Page 39 of Hit For Six (Balls and Banter #1)

But it was hard to reconcile Lola with this place and these people.

Even though they were genuinely nice people.

Yes, that word totally summed them up. They just lacked Lola’s drive and ambition and Monty couldn’t help but wonder how she’d dug deep to find that.

But Lola was special. Her own person. And again, whilst Lola was as far removed from her parents as could be, so was Monty from his folk.

They had literally met in the middle. He washed his hands and went back to the lounge, determined to make the best of the evening.

He really shouldn’t have broken his short journey but what could he do when there was a gap in the kitchen door which he had to walk past? In fact, Monty only needed to hover for a few seconds to see Lola handing an envelope to her mum.

‘I’m going to keep helping you out until you and Dad are through this rough patch. That’s what families are for. Has he found any leads or tried the Job Centre again?’

‘No, you mustn’t, Lola! I keep telling you we’ll manage.’

But Gail swiftly opened the offering anyway, pulling out a wad of banknotes, her eyes welling up with tears before she and Lola shared an embrace. Monty gulped.

‘And no, nothing’s come up. As per usual.

He couldn’t face the humiliation of the Job Centre this week.

They keep offering him such poorly paid work– that or daft courses of no interest to him, which he’d have to attend with teenagers who’ve quit school.

Carpentry is a skill. Was a skill. Now he feels washed up and useless.

As soon as I’m sorted, things will improve.

Until then, we’ll keep cutting our cloth accordingly. ’

Except for the beer, thought Monty.

‘It’ll be okay, Mum. Every week that waiting list is getting shorter and the chiropractor is keeping you mobile.’

‘No thanks to you.’

Gail sniffed and Lola held her arms out wide.

Her mum went in for a hug. Monty moved back and quietly made his way to the lounge.

What the hell was going on? Surely, Lola wasn’t propping up her parents?

This was madness. Evidently there was more to her stint at The Bubble Bath than met the eye.

Now his mother’s disapproval of ‘the vulgar money in an envelope’ gesture ran through his head as he remembered how she’d warned him to buy Roddie a proper present.

Monty flicked it away. This wasn’t a birthday gift. What did she know about being in need?

Lola finally appeared with a tray laden with tea and biscuits, and her poor mum looked like she was ice skating as she crossed the carpet into the lounge behind her.

Everybody sat now and Monty was relieved when the next episode of the documentary pinged onto the TV, giving a cute (but undoubtedly smelly) meerkat family their moment in the limelight.

He and Lola traded furtive glances and she squeezed his thigh, taking him back to their meal at The Iris.

It seemed like forever ago and yesterday all at the same time.

So much had happened since that Monty wondered if he’d somehow channeled the allure of the Regency period he so often thought about, thanks to his address.

This romance was steaming ahead Bridgerton pace and he liked it.

The silence was oddly therapeutic as the four of them remained glued to the screen, only the occasional sip– or in Greg’s case, slurp– punctuating the air.

Monty felt as if he was the only one coming up for air from time to time to check that he wasn’t being impolite, and that he hadn’t missed a cue for conversation.

But no. Apparently, this was a normal tableau in the Smith residence.

Well, it certainly beat the put downs of his parents and the keeping up of appearances.

All of which had to do wonderful things for one’s mental health.

Especially when it was perfectly acceptable, in these four walls, to dunk a chocolate Digestive biscuit.

Soon the smell of cricket camp food wafted into the room, making Monty feel nostalgic for his teenage training years.

Lola paced to the kitchen. They’d only just had afternoon tea but it seemed that dinner was about to be served.

Monty stood to be helpful again but Gail’s side eye told him that he should know his place and she peeled herself slowly from her armchair, rising with some difficulty to join her daughter.

The men stayed put to learn all about the migration of wildebeests until Gail announced in a screechy voice:

‘Food’s ready!’

Blimey. Greg could move when he wanted to.

Lola’s dad was straight out of the starting blocks and into the kitchen, where he claimed his status at the end of the table.

Monty followed at a slower pace and beamed from cheek to cheek as he took in the hearty view of sausages, baked beans, potato waffles and fried eggs.

