Page 9 of Hit For Six
Lola sighed. She’d gotten way too ahead of herself. Life was never so straightforward.
‘But you look completely different with your shorter hair pulled back and the ah.’ Maxine stroked the air. ‘Fringe.’ Ha, so completely different that she recognised Lola immediately and had been building up to breaking it to her. ‘I’m just super observant, but the average person won’t have a clue who you are. It’s yesterday’s fish and chip paper.’ Pfft. Not even a week had passed. ‘What I’m very badly trying to say is… are you sure that the guy who was attempting to catch the ball on your right– okay, actually he was on your left, ’cos I need to imagine the scenario from your perspective–’
‘Youreallydon’t want to do that.’
Where the hell was this conversation going? Maxine pulled her glasses down off her bouncy brown bob, her owlish eyes regarding Lola as if she was about to confide in her.
‘Are you sure that he wasn’t somehow responsible for you know… what happened… your tits hanging out.’ And oh, despite the bluntness of that statement, this was most unexpected. Apparently there was another person out there who could see right through Julian Tovey. ‘The reason I’m wondering is because we barred that man from here.’
‘No way!’
‘I’m afraid so, and that’s another reason why I’m so familiar with your face. I’ve replayed the footage several times and can imagine all too well his hand in things.’ Wonderful. ‘He came in about a month ago wearing the same hat on top of that eighties hair. He’d had too much to drink and he started trying it on with this group of nineteen-year-old girls. We were about to call the police but he fled. Not even Bruce on the door managed to collar him. Look: I’ve still got the evidence here.’
Maxine pulled her phone out of her back pocket, tapping and scrolling down the screen until she found what she was looking for. She handed her mobile to Lola, whose head slowly nodded affirmatively as she took in the disturbing hodgepodgeof images of Julian straddling the edge of a roll top bath in a most disgraceful manner so he could impose himself on a group of young women. In the next shot he was lying in the bath, two cocktails in his filthy mitts, whilst the girls’ struggled to conceal their intimidated body language.
‘It was a busy night. We should have been on the case immediately.’ Maxine gritted her teeth at her own mishap this time. ‘I have to know, Lola. Is he still employed by your company? At least, your row of people absolutely screamed corporate-work-event-on-a-Friday-afternoon and I couldn’t imagine for one moment that they were family or friends.’ Maxine was astute. Lola slowly nodded her head again. ‘I promise that you won’t be implicated in this. But I do need that information… and I’d like his full name, if possible. It’s my duty as owner of this bar to protect the women who come in here.’
Lola was only too happy to consent. Whistleblowing on Julian in return for a job? She took it all back: she couldn’t have imagined how quickly her life would turn around. Obviously she had no idea what would happen next. Harry might not put two and two together when Maxine contacted him, but Julian would be on his radar, at least. Karma was working faster than she’d anticipated.
After the most humiliating twenty-four hours of her life, it felt like Lola had finally got her act together. Aside from the fact that she must never bump into Monty B-C in the flesh, of course. But she had a plan. No more coasting along. She wasn’t about to give Julian credit but in a strangely roundabout way, he’d helped her. How pissed off he’d be if he knew that!
Determined to carpe the hell out of the diem, after a quick intro to the bar staff, Lola shook hands with Maxine, sealing the deal, then headed back out into the beautiful Bath evening with a smile on her face and a spring in her step. She’d moved on. Physically with her new-ish hair, mentally with her new attitude.Now all she needed to do was fill in that online business bank loan application so she could fulfil her dreams and help her parents in one fell swoop.
Where better to do so than sitting in a stripy deck chair in the park with a cup of takeaway tea in her hands? Lola crossed the road to the café closest to Parade Gardens, bought herself a cuppa and made her way down another set of steps onto the lawns, begrudgingly paying the fee to get in (Bath really was cashing in a little too much in the wake of Bridgerton; to Lola’s knowledge, there hadn’t been as much as a libido-inducing tryst filmed in these parts). But there was an orchestra playing Rick Astley songs in the cute bandstand. Lola parted with yet more cash to get herself a seat and sank her arse into its blissful hammock asTogether Foreverstarted up.
