Page 53 of Hit For Six (Balls and Banter #1)

‘Okay… and I know she has. But promise me you’ll pass on what I’ve just said. I’ve not had a chance to message her yet. I drove straight here when I found out what happened after that stupid gazebo collapsed.’

Joaquín rolled his eyes at this and now Monty couldn’t help but wonder if his father hadn’t furtively gone round the back of the contraption to remove a couple of pegs. Not so funnily enough, he couldn’t remember seeing him seated at the table when it had all kicked off.

‘I promise I will tell her everything. But don’t do the gazillion-messages-of-undying-love thing over the phone. It’s so cheesy. Good night y buen suerte .’ Joaquín held up crossed fingers. ‘You’re going to need it.’

Reluctantly, Monty moved his foot from the door, knowing that he’d also need to send at least one concise apology message, further explaining that Saskia had their backs and had told him everything. Joaquín gave him a weak smile that mirrored his own and shut the door.

***

Taking the hairdresser’s advice, Monty left it sixteen hours before he returned to Daniel Street.

This time in a purple suit with gold trim.

Yeah, all right, he was being a bit hypocritical having recently slated a yellow Audi.

But it was important that he looked the part.

There were more appropriate times for this day to arrive, but he’d put so much effort into the surprise, and he had to roll with it, believing that there was a chance of forgiveness, no matter how small.

It broke his heart that Lola hadn’t replied to his messages.

But it wasn’t Joaquín or Lola who opened the door today. And Monty instantly understood that the gatekeeping had reached new levels.

‘Hi,’ he put on his most charming voice. ‘I’m Lola’s boyfriend. You must be–’

‘Fumiko. And you’ve missed her by twenty minutes… or maybe she’s had a lucky escape.’ Lola’s flatmate ran a leisurely eye over Monty from top to toe, a smirk curling the edges of her lips. ‘What the frick is going down with the clothes, by the way?’

Wow. Monty wasn’t sure that he could handle such levels of sarcasm on such little sleep.

‘Just something I threw on this morning.’

He grinned pleasantly.

‘Threw up on, more like.’

‘Look.’ Monty let out a sigh of exasperation. ‘I didn’t come here to be abused. Did you say that she’s popped out?’

Fumiko gave him a pitiful laugh; the kind that said she wondered where Lola had picked Monty up from.

‘She’s gone to London. On the train.’

‘Oh, my god. Why didn’t you say so immediately?’

‘You’ll need to be quick.’ Fumiko ignored the question. ‘But I reckon Bath could do with a giggle watching you run to the station dressed like a circus ringmaster minus the top hat.’

‘Hilarious. And I reckon someone missed their vocation as a stand up comedienne.’

‘Careful. You don’t know my pronouns, and wait just a sweet minute before you move a millimetre. You’ve forgotten something important.’

Fumiko darted into her bedroom just a short way down the corridor, making the incorrect assumption that Monty would do as he was told. But there was no time to waste and he spun on his heel, colliding with the grumpy upstairs neighbour, who seemed to be in a hurry himself.

‘Hey! Watch it,’ he treated Monty to his standard grunt.

‘Sorry, I’m not exactly in control of my bodily movements this afternoon.’

Following the rude dude out onto the pavement, Monty quickly remembered that his overnight things were in the Polo.

Trying to find a parking space at Bath Spa would add a whole extra layer of inconvenience to an already desperate situation.

He had to catch Lola before she got on the train.

What was the quickest way to the station from here?

And why the hell was Lola going to London anyway?

It was good in one respect since it was his own destination, by virtue of a completely different arrangement– plus tomorrow’s scheduled training at Lords– but the alarm bells were ringing in another respect.

Still, there was no time to analyse these things.

He’d run across the park and go Pulteney Bridge way.

Shit, though. It was Saturday lunchtime.

Fumiko was right, he’d be drawing major attention to himself, which would only slow his progress.

Grumpy Upstairs Neighbour, who Monty decided henceforth to refer to as GUP, revved up his motorbike, making Monty do a double take: there was an empty sidecar poking out from… its side.

‘Hang on a minute, mate! You wouldn’t happen to be going in the direction of the station would you?’

‘You’ve got ten seconds to jump in and you’ll need one of these,’ GUP yelled, his sudden generosity taking Monty by surprise.

He tossed the helmet that had been lying in the sidecar Monty’s way and Monty scrambled in, giving GUP a thumbs up.

This was a first, and a trip he’d never forget, dressed in purple and gold.

But just at that moment, Fumiko appeared with a spaceage-style cat backpack containing a little marmalade fluffball.

‘I insist,’ she said, in no uncertain terms, arms outstretched with the delivery. ‘I had a really great date last night and we’ve decided to take a spontaneous trip to Paris.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding! I can’t take Squiffy with me.’

No sooner had Monty protested than Fumiko had placed the bundle in his arms, unbeknownst to GUP, who was looking behind him at the other side of the road to check for traffic so he could pull out.

And now they were moving. Monty turned to throw Fumiko a glare of epic proportions, only to see her desperately trying to communicate something; her arms waving about.

Huh, no doubt she’d expected him to hang around for Squiffy’s paraphernalia while she was offloading the poor cat.

Bike and sidecar swiftly u-turned at the end of the road, before doubling back on the apartment.

‘Lola’s only gone for a…’ Monty caught Fumiko’s first words as they zipped past her. But the rest of that sentence died on the breeze.