New Balls Please (Ball Games #3) Read online

  'I was reading a book and-'

  Tim, Camille and Tyler groan.

  Tyler shakes his head. 'Mum, you need to stop with the crazy.’

  'I have. I'm done. There is no way I was built to be a domestic goddess.'

  Everyone at the table cracks out laughing.

  'Oh, the lot of you can fuck off.'

  'Can someone please get your mother a swear box?'

  I realise I'm at Camille's birthday party and I've just thrown what amounts to a tantrum. Who are the parents and who are the children here?

  'Camille, I'm sorry.'

  She laughs. 'It's okay, Mum. At least we can’t say my birthday meal was dull. Anyway, is that all the drama? Can we have coffee now?'

  Dylan stands up. 'Well actually, no. Not yet.'

  He drops to his knee. He looks scared to death which isn't surprising given my negative response to Tim. He'll be praying she isn't her mother's daughter on the subject.

  'Camille, I know we've only been together for ten months, but I know for a fact that you are the love of my life. Please, would you do the honour of marrying me?'

  In the ring box, I can make out a square diamond. It glistens. Cam shakes. I see her lip tremble as she shakes her head to the positive. After what must seem like forever to Dylan, she finally utters her answer, 'yes.'

  Dylan takes out the ring. Cam holds out her left hand. But Dylan hasn’t finished talking.

  'Camille. I’ve something to confess. This isn’t your real engagement ring. I want us to shop for one together, so you can choose one you like.'

  She laughs. 'So where's this one from?'

  'Primark.'

  'Well, it’s a beautiful stand-in.'

  I've never seen a man look so relieved.

  As they kiss, Tim flags down a waitress and orders a bottle of champagne. I don't know if it's to toast or to help him cope with seeing his only daughter locking lips with her future husband.

  Later, Cam corners me in the ladies. 'Are you sure you won't change your mind, Mum? We could have a double wedding.'

  'No, love. You enjoy your time in the spotlight.' I embrace her and kiss her cheek. 'You're going to be a beautiful bride.'

  'Thanks, Mum. Are you and Dad going to be okay?'

  'I think we will be, Cam. I've had an idea.'

  'Oh my God, Mum, not something from a book, please.'

  'No. This is from Grey's Anatomy. I will marry your dad but not officially. I'll marry him via a post-it.'

  Cam, who watched the series herself, laughs. 'Do you know, for you and my dad, that's perfect.'

  Chapter Twelve

  Dora

  Tim walks in from work on Tuesday evening and sees me sitting with a post-it note, a picture frame, a pen and a screwdriver.

  I'd talked to him last night about our post-it wedding. He apologised for proposing, said it was a reaction to seeing Cole's arms around me on the tennis court. I told him commitment went beyond a piece of paper but if he wanted one, a post-it was all he was getting. Meredith and McDreamy did this on Grey's Anatomy. They wrote their vows on a post-it, then signed and dated it and placed it in a frame above their bed headboard. This is exactly what we're going to do tonight.

  'Let's eat first,' I tell him.

  After our meal, we sit in the lounge and talk about what to put on the note. I get a separate piece of paper so we can brainstorm.

  'Okay,' I tell him. 'I want a cleaner to come once a week.'

  Tim looks perplexed. 'You want to work as a cleaner so we can pay another cleaner to clean our house?'

  'I know it seems stupid when I say it like that, but yes. Just for the floors and windows and to take the ironing, which I hate.'

  'Dora. Why don't you find another job if you hate cleaning so much? You worked because the extra money came in handy with the kids but they're grown up now. Even Tyler's becoming responsible.'

  'It would be nice to not feel dirty after cleaning up other people’s mess.'

  'Well, why don't you pack your job in and clean our house?'

  'Because I'd not do it, Tim. When I'm at work, I have to clean or I'd get the sack. Here, it's too easy to get the laptop out.'

  He nods. 'I suppose so.'

  'I will look around. I think Asda needs extra staff.'

  'Well, I'm behind you on changing your job, Dora.'

  'Thank you.'

  ‘About the cleaner. Get the ironing done by someone, but I'll do the floors and windows every Sunday.’

  ‘Okay. Thank you.’

  Tim clears his throat. 'Now, my turn. No spending our joint holiday money without agreement by us both. In fact, I want the account changed, so it requires permission from both of us to withdraw the money.'

  'Agreed, and I should search for a job that pays more so I can pay back what I spent.'

  ‘We’ll manage to save it back up. I’ll tell you what, will you carry on doing my pack-up? It's been lovely these last couple of days and saves me spending at the shop.’

  'Yes, I quite enjoyed that to be honest.' I'd made lovely little sandwiches. I could add home-baked stuff like cookies too.

  'Dora, please don't run away again. If there's a problem you need to bring it up for discussion.'

  I nod. 'Okay.'

  'Now. The next is controversial, but I’d like Sunday dinner at the pub every week. Their Yorkshire puddings are amazing. It’s not worth all the effort you put yourself through.'

  I sigh. 'Fine. At least it means we get extra time in bed on a Sunday morning.'

  His face lights up. 'Which is a bonus but don't expect any alpha moves on my part.'

  'Or submission on mine.'

  He winks. 'I like a woman who can dominate me.'

  I shake my head while I chuckle.

  'Is that it?' he asks me.

