Balls (Ball Games #1) Page 5

‘You can laugh. It was wonderful. Well, it was for me. It obviously wasn’t for him or he'd have asked me out again.’

  ‘Ah, don’t be so tough on him. He was telling me about how hard Susie is on him. They’ve not been divorced long and I imagine it's taking some getting used to while they both adjust to being single again. He’s probably not rushing into things because of his kids.’

  ‘I suppose. I’ll leave him alone for a bit shall I?’

  ‘Might be for the best. Chat to him again the next time he comes in with the kids. If he wants another date he’ll mention it then, won’t he?’ She puts the brush and mirror away.

  ‘He will. Plus right now there's no time for men in my life other than these small ones.’ I pick Trey up and squeeze him and kiss his cheek. He guffaws as I keep pecking his cheek and neck. ‘Come on Trey, Auntie Camille has choc-choc.’ I walk over to the counter, pick up a chocolate bar and hand it to my honorary nephew.

  ‘So have you seen anything of Dylan since Friday? Is there a budding romance there?’

  Beth stares at me. ‘Definitely not. Not one iota of interest from either of us. He’s besotted with another woman. It was obvious because he didn't stop talking about her all night.’

  ‘Poor you.’

  She shrugs. ‘It’s fine. He wasn’t really my type. I just fancied a night out with some adult company. That’s why I wanted you to double date.’

  ‘So poor Dylan never stood a chance?’

  ‘No, poor Dylan didn’t. Anyway if you're interested in why he hasn't been around since Friday, it’s because you called him a knobhead after he walked you home. You told him to get lost and threatened to snip off his manhood.’

  My jaw drops. Then I fold my arms. ‘I did not.’

  Then I recollect the little girl going snap, snap, snap. That’s why it sounded so familiar. 'Shit. I didn't—did I?’

  ‘Yes, you did. You were hammered. I spoke to him in the bank Monday. He says he’s waiting for an apology and until he gets one, both himself and Max are boycotting Kid Zone.’

  I snort. ‘He’s so stupid.’

  ‘Yeah? Takes one to know one.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Nothing. Be a grown up. Own your actions and apologise.’

  ‘But I don’t remember doing it,’ I whine.

  ‘What’s your top word for your brother when he’s being stupid?’

  I look at the floor, ‘Knobhead.’

  ‘There’d have to be a good reason for Dylan to stay away don’t you think?’

  ‘I suppose. He has been like a fly around shit of late trying to suck up to me. He wants us to be friends, says he’s sorry for what he did at school and wants to make amends.’

  ‘Is that right?’ Beth shakes her head. ‘Well, we’re off to play over there. Ring Dylan. Forget Jack.’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’

  ‘We’ll let you get back to work.’

  I look at the queue forming at the counter. ‘Yes, I’d better. It’s getting busy again.’

  Beth hugs me. ‘I’m so proud of you. You’re really making something of yourself.’ Her own face saddens as she speaks.

  ‘Beth. You have the most beautiful child I’ve ever seen and your whole life ahead of you. We are only twenty-one.’

  She nods. ‘I know. It’s just hard sometimes. I can't help thinking about what I'd be doing if I’d managed to stay at Uni.’

  ‘So go back. There are Universities here. Once Trey is in nursery or school, you’ll have time to pick things back up. In the meantime get crafting, entrepreneur.’

  ‘I suppose. I still need to decide on something for boys.’ She turns and looks at Trey, who, thanks to me, has chocolate smeared all over his face and hands.

  Beth brightens. ‘That’s it.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I won’t give it him again.’

  ‘No, I don’t mean it like that. I mean that’s it. My presents for boys. Chocolate. In fact, maybe I’ll scrap the bag idea altogether and make chocolate for the kids. I could do footballs, teddy bears and put them in nice gift bags. What do you think?’

  ‘It sounds like a great idea. Still consider doing the bags, though. Girls love bags.’

  ‘I’ll try both. But I’m excited about the chocolate idea. I can create more in a shorter time. I’ll see if I can get a book out of the library.’

  ‘The internet will probably tell you how to do it. There’ll be how to videos on YouTube.’

  ‘I’m on it. I’ll search on my phone while Trey plays.’

