The Bad Boyfriends Bootcamp

by The Bad Boyfriends Bootcamp (retail) (epub)

  ‘Ha ha ha.’ Rachel’s laughter was a little thin and nervous. She looked down at the wicker basket with chintzy trim at her feet. Shuffling it a little with her toe, she mumbled, ‘Well, who knows, maybe things will become clearer this weekend. Anyhoo, I think we have bigger, manlier fish to fry. Huh?’

  If Molly could have thrown up her hands in conversational surrender at that point, she would have. But the weight of her bags was digging into her palms and she was keen to find a place to dump them. ‘I suppose we do. Okey doke, I’ll drop it. Let’s scope the house out and go and grab our first cream tea, what do you think?’

  ‘I say aye aye, Captain!’ Rach saluted with her one free hand, the other weighted down with three bags of fruit, loo rolls and toothpaste. Keeping six men and four women fed, watered and at the very least hygienic for a long weekend required substantial supplies.

  The house was everything you could want in an escape-the-city retreat: spacious, relaxed, cosy. Plus, it had a ping pong table. Molly and Rach played around with the cherry-red Aga for a bit before deciding that they could happily live on fish and chips and pot noodles for a long weekend. ‘Besides,’ Molly said, unpacking a supermarket carrier bag onto a scrubbed pine table, ‘one of my favourite things about going on holibobs is the chance to legitimately buy a variety pack of cereals.’ She shook the brightly-coloured pack of boxes next to her ear, hearing those promising sounds of crispy, sugary cereals, before Rach pinched it and declared, ‘Dibs on the Coco Pops!’

  After negotiating a mutually satisfying deal in which Molly got both boxes of Sugar Puffs, the girls headed to the twin room they were to share. The stairs creaked, the burgundy carpet with little blue flowers was evenly worn, the beds had some prominent springs, but the two friends felt instantly at home as they unpacked into a simple chest of drawers covered with a delicate lace doily. Now all they needed was some company.

  * * *

  Rachel was out investigating the main shopping street in Salcombe and the little boutiques it had to offer when the first cadets arrived. Looking up from her paper after a sharp knocking noise, Molly wiped scone crumbs from her mouth and bounded to the front door. ‘Hey guys!’

  Standing on the doorstep, fresh from the train and smiling the smile of the newly-on-holiday, were Kurt, Simon , Gary, Pavel and Sachin.

  ‘Hey, Mols.’ Kurt was the first to bundle in with his scruffy backpack. ‘We thought we might as well get the early-morning train down together. Well, and there was a group saver rate. This place is great!’ Kurt took in the tall hallway with its shiny green floor tiles, large gilt-framed mirror and old-fashioned mahogany hat stand.

  ‘Isn’t it? We, er, specifically chose it because it provided the perfect relaxing environment to really focus in on our bootcamp studies. Anyway, you guys are split over two double bedrooms and the living room, so – um – bundle!’

  A stampede of testosterone and a distinctive whiff of Huge Boss aftershave flew past Molly’s nose as the five blokes scrambled not to be the last one up the stairs and therefore stuck on the sofa bed.

  Kurt took a step back and was pressed flat against the creamy patterned wallpaper as his fellow cadets sped past. He shrugged. ‘I’m happy on the sofa, actually, no stairs to tackle when drunk. Actually, Molly, there was something I wanted to talk to you about, while I’ve got you on my own …’ Kurt’s voice tapered out to a soft croak, as he scratched the back of his hand then fiddled with his watch strap.

  ‘Yup?’ Molly turned her hazel eyes to Kurt’s. This was the first time she’d seen signs of his old, shy self in absolutely ages. Must be something on his mind.

  ‘Well, I need to … the woman I’m seeing … actually, she—’

  Just then a trilling from Molly’s bottom announced that she had a call on her BlackBerry. ‘Sorry, I’ll be back in one sec.’ Molly held up one finger as she turned on her heel and nipped into the kitchen.

  When Molly strolled back into the hall five minutes later, a perky little lilt to her step, bursting with news to share, Kurt was hovering by the doorway still.

  ‘So, Mols, I was saying—’

  ‘Kurt! Just the man. You’ll never guess, but our bootcamp is going to be in a magazine! Tomorrow no less. I did an interview and they’ve brought the publication forward because of a diet feature falling through. Their test subject got rickets, I think she said. Can you believe it? I mean, not about the rickets, but about us. We’re going national, baby! God, I have to tell Rach. Um, I’m going to nip down to the village to find her. Back in a sec.’ Molly had grabbed her keys and shut the large oak door behind her before Kurt could utter even one more syllable.

