane.

“Have you met our new pro, Reg?” Diane said.

Tamsin repeated the motions she’d gone through many a time since she’d arrived at the club: shaking hands, smiling broadly, and replying to chit-chat.

Reg kept Diane engaged in conversation for a while. Tamsin was relieved she’d been seated next to someone as welcoming as Diane. If the opening dinners of her previous club were anything to go by, they’d be stuck with each other for a few hours.

Tamsin picked up the menu card that stood in front of her plate. Smoked salmon as a starter and steak for mains. The number of times she’d had a similar meal at a golf club. She smiled inwardly. Golfs clubs were not known for grand innovations and any change—even to the menu—was always slow.

“Which club were you with before?” Diane had turned to her again. She gave Tamsin a warm smile.

“Chalstone,” Tamsin said, a pang of regret shooting through her.

“Any particular reason you left?” Diane inquired.

“I was in dire need of a change of scenery.” She sent Diane a wide smile. Tamsin was eager to keep the real reason she left—or rather, had been forced to leave—under wraps.

Diane nodded thoughtfully. “Do you live nearby?” She took a sip of the white wine that had just been poured.

“I found a place on the outskirts of the village,” Tamsin said. She looked at the glass in front of her but left it alone for now. She’d had two glasses of Champagne already and, unlike most of the other guests, she wasn’t here to relax tonight. “Very quiet and green.” Tamsin had fallen in love with the small cottage, which was modest, but stretched her rental budget considerably nonetheless. Even though Tynebury was a good number of miles from London, it was still a commutable distance to the capital.

“Welcome to the club and the village, then.” Diane lifted her glass.

Tamsin mirrored her action. They clinked rims. “Are you joining the Ladies’ trip to Portugal next month?” Tamsin asked.

“Oh, yes.” The skin around Diane’s eyes crinkled when she smiled. “I’m looking forward to it greatly. Winter has been long. I need a good dose of vitamin D.”

“And an equally good dose of golf, I hope.” Tamsin attempted a joke.

“That goes without saying.” Diane drank again, then set her glass down. “I do miss playing during the off season.” Her gaze on Tamsin was kind. “I should book those lessons before the trip, by the way. I hope your calendar’s not too full yet.”

“I’m sure I can squeeze you in.” Tamsin’s calendar was still very empty. She wanted—needed—to teach as many classes as she possibly could.

Diane’s eyes locked on a woman strutting past their table. When she glanced back at Tamsin, the kindness in her eyes had disappeared.

“That woman,” Diane said with utter contempt in her voice. She straightened her spine. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Debbie?” Tamsin inquired. She’d been introduced to Debbie earlier, who had promptly also inquired about lessons.

“It’s just so unfair.” Diane leaned in Tamsin’s direction. Tamsin caught a whiff of her flowery perfume. “Since you’ll be working here, you might as well learn about the medieval politics of this club.” She shook her head. “My good friend Isabelle’s gay son-in-law has been refused membership, while my ex-husband’s trollop of a wife has been accepted,” she whispered. “Sadly this club has not yet entered the twenty-first century, I can assure you of that.”

Tamsin momentarily stiffened at the mention of the word gay. She reached for her glass of wine so she had some time to regroup. “That’s simply appalling.”

“It is, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure Matthew gets accepted next year. What is this? The middle ages?”

“I sure hope not.” Tamsin was distracted by a bunch of waiting staff milling about. The starters were being served. With that, Reg engaged Diane in conversation again, and Tamsin was left in welcome silence to ponder the information she’d just received.

* * *

Tamsin scanned the improvised dance floor. She wasn’t much of a dancer and she preferred leaning against the bar, letting her gaze wander. Dinner had gone well, largely thanks to her welcoming neighbour. More people had come up to her after dinner to introduce themselves and enquire about lessons. She knew from experience, however, that members of these old, traditional golf clubs were always very welcoming at first, brimming with courtesy and warm smiles, but it was only the thinnest veneer that hid the true nature of some.

A man sidled up to her. “How are you holding up?” She recognised him as Lionel, who had sat at the far end of her table, which, Diane had revealed near the end of the meal, was dubbed the ‘singles’ table’.

“Just fine, thanks.”

Lionel had loosened his tie and his eyes were glazed over.

Tamsin took a small step away, not that she considered him in any condition to take a subtle hint.

“You’ll find us a lovely, civilised bunch.” He all but slurred his words.