  With that, she goes off to the Under-five’s area. I occasionally glance at her to make sure she and Trey are okay. She’s on her phone, but she’s not on the net. Rather, she’s chatting away, laughing animatedly, while her eyes watch her son continually. It’s lovely to see a smile on her face. I’d ask who she’s talking to but that would make me a right nosey cow. Whoever it is has put a smile on my friend’s face that is rarely seen these days. It lights up her face and lifts the strain off it. She needs more happiness in her life.

  Sunday has me back at my mothers. I swear Tyler hasn’t moved off his arse since last week. He’s sitting with his feet up on the sofa. I knock them off so I can sit down.

  ‘Seriously, bro, you've got to move out of here and get a life.’

  ‘You’re just jealous because you have to do your own ironing.’

  I pull out my tongue. ‘Whatever, loser.’ I hum We wish you a Merry Christmas.

  ‘It’s bad luck to sing Christmas Carols before Christmas, shh,’ says my mother.

  I glare at her with disgust. ‘Mother. Please don't reiterate Grandma's bullshit.’

  ‘Mum, she’s swearing. Put her on the naughty step.’

  ‘I was only reminding you, brother dear, that you have until Christmas and then…’ I mime a kicking action. ‘You’re out.’

  ‘Mum won't throw me out on my birthday, will you mum?’

  ‘No love.’

  ‘See.’

  ‘I’m going to throw you out on the first of March.’

  Tyler’s eyes grow wide and then he counts on his fingers. ‘But, that's only eight months away.’

  ‘I’ve been telling you for years that you would be kicked out at twenty-five. Look at our Camille. She’s been out from under mine and your Dad's feet since she was eighteen. We want some time on our own before we start with grandkids. Don’t leave that for too long, though.’ She looks at me.

  ‘Why are you looking at me for grandchildren? Why not him?’

  My mother points at Tyler. ‘He can’t take care of himself. Never mind a baby.’

  Tyler leaps off the settee. ‘I’m going to show you. I’ll show you all.’

  He stomps off upstairs.

  ‘Do you reckon he’s packing?’ I ask mum.

  We both chuckle.

  ‘Only if his suitcase is under his duvet.’

  ‘Are you really throwing him out?’

  ‘I don’t know. He needs to stand on his own feet. I hope he’ll want to move before then. Become independent.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’

  ‘Anyway, how was your date with Jack? I’ve been dying to ask.’

  I fill her in on the double date. I’ve always been able to talk to my mother about things.

  ‘Hmmm. That doesn’t sound all that good to be honest.’

  ‘But he kissed me.’

  ‘You were all drunk, though.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She hugs me. ‘You know what I mean. Anyway, Mrs Latham down the market said that Susie was after getting him back again.’

  ‘But they’re divorced.’

  ‘Yeah, well Mrs Latham reckons now she’s had her bit of fun and realised she's stuck with the kids on her own, with hardly any money.’

  ‘She sounds awful.’

  ‘Well, I guess we don’t know what the marriage was like. Anyway. I thought on and decided it’s probably for the best if things don’t work out with you two. Even though those children are so cute, and I’d be a fab step-gran
dma.’

  ‘Mum. Last week you had us married off.’

  ‘Yeah, well now I think you’re better having your own.’

  I roll my eyes.

  ‘How did Beth and Dylan get on?’

  ‘They didn’t.’

  ‘I like Dylan. It’s a shame you hate each other.’

  ‘We’re friends now. Or rather we were until I got drunk and called him a rude name. I need to apologise.’

  ‘Yes, you must. I brought you up better than that.’

  I recollect the time my mother went around to Dylan’s parents’ house screaming like a banshee that she was going to rip their son’s head off if he didn’t leave me alone. She taught me a few words that day.

  ‘Banking is a respectable profession. Good career prospects. You and Dylan are getting on better you say?’ Mum taps her chin with her finger, the diamante stone on her royal blue painted nail catches the light.

  ‘Mum. Stop it. I’ll find my own boyfriends. Right now I’m focusing on the business.’

  ‘Okay. Well, it’ll be nice to have a year or so for just me and your dad. I’d quite like to go on a couple of weekend breaks and things. Rediscover what it’s like with just the two of us.’

  My Dad looks at me from behind his newspaper and mimes blowing his brains out with a finger gun.

