Page 55 of Hit For Six (Balls and Banter #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Monty

This was like Trains, Planes and sodding Automobiles. But Monty couldn’t give up, even if he now had company. He’d planned everything about tonight ages ago. It had to happen. Regardless of the fact that Lola might only want to be friends.

Plan A had worked atrociously. After GUP had dropped off his passengers, Monty had persuaded a station dispatcher to keep an eye on Squiffy while he raced down the platform after the departing London bound train.

But even after copious amounts of his own version of training, he was too slow, and the locomotive chugged away down the track.

Monty and Squiffy had made a quick tour of the station waiting room, in case Lola was on a later departure. Sadly not.

Now it was on to Plan B for Bro-in-law. Monty patted his back pocket for the gazillionth time, satisfied that the surprise was still there.

Then he and Squiffy hailed a taxi to Daniel Street to sit in Monty’s car and plead with Dante.

Yes, the very notion was extravagance, madness and just a tiny bit humiliating.

But if Monty couldn’t milk the perks of his lifestyle during the most significant moments in his life, then what was the point?

Dante had to help him. Dante was his only hope.

‘Mate, I can’t just magic up a helicopter ride out of thin air,’ he scoffed at the outlandish request on the other end of the phone, as Monty detected the sound of a golf ball being hit in the background. ‘What you’re asking is impossible!’ Damn it.

‘No such word,’ said Monty defiantly. ‘Do you know how desperate your wife is for me to have babies one day so she can cluck over them? I’m telling you now, this is the only way that’s ever likely to happen.

I need you to get me to London in the next hour and a half.

I need to get to Paddington before Lola. ’

He winked at Squiffy, trying to reassure her. The cat miaowed in agreement.

‘Did I just hear a freaking cat?’

‘What? No, of course not. Stop changing the subject.’

‘Be reasonable, Monty! I’m on the golf course in the middle of schmoozing potential clients for what could be a gargantuan deal for said helicopter business.’

‘But you won’t need any of that, Dante, dearest. Happily for you, after last night’s fiasco, I am also your wife’s ticket to a massively wealthier future now I’ve opted out of my inheritance… In other words, it will be passed down to the oldest daughter with the most reliable husband.’

‘You’re a pain in the bloody arse, Monty!’ Dante sighed. And three, two, one. Any second now and he would register his even greater fortune. ‘ Shit! Wh-what did you just say? You’d better not be having me on.’

Monty’s face lit up in the briefest of smiles.

‘Keep it under your hat or I might change my mind… But yes, and no… I don’t want to take over Beau-re-mi.

Not now or ever. So for the love of God, help a man out, will you?

Or do I have to find my own pilot? Because mark my words, I’m headed for your place and I will get Saskia to fly me if I have to. ’

‘Okay, okay,’ Dante hissed. ‘But the odds of you making it before Lola’s train are virtually zero.’

‘Do you think I don’t know that? I have to try!’

‘Meet me at the helipad and put your foot down.’ Dante sighed. ‘Luckily, Sas is at home. She’ll buzz you in. I’m going to have to pull out all the stops to make up for my early exit from the fairways with the lure of some legendary fine dining.’

Monty almost told Dante to get the violins out.

***

Fifteen minutes later and a garbled voice note to Saskia (in which he apologised that there was no way he’d be able to catch up on last night’s gossip for even a nanosecond, assuring his sister they’d do lunch soon instead), Monty was let through the grand gates of her and Dante’s country home.

He drove as far as he could down the windy lane that led to their private helipad, feeling terrible that he could only offer Saskia a quick head nod as she peeped curiously out of her drawing room window.

But what happened in the next few hours had the power to change the course of Monty and Squiffy’s lives.

They abandoned his car and hopped into the chopper which was ready and waiting to take off, its propellers eagerly rotating as Monty and his precious cargo ducked to jump on board.

‘I’ve managed to get last minute clearance to land at Battersea. Best I could do,’ said Dante, followed by, ‘are you feeling alright? What’s with the… erm… outfit? And what the fuck is in that? ’

Dante pointed at the backpack, horrified at the sight of Squiffy eyeing him curiously through her submarine window.

‘Don’t you worry about us. Keep your eyes on the traffic.’

Monty vowed to treat The Squiffster to fine dining in a top London fish restaurant if the stars could somehow align.

In the meantime, he checked the outer side pocket of the backpack and was elated to find some kibble, which he carefully offered his little buddy through one of the openings as they whirred up into the air in the giant dragonfly.

This was going to be the longest hour of Monty’s life.

His eyes were glued to the breaks in the cloud, desperately trying to spot the railway line from Bath to Paddington– though he had no clue of the actual landmarks they were zipping over.