Yeah right. Like the lot at my previous club.

“I’m sure you all are.” Tamsin had little choice but to oblige him.

“I hear you’re renting the Andersons’ cottage,” Lionel said. “Is it just you there or do you have a husband and some kids running around?”

How quickly word spread in villages—and clubs—like this. Of course, the Andersons were members here as well. Any newcomer would have tongues wagging. She knew how this worked.

“Just me and Bramble, my dog,” she said. Bramble had acclimatised to the cottage and its surroundings instantly. Tamsin adored the cottage but knew she would need a little longer to adapt to everything else.

Lionel took a step closer again. “We’ll have to make sure you don’t get too lonely over there then.” Lionel tried a smile but the corners of his mouth seemed too lazy to quirk all the way up.

Tamsin thought it best to not dignify that with an answer. She looked at the dance floor again. Diane was chatting to a woman at the edge of the bopping crowd. She didn’t seem like much of a dancer either. Of all the people who had inquired about lessons tonight, Tamsin looked forward to teaching Diane the most. They’d spent the most time together, so it was only logical. She didn’t much look forward to teaching Debbie—what had Diane called her again. A trollop? Tamsin snickered inwardly, careful not to show any outward signs of her glee, lest Lionel believed she was actually enjoying their conversation.

Diane must have felt Tamsin’s gaze on her because she looked in her direction and gave her a wave. Her gaze lingered, then meandered to the person next to Tamsin. She rolled her eyes.

Emboldened by Diane’s small display of sympathy at being stuck with a drunken Lionel, Tamsin said, “Please excuse me.” She turned away from him, only to be accosted as soon as she rounded the corner of the bar by another member in dire need of golf lessons.

CHAPTERTHREE

“Damn it,” Diane muttered as she watched her ball fly over the green and end up in the bunker behind it.

Isabelle was using her new special binoculars to measure the distance to the hole. “They’re the newest, most accurate model,” she’d said, proudly showing them off to Diane on the first hole. “And so much cheaper in the US. If you want I can ask Ted to bring you some, he’s going back in a couple of weeks to take care of some business.”

Diane had politely declined the offer. She was a firm believer in instinct and her own eyes. All these new technological innovations were lost on her. These days people even had watches that told them the distance to the hole.

Now, looking at where her ball had ended up, she was starting to think that a little help from technology would not be such a bad thing.

Isabelle finally decided on which club to use. She set up in front of her ball and took a calm and elegant swing at it. They both followed the ball with their eyes as it flew through the air until it landed on the green, rolled for a few seconds, and ended up two yards from the hole.

“Nice shot,” Diane said. “Did you do anything besides play while you were in Florida?”

Isabelle grinned at her. “Not really, no. I’ve told you many times, you should consider doing the same. We should go over together soon and you can look at condos. Then we can spend the winter together in the sun.”

“It does sound more appealing every time you mention it,” Diane mused. “But as long as I’m still working, I don’t feel I can be away for that long.”

“Oh, come on,” Isabelle exclaimed. “You only go into the office three days a week as it is. Your loyal employees keep the place running without you there. And, I know you’re a technophobe, but there’s this thing called the internet. Even Florida’s connected to it. You could work remotely.”

They had reached the green. “I’ll think about it,” Diane said. “Now let me focus on getting this ball out of that bloody bunker.”

After they had finished the hole, they saw they had caught up to the foursome in front of them. They sat on the wooden bench next to the tee as they waited their turn.

“Can you believe how slow they are?” Isabelle pointed at the septuagenarians playing ahead of them. “They’re probably still hungover from the dinner on Saturday. Did you see how drunk Barry Ferguson was? I saw him almost fall on his face on the way to the car park.”

Diane chuckled. “Most of those old codgers don’t usually stay out that late. You can’t blame them for having a jolly time.”

They sat in silence for a while and turned their faces towards the sun, making the most of its unexpected appearance. The trees were not showing signs of new leaves yet but the air smelled of the possibility of spring for the first time that year.

“Have you booked any lessons yet with the new pro?” Isabelle asked.

“I haven’t, but I plan to do so soon,” Diane replied. “I was sitting next to her on Saturday; she seems very nice.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” Isabelle said. “Did she happen to mention why she left Chalstone?” Her tone was conspiratorial.

“She said she needed a change.” Diane looked at Isabelle. “Why? Do you know more?”

