Page 52 of Hit For Six (Balls and Banter #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY

Monty

‘Has anyone seen Lola?’ Monty asked as he traversed the lawn and headed back to the feasting.

He guessed she was using the merry interlude as the perfect excuse to take a cloakroom break but his concern was already starting to mount.

What if someone had let their facade slip and turned into a pompous prick while she was on her own when he was helping resurrect the gazebo?

The singer and his friends were now knocking back the vino having decided to take a break on Godfather number three’s instruction.

Monty didn’t fancy their chances of getting a future booking from Mother Hen.

‘Nevermind that,’ Frederick interjected, not quite able to look Monty in the eye.

‘We’ve got a new and fashionably late but completely excused arrival in our midst. Monty, I’d like you to meet our Digital Marketing Director, Jules…

and Jules, this is my son Monty. He’ll be taking over the empire one fine day, if both of you play your cards right. ’

Frederick looked pointedly at Monty now, oblivious to the fact that his recent letter hadn’t changed a thing; that Lola was his world and no amount of money or properties would change this.

Monty squinted at his replacement. Wait a second: was this the same toad who Lola had worked with, the jerk who’d shown her up in the stadium?

He’d been nondescript enough beneath that Panama hat for Monty to notice any distinguishing facial features, especially when Lola had eclipsed the screen with her natural beauty.

Monty appraised Jules’ shortly-cropped hair and found not a mullet in sight.

The name similarity had to be a coincidence.

Christ, these past few weeks had made him paranoid.

He was about to shake the guy’s hand to welcome him on board and pass on a few office tips when Saskia approached them.

‘Sorry to interrupt, but I need an urgent word with my brother.’

‘Please excuse me,’ said Monty. ‘I’ll catch up with you later.’

‘No probs.’

Jules beamed. Monty owed the guy a lot. He’d never know how much he’d saved his arse. Monty had to hand it to his father, he’d worked impressively quickly to replace him.

‘What is it?’ he asked his sister.

She led them to the sweet-smelling honeysuckle boughs at the front of the house, where they’d forever held their secret meetings. Sas used to pull at the flowers’ stems to get to the style and its little bead of nectar.

‘It’s a disaster! She’s run away, Monty!’ Saskia cried, oblivious to her childhood ritual.

‘Mother?’

‘Not Mummy, you twit. That beautiful girlfriend of yours!’

‘Oh, shit. No! I’ve got to go look for her.’

‘I wanted to tell you sooner but it was impossible.’ Saskia threw her hands about and began pacing manically.

‘I was hiding behind the curtains in the games room when it happened. I got a sinking feeling when I came out of the downstairs cloakroom and spotted Daddy accosting Lola. I can read him like a book, but I knew he’d take her to the games room, not the library. ’

‘I’m not being rude, Sas, but could you speed this up any?’ Monty snapped, rolling his hand in the air.

He deserved to be belted for such an irritating move. By his sister and Lola. He’d failed his girlfriend big time. This was exactly what he vowed he wouldn’t do.

‘Actually, the backstory is relevant, buster. Not everything can be relayed in fucking bullet points. Daddy was a horror! He’s paying her off.

Said he’s sending a substantial cheque to her offices in Old King Street.

Told her she doesn’t belong in our set, made it clear that you’ve had your fun with her and now she needs to walk away.

The poor girl couldn’t get her words out.

She sounded petrified. He insisted upon them returning to the table separately, sending her off first so he could hang around for a stinky trophy cigar while he potted a few balls. ’

‘ Shitting bollocking hell. Have you any idea where she went?’

‘I saw her running down the drive. I’d try the village first. Do you want me to come with you?’

‘You’ve done enough for one evening. Thanks, Sas. I owe you a massive favour.’

‘Hardly. I could have jumped out of the curtains and shoved a cue up his backside.’

With that vision in his mind, Monty headed straight for his car.

He’d never known such fury but he refused to stoop to his folks’ level.

His heart had gone out to his father after that letter, FFS.

He’d been a prize-winning idiot to trust him; to trust either of his parents.

He’d genuinely thought that they’d warm to Lola in the right environment.

How could anybody not? She was adorable, full of every great quality anyone could want in a relationship.

Again, you couldn’t choose your family, according to the saying. But Monty had now whittled his down to Saskia (all right and Dante) and their kids. Aunt Sally too. There was no point tempting fate and thinking Lola would ever forgive him. That they might one day have a family of their own.

