It was MY idea! I’m the colonel, dammit!
Boiling with the rage of the unjustly persecuted, Molly woke up her bottom just enough to stand up, set her shoulders with a determined shrug and stomp off in search of a coffee away from the Brutuses in her own camp.
The sun was streaked with clouds, almost as if the sky had been painted with the vanilla custard ice cream they made at the Salcombe sweet shop. But all Molly saw was the betrayal of two friends she had thought would stand by her through thick and thin.
* * *
‘Well, this isn’t fun,’ Gary said, his mouth half-full of fat chip-shop chips.
‘Which is the point I’m making.’ Molly fought to keep the snap out of her voice, but she was dangerously close to doing a Kellogg’s; she could crackle and pop at any moment, if pushed hard enough. Just looking at Gary’s face, despite the new haircut and removed earring, was an annoying reminder of the big fall out that afternoon with her best friends. Molly was feeling raw and alone, even surrounded, as she was, by a group of eager men outside Fry Times, Salcombe’s ‘premier’ fish and chip shop. The guys all had a cod supper held in increasingly greasy hands and were shovelling chips in at an alarming rate, as if to bury the traumatic memory of Josie’s beach workout combined with hangovers first thing that morning under a heavy layer of deep-fried potato. But their eyes still followed Molly closely as she paced back and forth outside the chippy, as if she was about to turn lead into gold or finally reveal why women liked to have more than one pair of black shoes at any one time. Tonight, the pressure of scrutiny and expectation was clinging to Molly like bad perfume; no matter where she turned her head, the cloying scent found her and unpleasantly prickled her senses. She was desperate to breathe a gulp of fresh, light air. But right now the show had to go on.
When Molly had reluctantly returned to the house just before her seminar on ‘Resourceful dating’ was due to begin, she’d found all her cadets patiently waiting in the living room over a team game of Guess Who but no sign of Josie or Rachel. Or even Suze. At least Suze had left a note:
Where is everyone? Anyway, I’m off for an explore, perhaps a bit of a shopping session and to find some phone signal SOMEWHERE to check the baby hasn’t combusted or run off to the foreign legion etc. I’ll be back in time for the sesh this evening. I want to see you in action at last! S xxx
But when Molly tried Suze’s mobile just before she and her motley crew set out, the call had gone straight to mobile: a likely sign that Suze hadn’t found the signal she craved. But Molly had a job to do – she had a role to resume. These men needed a colonel. They had a way to go yet to graduate as prime boyfriend material, and she never left a soldier behind. Molly decided to give them full bellies before she wedged more information into their already crammed minds. Plus, she just really fancied a saveloy. Leaving a note for Suze should she come back (but not knowing what, if anything, to say to her fractious privates, so just ignoring the matter), Molly marshalled her troops and set off for Fry Times.
When every last soft flake of cod had been caught by wooden forks and deeply enjoyed, when comments about how ‘you can really taste the freshness of the fish’ had been batted around like a game of beach tennis and when each man bore the satisfied smile that tends to follow fried foods, Molly launched in.
‘So, as Gary pointed out, sitting on a bench outside a chippy and eating a dinner out of a Styrofoam tray might not be everyone’s cup of tea. If you meet a girl who does consider this a valid date then consider yourself lucky. But do check her driver’s licence – she might be fifteen. But, in actuality, you have the makings of a very memorable date right here, if you just arrange things in the right way. First of all: location. Follow me!’ Molly mentally kicked herself into her top gear of cheeriness. Any traces of her glum mood needed to be pushed down and covered by a big, plastered on smile if she wanted the cadets to enjoy and absorb this lesson. Kurt was hanging out wearily at the back of the group, but that was hardly an issue she could tackle in front of everyone without exposing the flagrant rule breaking that had been going on between him and Josie. Grrr, it made Molly’s forehead ache just to think of all the problems and complications their romance would cause. Should he pay the normal fee? Should he still join in Josie’s workouts? Who knew, but as colonel she should supply some answers. She’d just sort that out tomorrow.
Molly led the guys away from the small parade of shops in the village and onto a thin tarmacked path, up a gentle incline and into a thick copse of trees. The moonlight instantly disappeared and Molly fished in her bag for the super-strong Maglite she shoved in earlier, for such an occasion. ‘This isn’t the city, boys, as you may have noticed, and there aren’t street lights out here, so stick close and follow my torch beam. There may be the odd low branch or bumpy tree root, so I’ll call it and then each man should shout the message on. Understood?’
‘Yes, sir!’ they called back as one.
The incline turned evil. Wheezing breaths and crunching leaves provided the soundtrack for their pitch-black trek as conversation fell away and Molly found her mind wandering as she tuned into the almost-silent night. The soft hoot of a bird somewhere up in the canopy; the crunchy crash of waves coming through louder and clearer with each step they took; the deep breaths and sighs of the men behind her. Molly nearly leapt out of her Converse when she felt a hand on her upper arm.
‘Steady! Wow, Mols, how do you expect anyone to mug you successfully if you’re so jumpy?’ Rob gave a low laugh and fell into step beside her.
‘Oh, ha. Sorry, Rob. I was just somewhere else.’
‘I could tell that. Is it the Kurt and Josie thing?’
‘What?’ Molly’s torch beam swerved to the right as she turned to look him in the face.
‘Men do talk sometimes, you know. I could see Kurt was a bit down, and there’d been some funny looks between him and Ms Whiplash over the last few weeks, so I asked him what was up. I think he was just glad of someone to talk to.’ The white of Rob’s eyes flashed in the dark as he looked from Molly to the uneven path ahead and back again. The safety of tarmac had long since disappeared.
