Page 70 of Hit For Six
Lola blinked hardat the vision running towards her. It couldn’t be! And yet somehow it was. Monty Beauchamp-Carmichael, dressed in a purple suit with gold trim. He looked like a Quality Street! What the heck was going on? Sometimes cricketers got dolled up for award ceremonies in crisp white suits and the like. But purple and gold? It was a bit blimming theatrical. She couldn’t believe that he was heading for London too, that he’d just missed the train.
Tears welled in Lola’s eyes as she pressed her face to the window until Monty became a small purple dot. Just like they had on the bus that evening. But she’d made her mind up for good. No going back. This shock coincidence, and the likelihood of him taking the next train in half an hour’s time, didn’t change that. Okay, she would have to return to Bath after this week of cat sitting for another fluffball. But there would be no more putting herself through horrendously belittling ordeals. This summer had served up enough of them. Lola and Monty were through.
As the changing landscape rolled by, she tried not to wonder what would have happened if Monty had got on the same train; if he’d ended up sitting in the same carriage, if the spare seat next to her might have been destined for him, since, so far, nobody else had taken it. Thankfully, the Great Western tea trolley wheeled down the aisle and she was so cross with herself for fantasising about these Sliding Doors possibilities that she ended up buying another of their bone-dry flapjacks and a powdery hot chocolate to help it go down.
They pulled into Reading. People got off, people got on. But after ten minutes of waiting at the station, it was clear there was a problem. Lola was intrigued to see the guard pointing continuously at the top of the train. A couple of his colleagues came over to size up the issue. And now the driver was joining in, too. Great. They’d broken down, apparently. She’d need to get on one of those agonisingly slow replacement buses to finish the journey to London. Fumiko’s cousin, Isamu, had already been let down at the last minute by his regular cat sitter who’d taken on a better paying opportunity in Cornwall. At this rate, Lola would be late for the handover and the extra cash was too much to let slip through her fingers, especially since she’d emailed Harry her notice this morning. Lola needed everything to run smoothly during this week in London. She had so many plans to set up further meetings with the theatres she’d already spoken to, plus all of the others on her radar, and a heap of hotels. If she was being honest with herself, she could see herself living there too. Not just for a fresh start but because the heart of her business was based in the capital. She could still flit between London and Bath to check on her parents. If there was one thing she’d learnt since yesterday, it was that no matter how much she loved her mum and dad, it was time to start putting herself first.
Five more minutes ticked by, then ten. Lola stifled a scream and decided to venture out onto the platform, copying some of her fellow passengers. Not that she knew how to fix a train, but somebody outside must have an inkling of what was going on, and, because of that, everybody’s fate.
But when she alighted and turned to look at the hiccup, she found herself gasping, first in disbelief, and then in a quiet kind of delight. What if… this was a sign?
Of all the moments in time for a little ginger cat to stubbornly curl itself up in a cosy ball on top of a train, purring away contentedly, in no rush to get down, not giving a damn if itdelayed everybody’s travel plans! Somehow Lola Smith knew this Squiffy lookalike was trying to tell her something. Now she had to quickly figure out what.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Monty
It was allwell and good having grand romantic plans, as if he was a movie star in a production where everything just happened to seamlessly fall into place, but this was life, and Monty Beauchamp-Carmichael was merely a T20 cricketer and a temporary cat dad. It was also London. In other words, Paddington station was six times the size of Bath Spa, and he’d rather forgotten that. What did he expect? That Lola would be holding up a giant placard declaring her love? Even if she did acknowledge him, she’d likely run a mile. And who could blame her? His father had unequivocally terrified her.
He could only hope that Squiffy was his lucky charm. If the sight of them together didn’t melt Lola’s heart, then nothing ever could and Monty would have to accept that it really was over. He’d move to London. He couldn’t handle bumping into her in Bath. London would make sense where his training was concerned and it had the added advantage of putting the miles between him and his parents, Joanna and ‘Jules’. His apartment would sell faster than a Mitchell Starc bouncer at The Waca. Aunt Sal, Saskia and co could come to visit in the holidays.
Monty scuttled past a group of middle-aged women who started giggling at his appearance, until they saw a little marmalade cat being wheeled along behind him andawedso loudly, it reverberated through the station, causing heads to turn and people to run after him with mobile phones. Great, now he had a whole new fanbase.
He tried to bat them off, but it was hopeless without his trusty Kookaburra. Now it was impossible to think with all thischaos trailing behind him and everybody fawning over Squiffy. Monty did a three-sixty turn, his eyes landing on the taxi sign, and suddenly he remembered his first idea upon arriving at the station. He headed outside, crossing his fingers that the queue would encompass dozens of the last hour’s arrivals. The crowd followed behind him in fascination. Evidently none of these people had ever been to Glastonbury– the town or the festival. Monty was hardly dressed in wings and a cape riding a broomstick with a pet salamanca snapping at his heels, or whatever daily equivalent was en vogue in the UK’s quirkiest place.
