Take It All
Chapter 1
At the top of the toss, the ball paused, weightless. Rosie’s arm propelled her racquet up and over the ball, sending it speeding into the service box.
Pop.
Andy blocked the ball back over the net.
The ball landed mid-court, feet carrying Rosie to the ball, making small adjustments the entire way, her body knowing where to place her. She sent a forehand crosscourt, right into Andy’s strikezone. She closed fast to the net, knowing Andy would see her movement.
His ball shot down the line, but Rosie was there, racquet out and ready. She knocked the ball into the open court, the backspin killing the ball as soon as it touched the grass.
“YES!” she exclaimed, first clenched.
“That serve…” Andy said, gathering the ball from the back of the court.
“It’s feeling good today,” she said, stopping the ball Andy passed to her.
She returned to the baseline, her shoes stepping into the stance she’d been stepping into since she was four-years-old. It felt familiar, it felt ordinary, it felt good.
She looked across the net to Andy, his racquet spinning between both his hand. He was ready to receive.
“15-30,” she announced.
One bounce.
Another one.
One more.
She tossed the ball up. Another serve. It hit the middle of the box, going straight for the body.
Andy moved around it, sending a looping backhand down the line.
Rosie stalked it, waiting for the ball to bounce. She set up and shot the ball cross court. Recovering back to the center, she stayed light on her feet. Andy was on the run, all he could do was slap a forehand over the net.
They entered into their first rally of the day. Sixteen balls exchanged before Andy rocketed a winner passed Rosie.
“Damn it,” she said.
The score was now 15-40, and she would need to win this to make it onto the scoreboard.
Reset at baseline.
Serve.
It skidded down the middle and right past Andy’s racquet as he tried to get his racquet on it.
“Out,” he said, placing his index finger out.
“Was not,” Rosie challenged.
“Yes.”
“No,” Rosie said, walking to the net, hand on her hip. “The chalk flew up, Andy.”
Andy grinned, toothy and wide. “I know, Rose. I’m just messing, good serve. 30-40.”
Rosie turned his back to him, shaking her head. She would go on to win this game, making it 1-3. They carried on, battling. Soon it was 5-4, Andy.
“Serving for the set and hometown glory, Andy Murray, ranked No. 4 in the world,” Andy announced.
“Hometown glory!?” Rosie exclaimed.
“I am the pride of Great Britain, Rosie, so…yes…hometown glory.”
Rosie laughed. Growing up, Andy was the pride of Great Britain. Now, some years into their professional careers, Rosie had become the pride of Great Britain with more grand slam titles than Andy. She having four trophies to his zero.
“Get on with it,” she said, settling into her return position.
Andy went into his service routine. Rosie watched him bounce the ball three perfect times, before sending it into the air.
She stepped into his serve, taking it early and rocketing a return down the line and entirely out of Andy’s reach.
“Ok, Mr. No. 4 in the world,” she muttered loudly enough for him to hear.
Andy smirked. “0-15.”
The next point started and as they entered into what would be the longest rally they had played since they were teenagers, both Rosie and Andy were unaware of the small audience they had attracted.
Rosie’s legs were fatigued, Andy had her on the run from one side of the court to the other. It was a baseline battle. He hit a slice crosscourt, Rosie returned it with the same. Another slice back, then another slice from her.
One more slice from Andy, landed short, Rosie ran to meet it, arm out, targeting the ball, and she propelled an inside-out forehand to the ad-side of the court.
Andy got to it and returned with a backhand crosscourt.
An exchange of crosscourt backhands continued, the stronger side for both players. Rosie felt the uneasiness of pressure, of waning patience rise into her chest. Who was going to make the error first?
Andy stepped into his shot, brought is racquet back and aggressively forward through the ball. Rosie watched it come off his racquet, she hovered close to the baseline, watching it spinning towards her, then landing…landing right passed the baseline.
Both knew it was out, Rosie didn’t have to announce it. The two players stood quiet, staring at each other, attempting to catch their breath, amazed at what had just been created between them.
Applause came from the side of the court. Rosie and Andy turned to the noise and saw four people. Andy’s mother Judy was accompanied by the unmistakable Prince Harry, Prince William, and his wife Kate.