  ‘Your Dad needs reminding about how lucky he is to have me. Some women my age are like little old grannies. I’m still hot. I’m not ready for the scrap heap yet.' She raises her voice. 'I have needs.’

  ‘TMI mother. Is that burning I can smell?’

  ‘Shit, the Yorkshire puddings,’ yells my mother and she dashes off toward the kitchen.

  ‘She’ll be the death of me that woman,’ says my Dad. ‘She thinks we’re still in our twenties.’

  ‘You chose her.’ I laugh. That’s Tyler and my go-to response for most comments from our parents. ‘You chose her,’ or ‘You had us.’

  ‘Yes, I did. One day you'll have to do the same. Let me tell you, I don’t like what I hear about that Jack bloke. You watch him. I don’t want to have to break his nose.’

  I’ve never in my whole life heard my father be like that about anybody. My mum is the erratic volcano. Dad is a pleasant breeze on a hot day on the beach.

  ‘I’m not daft, Dad. I’ll be careful.’

  ‘Good,’ he says and goes back to his paper, showing that the conversation is over.

  At the end of lunch, Mother presents us with a homemade apple pie. Dad declares she’s started another fad, this time making different desserts, which she then doesn’t eat.

  Dad pats his stomach. ‘Me and Tyler have put on half a stone each. She’s taking death by chocolate seriously. I don’t know about getting him to move out and have time with me. I’m thinking she wants to be on her own and is trying to kill us off through raising our cholesterol to killer levels.’

  My mum cuts the pie into four pieces.

  ‘You can half that piece again.' My Dad tells her.

  ‘I don’t want any,’ says Tyler.

  ‘Well, what am I supposed to do with this beautiful pie?’ She looks at me. Her eyes widen and she lifts up a finger. ‘Got it. You can take some to Dylan when you apologise for calling him a knobhead.’

  Tyler bursts into laughter.

  ‘You called Dylan a knobhead? I bet he’s been crying.’

  ‘He’s not speaking to me.’

  He shakes his head. ‘God, you two need to get a room.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘You heard.’

  ‘Shut up. We’re just friends. I’ve only just forgiven him for the whole never to be discussed again incident.’

  ‘Oh, Cam. For a smart business woman, you can be so dumb.’

  ‘Leave her alone,’ says my mum. She hands me a large portion of pie wrapped in foil. ‘Take him this. A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, so they say.’

  ‘Yeah, if you want to give the heart an attack,’ says my Dad.

  ‘I’m not trying to get into his heart. Plus I’ve forgotten what number his house is.’

  ‘Twenty-five,' my mother announces like a bingo caller.

  I look at her.

  ‘I can’t help the fact I remember pointless information. His mother must have told me sixteen times when he first moved in, “our Dylan’s done really well for himself. He’s an Assistant Manager at Henderson’s and lives at Twenty-five, Grange Place”. She went off as if it was Buckingham Palace.’

  ‘Yes, because you’ve never spoken like that about our Cam, have you?’ Dad retorts.

  ‘Escape while you have the chance,’ whispers Tyler, though not as quietly as he thinks.

  ‘You can take your own advice,’ my mother quips fast as a whip.

  Tyler stands up. ‘I’m going back to my room for a lie-down. See you sis.' He kisses me on the cheek and is gone.

  I make my own goodbyes and get in my lovely Fiat. ‘Come on, sweet car. Let’s take a detour,’ I tell it. 'I have humble pie to eat while I pass along this apple one.'

  Chapter Seven

  When I pull up my car in front of Dylan's house, I see that Mrs Ball was right to be proud and show off about her son's new home. On a new estate, it’s a modern townhouse with a driveway, a well-tended front lawn and an integral garage. I walk up the driveway clutching the pie, then ring the doorbell. The edge of Dylan's face appears around the curtain. My hands tense around the pie package. I’m left for what seems like forever but, in fact, is only around a minute or two before I hear the door being unlocked. For a moment, I thought he would leave me on the doorstep.

  He pulls back the door slightly. What I can see of his face looks surly.

  'Yes?' he says curtly.

  'Erm, could I come in?'

  He sighs, but opens the door further and indicates I should enter. I step past him and walk into his living room.

