Smash! (7 page)

CHAPTER 4

The game went on for hour after hour. By the time they reached the twelfth hole, Bertie felt like they’d been playing for days.

Royston climbed out of his buggy. “You’re lucky we’re only four up!” he boasted.

“Up where?” asked Bertie.

“Four holes ahead, stupid,” said Royston. “And there’s only six holes left to play.”

Six holes! Bertie didn’t think he could bear it. He had walked about a hundred miles. He’d hunted in woods, poked in bushes and slipped over in a muddy stream. The Riches meanwhile had sailed round the course in their golf buggy. Royston was now at the wheel and he zoomed off as if he was driving a Ferrari.

Mr Rich placed his ball. “Winner goes first, so that’s me again,” he said.

PLINK!

The ball rose into the air – another perfect drive down the middle.

PLUNK!

Dad’s ball skidded left and vanished into the long grass. He groaned.

“Oh dear! Looks like it’s just not your day,” chuckled Mr Rich.

Dad stomped off to look for his ball.

Let’s face it, we’re going to lose,
thought Bertie. CRASH! The trolley tipped over for the hundredth time, dumping the clubs on the grass. Bertie sighed and stood it up.
Wait a minute, what was this in the zip pocket?
Loads of golf balls! Why hadn’t Dad mentioned this before? They could have saved so much time!

Bertie took one of the balls and dropped it on a patch of grass.

“Dad! Over here!” he yelled.

Dad came hurrying back.

“Is that my ball?” he frowned.

“Of course. I just found it,” said Bertie.

Dad scratched his head. ‘That’s odd, I thought it went over there. Still, I’m not complaining.”

He hit a shot, which bounced three times and rolled on to the green.

Maurice Rich looked like he might die of shock. Dad putted his ball and went on to win the hole.

At the next hole Mr Rich seemed a little on edge. He gripped his club and drew it back.

“Is that a lake?” asked Bertie, pointing to the right.

Mr Rich lowered his club. “I was just about to play,” he snapped.

“Oh sorry, go on,” said Bertie.

Mr Rich swung his club back again…

“Only I was just wondering, do they have lakes in golf?” asked Bertie.

“YES, IT’S A LAKE!” said Mr Rich through gritted teeth.

“What happens if your ball goes in?” asked Bertie.

“You take an extra shot and have to play again,” snarled Mr Rich. “Now if you will please BE QUIET…”

Mr Rich swung. The ball sliced to the right and landed in the lake with a plop.

Dad grinned. “Bad luck, old man!” he said.

Bertie decided that golf only made people bad-tempered. It certainly had that effect on Mr Rich. One of his shots hit a tree. He covered himself in sand trying to hit his ball out of a bunker. When he missed a putt he yelled at Royston for breathing too loudly. The next three holes all went to Bertie’s dad.

When they reached the final hole the scores were level. But Mr Rich hadn’t finished. He hit a perfect shot, which
came to rest ten paces from the flag. Dad’s shot landed a little short of the green.

Royston gave Bertie a look of triumph. One good putt and the game was theirs. Royston zoomed past and parked his golf buggy on the slope above the green.

Mr Rich stood over his ball.

“This is to win the match then,” he said smugly.

Bertie wasn’t watching. “Mr Rich!” he said.

“Not now!” snapped Mr Rich.

“But I think you…”

“WILL YOU SHUT UP!” growled Mr Rich.

He drew his club slowly back.

PLOCK!

The ball rolled straight towards the hole. It might have got there but for one thing – Royston had left the brake off the golf buggy. It was bumping down the slope on to the green. It picked up speed, heading straight for Mr Rich’s ball.

“NO! STOP IT!” screeched Mr Rich. “STOP…”

CRUNCH!

The ball was squashed under the front wheel. To play it Mr Rich would have needed a shovel.

“ROYSTON, YOU IDIOT!” he roared, his face purple.

Twenty minutes later Bertie and Dad were enjoying the All-Day Breakfast at the golf-club restaurant. Mr Rich’s thirty pound bet was paying the bill.