Page 8 of Hit For Six (Balls and Banter #1)

‘Oh, my darling, that’s our duty as parents.

We should be helping you . Seriously, Lola, you mustn’t keep doing this.

It’s beyond naughty and I’m having to get more and more creative coming up with excuses as to how we can suddenly pay for X, Y and Z.

But it is keeping your dad’s depression over the cruddy job hunting situ at bay.

Nobody seems to want to hire you in this city when you’re about to turn sixty.

If you’re completely sure you can afford it, it really will make a difference this month and I promise we’ll pay you back as soon as your dad finds something… or reinstates his business… or–’

Tears sprang to Gail’s eyes before she could finish that sentence. Lola pulled her into a hug, burying her face in the nostalgic smell of Cussons Pearl soap.

‘It’s okay, Mum. Things will get better soon, you’ll see.’

Hmm, now she was sounding like Harry when they’d sat in that foreboding corridor awaiting her fate.

The harsh fact of the matter was, had it not been for Lola’s help then her parents really would be up shit creek.

There was nobody else to lend them a financial hand.

Lola was an only child, her grandparents were all dead, her aunts, uncles and cousins had their own dramas to contend with, and the Smiths had maxed out their credit cards.

‘You’re right,’ Gail whimpered. ‘I just wish someone could fast forward this flipping hip op wait, then I’d be back in business myself, so to speak.

’ Gail had been on the NHS waiting list for a hip replacement for as long as Lola could remember.

Early onset arthritis from her shelf stacking job had given her a dodgy hip, and the only way of keeping the pain at bay was via her costly chiropractic sessions.

She pulled a tissue from her sleeve and sniffed as she surveyed her daughter properly for the first time since she’d arrived.

‘Hang on a minute… There’s something different about my girl.

’ Lola gulped, hoping her mum hadn’t suddenly turned into a mind reader.

‘Why am I only just noticing that you’re wearing a baseball cap? This is a brand new look!’

‘Oh, yeah. Surprise!’ Lola giggled and quickly whipped the New York Yankees cap from her head, pulling the scrunchie from her messy bun to give her mum a twirl of her swishy shoulder length cut and her feathered bangs.

She’d stopped Joaquín and his suggestion of a perm with blond bombshell highlights in their tracks this morning. There was such a thing as being too obvious when you were trying to go incognito.

‘I love it! Really suits you. You were adamant you’d always keep your hair long-long, though.’

‘Spur of the moment decision. It will soon grow back. Come on, let’s get those beans in a pan and eat,’ Lola deftly changed the subject.

‘Then I’ll tackle the bathroom and give the place a dust and a light vacuum.

I’m not sure I’ll have time to mop any floors today, Mum. Do you think Dad will do those?’

‘Of course, love. Of course.’

But Lola knew that her mum was telling her own little lies.

Greg’s business had been badly hit during the pandemic and whilst there might have been furlough arrangements during the initial months, once the world had embraced the ‘new normal’, his carpentry firm had failed to do the same and he’d had to lay off his two employees.

When the orders had returned, they’d only trickled in, and Greg couldn’t manage the jobs on his own, but he could no longer afford to employ anybody either.

It was a classic catch twenty-two and his mental health had never quite recovered.

So it was that he sought solace in too much TV, and the self-sufficiency of growing fruit and veg.

Which was all kinds of wonderful and money-saving when the caterpillars didn’t attack everything.

As soon as he came home, though, his mood tended to plummet.

Lola suspected the last thing he’d fancy was a list of chores.

‘Right then,’ she said, once she’d thrown herself into the most therapeutic cleaning session of her life, slapped on some natural make-up, tied her hair back in something resembling a top knot, and shoved her cap in her bag.

‘I’m sorry it’s a short visit this afternoon but I’ll call in again tomorrow. ’

‘You will not, young lady! You have a life of your own to be getting on with at twenty-eight-years-old. And please tell me you’ve got a hot date to get ready for tonight.’

‘Yes and no,’ said Lola truthfully.

But she wasn’t about to elaborate. She kissed her mum goodbye, hugged her dad as their paths crossed on the actual path, pulled on her shades and headed off for the city’s swanky underground cocktail bar, The Bubble Bath.

If you had to take on a second job, then this sounded like a funky place to do it.

First off, Lola had to actually get an offer, though.