“I probably shouldn’t be saying this, as it’s only a rumour I heard from Ted’s friend, who’d heard it from someone else.” She paused. “Apparently—and again, this is just a rumour—she had a fling with the daughter of Chalstone’s president. That didn’t go down well, as you can probably imagine. Plus, said daughter is only about twenty, according to my source, so they said she was taking advantage of the girl. Miss Foxley’s contract was therefore not renewed and she was asked to leave.”

Diane sat in stunned silence for a moment. Then she said, “How sure are you of this?” Diane knew enough about golf to not be surprised that the new RTGC golf professional was sapphically inclined, but Tamsin had seemed completely decent and genuine, not the type to take advantage of anyone.

“As I said, I only have third or fourth-hand knowledge.” Isabelle shrugged. “Could be someone failed to improve their handicap sufficiently after lessons with her and decided to discredit her out of spite.”

The older gentlemen had moved on. Diane and Isabelle both hit their drives onto the fairway. As they were walking towards their balls, Isabelle said, “In any case, I for one would be very happy to have another out LGBT person at the club. Rob and Matthew sometimes feel so out of place. Maybe she can help Matthew get his membership accepted, finally.”

* * *

After they’d finished their round, Isabelle had rushed off, claiming the slow play had made her late for an appointment.

Diane was in the warehouse where the golf bags were stored, cleaning the mud from her clubs. She straightened when the door opened and Tamsin walked in.

“Hello Diane,” she said, “are you starting or finishing?”

“I just played a round with Isabelle,” Diane replied. “My first one since before Christmas, can you believe it?”

“Is that Mrs Avery?” Tamsin asked. “I’m not familiar with all the names yet.”

“Yes, that’s her.”

“How did it go, after your long break?”

“Not very well.” Diane laughed. “Let’s just say you’ll be seeing me on your teaching schedule sooner rather than later. If it’s not completely booked out yet, that is.”

Tamsin took her phone out of her pocket. She tapped the screen a few times, then held it out for Diane to look at. “As you can see, my schedule for the next few days is still pretty empty. Darren has been encouraging his pupils to give me a try, and many have approached me, but I guess they’ll only actually start coming once he’s gone.”

“Well,” Diane said resolutely, “I for one don’t want to wait. New year, new start and all that.” Diane thought she had spotted the name Deborah Stamp in Wednesday’s calendar and decided not to take any chances. “Are you free Thursday afternoon, say, at three o’clock?”

Tamsin checked her phone. “Not anymore.” She smiled at Diane. “Thank you.”

“Did you have a nice time at the party Saturday night?”

“I did, but I went home quite early. It’s rather tiring meeting all those new people, trying to remember everyone’s name.”

“I can imagine,” Diane said. “Especially when most of us had a few too many to drink. I saw you managed to fend off Lionel’s advances.” Diane winked.

Tamsin chuckled. “Yes, I did.”

“Not your type, is he?” Diane asked before she could stop herself.

“Eh, no, not really.” Tamsin blushed at the question.

“I’m sorry,” Diane said, placing her hand on Tamsin’s arm. “I’m always saying things I shouldn’t.”

“That’s all right,” Tamsin said. “Don’t worry about it.” Her mouth opened and she looked like she might say something more, but then decided against it.

An awkward silence followed. Diane realised her hand was still on Tamsin’s arm, and quickly retracted it.

“Well,” Tamsin said, “I should let you get on with your cleaning. I want everything spic and span for Thursday.” She wagged her finger and gave Diane a stern look, before breaking into a wide smile.

Diane laughed and gave a salute. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“See you then.” Tamsin walked towards the back of the warehouse, where the pro’s office was located.

Diane’s gaze followed her and lingered on the spot where Tamsin had disappeared from view behind a row of stored bags.

Diane was intrigued by the new teacher. She had an easy manner with people and an engaging personality—as far as Diane could tell after only a couple of encounters. These were probably prerequisites for someone in Tamsin’s profession. Nevertheless, Diane felt like they would get along. Despite what Isabelle had told her on the course, Tamsin definitely didn’t seem like someone who would act inappropriately with anyone. Diane vowed to do her best to make sure Tamsin was welcomed at the RTGC.

CHAPTERFOUR

“How about you show me a swing,” Tamsin said. “See how far you can hit the ball.”

Diane looked like a natural in her golf outfit, as if she’d been doing this all her life. She probably had. She wore a bright orange polo shirt and a pair of navy-blue trousers. Her golf bag was perched on an electric cart.