But after a deft scour of the lengthy line, Monty could only rake a hand through his hair in desperation. Lola was nowhere to be found. He wheeled Squiffy back inside the building. What if she was meeting somebody inside? Where was the most likely rendez-vous point? Monty slapped his forehead. Could there have been a more obvious answer? He upped his pace, desperate to lose his new friends, who seemed to have recruited yet more followers, and made his way to the Paddington Bear statue. Everyone huddled around Monty, documenting his actions next to the oblivious bear as he panned the area, searching for a flash of Lola.
Resignedly, Monty shifted his gaze back to Paddington, who was more concerned about scarfing his marmalade sandwich. Surely he could give him a clue! Monty wheeled Squiffy closer in the vain hope of some animal magic. But the bronze sculpture simply gazed to Monty’s left. Which was Paddington’s right… Aka the Eastbourne Terrace.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Lola
Lola felt likeshe was in a Richard Curtis movie when she spotted Monty at six p.m. On the dot. Beneath Paddington station’s Real Time Clock. That was surprising enough but on further inspection, he had a very familiar cat in his charge. And to top all this surreality off, both man and moggie were surrounded by an expectant crowd, with people eagerly poised to capture something intriguing on their mobile phones. What was going on?
Slowly, Lola approached the scene as Monty caught sight of her and his jaw dropped. And then all of him dropped… down on one knee. Lola’s heart hammered.She absolutely loved him.She’d known for a while now, that awareness turning all-consuming on the bus journey to the station. But a proposal was just a little too soon– even taking yesterday’s drama out of the equation. Oh, god. How to handle this with all these eager faces longing to witness something beautiful– through the lenses of their cameras? Seriously though, was there really no escaping a screen when she was in this man’s presence? Or a crowd, come to think of it? Although, this one did seem a bit kinder than the Bath Beasts brigade.
Monty looked vulnerable down there on the pavement. And incredibly hot. No other male could rock purple like this. Okay, no other living male. Prince was the exception to that rule. But not even Prince had come with an adorable cat. Lola stopped walking and everyone held their breath. She had no clue where their path would take them from this moment on. If she was brave enough and adept enough to phrase things in such a waythat they could pick up where they’d left off.Was that even sensible?
But as she blinked away the tears in her eyes, she realised they were so full of joy that there was only one answer to this dilemma. Let the haters continue to hate. Somehow Lola also knew that love would equally, and surely, conquer all. She moved closer to Monty, no longer trying to block out the onlookers. They were part of the story. Lola wasn’t about to break out in song and dance but for once she would take to this makeshift stage, switching places with the audience, embracing her moment in the spotlight.
‘You’ve hit me for six, Lola Smith,’ Monty’s voice was that irresistible whisky on the rocks. The timbre that turned her legs to jelly, and other parts of her to descriptions that were deeply unsuitable in front of all these people and a cat. ‘I was wondering if you would do me the honour of… accompanying me to watch SIX tonight? For your sixth time and my first? In a box?’
In this time and this place in their narrative, Monty’s question was a million times more exciting than any wedding proposal. Especially when he pulled a pair of tickets out of his pocket.
‘In anactual box?’
‘A very real-life box.’ He grinned infectiously. ‘With plush seats, champagne, popcorn. The works.’ Monty looked up at the clock and his face turned to mild panic. ‘As much as I don’t want to hurry this moment, we’ve got less than an hour before the show starts… and a cat sitter to find!’
‘Make that two,’ said Lola, gritting her teeth. ‘Although, as luck would have it, Fumiko’s cousin’s tabby lives en route to the Vaudeville theatre.
‘I’m a cat sitter!’ somebody piped up from the crowd and everybody erupted in ear-splitting cheers.
‘I knew there was another reason you lot were following me, besides the fact I’m an international T20 cricketer,’ Monty shouted above the ruckus. ‘Step forward, oh, wonderful human being!’
A handful of traditional cricketing purists peeled away at this point and Monty shook his head. Fortunately, their volunteer wasn’t one of them, and she shuffled forward, beaming victoriously as she waited to hear Lola’s answer.
‘Ahem,’ Monty prompted.
‘Oh, right.’ Lola giggled, her head swimming with the loveliest things, her heart bursting at the sight of her gorgeous family. And then there were all these awesomely amazing people who renewed her faith in just that thing:what it was to be a decent human; someone so selfless that they felt genuinely, joyfully, over the moon with excitement for two strangers, their darling cat, and their happy ending. ‘YES, Monty! I blimming well will!’ screamed Lola.