With a side of bread and butter. And lashings of supermarket own brand Cola. The stuff of dreams.

‘It was great to meet you. Thanks so much for dinner,’ he said his farewells to Gail an hour later when Lola decided it was time they made a move.

‘See you again, lad!’ Greg called from the depths of his armchair.

‘Oh, we call it tea in our house,’ said Gail with a chuckle. ‘And I’m sorry that it was nothing flash like you’re probably used to but hopefully it filled a hole.’

‘It was amazing!’ Monty declared.

Gail lit up at this and Monty felt relieved he’d passed the test. Because that was what today was all about, above and beyond any volunteering to do the chores.

He was desperate for Lola’s feedback. They walked hand in hand back through Plummerton, the setting sun doing what it did best; throwing its shards of light on the most inanimate objects so that even the giant skips had been transformed from eyesores to the kind of oddly entrancing exhibits one found in a modern art gallery.

‘That went well, I thought,’ she said finally.

Phew.

‘Me too. Your parents are great people and they know how to make someone feel at home. I really like them.’

‘Snap.’

A smile played across Lola’s lips. Monty had to give her a peck on the cheek.

It had been far too long. Inevitably, this turned into an electric smooch, until a group of the aforementioned teenagers started laughing and Lola had to drag Monty along before he decided to play knight in shining armour.

Once they’d reached the Rose and Fiddle and the disco beats of ABBA piping out of its beer garden, Monty somehow found the courage to say:

‘Far be it for me to interfere… but I have to ask: what was all that about?’

‘The typical TV meal?’ She looked briefly confused, then taken aback, and finally, disappointed.

As if Monty had fallen straight into a trap.

As if she could have predicted this would happen and she should never have got her hopes up that he was any different to the next posh bastard.

‘I know it’s probably not what you’re used to, and it’s hardly the most aphrodisiac of foods to eat when you’re dating…

but, well, that’s my parents. Take them or leave them. ’

‘Not the food! That was far from an act with your mum. You have no idea how delicious that meal was. Well, you do, because you ate it too. Honestly, Lola, I’ll be recreating it at least once during the week.

I was alluding to the relaxed company.’ He almost said no airs and graces, but thought better of it.

‘The banter around the table.’ Greg had livened up considerably with a plate of food in front of him.

‘That indescribable feeling of belonging. And, most importantly, you .’

‘Right.’ Monty wasn’t sure if Lola was blushing or if the nip in the air had turned her cheeks Fandango Pink.

Gah, he was thinking in bloody Pantone colours again.

When would he ever escape the clutches of Beau-re-mi?

‘So what are you referring to?’ she asked and Monty had to jog his memory because they’d gone so far off track.

‘I’m… erm.’ He could make something up. Query it another time when they’d been together a few more weeks.

Monty really didn’t need to do this now.

‘What I’m talking about is the envelope stuffed with money,’ his voice betrayed him.

‘I saw you giving it to your mum and I know, I know , it’s none of my business.

’ He held his hands up in surrender. ‘And I also know that we’ve only been together for five minutes so that makes it even less of my business but–’

Lola stopped in her tracks. Here they were again facing one another off on yet another pavement.

‘If you know that it’s none of your business then why are you mentioning it? It sounds suspiciously to me like you want to make it your business.’

‘I think you do too much for them, Lola.’

Now she had her hands on her hips. Why was he so terrible at this? Why couldn’t he let it go?

‘Just because you don’t have the same bond with your folk, it doesn’t give you the right to tell me how to conduct my relationship with mine.

’ Lola paused. Now her head was in her hands.

‘I’m sorry. That was horribly insensitive of me when I know nothing about your relationship with your parents. I don’t know why I said that.’

Monty ran a hand through his hair. Lola’s words stung but they were pretty damn accurate.

‘I was totally asking for it. And it’s me who is sorry.

I didn’t mean for it to come out like that and I wish I hadn’t seen or heard anything.

I was on my way back from the bathroom. I just–’ Monty was lost in his thoughts.

How did he say this without sounding like an obnoxious, moneyed prick?