She’d done some waitressing but it was yonks ago when she’d had a part-time job as a teenager in one of the quaint cafés next to the Pump Rooms. Hopefully she could tap back into the things she’d learnt: Americans tip excellently, you will always need to scratch an itch when you’ve picked up a heavy tray, and far too many male customers assume that Georgian pump room etiquette extends to chatting up waitresses.

As far as the latter went, thankfully The Bubble Bath sounded like a typical couples and foodies destination– especially since the seasonal drinks contained foraged ingredients.

Lola finally reached North Parade, trying her best to look inconspicuous now she’d been newly coiffured.

It was a vibrant area of central Bath, where the tour buses stopped in front of tall Georgian buildings, the charming park, the pub with the oldest facade in the city, and the alleyway leading to Sally Lunn’s historic tea rooms– as well as the deli that doubled as the Modiste dress shop in Bridgerton.

She approached the cocktail bar’s entrance and was met by a smart doorman.

When Lola gave him her name and her reason for being there, his reaction was far more welcoming than that of yesterday’s security guard.

‘Ah, yes, Miss Smith. Maxine’s expecting you. Go on through and take the stairs down to the basement.’

Lola had heard great things about the boutique bar which had only opened at Easter– most recently from Joaquín, who had nipped in last weekend for ‘the most incredible Jacob Elordi Bathwater cocktail’ with his boyfriend– but sadly it wasn’t the type of place she could afford to frequent herself.

The decor lived up to the hype when she pushed open the double doors at the bottom of the stairs.

It felt like a speakeasy fused with Alice in Wonderland.

The tables were roll-top bathtubs! Some of these were upside-down with their claw and ball feet in the air.

The seats were ruby-red sofas, whose velvety fabric was made of stitched-together love hearts.

Bath-themed pictures hung upside down (if Lola wasn’t mistaken, there was one of Bath Beasts– at least this version of Monty wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye).

Gorgeous antique lamps sat in nooks and crannies, illuminating the space in the perfect glow.

Rubber ducks, bottles of bubble bath and loofahs adorned the shelves.

There was even a book section, filled with local legend, Jane Austen’s works, as well as volumes of Julia Quinn’s Regency romances.

Like most attractions in the city, it seemed that The Bubble Bath had jumped on the Bridgerton bandwagon, since much of the hit Netflix series had been filmed nearby.

Lola had never felt so overwhelmed. In a good way.

She could only imagine how eclectic the drinks menu would be.

‘Hi Lola!’ Maxine greeted her further to their brief email exchange that Lola’d had to carry out between snips as Joaquín had expertly tended to her hair and Aphrodite had looked on.

‘Hi back. Lovely to meet you. This place is incredible!’

‘It’s going down a treat with locals and visitors,’ Maxine gushed, pushing her specs from her crown to her nose and scouring her surroundings, as if to double check that everything was still in its proper place.

‘We wanted to create something immersive and memorable, a cocktail bar that stood out from the crowd. Hopefully we’ve pulled it off.

’ They most definitely had. ‘Shall we settle ourselves at the corner table with a cocktail?’ Maxine pointed to a bathtub.

‘I’ll be having a mocktail as I’m working but I’d love for you to sample something a little stronger from the menu… assuming you’re not tee-total?’

‘That would be amazing,’ Lola replied.

Maxine led the way and grabbed a couple of menus from the bar.

Lola was elated to see this. She was a nightmare at working the QR app on her phone– no matter how enthusiastic the rest of the world was about the barcode’s omnipresence– and would be hopeless at helping customers do so if they got in a kerfuffle.

‘Do you have any recommendations?’ she asked as she skimmed the list. ‘It’s so hard to choose!

They all sound delicious. And I really like the way you have so many Bath and bath-related cocktails.

Oh, so this is the cocktail that my hairdresser was raving about.

It sounds intriguing. Was it invented locally? ’

‘I… take it you’ve not watched Saltburn?’

‘Erm, no. Not yet.’

‘Ah, okay.’ Maxine laughed, pushing her glasses back on top of her head. ‘This one is a little on the XXX-rated side and what we might call a wolf in sheep’s clothing with regards to the tame ingredients– gin aside.’

‘Right. I’ll pass on that for now, then.’

‘My personal favourite at this time of year is the Polin; inspired by Penelope and Colin from the Ton, of course. A honey-infused rum, lemon and elderflower kiss of a cocktail with a splash of soda.’