Page 48 of Hit For Six (Balls and Banter #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Lola

Lola had spent ages agonising over what to wear. This was exactly what she swore she wouldn’t do. It didn’t help that she’d already transported half of her wardrobe to the Crescent, where she and Squiffy were spending more and more time as they built up to The Big Move.

Fumiko had been rather brusque when Lola declined her invitation to take on the flat:

WhatsApp message 1 at 7p.m. Eastern Pacific Time Sunday evening read…

Fine. I won’t be held responsible for estate agents and prospective buyers interrupting your peace. Honestly, you try to do someone a favour. PS. I’ll need time to consider your offer to take on Squiffy.

WhatsApp message 2 at 7.08p.m. same time zone and date conceded…

Deal. She’s yours for a grand ONO.

Lola had baulked at Fumiko’s audacity when she’d bought most of Squiffy’s food this year. No way was she paying her a thousand, in any currency.

WhatsApp message 3 at 7.20p.m. same time zone and date said…

Okay. She’s yours. Just make sure the flat looks presentable when you’ve moved out. You know where all her vet paperwork is– take it with you. Bon voyage.

Poor Squiffy must feel like a pawn on a chessboard with all this toing and froing but she was Lola’s queen and she’d be eating like one at Monty’s place every day soon.

Would Lola ever be able to call the Crescent her home, though?

She’d like to think so but it was such early days and there were still so many hurdles to overcome.

Trust and self-belief, two of the biggest.

She snapped out of her daydream to consider the current challenge and pulled a long broderie anglaise dress from her wardrobe, inspecting it from all angles on its hanger.

It was virginal white which was probably asking for trouble where red wine was concerned but Lola wasn’t inclined to waste money on something new.

It was pretty yet conservative and inconspicuous.

Another top end high street bargain from a charity shop. It would have to do.

The party was the last thing she felt like attending in the wake of Joannagate, and her association with Julian.

Then there was Harry’s personality transplant, and the dawning realisation that Lola wouldn’t be able to speed up her mum’s hip replacement, after all.

She couldn’t have tried harder to dissuade him from adding the fake deal to the budget, now she knew that Joanna was screwing C and C over.

Her boss had been at the helm of various businesses over the years.

Surely he should have learnt a few lessons by now.

As per usual, a woman’s view on such matters was all too easily discarded.

Hey ho. She was almost ready to hand in her notice now that she’d lined up some part-time assignments to help with the transition to being a business owner, anyway.

Like Monty, she had her resignation letter drafted so she could send it at a moment’s notice.

***

‘My mother has done her usual,’ said the man in question when Lola arrived at his apartment the next afternoon.

She got palpitations every time she heard Monty refer to that woman– hardly helped by her boyfriend planting the sort of kiss on her lips that hinted strongly at heading straight to the bedroom and skipping the celebrations.

‘Which is?’ Lola mumbled, reluctantly tearing herself away.

‘The Waitrose shopping list.’

‘Is that such a bad thing?’ she asked as Monty tugged her inside and relieved her of her bags.

Not that there would be time to unpack them.

A quick change of outfit and they would be on their way to Upper Badminton for Judgement Day.

‘I don’t think my parents have ever felt flush enough to step inside the Bath store.

Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. ’

‘No, it’s fine and you’re right. It is a nice problem to have.

But she does this every time she hosts a family event, claiming the girls are too busy to buy the emergency supplies, so I end up running around like a blue-arsed fly with a crazy long list, which completely negates the need for the expensive catering.

She could get it delivered but she’s terrified of the dreaded replacement items. Once she ended up with twelve tins of Waitrose Essential rice pudding instead of celeriac remoulade. All hell broke loose.’

Lola tried not to show her shock but it was difficult when she pictured her own mum in a similar situation, knowing full well she’d share a belly-clutching laugh with the delivery driver, who had nothing to do with the personal shopper’s decisions; knowing full well her mum often had no choice but to buy her cheaper supermarket bargain basement brand.

‘But she’s absolutely lovely in real life, once you get to know her.