  'I'm going to tell the kids to ring me one night in the week, but I'm not demanding the day they do it. Also, they can join us for lunch on a Sunday if they want to, but I'm not forcing the issue. They're growing up and it's not fair to guilt them into keeping contact. They've their own paths to make.'

  'They'll come on a Sunday.' Tim reassures me. 'They love The Red Lion’s Yorkshire puddings.'

  I throw a cushion at him.

  He throws himself at me.

  Afterwards, he lies back on the lounge rug but he has a grimace on his face rather than a look of sexual satisfaction.

  My brow furrows. 'What's up with you?'

  'Dora,' he says, then winces. 'I swear to God I've worn myself out over the last week. My dick hurts and my balls, they've been flapping about like a fish breathing its last.' He cups them in his hand.

  'Dora I need new balls.'

  Later, written on a post it. Framed and fixed on the wall above the bedhead.

  We vow:

  To speak to each other when there are problems.

  To get the ironing done by someone else.

  To have a lie-in on a Sunday and have lunch in the pub.

  To enjoy some fantastic joint holidays.

  To stick together through good times and bad.

  To love each other.

  Signed Dora Evans and Timothy Turner

  21 June 2016

  Saturday 25 June 2016

  ‘Tim. Tim!’ I squeal.

  Tim comes rushing downstairs from his music room. I must have screamed loud because he usually has the music turned up that high I have to enter his room to tell him anything.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  I point at the TV. ‘I’ve won.’

  ‘Won what?’

  I do a facepalm impression and point to the balls on the screen. ‘The lottery, you div. I’ve won the lottery.’

  Tim turns pale.

  ‘Not the big prize. I’ve got five numbers, though. Oh, my God. I wonder how much I’ve won?’

  The prize turns out to be eighteen hundred pounds. About what I spent in Center Parcs.

  Sunday, I receive an email from Jackie. She and Cole have been together since that final Fri
day in Center Parcs and it’s going well though it's early days.

  I’m reading a book about fate. It was obviously meant to be that I left that Saturday. If I hadn’t, Cole and Jackie wouldn’t be together now. I’m a born matchmaker.

  I settle myself in front of the television with coffee. It's Monday 27th June and it’s the first day of Wimbledon.

  I listen to the umpire. ‘New Balls Please.’ I think of Tim holding his the other night and chuckle.

  THE END

  Coming soon

  It’s Beth’s turn for romance in Balls Fore, coming 7 June 2016. You can pre-order it here: http://getbook.at/BallsFore

  Here’s your sneaky advance peek:

  Beth

  It’s not every day a chocolate penis is wanged in your face.

  ‘Mum. Stop it, you’re in a Children’s Play Centre,’ yells my best mate Camille. Her shouting only has more people turning towards us.

  ‘Oh, Camille. How do you think all those children were made? If it wasn’t for willies, there wouldn’t be anyone in your business.’

  ‘Talking about in your business, leave Beth alone.’

  ‘But she’s an expert.’

  ‘Not with penises I’m not,’ I sigh. ‘But chocolate yes. Cam, go make us a drink so I can have a proper conversation with your mum.’

  Camille huffs and goes off, giving her mother a sly look.

  ‘What can I do for you, Dora?’

  ‘I’m giving up my cleaning job with Tim’s permission and I’ve had a good think about what I could do instead. At first, I was thinking of taking a job in a supermarket but then I read a book about careers and it asked what I enjoyed. Well, that’s my baking. Then my thoughts went on and before I knew it, I was making chocolate willies. But as you can see, mine needs work.’

  I appraise a penis. It’s a little wonky.

  ‘You need a good mould, and you have to learn the process of tempering chocolate.’

  ‘Would you mind if I sold willies and boobies, Beth? I don’t want to take your trade if you were thinking of expanding.’

  I sell children’s chocolate bars. As a single mum to my three-year-old son, Trey, it’s a business that fits in around nursery runs.

  ‘Dora, you’re absolutely fine. I can’t sell sexy stuff alongside children’s chocolate. It wouldn’t be right.’

  ‘Well, my thought is to set up for hen nights and weddings. I’m fantastic at baking so I could do wedding cakes and cupcakes for brides and the naughty stuff for their hen nights. I’ll be able to do Camille’s when her and Dylan eventually set a date.’

  ‘They’ve only been engaged a week.’

  I take a bite of the penis. ‘Mmmm, this tastes good, though.’

  Dora beams.

  ‘So would you teach me that temper thing and how to do the books? I’m really keen to get underway.’

  I can imagine. If there’s one word you can assign to Cam’s mum, its enthusiasm.

  ‘Sure. Come round this evening if you like. I’ve no plans.’

  Dora appraises me. ‘Still no man in your life then?’

  ‘Just Trey. He’s all I need.’

  She hands me a packet full of chocolate penises. ‘Here, you need to remind yourself what you’re missing.’

  Pre-order link: http://getbook.at/BallsFore

  Also by Andie M. Long

  THE ALPHA SERIES

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  Sometimes you just have ten minutes. Or you're waiting at the bus stop. It could be a small train journey. Maybe your partner is due home. Or friends are on their way. In Andie M. Long's Quickies, you are invited to lose yourself in short stories, poetry and flash fiction. Enjoy a quickie where time is pressured or precious. Some stories are 18+ and contain adult themes.

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