“Mum?” Andy asked, face clouded with confusion.
“Yes, it’s me,” she said. Judy’s hands were clasped behind her back. “Impressive point.”
Rosie grinned and looked at Andy, who only nodded.
“Score?” Judy asked.
“5-4, Andy. 30-Love, me,” Rosie said.
Judy gave an appreciative head bob. “May we come on?”
Both players nodded their permission. Rosie met Andy at the net, watching the young royals follow Judy onto the Wimbledon practice courts.
All three were sure-footed on the grass, confident in their steps, and dressed very casually in jeans.
A chorus of “Hellos” rang out as tennis players and royals greeted each other. Rosie shook Prince William’s hand first, polite as always, complimenting her on her playing just now.
Kate was next. Her hand was thin and delicate in Rosie’s, and she wondered for a moment if she had squeezed Kate’s hand too hard.
“That was fantastic,” Kate said, face expressive and obviously pleased to have seen such high-quality tennis on the Wimbledon practice courts weeks out from the tournament. “I’ve never seen anything like it before!”
“Thank you,” Rosie said, laughing.
“Do Andy and you play together often?” she asked.
“When we can, more when we’re home. It’s hard because we’re on the road so much, but more than a handful of times each year.”
“You looked evenly matched out there,” Kate said.
“Judy taught both of us to play, so we know each others’ games. Despite him being obviously a guy,” Rosie said, rolling her eyes, “and being physically stronger, it makes me use tactics to win instead of power. So it’s good practice.”
“Good practice, for sure. I’ve followed your career for a while, you’ve been impressive this year.”
“Thank you. And, how about you, how’s married life? Celebrated your first anniversary not too long ago, right?” Rosie asked.
Kate nodded with a smile. “It’s been lovely, fun, a bit stressful getting used to the job.”
Rosie could see Prince Harry hovering in her periphery, wanting to introduce himself to her. Kate noticed him, and pulled him into their conversation.
“Rosie, this is Harry. Harry, this is Rosie Savage.”
“Oh, yeah,” Rosie nodded, shaking his hand. It engulfed hers entirely. “We’ve met before.”
Harry laughed. “A few times.”
“Zara’s wedding most recently,” Rosie said.
“Yes, I remember. Nice to see you again,” he said.
“Same,” she said, tucking her racquet underneath her arm. “I’m not sure if it’s rude to ask, but what are you guys doing here…now, when the tournament’s two weeks away?”
Kate livened up, hands beginning to explain before her words. “Visiting, touring the grounds, which is most exciting. The locker room is beautiful, by the way. This whole place is beautiful.”
Rosie laughed, enjoying how much of a fan Kate was of the sport, her sport.
“We’re here,” Harry said, “because the three of us have been named ambassadors for Team GB.”
“Oh, for that little event coming up?” Rosie sported an impish grin, referring to the London Olympics, starting a month after Wimbledon.
“Yes, that little event,” he said, referring to the London Olympics, starting a month after Wimbledon.
“We’re really excited,” Prince William said, seamlessly joining their conversation. “And it was luck coming across the two of you, and Judy, who graciously volunteered to show us around.”
Judy waved William’s compliment away. “Please, it was nothing at all. From one fan of tennis to another, it has been a pleasure.”
“We expected the place to be dead this far from the tournament,” Kate said.
“Yes, well,” Rosie shrugged, “When you lose in the early round of a warm up tournament, nothing is better than to come to Wimbledon straight away.”
Andy laughed bitterly at the reminder of his second round loss at Queen’s Club. “Nothing better,” he muttered.
“Good thing to come early too,” Judy said. “The press doesn’t get here til next week.”
“Dodged a bullet,” Harry muttered.
“We should really let you two get back to it, shouldn’t we?” William said.
Andy looked sideways at Rosie. “I suppose, seeing as how I was about to win.”
Rosie pushed him away from her. “We’ll see.”
They said their goodbyes, and Andy and Rosie watched as the royals followed Judy up the walkway, towards Centre Court.
“Casual,” Rosie shrugged, struggling to hide her smile.
Andy pursed his lips, nodding. “Casual.”
