Jez's call was filtered through to a fire control operator.

"Can you give me the address please," said the operator in a voice that had been finely-tuned to convey calm and reassurance.

"Pardon?" said Jez, fidgeting with the mobile phone.

"How do we get to the tennis club?" asked the operator, recognising that the caller was in a nervous state.

Jez looked baffled. "Use the fire engine!" he said.

At that moment, Mike came out of the clubhouse and told Jez they'd succeeded in extinguishing the fire and would not require the fire brigade. "Give us a hand to mop up," he said. "How did it happen?"

"I don't know," Jez replied. "I was just standing by the notice board looking at the draw for the tournament and my phone rang. I heard a kind of crackling sound, like a big burst of static, and when I looked up, the notice board was on fire."

"Jez, - " Mike began. He couldn't really believe Jez was stupid enough to set fire to the notice board just because he didn't like the look of the draw, and yet, . . . " - oh, it doesn't matter."

"You think I did it deliberately, don't you?" said Jez. "I don't blame you, I suppose. The funny thing is . . . well, to be perfectly honest, I was thinking what a lousy draw it was. And I did wonder if anyone had a copy of it . . ."

"They don't!" said Mike. "Listen, don't worry about it. They can do another draw. I don't think anyone's seen it yet anyway."

"It's not like I'm ever going to win it anyway!" said Jez, with a self-mocking smile. "I've never won anything in my life!"

Mike's wife, Gill, tried to look sympathetic, but failed miserably. "Perhaps that's just genetic," she said. "Your family any good at sports?"

"Yeah, I come from golfing stock, apparently," he replied. "My grandfather was a county champion or something. I remember a beautiful crystal vase that had his name engraved on it. It was handed down to my mother."

"Really?" asked Mike, "What happened to it?"

"It got handed down to me."

"What did you do with it?"

"I dropped it!" sighed Jez. With that, he picked up his racket, gazed at it pensively for a moment or two and then walked out onto court, spinning it on his finger.

"I don't know what the Crowthers would make of all this, if they were still members!" said Gill, shaking her head. "What that young man needs is a girlfriend!" She deposited the charred draw sheets in the wastepaper basket.

"Mmm. Actually, he's started going out with Tracey," Mike mumbled. "I think what he really needs to do is get rid of that mobile phone. It seems to have caused nothing but trouble."

"He doesn't understand the thing!" said Gill, "Do you remember when he first got it and you called him up, and he was absolutely flabbergasted . . ."

"Oh yes!" Mike laughed. "He asked me how I knew he was in MacDonalds!"