  * * *

  Molly put her face up to a mock-antique life preserving hanging up in an artful maritime shop display. After checking four almost identical clothing boutiques, she had seen the shining blonde mane of her best friend in Johnny Watkins, a nautical-style chain of stores selling very expensive hoodies in pastel tones and rugby shirts that had collars specifically designed to stay up.

  ‘Ahoy there!’ Molly said to Rachel’s back, through the orange foam hoop.

  Rachel’s head flipped round as she simultaneously jumped two feet into the air. ‘Jesus! Molly! Bloody hell.’ Rachel put one hand to her chest and took a deep breath to steady herself. Her cobalt blue nail polish gave off a high shine in the late afternoon sun, contrasting nicely with her chartreuse yellow T-shirt. ‘You know I go into “the zone” when I’m planning outfits. Now, look at these,’ Rach pulled out some knee-length cotton shorts with a faint blue stripe. They were tailored and very smart. ‘For Gary?’

  Molly had to laugh a little. ‘Um, I think that might be a bit of a leap from his Adidas ones, but something to aim for, anyway.’

  Rachel bit her lip and hung the shorts back up on the shiny chrome rail. She wandered off to the neatly piled stacks of organic cotton vests in a soft rainbow of colours. Absent mindedly, she rummaged through them, scattering their carefully aligned rows and towers. Suddenly she froze, ‘I’m such a hypocrite!’ Rachel plastered her hand to her mouth, fruitlessly trying to stop a deep laugh that was dying to escape.

  Molly twigged the disrupted folds and joined in the hooting. ‘You are! You’re a monster! There’s probably a Devonian version of you crying right now in the stock room to see what you’ve done to her nice vests . Honestly, chuck, what has got into you?’

  Rachel’s laughter petered out and she looked at Molly for a quiet minute. As if changing her mind about something, she furrowed her eyebrows and turned back to the vests. ‘How about this nice powder blue for Gary, then? A vest is quite harmless. I think he can manage a vest.’ Gently draping the vest over her arm, Rach continued on to the corner of the store displaying shoes. ‘And maybe some Birkenstocks? In a nice slate grey, to go with everything.’

  ‘Sure,’ Molly picked up one of the big cork-lined sandals and turned it over. ‘Well,’ she mumbled, ‘they’re an investment, I suppose. That’s how you spin it.’

  ‘They don’t need “spin”,’ Rach said crossly. ‘They’re a quality brand, OK?’ She huffed and took the shoe out of Molly’s hand.

  ‘Sorry, Mary Queen of Strops!’ Molly tried to chill things out with a light-hearted bit of sarcasm. ‘Anyway, we’ve got lots of time to shop, but I don’t think you’ll want to waste one more second after I tell you about our company being featured in a national glossy magazine!’ Molly’s smile was so big it could hardly fit on her face.

  ‘What?!’ Rach shrieked, her mood instantly lifting and zooming up through the roof, like Willy Wonka’s glass elevator. ‘Where? When?!’

  ‘Tomorrow. Isn’t it tip top? We are going to be famous, my good lady! Pretty soon these poncy labels will be giving us their overpriced threads for free. Free, I tell you!’

  As the two friends strolled out, arm in arm, to find a good coffee for a good natter, a thoroughly pissed off Devonian sales assistant bore evil eyes into their retreating backs.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

 
; ‘Voila!’ With a flourish, Pavel laid down a family-sized lasagne in front of Molly and Suze. Rachel had said something about needing a quick nap after the long drive, so cried off dinner and let the two old Fat Cat employees catch up. Suze had just appeared half an hour ago and several times since then had feverishly looked around her feet or checked her pockets. ‘I feel like … I’m missing something … nope, sorry, the baby is with Stephen. But I get this odd feeling like the gas is on and my hair straighteners are plugged in and next to a hay bale. I should just calm down and enjoy all this male-cooked food.’ Licking her lips lavishly, she picked up a spatula.

  ‘No, let me,’ Pavel almost purred in her direction. As much as a big, muscular Polish man with a baritone could purr.