Laughter followed, as they read each others’ thoughts. How unusual it was to have an unscheduled run-in with members of the royal family, and yet, how easy and free the conversation had been between them all.
Pop.
Andy blocked the ball back over the net.
The ball landed mid-court, feet carrying Rosie to the ball, making small adjustments the entire way, her body knowing where to place her. She sent a forehand crosscourt, right into Andy’s strikezone. She closed fast to the net, knowing Andy would see her movement.
His ball shot down the line, but Rosie was there, racquet out and ready. She knocked the ball into the open court, the backspin killing the ball as soon as it touched the grass.
“YES!” she exclaimed, first clenched.
“That serve…” Andy said, gathering the ball from the back of the court.
“It’s feeling good today,” she said, stopping the ball Andy passed to her.
She returned to the baseline, her shoes stepping into the stance she’d been stepping into since she was four-years-old. It felt familiar, it felt ordinary, it felt good.
She looked across the net to Andy, his racquet spinning between both his hand. He was ready to receive.
“15-30,” she announced.
One bounce.
Another one.
One more.
She tossed the ball up. Another serve. It hit the middle of the box, going straight for the body.
Andy moved around it, sending a looping backhand down the line.
Rosie stalked it, waiting for the ball to bounce. She set up and shot the ball cross court. Recovering back to the center, she stayed light on her feet. Andy was on the run, all he could do was slap a forehand over the net.
They entered into their first rally of the day. Sixteen balls exchanged before Andy rocketed a winner passed Rosie.
“Damn it,” she said.
The score was now 15-40, and she would need to win this to make it onto the scoreboard.
Reset at baseline.
Serve.
It skidded down the middle and right past Andy’s racquet as he tried to get his racquet on it.
“Out,” he said, placing his index finger out.
“Was not,” Rosie challenged.
“Yes.”
“No,” Rosie said, walking to the net, hand on her hip. “The chalk flew up, Andy.”
Andy grinned, toothy and wide. “I know, Rose. I’m just messing, good serve. 30-40.”
Rosie turned his back to him, shaking her head. She would go on to win this game, making it 1-3. They carried on, battling. Soon it was 5-4, Andy.
“Serving for the set and hometown glory, Andy Murray, ranked No. 4 in the world,” Andy announced.
“Hometown glory!?” Rosie exclaimed.
“I am the pride of Great Britain, Rosie, so…yes…hometown glory.”
Rosie laughed. Growing up, Andy was the pride of Great Britain. Now, some years into their professional careers, Rosie had become the pride of Great Britain with more grand slam titles than Andy. She having four trophies to his zero.
“Get on with it,” she said, settling into her return position.
Andy went into his service routine. Rosie watched him bounce the ball three perfect times, before sending it into the air.
She stepped into his serve, taking it early and rocketing a return down the line and entirely out of Andy’s reach.
“Ok, Mr. No. 4 in the world,” she muttered loudly enough for him to hear.
Andy smirked. “0-15.”
The next point started and as they entered into what would be the longest rally they had played since they were teenagers, both Rosie and Andy were unaware of the small audience they had attracted.
Rosie’s legs were fatigued, Andy had her on the run from one side of the court to the other. It was a baseline battle. He hit a slice crosscourt, Rosie returned it with the same. Another slice back, then another slice from her.
One more slice from Andy, landed short, Rosie ran to meet it, arm out, targeting the ball, and she propelled an inside-out forehand to the ad-side of the court.
Andy got to it and returned with a backhand crosscourt.
An exchange of crosscourt backhands continued, the stronger side for both players. Rosie felt the uneasiness of pressure, of waning patience rise into her chest. Who was going to make the error first?
Andy stepped into his shot, brought is racquet back and aggressively forward through the ball. Rosie watched it come off his racquet, she hovered close to the baseline, watching it spinning towards her, then landing…landing right passed the baseline.
Both knew it was out, Rosie didn’t have to announce it. The two players stood quiet, staring at each other, attempting to catch their breath, amazed at what had just been created between them.
Applause came from the side of the court. Rosie and Andy turned to the noise and saw four people. Andy’s mother Judy was accompanied by the unmistakable Prince Harry, Prince William, and his wife Kate.
“Mum?” Andy asked, face clouded with confusion.
