Page 129 of The Blind Date

“Yes!” The three of us cheered.

Yasmin was up next. After her husband had just made the shot rather easily, she looked a little more confident than she did before. She even paused to send Jenny Wheeler a pointed look as she had been the only one from the opposing team to need more than 10 shots to make this one.

“Don’t act so confident, Mum,” Cedric exhaled under his breath. “You can rub it in their faces as much as you want after you take your turn.”

Yasmin finally turned around. She held her club in position and eyed the sharp blades of the windmills as they turned. She swung the club back and when she released it, we watched the club hit the ball and send it flying. She needed 4 hits to make it through the windmills, and she finished the course 2 par over at 9.

When Yasmin turned around to join her team, the unhappy expression on her face spoke volumes. She wasn’t happy about being 2 over as it left even less wiggle room for my parents who were yet to take their turn.

"It could have been so much worse," I murmured. "I can't begin to imagine just how nerve-wracking that must be, having to take the shot with hundreds of pairs of eyes on her."

“They still have a chance.” Cedric squeezed my hand, looking just as nervous as I felt. “Your parents need to finish it with 13 between them to draw, and 12 to win. It’ll be hard, but it’s not impossible.”

Dad went next. Similar to Alfie, he made it through the windmills easily with two hits but struggled on the zig-zag part of the course before finishing his turn at 6 hits for the 7-par hole.

We all jumped to our feet to celebrate the great shot.

"They’re going to do it! They’re going to win!" Cillian cheered.

Cedric quickly did the math. “Clarke needs to do it in 6 or less to win.”

I frowned. “It’ll be hard, but it’s not impossible. What happens in the case of a draw? Penalties?”

“This is golf, not football,” Cillian laughed. “A draw would be so anti-climactic.”

The conversation was quick to die when Mum stepped forward. Knowing that the result of the entire game rested on her shoulders was a lot of pressure, and I could see it on her face.

“This is it,” I whispered, having a hard time resisting the urge to bite my nails in angst. “6 shots or less, and they win.”

“Your mum has made the most improvement out of the four of them. If anyone can do it, it’s her,” Cillian whistled under his breath, his eyes set on the abnormally large gold trophy for an amateur golfing competition. “I can’t wait to see the looks on the Wheeler-Jones’ faces when they don’t get to take the trophy home this year.”

“It’s so big. I have no idea where my parents are going to put it,” Cedric chuckled and turned to me. “What about your parents? Where are they going to put it when they win?”

"It's too tall to go anywhere, but I wouldn't be surprised if my dad puts it next to the fireplace or somewhere central. Either way, it's going to look hideous in their house." I pulled a face at the thought.

“I can’t wait to go see what they do with it,” he laughed. “And you’ll have to do the same when my parents have it.”

"They certainly won't have any objections against it," Cillian joked. "In their minds, the two of you are married already. Sharing a trophy is only the icing on the cake after you two have tied the families together.”

Surprisingly, I felt warm and fuzzy inside instead of being freaked out by the notion. When Cedric squeezed my hand and leaned over to press his lips against my temple, I knew he felt the same way.

“Look.” I gestured to the field. “She’s about to take her shot.”

Like everyone else in the crowd, the three of us held our breaths. I watched as Mum nervously chewed on her bottom lip, squinting her eyes slightly as she eyed the treacherous windmills that seemed to have started spinning faster even though that obviously wasn’t the case.

Mum pulled back her club and mock hit the ball, testing her swing. Satisfied, she reared it back for real and hit the ball with impressive power.

Silence filled the field as we all followed the golf ball. It quickly travelled up the ramp…and then ricocheted off the first windmill when it hit a blade. A collective curse ran through the crowd.

“Come on, Mum! You can still do it!” I cupped my mouth and yelled.

“You’ve got this in the bag, Clarke!” Cedric did the same. “Don’t worry about it. Just give it another shot.”

I wasn’t sure if Mum had heard us at first, but the pressure melting off her face was answer enough.

She timed another swing and this time, the ball made it through all three windmills in one shot. My eyes were wide and focused as they followed the ball through the zig-zag maze to the hole and in my concentration, I forgot to count how many times she hit the ball.

I turned to Cedric with wide eyes. “I didn’t count!”

---