She could spare an hour at best since she had to zip home, feed Squiffy and make herself a bite to eat before returning to the bar. But this couldn’t wait. Lola pulled out her phone, tutting at the now crazy amount of notifications on her screen, and hit the website she’d discovered last night, filling in her details as precisely as she could at lightning speed. Hoping against hope that her streak of luck might continue.
‘Is this seat taken, dear?’
An elderly woman with a mop of cirrus cloud hair stood beside her, causing her flying fingers to jolt. Lola bit her tongue to stop the curse dancing on the end of it.
‘Not as far as I know. Feel free to use it,’ she replied brightly. ‘They’ll come round and collect your money soon.’
‘Oh, I know they will, the buggers. I can remember when you used to be able to hire these deckchairs, buy an ice cream and a newspaper.’ The lady waved a rolled up one of the latter at Lola. ‘And you’d still get change from a sixpence.’
Lola smiled sweetly and got back to the task in hand, inwardly flinching at the reference to the most terrifying numberin the world. But she’d barely filled in another field of the online form when a jarring pop rang out across the sea of deck chairs. It sounded suspiciously like a violin string had broken. Lola looked up at the band whose merrymaking had ground to an abrupt halt. That’s exactly what had happened! The musician looked crestfallen and embarrassed as she hugged her instrument to her chest. Lola hoped she felt the soft warmth of her hard relate stare.
Surprised that the lady seated next to her hadn’t noticed the calamity, Lola turned to swap notes, only to come eye to eye with Monty’s scathing face jumping out at her from the back page of the newspaper, along with the headlineTitillating Triumph prompts Rumours of International Opportunity!
CHAPTER SIX
Monty
‘Darling, you area trouper!’ said Helena, ushering Monty inside the grand family country home and relieving him of the shopping, which was systematically passed to one of today’s hired waiters.
It always felt strange to come back to Upper Badminton, though the house was just a few miles from Bath. For all his happy childhood memories in the verdant village, the imposing building of his childhood lacked the cosiness and charm of his city-centre apartment. No sooner had he set foot in B-C HQ than he couldn’t wait to get back to the Crescent, which was ridiculously contradictory when one considered the vast scale of its architecture. And last night’s dream wasn’t helping. It kept coming back to Monty at the most inopportune moments during the day: waiting at a crossroads to traverse busy traffic, in the checkout queue at Waitrose where he’d made himself look like a gormless twit. And here it was again now at his folks’ place, threatening the same.
He’d never experienced butterflies in his stomach over a woman before but the T20 girl had crept into his slumber last night; her soft, naked body melding against his firm muscles as they got cosy beneath the sheets and he spooned her until she was spent. All of this despite the fact he staunchly refused to look at his socials or watch the replay so he couldn’t possibly have retained a detailed image of her face. It was all a bit mystifying and hopefully just a phase. The thought of said recurring dream was heaven and hell.
‘That had better not be what I think it is.’ Monty jolted himself back to the present… and the present. Helena frowned as she side-eyed the neatly-wrapped cricket bat. ‘Really, Monty. A jigsaw or a book would have been far more appropriate.’
‘Erm, well… Roddie can never start playing cricket too soon.’ Monty struggled to get his words out, as he called after his mother’s retreating back, her chignon barely moving as they headed toward the kitchen. ‘London coaches children from four years and up, you know.’
Helena pivoted to face him, pursing her lips at this.
‘I’m sure Dante would prefer for his son to take more of an equestrian interest as far as the sporting world is concerned, under the guidance of somebody who is not named after a city.’ See, this was the constant battle. God forbid Monty had ever defected to the likes of football in his teenage days, or developed a crush on Paris Hilton. Once again, this was all about pretending to be an old money family with a rich heritage of aristocratic pursuits. Once again, this was all about the Twenty20 twist on the game. When Monty had started out playing traditional cricket (aka the posh man’s sport) his parents had been over him like a rash. ‘Right, let’s put this article in the reception room,’ Helena changed the subject. ‘Roddie can open his presents later. Go on through to the garden and play social butterfly with our guests. Everyone’s gathered outside, the band is playing, and the Pimm’s is plentiful.’
Monty was glad of the change of scene already but just as he started to amble into the kitchen andFly Me to the Moonpiped into the house courtesy of a variety of brass, woodwind and stringed instruments, Helena reappeared in front of him like an apparition, the look on her face casting him to stone:
