Page 37 of Hit For Six
‘Okay, I’ve got it.’ She stuck a finger in the air. ‘If you weren’t playing international T20– and if you weren’t involved with the family business– what would you love to do career-wise?’
Anyone would think Lola had asked Monty the million pound question on a certain game show. Any moment now and he’d be saying he needed to ask the audience or phone a friend. At length he opened his mouth:
‘If I say this aloud, it’s going to make it real. IthinkI’m ready to make it real.’ Monty took a deep breath. ‘Even if I’m not quite sure when it will happen, I think it would be the perfect way to transition from one life dream to another.’
‘This sounds intriguing.’
Lola fiddled with the stem of her glass, trying to second guess his answer, which would probably be something along the lines of buying a farm or a pub– as most males nearing middle-age seemed to dream of doing these days, without taking into account the practicalities. But these wouldn’t apply to Monty. He could literally chuck money at such a project in a decade or so’s time.
‘I haven’t mentioned this to another soul, Lola. It’s a bit scary putting it out there.’
Wow. This was deep. She scooped up another mouthful of food and bolstered herself for what was to come, revelling in the mouthwatering flavours.
‘When I retire from international cricket, I want to set up a travel company that specialises in… cricket.’ Hey? That was Lola’s business idea!With musical theatre.Okay, Monty couldn’t possibly have known, but what the hell was going on? His eyes twinkled. There was nothing fake about this. Apparently, they shared the same dream. ‘I’d willingly dabble in a bit of punditry on the side too. But one day– and I know it sounds cliché– I would love to make a difference to underprivileged kids by organising cricket tours for them towatch matches at different stadiums, along with training and matches of their own. Here in the UK, and overseas in countries where cricket isn’t federated; Spain has a real problem with that right now– there are heaps of kids missing out. It’s not enough to have a career that’s all about me once I finally break free from the one that my father’s set up for me at Beau-re-mi. I hope that doesn’t make me sound ungrateful, but I need to give back. So the world is a bit of a better place than it was when I came into it. Does that make sense?’
Had she only thought to swallow her food a second earlier, disaster might not have struck. Alas Lola had been too slow. Dumbfounded by Monty’s words and a destiny that matched her own. Now as she tried to let the fish slip down her throat, it remained stubbornly lodged. She let out a little cough and tried to stay calm as she felt her face grow redderand redder. Water. She needed water. She made a grab for her glass, but the fizzy bubbles of the Perrier only aggravated her dilemma and now she was hacking away as if she smoked twenty a day.
She was in trouble. Monty’s wide eyes said it all. He sprang to his feet– thankfully not jumping over the table this time– pulling her up so she was standing, albeit at a very peculiar angle. Then he stood behind her, wrapped his arms firmly around her and did something with his fist, placing it between her belly and rib cage. Blimming heck, Lola realised she was being treated to a full-on Heimlich manouevre. As if she hadn’t shown herself up enough in this establishment! But Monty didn’t care about any of that. He stood snugly behind her and thrusted from the rear into her abdominal area until the morsel of food flew in the direction of the stern dude in the cream suit, where it rested at his feet.
Gasps– one of them Lola’s– and applause filled the restaurant, then the harried waiter reappeared, this time carrying his own cleaning props. There were no wordsto describe Lola’s relief but it was soon shadowed with mortification. An all-too-common theme when she was around Monty.
‘Thanks, I–’
But she couldn’t talk and she didn’t dare look at the table next to her. With trembling hands she reached for the water and sipped it this time. The bubbles felt rough against her throat and now they cascaded up her nose, bringing even more tears to her eyes. Why couldn’t Monty have ordered tap water and been a cheapskate like she was? This stuff tasted like paracetamol dissolved in water. And Lola was getting sidetracked. She had to get out of here.
She picked up her jacket and bag with as much dignity as she could muster, swiped a couple of notes from her purse, threw them at the table and fled the brasserie, leaving Monty to settle the bill.
‘Lola, wait!’
Honestly, she’d just as well wear a name badge. Soon the whole of Bath would know who she was.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Monty
‘Well, that wasa memorable first date.’
Monty burst out of The Iris, frantically looking from left to right to find Lola slanted against the wall separating one eatery from another. It made for a very different painting to the version of her propped up against the oak. She’d gone from carefree and full of life to paranoid and exhausted in just a couple of hours. Equally as beautiful but this was no time for complimenting her looks. He needed to pull out all the stops to turn things around. Which was nigh on impossible when he was out of ideas. Their moments of banter had been fabulous. The right kind of bubbles where everybody around them had ceased to exist.
‘Except it wasn’t a date, Monty.’
And now his expectations were fading by the second.
‘Slip of the tongue.’ He caught his breath and took a tentative step towards her, relief coursing his veins that Lola had waited. It was something. ‘That was so intense back there that I don’t know what I’m saying. I was beyond worried about you. Are you sure you’re okay? I mean, obviously you’re not going to be feeling on top of the world but–’
‘I… can’t be taken anywhere, as I very recently warned you. Here you are smack bang in another déjà-vu. But thank you, anyway. The food and drink were delicious.’
He waited for her to say the same thing about the company.
‘It was nothing. Any time.’ Lola bit her lip and Monty knew she was trying to stem the tears. He held out an arm, wanting nothing more than to hold her close to him, to press his lips to her forehead and promise her that everything was going to beokay. But she trudged ahead, ignoring his chivalry. It hurt but he couldn’t show it. ‘Let me walk you home. No more buses.’
‘Okay,’ she conceded reluctantly but without biting.
‘It could have easily been me,’ he prattled on. ‘And as an aside to that, most people back in The Iris would have been half-cut on the vino. Poe-faced cream suit dude was not a cross-section of the culinary demographic tonight.’ Lola remained silent. ‘I think you care too much what other people think.’
Now she pouted and Monty was petrified that he’d overstepped the mark. Once again, he found himself being a hypocrite. He was a fine one to talk, letting his parents mold certain parts of his life. But he had to try to get Lola to say something. Somehow. They passed the Irish pub and he wished he could take her inside for a nightcap.
‘Baileys or an Irish coffee?’ he chanced, his imagination stoking the embers of their connection.