‘If you… I mean if they… that’s to say if any of you ever need help, you know you can ask me.

And I don’t mean a loan. I’ll be more than happy to give you the money. ’

‘ You’re trying to buy me? ’ This was going from bad to worse. ‘Monty! I’m my own person. Relationships don’t work like that.’

Then he recalled Gail’s idiom about cutting their cloth and before he could think better of it, he said:

‘It doesn’t have to be money. I can get your dad a job if that would make things easier.

At Beau-re-mi. It wouldn’t be anything majorly well-paid, I’m afraid.

But it might improve things and ease the burden on you.

’ Wrong choice of word there, Monty. Completely wrong choice of word.

‘Our manual labour rates are at the higher end of the scale.’

‘I don’t need you to fix my parents and they are not a burden!’ Lola cried, stepping aside for some Harley Davidson bikers who’d just emerged red-faced and rowdy from the pub.

‘I promise I’m not trying to do that,’ Monty lowered his voice and outstretched his hand.

Gradually Lola calmed down enough to take it and they resumed their walk.

‘I’m sorry. Again. I really didn’t intend to use that B word.

But the other B word– Beau-re-mi– really is recruiting right now for machinists.

With your dad’s eye for detail and his transferable skills learnt from carpentry, he’d be ideal, an absolute wizz on a sewing machine.

A third of our machinists are men so he needn’t worry on the female domination front.

N-not that women taking charge of anything is a bad idea. The complete opposite, in fact.’

Monty was giving her yet another fine Hugh-Grant-coming-across-as-a-clueless-twit impersonation. God help him.

‘Where will it ever end if I said yes to this?’ Lola pulled their joined hands towards her and rubbed their interlaced knuckles with her free hand. ‘As generous an offer as it is. We barely know one another.’

A shred of hope there. Monty needed to tread carefully to answer this.

‘But… I thought we weren’t Romeo and Juliet’s age, and that we could break the rules.

I have more money than I know what to do with and it feels like a crime to stand on the sidelines watching your family struggle.

I wish you’d let me help. It can be a one off.

I could cover the bills for your parents, pay for your mum to get her hip operation done privately, and get your dad a job.

You all deserve the break. What’s mine is yours, Lola.

That’s how deep this is for me. There’s nothing I can do about my feelings for you. I’m an absolute goner.’

‘This is too much.’ Lola shook her head. ‘Look, I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I just need time to process things.’

She let go of his hand and Monty suddenly wished he’d made his past flops of romances last longer.

He might have learnt a thing or two. He was coming on too strong.

No matter what Lola had said to him in bed this morning, this was too much.

He could see it now that he stopped to consider things from her point of view.

And there was Gail’s pride to consider. He was less enamoured with Greg right now.

But this still didn’t change the fact that it was heartbreaking watching others go through hell when you could take all of that stress and worry away.

That felt like too much in its own right.

‘I think we should go our separate ways,’ Lola announced.

‘Just for tonight and the next few days,’ she added quickly.

‘I’ve got to go away for work and you’ve got to get yourself back into shape, Mr.’ Lola prodded playfully at Monty’s stomach and he managed a small smile.

‘This has been a brilliant weekend.’ She took Monty’s hands in hers again and gazed into his eyes.

‘But an intense one. In that respect it does feel as if we’re in a Shakespeare play.

I need to think. Not about us, but about this…

extraordinary kindness.’ She gave him a little laugh.

‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, I will never turn down flowers or chocolates or meals at The Iris– although maybe we’ll avoid that particular venue for a bit– but I need to be in control of my own finances.

I’ve seen too many women give up their security, only to get trapped.

I can’t let that happen. The threat feels even greater being an only child.

I need my independence. In the natural order of things, one day my parents won’t be here and I won’t have any siblings to rally around me if my life goes belly up.

I have to be able to make it on my own.’

‘I understand.’

‘You do and you don’t.’

‘How so?’

It was Monty’s turn to look puzzled and taken aback. But he could never be disappointed when it came to Lola.

‘You’re not a woman, Monty.’ She sighed. ‘You don’t have the weight of the past, present and future sisterhoods on your shoulders.’