  Suze smiled coquettishly. ‘Well, if you insist, Pavel. Thank you ever so.’ The svelte young mum sat back in her chair and wiggled her eyebrows at Molly. ‘Well, this is living. I could definitely get used to a life of pure luxury after several months of being deprived sleep but not the privilege of changing atomic-grade nappies.’

  Molly gave a short laugh and shook her head. ‘Don’t get too comfortable, Suze, my old mucker. You are the most experienced and successful dater we’ve had in our little organisation. I might be calling on you now and again to give the married lady’s point of view.’ Molly loaded some piping hot lasagne onto her fork and blew a cooling breath onto the would-be mouthful.

  Suze looked perturbed for a second. ‘Please, please don’t describe me as a “married lady”. That’s just mean. It makes me sound like I live for the next Ikea sale and fawn over Laura Ashley curtains.’

  ‘But you do do those things.’ Molly gestured at her old colleague with her fork.

  Suze whispered through her teeth. ‘Yes, we know that, but no one else has to. Zip it, Cooper! Or I’ll tell the old MD you still have that BlackBerry, yeah?’

  ‘Consider it zipped. Hey, I thought you were doing Atkins?’

  Suze shrugged. ‘I’m on holiday; pasta doesn’t count. So, tell me,’ Suze continued in her lowered voice, ‘which is the one that keeps flirting with you?’

  Molly checked over both shoulders to see who might be hovering nearby with a tea towel and eager smile, but most of her cadets were busy in the kitchen, competing to be the best at washing up, it seemed. She knew Pavel and Kurt were in the kitchen but she hadn’t seen Gary for a while, come to think of it. ‘You mean Rob, but he’s not here yet. I think he’s coming down after work. Rob’s the estate agent, but self-aware about it. Athletic. Very funny.’

  ‘So?’ Suze’s eyes widened and an excited smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

  ‘Meh,’ Molly replied. Suze’s excited smile turned into a grumpy frown. ‘He’s nice, but I don’t know …’

  ‘What’s to know?’ Suze filled Molly’s blank. ‘He’s lovely, he’s willing to change to be a great boyfriend, he really fancies you. Is he hot?’

  ‘I suppose you’d say he was, yes.’

  ‘Is he or isn’t he?’ Suze’s tone turned a bit more irritable. Molly started to feel like Max after he’d gummed her best blusher brush.

  Molly held up her hands, cutlery in each one. ‘OK, OK! He is. He’s attractive. But I just haven’t felt that … click, yet. You know? When there’s just a moment of connection and you’re pulled together like two magnets. Or something.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ Suze’s eyes went hazy, taking her back to some dim memory. ‘Yes, I know that feeling. I saw Stephen in an aisle at my local Whole Foods, puzzling over some duck eggs, and it was like four thousand light switches clicked on in Camden at that very moment.’ Back in the here and now, Suze looked kindly at Molly. ‘Maybe that moment’s still to come for you and Rob, you never know. Maybe the stars need to be in alignment. Oh! Maybe on the beach here, when it’s all starry at night and you’re in the mood for lurve.’ Suze winked. She dug into her portion of salad, starting to feel a bit of carb-based guilt.

  ‘Let’s just say for now that I’m in a meh place, but I’m not against being in a clicky place.’ Molly kept her eyes on her plate.

  ‘As long as you say so,’ her friend replied in only a half-convinced tone. ‘It would just be nice to see you practising what you preach, Mols. You dish it out, but can you take it?’

  ‘Of course I can!’ Molly’s voice went up a few octaves.

  Sachin appeared in the doorway with a piled-high plate. ‘Who’s for profiteroles?’ Suddenly and mysteriously, the subject swiftly changed.

  * * *

  Josie turned up later that night, on the last train to arrive at the little local station from London. When she crept into the house, picking up the spare key from where Molly said it would be under a terracotta turtle by the front door, she expected to find its inhabitants sound asleep and dreaming up perfect dates they were yet to have. But what she found was in fact a lively burble of sound coming from the kitchen and the unmistakeable pop of a cork from a wine bottle. Dumping her bag in the hall and following her pretty little Californian ears to where the noise was coming from, Josie pushed open the door and could have sworn she had jumped straight back to South London and one of the snug little bars on Lordship Lane. There were a few tea lights dotted over the table and work surfaces providing a dim glow and lots of ripples of laughter and easy chat moving around the room. Rachel, Molly and Suze were holding court with their posse of cadets. And it looked like Josie had been missing all the fun.