Tamsin had taught a lesson to ‘the trollop’ the day before and, although she’d been dressed in similar garments, Debbie didn’t come near the effortless elegance of Diane.

Diane selected a seven iron and positioned herself for her swing. Tamsin studied her movement as she hit the ball.

“Can you do that a few more times, please?” she asked.

Diane didn’t say anything; she just focused on hitting the balls. Tamsin had looked up her profile on the club’s internal website, as she did with everyone who booked a lesson, and she had learned that Diane Thompson’s handicap was a very respectable thirteen.

“I’m impressed,” Tamsin said. “You get a really good length with that seven iron.” She took a step closer. “Do you mind if I show you a little trick to get your direction more consistent?”

“That’s what the lesson is for, isn’t it?” Diane grinned, her eyes sparkling as she did.

“Indeed.” Tamsin stood behind Diane. This was always a little bit awkward with new pupils, but she was a teacher and, sometimes, there was no other way to demonstrate something. She put her hands on Diane’s arms and pulled them up slightly so her hands held the club a little higher. “Can you feel how this straightens your legs?” Tamsin asked.

“Yes,” Diane said.

Tamsin let go of her. “Keep that position.” She crouched down to tee up a ball. “And try another swing.”

Tamsin watched Diane’s improved form. It was only the tiniest of changes, but they were what made the difference in golf.

“How did that feel?” she asked.

“Like I could hit a little better.” Diane painted on a satisfied smile.

“You have a natural draw in your shots, which you should always take into account,” Tamsin said.

Diane nodded. “I’ve missed many a hole-in-one because of it,” she joked.

They worked on Diane’s swing for the rest of the lesson. Tamsin hadn’t taught many lessons at her new club yet, but from the few pupils she’d had, Diane was definitely top of the class. She had a confidence about her that came from having played the game all of her life. Tamsin had also gleaned from the club’s website that Diane had won quite a few club championships, although her winning streak had ended a few years ago.

When they came to the end of their lesson, Diane said, “I couldn’t help but notice when you showed me your calendar the other day that you were due to have a lesson with Debbie Stamp.”

“The woman of the t-word,” Tamsin said, allowing herself this inside joke with Diane—even though it was extremely unprofessional.

Diane nodded, her lips curved into a lopsided grin. “Do you think she’s close to getting her handicap yet?”

Tamsin pursed her lips. “I think it’ll be a while.”

“Good.” They walked to the clubhouse together. “Do you have time for a coffee?” Diane asked.

“When you inadvertently glanced at my calendar, you may have also seen that it’s still quite empty,” Tamsin said. “I have all the time in the world.”

* * *

They sat by one of the large windows overlooking the putting green. Tamsin had chosen coffee, whereas Diane had claimed she deserved a glass of wine after her lesson.

“How long have you been a member here?” Tamsin asked.

“All my life,” Diane said. “My parents were members.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m the one who got Lawrence in and what thanks do I get? Him ushering in his younger model.” Diane took a sip of wine. “I’m sorry, you must think I’m still very bitter about the divorce, while I’m really not.” She lifted a finger. “But I am still very much riled-up about Debbie being allowed to join. Not only because the committee decided against Matthew joining, but also because this club has always been a refuge for me. After my divorce, I came here a lot so that I could forget about the whole mess. For a while, Lawrence felt too guilty to show his face much, what with having turned into such an utter middle-aged cliché.” Diane shrugged. “But now Debbie has invaded this part of my life as well, while all I want to do is pretend she doesn’t exist.”

“That must be hard.” Tamsin wasn’t new to pupils baring their soul to her. When you spent a lot of one-on-one time with someone, it happened quite naturally.

“It is what it is, of course.” Diane leaned back in her chair and stared out of the window. “I’ve no choice but to accept it.”

“If it’s any consolation”—Tamsin leaned over the table—“from what I’ve seen, there’s not much chance Debbie will ever become a great golfer.”

“That is a consolation.” Diane dragged her gaze away from the window. Her grey-blue eyes landed on Tamsin. “Thank you.”

“This is strictly between us, of course,” Tamsin whispered.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Diane narrowed her eyes, as though she was going to say something else, but she must have thought twice about it, because silence fell between them.

“Can you put me in for another lesson for the same time next week?” Diane asked after a while.

“With great pleasure.”

Diane gave her a wide smile. It reminded her about what Ellen had once said about Tamsin’s. Your smile can light up the darkest room.