When Dante finally approached the Big Smoke, it was a different matter.

London had never looked more beautiful. He landed them promptly and safely at Battersea and Monty proffered him a quick high five.

‘Good luck, matey… and erm, matey’s friend. Remember to put everything you said in writing!’ Dante wagged a finger. ‘This has been a big shout for me.’

‘You’ll have an email by tonight. Safe flight back. Give Saskia and the kids hugs from us both.’

‘Aw, don’t I get one?’

‘Don’t push your fucking luck!’

Monty pulled his mobile out of his pocket to check on the time. How on earth did he get to Paddington before Lola’s train when it was due to arrive in just ten minutes? This was, as Dante had said, nigh on impossible.

Luckily, he’d had the foresight to book an Uber, which was waiting for him the moment he’d (carefully) bounded down the stairs and exited the building, its metre already displaying over one-hundred pounds in fare as he settled himself in the front seat with Squiffy’s backpack on his lap and the driver pulled away.

Monty was relieved that he didn’t want to get into conversation.

He supposed the driver picked up people dressed in flashy attire all the time– plus the occasional cutting-edge feline.

They were making excellent progress, the bustle of the city speeding by.

Monty debated whether to text Lola to ask her to wait for him next to the Paddington Bear statue, turning his phone in his hands, but ultimately, it felt like too big a risk.

Just as he shoved it back in his pocket, they came to a standstill, queued up in a gridlock of traffic.

‘There’s a protest today outside the Natural ‘istory Museum– they’re marchin’ towards it from all angles. I fought you might have been going along dressed so fetchingly with yer puss. Somefing to do with the environment, I fink.’

‘Erm… no, we’re not planning on any detours. We’ve got to get to Paddington, like yesterday!’

‘If you’re in a rush, your best bet will be jumpin’ off ’ere– after paying me of course.’ The driver laughed a non-negotiable laugh. ‘And gettin’ on the Tube at Sowff Ken.’

‘Great, thanks.’ Monty found himself looking to his little oracle for guidance. Squiffy miaowed her agreement. ‘I think that’s exactly what we’ll do.’

He threw a bundle of pre-counted notes on the dashboard.

‘Nice one, my friend! I’ll be on the curries and beers tonight!’

The driver waved excitedly, then pointed to the road on his right as he pulled away, and Monty wished he’d had the sense to ask him to drop them outside South Kensington’s underground station.

He was used to carrying his large cricket bag on his back, but he couldn’t sprint with a cat in a backpack, else there would be protests springing up around himself.

Just as he was adjusting the straps to give Squiffy a more comfortable journey, his thumb hit a button on the carrier and he was euphoric to discover that it had wheels!

‘We’re in with a chance!’ he announced and Squiffy, once again, miaowed her assent.

Monty paced down the road, careful to avoid any bumps in the pavement, until the iconic Tube station sign appeared.

This line would take them straight to Paddington, where he hoped he would stand out enough from the crowd for Lola to spot him, if he and Squiffy didn’t clock her first. On that note, there was no point looking at the time on his phone.

Monty would also have to hope that she was taking a black cab to wherever she was staying and that the queue was impossibly long.

Once he’d got a ticket, grinned in good sportsmanship in the carriage for a sea of mobile phones to post himself and Squiffy across social media, changed platforms at Earls Court and ticked off another station, the train came to a worryingly lengthy stop at Notting Hill Gate.

‘We’re sorry to announce that the train driver is feeling poorly so we’ll be waiting here for a replacement driver. We expect this delay to last approximately thirty minutes. Apologies for any inconvenience caused.’

Monty joined in with the collective groan and elected to get off the train with his furry friend.

He’d jinxed everything by getting optimistic over the wheels.

His chances of finding Lola were getting slimmer by the second.

Monty lowered Squiffy’s backpack to the ground and wheeled her out of the station, praying for inspiration to strike.

Just like that, his beloved Aunt Sal’s voice flew into his head.

‘If it’s meant to be, it will be, Montgomery.

But let’s hope this assertion of yours will give romance even more of a fighting chance.

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from my younger years, it’s that time flies and before you know it, you’ll look back on all of those juicy what ifs that you might have made a reality had you only been a tiny bit braver…

so try to limit them. Even if you make a fool of yourself.

Especially if you make a fool of yourself. ’

No sooner had he exited the station, than an empty rickshaw peddled past him.

‘Stop!’ he shouted at the driver.

Monty jogged to catch his attention, trailing poor Squiffy along for the ride in a move that even the cat would deem dangerously close to Monty losing one of his nine lives.