Page 34 of Hit For Six
‘You won’t get extra points for explaining yourself.’ Lola giggled. ‘Speed is of the essence. But did you know there’s a capybara café in Tokyo?’
‘No way!’ said Monty. ‘Well, if my T20 career ever takes me to Japan…’
Why was he looking at her in such a way that she could imagine them fussing over the giant rodents together and feeding them veggies whilst sipping iced tea?Stop it, Monty!Lola needed to think of some boring comparisons that couldn’t give anyone future date ideas when it was her turn again. Obviously, they weren’t on a date right now or anything.
‘Cheese or chocolate.’
‘Chocolate, of course. Is that even a question?’
‘Just because it was your idea to steal my thunder, you’re not allowed to justify yourself either, young lady.’ She shouldn’t love it when he popped these endearments on the end of his rambles. Her legs had almost given way when he’d called her sweetheart back in the park. ‘But chocolate? Are you for real? When cave-aged blue cheese, gorgonzola and Beaufort d’Eté are in this world?’
Lola covered her mouth and pretended to yawn. Then Monty caught the reflex for real seconds later, before it rebounded to Lola. And just as quickly, the couple at the nearest table to themwere trying to disguise their weariness. All of which set Monty and Lola off on a fit of hysterics, until the peeved cough of their neighbours told them it was time to shake it off.
‘FOMO or JOMO?’ asked Lola in a wobbly voice.
‘Fo what? Okay, I’m declaring myself too old for this game if we’re bringing back the jargon of those kids from the park.’
‘Whoop, I’ve won.’
Lola toasted herself and took another sip. They really ought to look at the menu before Monty asked her to clarify those abbreviations. Bubbles and an empty stomach did not mix.
‘We’re going back to the quick fire questions,’ he announced decisively, adding, ‘hobbies?’ before she could protest.
Lola stalled. Her particular brand of recreation was such a Marmite thing. You loved it or you hated it. Faces tended to glaze over and, she had to admit it, this often became a make or break factor in her friendships. Like, Lola’s current circle had all seensomethingat the theatre, at least once in their adult lives– and of their own accord. But being dragged along to watch Joseph or The Lion King on a school trip/by your uber-enthusiastic parents really didn’t count. Lola had strict musical theatre standards. And she liked the man sitting opposite her a lot.As a friend.It would be the biggest disappointment if he slated her life’s passion.
‘We need to order, Monty. The waiter’s hovering.’
‘We do.’ Monty shot her a skeptical look. ‘But I’ll be revisiting this one.’
Not if they got on to other subjects first. It felt like he was bringing sporting tactics to this convo. Like the way penalty takers in football pull a trickshot on the goalie. She guessed it was in-built given he was a T20 pro.
Lola had already decided that she’d plump for fish. That was one of the handful of advantages of being a fussy eater: she knew what she liked and often it was a case of only one or twopossibilities jumping out of the menu, since the rest would be accompanied with complex sauces or bitter vegetables. She’d go for the cheapest version, obviously. Monty might be loaded but she intended to pay her way.
‘I think I’ll have the pan fried sea bass, please– minus the saffron sauce.’
‘Same,’ Monty told the waiter. ‘Can I have my… friend’s sauce, though?’
‘Bit cheeky!’
Lola kicked him under the table, completely forgetting her resolve and foolishly catching the end of the cloth with her foot, knocking their large bottle of water to the floor with a loud smash that turned every head in the establishment. And just like that the evening was ruined. It was all she could do not to run yet again in Monty’s presence.
‘Oops!’ he said, as if it was but a triviality.
‘I amsosorry. Allow me,’ Lola bleated at the rapidly approaching waiter.
She could detect the most unfetching pink hue creeping up her neck. She stood to help him, rooting around in her bag for tissues (yet again– when would it ever stop?), oblivious to the napkins in the centre of the table.
‘That will not be necessary, Madam. It’s taken care of already. Please remain seated and enjoy your evening.’ He gestured to a waitress with a cloth, dustpan, brush and mop. It wasn’t that Lola had never been anywhere posh before, but she didn’t think she’d ever get used to thisentitlement. Just as well, then, that she wasn’t dating Monty. ‘And absolutely, Sir, to your request. Plus a fresh bottle of Perrier. Anything to graze on while you’re both waiting?’
‘Rosemary glazed Mamra almonds sound good to you?’
Lola nodded her head sheepishly and all matters were closed.
‘I can’t believe I did that,’ she hissed, mortified at the deep clean going on around her, when she was the one who did the tidying up after others.
She couldn’t go on throwing SPD into the mix. Whilst it could make some people clumsy, there was nothing wrong with her co-ordination; she’d just proved that at the park. And she honestly barely drank alcohol either, but in the short time that she’d known of Monty’s existence, she’d gone from smuggling it into a cricket match in a hair brush, to resigning from a job at a cocktail bar, to pouring her heart out long distance over the tiniest bottle of bubbles, to this.
A good old restorative mug of tea was the way forward. But they weren’t in a greasy spoon. She had to observe etiquette.
