Page 49 of Hit For Six
‘Oh, we call it tea in our house,’ said Gail with a chuckle. ‘And I’m sorry that it was nothing flash like you’re probably used to but hopefully it filled a hole.’
‘It was amazing!’ Monty declared.
Gail lit up at this and Monty felt relieved he’d passed the test. Because that was what today was all about, above and beyond any volunteering to do the chores. He was desperate for Lola’s feedback. They walked hand in hand back through Plummerton, the setting sun doing what it did best; throwing its shards of light on the most inanimate objects so that even the giant skips had been transformed from eyesores to the kind of oddly entrancing exhibits one found in a modern art gallery.
‘That went well, I thought,’ she said finally.
Phew.
‘Me too. Your parents are great people and they know how to make someone feel at home. I really like them.’
‘Snap.’
A smile played across Lola’s lips. Monty had to give her a peck on the cheek. It had been far too long. Inevitably, this turned into an electric smooch, until a group of theaforementioned teenagers started laughing and Lola had to drag Monty along before he decided to play knight in shining armour.
Once they’d reached the Rose and Fiddle and the disco beats of ABBA piping out of its beer garden, Monty somehow found the courage to say:
‘Far be it for me to interfere… but I have to ask: what was all that about?’
‘The typical TV meal?’ She looked briefly confused, then taken aback, and finally, disappointed. As if Monty had fallen straight into a trap. As if she could have predicted this would happen and she should never have got her hopes up that he was any different to the next posh bastard. ‘I know it’s probably not what you’re used to, and it’s hardly the most aphrodisiac of foods to eat when you’re dating… but, well, that’s my parents. Take them or leave them.’
‘Not the food! That was far from an act with your mum. You have no idea how delicious that meal was. Well, you do, because you ate it too. Honestly, Lola, I’ll be recreating it at least once during the week. I was alluding to the relaxed company.’ He almost said no airs and graces, but thought better of it. ‘The banter around the table.’ Greg had livened up considerably with a plate of food in front of him. ‘That indescribable feeling of belonging. And, most importantly,you.’
‘Right.’ Monty wasn’t sure if Lola was blushing or if the nip in the air had turned her cheeks Fandango Pink. Gah, he was thinking in bloody Pantone colours again. When would he ever escape the clutches of Beau-re-mi? ‘So what are you referring to?’ she asked and Monty had to jog his memory because they’d gone so far off track.
‘I’m… erm.’ He could make something up. Query it another time when they’d been together a few more weeks. Monty really didn’t need to do this now. ‘What I’m talking about is the envelope stuffed with money,’ his voice betrayed him. ‘I sawyou giving it to your mum and I know,I know, it’s none of my business.’ He held his hands up in surrender. ‘And I also know that we’ve only been together for five minutes so that makes it even less of my business but–’
Lola stopped in her tracks. Here they were again facing one another off on yet another pavement.
‘If you know that it’s none of your business then why are you mentioning it? It sounds suspiciously to me like you want to make it your business.’
‘I think you do too much for them, Lola.’
Now she had her hands on her hips. Why was he so terrible at this? Why couldn’t he let it go?
‘Just because you don’t have the same bond with your folk, it doesn’t give you the right to tell me how to conduct my relationship with mine.’ Lola paused. Now her head was in her hands. ‘I’m sorry. That was horribly insensitive of me when I know nothing about your relationship with your parents. I don’t know why I said that.’
Monty ran a hand through his hair. Lola’s words stung but they were pretty damn accurate.
‘I was totally asking for it. And it’s me who is sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that and I wish I hadn’t seen or heard anything. I was on my way back from the bathroom. I just–’ Monty was lost in his thoughts. How did he say this without sounding like an obnoxious, moneyed prick? ‘If you… I mean if they… that’s to say ifany of youever need help, you know you can ask me. And I don’t mean a loan. I’ll be more than happy togiveyou the money.’
‘You’re trying to buy me?’ This was going from bad to worse. ‘Monty! I’m my own person. Relationships don’t work like that.’
Then he recalled Gail’s idiom about cutting their cloth and before he could think better of it, he said:
‘It doesn’t have to be money. I can get your dad a job if that would make things easier. At Beau-re-mi. It wouldn’t be anything majorly well-paid, I’m afraid. But it might improve things and ease the burden on you.’ Wrong choice of word there, Monty. Completely wrong choice of word. ‘Our manual labour rates are at the higher end of the scale.’
‘I don’t need you to fix my parents and they are not a burden!’ Lola cried, stepping aside for some Harley Davidson bikers who’d just emerged red-faced and rowdy from the pub.
‘I promise I’m not trying to do that,’ Monty lowered his voice and outstretched his hand. Gradually Lola calmed down enough to take it and they resumed their walk. ‘I’m sorry. Again. I really didn’t intend to use that B word. But the other B word– Beau-re-mi– really is recruiting right now for machinists. With your dad’s eye for detail and his transferable skills learnt from carpentry, he’d be ideal, an absolute wizz on a sewing machine. A third of our machinists are men so he needn’t worry on the female domination front. N-not that women taking charge of anything is a bad idea. The complete opposite, in fact.’
Monty was giving her yet another fine Hugh-Grant-coming-across-as-a-clueless-twit impersonation. God help him.
‘Where will it ever end if I said yes to this?’ Lola pulled their joined hands towards her and rubbed their interlaced knuckles with her free hand. ‘As generous an offer as it is. We barely know one another.’
A shred of hope there. Monty needed to tread carefully to answer this.
‘But… I thought we weren’t Romeo and Juliet’s age, and that we could break the rules. I have more money than I know what to do with and it feels like a crime to stand on the sidelines watching your family struggle. I wish you’d let me help. It can be a one off. I could cover the bills for your parents, pay for your mum to get her hip operation done privately, and get yourdad a job. You all deserve the break. What’s mine is yours, Lola. That’s how deep this is for me. There’s nothing I can do about my feelings for you. I’m an absolute goner.’