  ‘You guys! It’s, like, nearly twelve! Did you not get my email saying that beach body training would start at six in the morning? Sheesh.’

  A slightly-bleary eyed Rachel looked up at the American sports fanatic from her position on some floor cushions, sitting next to Gary and Kurt. ‘Hey Private Dancer! Grab a glass and get some rum. We are near the smuggler’s coast, after all. Yarrr!’ Rachel’s drunken pirate imitation came out more like a Wurzel in pain. She tipped a slurp of dark crimson rum past her flushed pink lips. Gary laughed throatily and shoved his shoulder against hers playfully.

  Molly was sat on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs back and forth as Rob stood beside her, leaning his body forward towards hers in imperceptible fractions. Rob’s eyes flashed as he said something in a low voice that made her laugh.

  Josie realised that it was far too late and far too regrettable to try and catch up with her tipsy circle of friends. With a bemused grimace and wave, she headed out of the kitchen and up the stairs to find her bedroom. She wasn’t even sure Molly had noticed her coming in.

  ‘I’m so disappointed I didn’t get here in time to cook for you, Mols. I make a chocolate soufflé that would have a serious effect on you. It would make you go weak in the knees, honestly. Or worse.’ Rob looked at Molly’s lips briefly as he said this, then back up into her eyes. ‘So, how’s Sam?’

  ‘Sam?’ Molly couldn’t remember any Sams. Her mind could only focus on chocolate soufflés and what Rob might do to make her more than weak at the knees.

  ‘Yes, your brother. Sam. You said he was travelling. Whereabouts is he?’ Swirling the deep red liquid in his tumbler, Rob broke eye contact and Molly seemed to come back to herself in that moment. She was shocked to realise she’d been deep in a flirt trance. Wow, Rob is a good listener. I think he was doing The Lean without me even realising!

  ‘Ah, um. Thailand, I think. Or Vietnam. He doesn’t always say, and when he does he’s not always right. Kurt would know, he’s heard from him recently. Where is Kurt, anyway?’ Molly scanned the room with bleary eyes but found her technologically talented friend was nowhere to be found. Odd. ‘I’m happy for my little bro,’ she got back to the subject, ‘it’s great that he’s got the wonderful Iris to take him in hand.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Rob agreed as the warming liquor ran down his throat. ‘If only we were all so lucky to be taken,’ he paused for just a moment, ‘in hand.’ His blue eyes switched back to hers again. Somehow every word he said in that kitchen was dripping with sauciness, like he’d swallowed a giant bottle of ketchup somehow.

  Was
there a click? Molly wondered. Am I too drunk to hear it? Or has the student become the master? He might just be out-flirting me. Ooh, the floor is spinning. I am drunk.

  Molly zoned back in on what Rob’s lips were saying, when her eyes could focus on one place again.

  ‘… so as you didn’t get the soufflé, the least you can have is my Eggs Benedict tomorrow morning. There’s a lot of butter in the Hollandaise but if you can’t be naughty on holiday, when can you?’ Rob’s lopsided grin added an undoubted second helping of meaning to his words. ‘So I think we should make a plan: you, me, two eggs, two muffins. Breakfast in bed?’ He finished with a low whisper.

  ‘Ahahaha!’ Molly fell to the classic get-out clause for an awkward conversation: laughing like it was all just a joke. Something deep inside her gave a brief tingle at the thought of a warm and perhaps surprising breakfast with Rob, but then the cold hard realisation of her own bootcamp rule sliced through the reverie – no dating between privates and cadets.

  ‘No, we can’t do that.’ Molly waggled a sozzled finger in Rob’s face.

  ‘And why not?’ He poked an equally drunk finger gently into the soft bit near Molly’s shoulder and just below her collar bone.

  ‘Because One, we’re all sleeping two to a room, so you’d have to make a couple of eggs for Rach too, as well as her industrial-strength early morning coffee. And Three, because of the problem with the privates.’ Molly nodded and swayed just a little with the effort.

  ‘Who has a problem with their privates?’ Rob looked momentarily sobered by serious concern.

  Molly giggled. Then hiccupped. ‘Nooooo. There’s a rule: us privates can’t date the cadets. It would be like snogging where you eat. Or something. It’s absolutely forbidden!’ Molly warbled through her best headmistresses impression.