Page 36 of Hit For Six
‘You’re deflecting again, Lola. I want to hear your answer!’
‘Says the original procrastinator in this entire getting-to-know-you conversation.’
Monty drummed his fingers on the table and suddenly the main courses appeared. Perfect timing. The waiter fussed about with the cloches, revealing two intricately presented meals– one looking infinitely more appetising than the other. In Lola’s humble opinion only, of course. Normally she would reel at such a small portion but suddenly her stomach was in knots when it wasn’t performing somersaults. For some reason she’d already skipped ahead in her imagination to the walk home, wondering which proverbial path it might take them down. Damn that red lipstick for messing with her head.
‘Let me take a bite or two first, please!’ she insisted, spearing a small piece of the samphire that accompanied her dish with a lovely little chunk of the sea bass.
The ingredients melded on her tongue in a musical theatre performance of their own. Damn, this was high end nosh. She shouldn’t get too used to it. Monty, again, was tucking in as if this was a regular meal of cottage pie. Lola knew that he couldn’t help his upbringing and being used to the finer things in life, but once again, it only served to highlight their differences. She rested her knife and fork at a respectable angle on her plate to signal that she was still eating, patted her lips and prayed that she had nothing green stuck in her teeth. She cleared her throat. The sooner she answered his questions, the sooner she could grill Monty. She was intrigued to hear his backstory.
‘One– I’ve lost count of how many musicals I’ve been to because I’ve watched a few multiple times,’ she said, trying to recall the order of his interrogation. ‘Two– no, I’ve never been on stage and I honestly have no desire to… in the same way, I guess, as most of us sitting here don’t dream of being gourmet chefs. I love being in the audience, experiencing the end result. We’re an integral part of the show, the energy flows both ways.’ She paused for effect. ‘And three– there’s nothing quite like the natural high. Sure, you can experience something similar by watching sport or going to see your favourite band, but musical theatre feels more intimate and special. Don’t get me wrong, I still really enjoy other kinds of live events– well, most of the time.’
‘Hey.’ Monty held his palms up. ‘No offence taken. I think I get it. Live sport is great but it can be stressful and disappointing when you’re in the audience. Somebody has to lose. It sounds like everyone’s a winner with musical theatre.’
‘That’s exactly it!’ She beamed. It was so rare that she could chat about her passion like this. ‘But it’s more than that. I just–’ Lola sighed, feeling her expression turn dreamy. God, she was on a roll now, completely letting her guard down around this man. ‘I love seeing people’s faces light up when the actors break out in dance on the stage. I know it’s a mega cheesy admission, but somehow the world feels instantly transformed in that moment. Likeanythingis possible. As if someone has clicked their fingers and repainted it in rainbow colours where it was once bleak, meaningless and grey. That feeling lasts for days. It ripples out and touches others who have no clue that you’ve just been dancing your heart out at a production of Mamma Mia or Here Lies Love.’
Which was precisely why her mum needed the respite of musical theatre right now. There was something so powerful about the songs and dances; they fueled you up with a new leaseof life. It was Gail who’d first introduced Lola to this magical world courtesy of Cats at the Bristol Hippodrome. No wonder Lola adored Squiffy. But these days Gail struggled to sit for long because of her dodgy hip, and the cheap seats were not an option.
‘The only bad experience I’ve had in a theatre was when I ended up sitting next to a woman who was an international hamster judge and she insisted on showing me hundreds of pictures on her phone,’ Lola continued.
Monty snort-laughed.
‘I’m glad I hadn’t taken a swig of champagne when you said that.’
‘But I’ve made some great friends via the theatre too. I just don’t get to hang out with them very much. We’re spread out all over the country.’
And soon with her ingenious business idea, Lola hoped to do something about that.
‘I’d love to take you to a musical one day.’
Her heart bloomed at the thought, then skipped a beat. She would love it too. Even more than Monty. Not that she needed a man to enjoy a production but Lola had never known of a male who truly wanted to experience the thrill of this unique brand of the arts. Her dad had tried, only to fall asleep, snoring loudly during Hamilton– which was widely regarded to be a safe choice for the most manly of men– earning himself an exile from the theatre, and a public scolding from her mum.
Lola snuck in another forkful of food before it went cold.
‘What’s your favourite performance?’
Monty couldn’t take his eyes off her and it really was as if he’d heard all of her thoughts and was ready to take on the challenge of stepping up to the mark.
‘Right now? It would have to be… erm… SIX.’
‘You’re kidding me! There’s a musical named after the greatest cricket shot of all time?’
Lola went quiet. It was incredible and ridiculous in equal measure but until now and this comparison to his sport, she genuinely hadn’t made the connection between that number as her favourite musical… and the recent plot twists in her life. Shit. Had the queens been trying to tell her something all along? No, that was outrageous. She didn’t do airy-fairy stuff. It was pure fluff. Even numerology. You made your own luck. She’d first seen SIX back in 2019. That was a whole lifetime ago. What correlation could it possibly have to present day Monty?
Then she remembered how she’d recently thought better of making a voodoo doll of Julian, and, as if to reinforce that, a quote from The Book of Mormon, about being all or nothing with one’s beliefs, flew into her head with admirable timing.
‘Lola? Lola! Are you okay?’
Monty put down his fork, concern creasing his brow, and although he was looking at Lola with growing alarm, she was glad of the distraction.
‘Absolutely fine. Couldn’t be better,’ she gushed. ‘Anyway, that’s enough about me, it’s time to talk about you. No more excuses.’
‘What do you want to know?’
Monty arched a brow.
‘Ooh.’
Lola steepled her fingers, myriad possibilities running through her brain and not all of them suitable for the time or place. Maybe if she thought of something random he’d open up to her in the same way she had to him. Intuition told her that Monty was troubled over something big, but as with her own revelation, he had to meander there when he was ready.