He’d previously thought that his scratched Polo was the most revolting thing parked next to the fountain, but Monty soon realised it had a rival; a bright yellow Audi with its hood down.

How could anyone be possessed? If it belonged to Jules, his father was in trouble…

Monty couldn’t resist having a quick look inside.

He needed to know who dared own such an eyesore.

And there was the answer. A bunch of hastily discarded paperwork jutting out the pocket of the inside door.

Monty pulled it out to have a quick leaf through.

Somehow the alarm didn’t go off. But really, who would attempt to steal this thing?

The first couple of sheets were printer test pages. Monty ploughed on. There was bound to be something juicy hidden among them. Bingo. It didn’t take long to find it.

CURRICULUM VITAE

Personal Statement: A paragraph of utter crap designed to pull the wool over your eyes. Oh! It had worked…

Name: Julian Wayne Tovey

Date of Birth: Monty didn’t care, but quickly noted he was a Gemini. Go figure.

Employment History: Celebrate and Commiserate Ltd, Sales Director.

Unable to resist the temptation, and knowing that his girlfriend was streetwise and sensible; that Lola would have taken her bag and phone with her, that she wouldn’t have resorted to hitching a lift back to Bath, Monty figured he could spare a couple of minutes.

He strode over to the lawn where ‘Jules’ had his feet under the table already.

Where he was eagerly tucking into the Parmesan lemon chicken that Monty and Lola should have been enjoying right now.

Where he was washing it down with a goblet of Frederick’s vintage wine.

Monty crept up behind him, tore the CV into confetti and sprinkled it over his plate.

‘I forgot to formally congratulate you, Julian .’ Now Monty turned to his mother and father, hellbent on them registering the pain in his eyes. ‘And well done to the pair of you, too… for putting the final nail in the coffin and disowning your son, the woman he loves, and any future grandchildren.’

In another life, Monty would have physically torn the new Digital Marketing Director to shreds and sprinkled him across the table. But he was determined to take the higher ground in this one. Petty? You bet. Satisfying? Hardly enough.

Monty turned his back on the mayhem and the many shocked calls of ‘Montgomery!’, sprinting to his car, hoping against hope to salvage his relationship with Lola.

After a frantic circuit of the village in the dusky light, he berated himself for wasting time.

He knew in his heart that she was back at Daniel Street.

And so he drove there on autopilot, not daring to register another thought until he was holding her in his arms.

Twenty minutes later and Monty was struggling to park. Too bad. He boxed in a twee hairdresser’s car, sidling up as close to it as possible so as not to block the road. Then he raced to the front door, on the verge of tears, the intensity of the evening catching up with him.

‘Yes?’ queried a guy dressed in a pink and orange harlequin print shirt and the tightest, tiniest pair of black leather trousers Monty had ever known a man pack themself into.

‘Oh, you’re from upstairs.’ Monty gasped, stopping to catch his breath. ‘I must have rung the wrong doorbell, sorry. I’m after Lola.’

‘I’m from downstairs tonight, darling and she doesn’t want to see you.’

‘But it’s important! I’m her boyfriend. She ran away from a disaster of a family dinner party. I need to know that she’s okay. Who the hell are you, anyway?’

‘Joaquín Banderas is the name. No relation to Antonio. Although, I wouldn’t say no if he switched allegiance, especially during his Evita era.

And yes, Lola is gonna be okay, thanks to me.

’ Joaquín flipped his gelatinous curls and hammed up his pose against the doorframe, perfecting his evil stare.

‘I happened to be driving through the village rescuing bad hair in Lola’s hour of need.

Joder! You don’t deserve her, especially when you park like a dickhead.

’ He waved a hand at Monty’s car. ‘You knew how high the stakes were with your snobbish parents. Como un cordero al matadero. You can look that up. Maybe then the meaning will sink in. I don’t have the energy to translate. ’

Joaquín went to shut the door but Monty stopped it with his foot.

‘Listen, you’ve got every right to be angry and I can’t thank you enough for making sure she got home safely, but I deserve a chance to explain things to Lola. I’ve cut my parents off completely. There’s no going back. Ever. They’ve had one too many chances and we’re officially through.’

Joaquín chewed his lip for several seconds.

‘Come back the same time tomorrow,’ his voice softened. ‘Give her time. She’s been through a lot this evening.’