Well, you kind of did the other night and it’s great that you’re familiar with the layout of the house already.

’ Monty sounded stressed, worryingly lacking in his confident charade of just days ago.

And, no. Lola didn’t think she’d ever forget the precise locations of her passionate encounters with Helena’s precious son.

‘She just has high standards and likes to offer her guests the very best.’ Mrs B-C ticked one of those boxes, alright.

‘Are you sure this is going to be okay, Monty? I have a funny feeling. Maybe you should go without me? Give them more time to come to terms with our relationship?’

‘It’s going to be fine. Who couldn’t adore you? It’s just family and very close friends. I’ve told everyone about you. There won’t be any unexpected surprises.’

‘What if Joanna turns up?’

‘Never going to happen.’

An invisible ‘not on my watch’ hung in the air.

And that was just it. Monty couldn’t watch his family’s every move, much less Jealous Joanna’s.

Lola, by extension, had to trust that all would be well, which was asking a lot, going by the evil cow’s recent attempts to sabotage their relationship.

But Monty had put himself out of his comfort zone in Plummerton.

Now Lola needed to do her bit and return to the posh Cotswold village, acting as if she’d never set foot in Beauchamp-Carmichael Manor, whilst simultaneously charming everyone in her orbit and not displaying an ounce of paranoia.

As soon as they walked into the late Saturday afternoon frenzy of Waitrose, Lola knew that the day’s challenges had already begun.

She had a window of opportunity with supermarkets.

And that window shortened by the hour– quite literally– if she’d had a crappy night’s sleep.

Since her own stress had contorted her into all manner of uncomfortable positions in bed last night, she wasn’t even sure that she’d nodded off.

Which meant she was in dangerous territory.

The place was heaving, the tannoys were bing-bonging and the artificial lights were making her feel majorly disoriented.

The further she and Monty walked into the store to track down all of the icky cold dips on Helena’s list (the exact kind of food which made Lola gag– and now she sounded like the world’s most ungrateful party guest, but really, who needed smoky aubergine baba ganoush and herby yoghurt in their life?), the greater the panic as she turned around and could no longer see an exit.

She hadn’t even had the sense to insist they take a trolley.

Trolleys were Lola’s crutch in harshly-lit, overcrowded spaces.

She could grip them tightly, their sturdiness holding her upright if she felt too dizzy.

But Monty had the only prop, a tiny, useless basket that couldn’t even be turned upside down and used as a cage to cover her body if she curled up in a ball.

Okay, deep breaths. Maybe there was one of those ‘staff only’ doors somewhere nearby.

Sure, Lola didn’t work here and she’d get into all sorts of trouble if she pushed one open and barrelled through it, but just knowing it was there, if the worst came to the worst and she thought she might die, helped in a weird kind of last resort way.

Monty kept talking to her but she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

Now the edges of him started to blur. Lola tried to engage her brain to communicate something compos mentis but her words came out all slurry.

She was terrified she’d collapse and make a fool of herself.

Her palms were sweaty, her breathing felt laboured and she was boiling hot.

People were starting to notice. They were staring at her, panicked expressions on their faces like they didn’t know what she was about to do.

Lola recalled watching a video on social media recently where some workers in one of the more mainstream supermarkets started following an innocent shopper because they ‘didn’t walk in the usual flow up and down the aisles.

’ The security guard must be watching her every move on the hidden cameras right now. She wasn’t a fan of security guards.

‘Are you okay, Lola? You’ve gone a bit pale,’ suddenly Monty’s words got through to her, albeit in a warped slo-mo.

Worst thing he could have said.

‘I can’t do this. Got to get out. Come over all funny. I’ll be okay when I’m outside. Get the shopping, I insist,’ she gabbled, obliterating any shred of her remaining allure, along with the hope of Monty wanting to be with her forever.

This was fight or flight and Lola ran for her life, pushing past trolleys and ditherers. The people she buffeted would get over it but Lola would not if she didn’t get outside into the fresh air immediately.