“Yes, it’s me,” she said. Judy’s hands were clasped behind her back. “Impressive point.”
Rosie grinned and looked at Andy, who only nodded.
“Score?” Judy asked.
“5-4, Andy. 30-Love, me,” Rosie said.
Judy gave an appreciative head bob. “May we come on?”
Both players nodded their permission. Rosie met Andy at the net, watching the young royals follow Judy onto the Wimbledon practice courts.
All three were sure-footed on the grass, confident in their steps, and dressed very casually in jeans.
A chorus of “Hellos” rang out as tennis players and royals greeted each other. Rosie shook Prince William’s hand first, polite as always, complimenting her on her playing just now.
Kate was next. Her hand was thin and delicate in Rosie’s, and she wondered for a moment if she had squeezed Kate’s hand too hard.
“That was fantastic,” Kate said, face expressive and obviously pleased to have seen such high-quality tennis on the Wimbledon practice courts weeks out from the tournament. “I’ve never seen anything like it before!”
“Thank you,” Rosie said, laughing.
“Do Andy and you play together often?” she asked.
“When we can, more when we’re home. It’s hard because we’re on the road so much, but more than a handful of times each year.”
“You looked evenly matched out there,” Kate said.
“Judy taught both of us to play, so we know each others’ games. Despite him being obviously a guy,” Rosie said, rolling her eyes, “and being physically stronger, it makes me use tactics to win instead of power. So it’s good practice.”
“Good practice, for sure. I’ve followed your career for a while, you’ve been impressive this year.”
“Thank you. And, how about you, how’s married life? Celebrated your first anniversary not too long ago, right?” Rosie asked.
Kate nodded with a smile. “It’s been lovely, fun, a bit stressful getting used to the job.”
Rosie could see Prince Harry hovering in her periphery, wanting to introduce himself to her. Kate noticed him, and pulled him into their conversation.
“Rosie, this is Harry. Harry, this is Rosie Savage.”
“Oh, yeah,” Rosie nodded, shaking his hand. It engulfed hers entirely. “We’ve met before.”
Harry laughed. “A few times.”
“Zara’s wedding most recently,” Rosie said.
“Yes, I remember. Nice to see you again,” he said.
“Same,” she said, tucking her racquet underneath her arm. “I’m not sure if it’s rude to ask, but what are you guys doing here…now, when the tournament’s two weeks away?”
Kate livened up, hands beginning to explain before her words. “Visiting, touring the grounds, which is most exciting. The locker room is beautiful, by the way. This whole place is beautiful.”
Rosie laughed, enjoying how much of a fan Kate was of the sport, her sport.
“We’re here,” Harry said, “because the three of us have been named ambassadors for Team GB.”
“Oh, for that little event coming up?” Rosie sported an impish grin, referring to the London Olympics, starting a month after Wimbledon.
“Yes, that little event,” he said, referring to the London Olympics, starting a month after Wimbledon.
“We’re really excited,” Prince William said, seamlessly joining their conversation. “And it was luck coming across the two of you, and Judy, who graciously volunteered to show us around.”
Judy waved William’s compliment away. “Please, it was nothing at all. From one fan of tennis to another, it has been a pleasure.”
“We expected the place to be dead this far from the tournament,” Kate said.
“Yes, well,” Rosie shrugged, “When you lose in the early round of a warm up tournament, nothing is better than to come to Wimbledon straight away.”
Andy laughed bitterly at the reminder of his second round loss at Queen’s Club. “Nothing better,” he muttered.
“Good thing to come early too,” Judy said. “The press doesn’t get here til next week.”
“Dodged a bullet,” Harry muttered.
“We should really let you two get back to it, shouldn’t we?” William said.
Andy looked sideways at Rosie. “I suppose, seeing as how I was about to win.”
Rosie pushed him away from her. “We’ll see.”
They said their goodbyes, and Andy and Rosie watched as the royals followed Judy up the walkway, towards Centre Court.
“Casual,” Rosie shrugged, struggling to hide her smile.
Andy pursed his lips, nodding. “Casual.”
Laughter followed, as they read each others’ thoughts. How unusual it was to have an unscheduled run-in with members of the royal family, and yet, how easy and free the conversation had been between them all.