‘What if you hadn’t been picked for the team?’ she asked, unable to take her eyes off the small, sparkling diamond on the third finger of her left hand.
‘I’d have whisked you off to England and sunk the Weymouth ferry,’ said Robin without hesitation.
Diana laughed. ‘So, what are my champion’s plans for conquering the old guard who make up the committee of the Royal Jersey?’
‘They’ve granted me an interview next month,’ he told her, ‘so we’ll soon find out if we’re going to spend the rest of our lives in St Helier or Southend-on-Sea.’
‘Don’t forget that only one in three people who apply for full membership even get on to the waiting list,’ Diana reminded him.
Robin smiled. ‘Possibly so, but with Lord Trent as my proposer, and your brother as my seconder, I must have a better than one-in-three chance.’
‘So that’s why you asked me to marry you,’ Diana said, still staring at her ring.
When the appointed hour came for Robin to appear before the committee, he admitted to Diana that he had never been so nervous, even though everyone seated on the other side of the table seemed to smile whenever he answered their undemanding questions, and nods of approval greeted the Englishman’s detailed knowledge of the life of Harry Vardon.
Ten days later, Robin received a letter from the club secretary to say that his application had been successful and his name would be placed on the waiting list.
‘The waiting list?’ said Robin in frustration. ‘How long do they expect me to hang about before I become a member?’
‘My brother warned me,’ said Diana, ‘that if you weren’t born on the island, it usually takes ten to fifteen years.’
‘Ten to fifteen years?’ repeated Robin in disgust, before adding, ‘Lord Trent wasn’t born on the island.’
‘True,’ said Diana, ‘but at the time the committee was looking for a new president, preferably with a title, so they made him an honorary life member.’
‘And are there any other honorary life members?’
‘Only Harry Vardon,’ replied Diana.
‘Well, I’m no Harry Vardon,’ said Robin.
‘There’s one other way you could automatically become a life member,’ said Diana.
‘And what’s that?’ said Robin eagerly.
‘Win the President’s Cup.’
‘But I was knocked out in the second round last year,’ Robin reminded her. ‘In any case, your brother’s in a different class to me.’
‘Just make sure you get to the final this year,’ said Diana. ‘I’ll fix my brother.’
Robin and Diana were married at the local parish church later that summer. The vicar agreed to conduct the ceremony on a Sunday, but only because the Royal Jersey had a crucial match against Rye on the Saturday.
Robin’s father, mother and brother had travelled over on the ferry from Southampton earlier in the week, and they spent a happy few days getting to know Diana. Long before the day of the wedding, Sybil fully understood why her son had wanted to return to Jersey after one dance. When the bride walked down the aisle, she found that the ceremony was so well attended that extra chairs had been placed at the back of the church.
Mr and Mrs Chapman left the parish church of St Helier as man and wife, to be greeted with a shower of confetti thrown by Diana’s friends, while two rows of young men in RJGC blazers held up golf clubs to form an arch all the way to their waiting car.
The reception was held at the Royal Jersey, where Malcolm delivered such an accomplished best-man’s speech that it came as no surprise to Robin that Chapman’s of Southend continued to flourish in his absence.
Lord Trent rose to reply on behalf of the guests. He let slip the worst-kept secret on the island when he told everyone that the newly-weds would be sailing around the French coast on his yacht for their honeymoon, but only for ten days, because Robin needed to be back in time for the first round of the President’s Cup. Diana couldn’t be sure if he was joking.
When Mr and Mrs Chapman sailed into St Helier ten days later, the skipper informed Lord Trent that Robin had turned out to be such a good sailor that he had allowed him to take the wheel whenever he needed a break.
The following day, Robin was knocked out in the first round of the President’s Cup.
Robin and Diana quickly settled into their new home on the seafront, and for the first time since he’d arrived in Jersey, Robin had to walk to work. Eleven months later, Diana gave birth to a boy whom they christened Harry.
‘Will you do anything to become a member of that damned club?’ Diana asked her husband as she sat in the hospital bed surrounded by flowers and cards from well-wishers.
‘Anything,’ replied Robin, picking up the sleeping baby.
‘Well, I have one piece of information that might speed up the process,’ said Diana, smiling.
‘And what’s that?’ asked Robin, handing the suddenly screaming infant back to its mother.
‘My brother tells me that the St Helier lifeboat is looking for a new crew member, and as you spent more time at the helm of Lord Trent’s yacht than you did in our cabin, you must be an obvious candidate.’
‘And how will that help me get elected to the Royal Jersey?’ enquired Robin.
‘Guess who’s president of the RNLI?’ said Diana coyly.
The day after Robin failed to make the third round of that year’s President’s Cup, he filled in an application form to join the crew of the lifeboat.
Robin’s interview for a place in the lifeboat turned out to be not so much a meeting as an endurance test. John Poynton, the coxswain, put all the applicants through a series of rigorous trials to make sure only the most resilient would want to return a week later.
Robin couldn’t wait to get home and tell Diana how much he’d enjoyed the whole experience, the camaraderie of the crew, the chance to learn new skills and, most important, the opportunity to do something worthwhile. He only hoped the coxswain would take his application seriously, despite his lack of experience.
When the time came for Mr Poynton to select his new crew member, he unhesitatingly placed a tick by one name, telling his bosun that young Chapman was such a natural he wouldn’t be surprised if the man could walk on water.
As the weeks passed, Robin found himself enjoying being tested by the rigorous drills the crew were put through on the high seas. Whenever the klaxon sounded, the crew were expected to drop everything and report to the boathouse within ten minutes. Robin could never be sure if it would be just another dry run, or if this time they would be going to the aid of someone who was genuinely in distress. The coxswain regularly reminded his crew that all the hours of hard work would prove worthwhile when someone called for their assistance, and only then would they discover which of them could handle the pressure.
It was the middle of the night when the klaxon sounded, waking everyone within a mile of the boathouse. Robin leapt out of bed in the middle of a dream, just as he was taking a putt to win the President’s Cup. He switched on the light and quickly got dressed.
‘Off to see your other girlfriend?’ enquired Diana, turning over.
‘All eight of them,’ Robin replied. ‘But let’s hope I’ll be back in time for breakfast.’
‘You’ll be back,’ said Diana. ‘After all, it’s the final of the President’s Cup on Saturday, and as you’re playing my brother, you may never have a better chance of winning.’
‘I beat him in my dream,’ said Robin as he picked up his bicycle clips.
‘In your dreams,’ said Diana, smiling.
Robin was pedalling frantically through the empty streets when the klaxon sounded a second time. He pedalled even harder.