Page 45 of End Game
When Annie’s name was announced over the loudspeaker, the locals cheered, while the few Germans present politely applauded their opponent.
However, it soon became clear that for Helga, fencing was a blood sport, and twenty-seven minutes later, she had won the best of five bouts, three–nil. The defeated Brit left the floor to polite applause that ceased the moment she disappeared into the changing room.
As the crowd drifted out of the centre, Artemisia remained alone in the press box, her eye fixed on the competitors’ exit. Forty minutes later, a forlorn figure appeared, carrying an Olympic fencer’s bag over her shoulder.
Artemisia left the press box and walked slowly towardsher. ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m a reporter with theDaily Mailand would like to write a profile about you.’
Annie’s look of astonishment rather implied that Artemisia must have got the wrong competitor. Annie reminded her she had just been beaten by the German champion three–nil in the opening round, and her Olympic dream had only lasted twenty-seven minutes.
‘But as Baron de Coubertin told us,’ said Artemisia, ‘the most important thing in the Olympic Games is not winning, but taking part.’
‘In Coubertin’s day, possibly,’ said Annie, ‘but not in 2012. All that matters now is De Coubertin’s other maxim, “Faster, Higher, Stronger”,and I was, to put it mildly, “slower, lower and weaker”.’
‘Why don’t I buy you a coffee,’ said Artemisia sympathetically, ‘and I’ll tell you what I have in mind.’
The cub reporter spent the next hour taking notes about a girl from Wakefield who’d been raised by her single-parent mother, who remained convinced that her daughter would win a medal and return to the north in triumph. ‘Whereas now when I go home,’ said Annie, ‘the town band won’t be waiting to greet me on the platform at our local station.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Artemisia, ‘when the locals read my article, they’ll think Helga was lucky to beat you.’
Annie laughed for the first time, revealing an infectious smile. ‘Let’s hope so,’ she said, ‘because theDaily Mailis my mother’s favourite paper.’
‘I’ll need a photograph,’ said Artemisia, taking a digital camera from her bag.
Annie stood up and gave her the same infectious smile.
‘Perhaps you could take your pass off?’ suggested Artemisia, not missing a beat.
‘Why not?’ said Annie. ‘I’ve no use for it any longer.’ She slipped off her pass and left the cellophane holder on the table, before posing for several more photos.
‘And possibly one of you with the Olympic rings behind you?’ said Artemisia, guiding her quarry back onto the floor. ‘Yes, that’s perfect. Oh, look at the time – I’ll have to rush if I’m going to get my copy in.’ Artemisia began to head towards the exit.
‘Will it be in tomorrow’s paper?’ Annie asked as she chased after her.
‘Let’s hope so,’ said Artemisia, ‘but in the end, it will be my editor who makes that decision.’
Artemisia watched as a more cheerful girl disappeared in the direction of the station.
Once Annie was out of sight, Artemisia rushed back to the ExCel centre. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she said as she showed the ticket collector her press pass. ‘I left some important notes in the press box. I’ll only be a minute.’
He opened the door to allow her in. She ran all the way back to the floor, grabbed Annie’s pass and tucked it into her bag before leaving the centre a second time.
Artemisia took the tube to High Street Kensington and had completed her article by the time she reached theDaily Mail’s offices. She emailed it to the Features desk, along with all the photos she had taken of Annie.
As she looked down at Annie’s pass, she felt a little guilty about the subterfuge, but she hoped Annie and her mother would enjoy the article. Now she just needed to make sure she looked the part.
CHAPTER 15
Saturday, 28 July – day 2 of the Games
BETH DIALLEDWILLIAM’S MOBILEfor the seventh time that day, and finally a familiar voice came on the line.
‘Did you manage to get a good night’s sleep, my darling?’ she asked.
‘Slept like a baby,’ said William. Beth waited for the gag every copper makes when asked that question, ‘Woke every two hours screaming.’
‘Wasn’t the opening ceremony magnificent?’ enthused Beth.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ responded William. ‘I never saw it.’
