Page 33 of Hit For Six
‘I’m done. This is the last ball,’ Lola cried ten minutes later.
Monty wasn’t surprised. She’d exceeded herself running in to intercept two tricky shots, further surprising her male counterpart.
‘Yeah, I’m pretty ravenous,’ Monty concurred– in two very different senses of the word, but it was probably safest to put one of those on the backburner.
‘Yay, let’s all grab a Nando’s!’ cried one of the lads, whose names he still hadn’t caught.
‘Actually, guys, if you’ll excuse us, I’m taking our star fielder somewhere a little more refined.’
Because a nouveau riche underdog never gave up.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lola
A meal atThe Iris was not part of Lola’s Friday night plans. She’d set the evening aside to make a very long new venture To-Do list. The niche that she’d spotted in the musical theatre market wouldn’t stay a secret for long, because wasn’t that always the way when you had a fabulous business idea?
And Lola’s was special. Now that she had the money, she needed to jump on her musical theatre travel company. A groundbreaking enterprise that didn’t just offer the usual suspect night away for its guests: show, dinner, hotel and breakfast, but awhole weekof feel-good vibes. Coach trips taking in regional theatres and performances all over the UK, seven matinees or evenings in a row. Plus some token local sightseeing, quirky cafés, and quaint beaches en route. Basically, Lola’s dream holiday.
But the spotlight would be on the theatrics, with something for every age group and budget, even those with the most discerning tastes. Maybe she’d even broaden her horizons to Broadway and some of the fringe theatres in New York if her project took off? It was all so exciting and the possibilities felt endless.
Finally, she’d get to put her degree to good use and Lola could already imagine the natural high of her holidaymakers with everybody on the bus breaking into song as they pootled along to the next destination! Never mind fancy detox breaks and sophisticated yoga retreats. There was nothing more therapeutic for the soul than a week of non-stop musical theatre. Admittedly, she’d probably only be able to put on a few tripsa year to get started, freelancing in sales and marketing in-between, but her heart sang at the prospect of that alone.
Now here she was about to indulge in a very different form of entertainment. Monty had managed to get them a table so easily.Too easily.Lola decided it was best not to wonder if that was because he’d furtively booked ahead or he was simply well connected. Probably both. The doorman was only too happy to take his mammoth cricket bag, as if he often passed by for a bite to eat after training.
Lola was secretly impressed (and still more than a little tingly after being called star fielder– cricket was definitely growing on her; T20 cricket she meant,T20). She’d always wanted to come here. Ever since Bath had gained its own restaurant from the famous London establishment in the West End. It was super sophisticated and the kind of place where you never knew who you might bump into before or after a matinée. Sadly it was just that little bit out of reach for someone on her salary– even taking into account the pay rise. And it tended to have a super long waiting list.
Shit, she didn’t feel dressed for this place at all. Not that Monty was either. But somehow those with expensive faces could carry off casual wear. Whether their money was old or new. Meanwhile, working class Lola tried her best to convince everybody that her New Look special had come from Karen Millen. Maybe her companion’s mere presence would give her a glow-up? She could but hope.
Two menus were ceremoniously laid out before them and Monty, true to his word, ordered champagne mojitos.
‘So then, the fizz is on the table and it’s time to talk about you. I’m looking forward to this.’
On registering her words, Monty’s expression became cloudy. Lola raised a glass to him anyway and he gently clinkedhis against hers, his eyes suddenly lighting up again as he registered her presence.
But what was she doing here? Leading him on to the extreme. And what was he doingwith her? When she scoured the dining room, she could see plenty of women whose skin truly did glow with the telltale signs of La Mer moisturiser. Meanwhile, their necks, wrists and fingers glittered with select Tiffany jewels, and understated Burberryesque handbags dripped off the backs of their chairs. How could Lola’s Nivea face cream, her basic outfit, and her ten-year-old Matalan handbag even begin to compete?
‘Ease me in gently!’ came his delayed reaction response. ‘I’ve got another idea. Let’s get to know one another better first. Quick fire questions: favourite colour?’
‘Hey, that’s cheating!’ Lola reached across to tap him on the thigh, suddenly thinking better of the come on and restraining herself with a ballerina posture. ‘But it’s purple at the moment. You?’
‘Aha,’ said Monty, his eyes on fire. ‘So that was your room that I spied when you gave me the apartment tour. I digress. Royal blue, of course.’
Why didn’t Lola say red, yellow or green? Talk about another close call. She really didn’t want to open the curtains on her musical theatre obsession tonight.
‘I might have known,’ she quipped.
She took a sip of her cocktail and finally gave herself permission to enjoy herself. Not to let down her guard completely. But to try her level best to treat this evening as two mates out on the town. There had been far too many awkward moments at the park and she was ashamed of her grumpiness and snapping. Despite the fact they were currently sharing a table, their thighs were in no danger of rubbing and their hands were in no danger of touching if she could just remember to sit here like a penguin. All was well in the friend zone.
‘Lola? It’s your turn to ask me a question!’
‘Oh, okay. Favourite… Actually, let’s play This or That instead. Much more fun.’ And they were far less likely to drift onto the subject of pastimes. ‘Even quicker.’ Yeah, that too.
‘Capybaras or meerkats?’
Evidently she now had animals on the brain.
‘Capybaras, I think.’ Monty pondered this for a second or two. ‘A mate of mine once did a stint in a meerkat sanctuary in South Africa. Apparently they might look sweet but they’re little stink bombs.’