  Dylan closes the door and walks in front of me. I realise why he was peering around the door. His torso is naked, There’s a well-muscled back in my eye line. My eyes trail down his body. He's still in his pyjama bottoms. They hang low around his hips. As he turns, I'm momentarily distracted by the toned abdomen and the V that disappears into the bottoms. Holy mother of fuck. This is not the puny white body I used to see in PE class.

  'So,' he says.

  'S-So?' I mutter back. Now I'm looking at the unshaven scruff on his chin. He looks brooding. His blue eyes are icy on mine. For a warm day, it's suddenly arctic around here.

  'S-so,’ he mimics. ‘Why are you here?'

  'Oh. Yes. Erm, my mum sent you this apple pie.'

  'Well, I can't stand apples but tell her I said thanks anyway.' He steers me towards the door. 'Was that all?'

  'No,' I shout. I don't know which of us is more shocked at the rise in volume. 'I've come to say sorry.'

  'Go on then.' He folds his arms across his chest. His biceps bulk up as he does and his abdomen gets more definition.

  Though I try to look directly at him as I speak, it's difficult due to the fact I feel awkward, both from nervousness and from trying not to perve over his hot bod. Breathe, Cam, breathe. 'Dylan, I'm very sorry that I called you a rude word and asked you to go away. I know it’s not an excuse but in my defence, I remember nothing about the evening. Unfortunately, I was as pissed as a fart. So again, I'm very sorry. I shall try not to drink so much again that I don't know what I'm doing. Also, I will try very hard not to call you a name again when you've done a kind thing like make sure I get home safely. So while I'm at it, thank you for that.'

  'You don't remember anything that night?'

  I shake my head. 'Only Jack kissing me under the slide, but I'm wondering if I called him a rude word afterwards as well because he's not been in touch since.'

  'Jack kissed you? Under the slide?'

  'Yeah. In the dark. I'm obviously too monstrous to kiss in daylight. Anyway, are we friends again?'

  He huffs. 'I suppose so.'

  'Look. You picked on me at school and I forg
ave you, so put the bloody kettle on and quit sulking. Also, put a shirt on. I'm having unhealthy thoughts about my new friend.'

  He smirks. 'I might leave it off.'

  I'm tempted to say yes please, but remind myself this is the same person who made my life a misery in school. Now I'm really confused equating that sixteen-year-old pimply youth with this lady-boner giving hunk in front of me. I need to drink that tea.

  Dylan heads into the kitchen and returns a few minutes later with two steaming hot cuppas. Talking about steaming hot...

  'Could you put a shirt on, and then you can tell me all about this woman you're into?'

  'What woman?'

  'The one Beth told me about. She said you never stopped talking about her. Sorry, the two of you didn't work out by the way.'

  'I don't think Beth will be on her own for long.'

  'Yeah. She's pretty.'

  'Yeah, if you’re into petite brunettes.'

  'And you aren't?'

  'Like Beth said, I’m into someone else. They're much more my type.'

  I've got that pain again, like indigestion. This time, I blame the tea. I decide a swift subject change is required.

  'Why are you in your pyjamas at four in the afternoon?'

  He shrugs. 'Haven't bothered getting dressed.'

  'You lazy sod.'

  'Hey, I'm a bloke.'

  I scrunch up my face in confusion. 'What does that even mean?'

  'I had no plans so why bother getting dressed? All I’ve done is watch television and read some boring bank shit I was given. I'd just fallen asleep on the sofa when you rang the bell. Sometimes it's nice to do bugger all.'

  ‘I’ve forgotten what that’s like.'

  'You work too hard.'

  'Yes well, luckily Gemma wants to work Sundays. It fits in with her lifestyle. But I still need to pop in and do the cashing up and other things. I knew running my own business would be hard but it bites into every day.' I suck in my lips.

  'Why don't you make an appointment to see our Business Advisor? Also, I know there are some local groups for working women. Let me ask around at work and get you the details. It sounds like you could use a little support and advice.'

  'I guess so. God, I sound like a right whinge-bag. I know it's fantastic that it’s got off to such a great start. But I miss spending time at home putting carrier bags down for Bob to jump on, or having a lazy day like you are, getting to sleep in. I'm jealous that you haven't got dressed today. Doesn't your mother expect you to turn up for Sunday lunch?'