‘Huh.’ Molly bit her lip. ‘You’re obviously far better at reading people than me, then. I had no clue. Doesn’t say much for my people skills, does it? Maybe you should all demand refunds.’ A strain of doubt made Molly’s voice drop as she finished talking, something Rob had never heard before from their usually fearless leader.
He nudged her shoulder with his own, took the Maglite from her hands and kept its beam steady with one hand as he put his other arm around her shoulders. ‘Hey, you. You’re doing a cracking job. Look at us, from zeros to heroes! In some cases,’ he dropped his voice right down to a whisper, ‘more like negative twelves to heroes. You’ve worked miracles. I think one more and you can be pronounced an official saint by Pope Whatsit.’ Rob squeezed her shoulders briefly. ‘You know I’ll always be your biggest fan.’
Maybe it was the thick, protective darkness around them; maybe it was the reassuring words coming at just the right moment; maybe it was the pleasing weight of his strong arm behind her neck, but for once Molly didn’t feel an embarrassed heat in her cheeks when Rob aimed his flirting missiles at her. Instead, she felt a nice warming tickle in her rib cage and allowed herself just to take the compliment and keep it. Someone liked her, and right at that very moment in time it felt simply good.
‘This walk is brilliant. It’s like being in the Scouts again. Although I have to admit I only ever got my artist badge, for making a pasta necklace, and orienteering for being able to navigate a completely empty field. I was never one for camping.’
Molly laughed, trying to keep her voice low so as not to pick up the attention of the other cadets. ‘Scared of creepy crawlies then?’
‘Nope.’ Rob leant in just a few inches more and directed his deep voice into Molly’s ear. ‘Too many people around, when you camp. No privacy. Tricky to say what you want. Don’t you think?’
Molly nodded
and gulped, Rob’s breath making the tiny hairs behind her ear and down her neck wriggle to attention.
‘If only I had you to myself, Mols. Without all these guys. We could really talk then. Can I see you in London? When we’re back. As soon as we’re back. Please, Mols.’ Keeping his voice quiet, but not being able to restrain the urgency in his words, Rob’s voice was throaty and went straight to Molly’s brain.
Her sense of right and wrong was at a stalemate in their tug of war over this one. Should she? Could she? It had been a while since she’d had a good date herself. Maybe it was time to practise what she preached. But, then, it would muddy the waters at the bootcamp, make things weird within the group. Molly couldn’t risk shaking the foundations of the first successful business she’d ever got off the ground. She was just one bank statement away from being out of the red and so close to paying Cleo back in full, she could almost taste the amazing feeling of financial security. Molly was pretty sure it would taste like toffee sauce, but not fattening.
‘I just thought,’ Rob spoke quietly again, ‘you know, if Josie and Kurt are seeing each other. And if Gary is with Rachel, maybe the rules have changed?’
‘Do you like coffee?’ Molly asked immediately.
‘Of course. I love coffee, really. And, hey, if it’s a horrendous date, you can always claim it as a practice session and bill it back. But I’ve learnt a lot, Molly, I’m a star pupil. Honest.’
‘We’ll see. I’ll, um, text you when we’re back. To find a good day.’
From the glow of the torch, Molly could just see Rob’s blonde eyebrows lift as he smiled.
It may have been an eye-for-an-eye that tipped the balance, but Molly suddenly found her doubts had completely vanished. Just as the moon was making a reappearance. As the trees thinned, the crisp white moonlight threaded through the leaves and showed the inky sea beyond the cliff edge. The sight of the folding waves reminded Molly just what planet she was supposed to be on.
‘Not long to go now, men!’ She called out heartily, with all the sexual appeal of a Brown Owl, hoping to counterbalance the thoughts she’d been harbouring when Rob’s lips were a dip away from her neck. ‘The track down to the beach is pretty steep – and watch this big root coming up here on the corner. Take in the views of Sunny Cove at night, cadets. Drink it in. South London is sadly lacking in coastal paths.’
Molly took a few big strides to put a respectable distance between her and Rob, the men going single-file behind her as the path sloped down to the beach. It was the sort of path that was cobbled together from small, jagged rocks, moss and scratchy little pebbles. It needed as much concentration as a bikini wax to navigate properly and protect yourself from pain, embarrassment and grazed skin. When the troop made it all down safely, Molly shone them a path to the centre of the soft sandy beach.
‘Take a pew, everyone. Check this place out: quiet, serene, beautiful, absolutely deserted. In other words, it’s dating nirvana. Take the fish and chips off the bench and bring them to the beach with a bottle of wine and two paper cups, plus a blanket or towel for sand-free sitting, and you’ve got yourself a relationship-defining date. Your lucky lady is going to think, Strike me down if I don’t have a keeper. He’s sensitive, imaginative and romantic. Plus, he thinks ahead and can smoothly organise a spontaneous moment in an instant. This is a man who will fill my flat with roses on our anniversary, this is a man who will make me breakfast in bed without a reason. Keeper City.’
There were a few nods but also a few scratched heads. Gary raised his hand. ‘As you pointed out, there aren’t many quiet, picturesque beaches in London. So what are we supposed to do?’
Swallowing a small bubble of annoyance, Molly answered him with an even tone. ‘Thanks, Gary. I was just getting to that. Other great and more central locations involve the cleaner, better tended parks – St James, Hyde Park, Battersea, Hampstead – and either the Southbank or the Embankment. If you do want a river view, keep away from the busier areas around Waterloo or Charing Cross and head a bit further East – there are regular benches dotted along the Thames that are wonderfully empty past seven-ish. And if you are lucky enough to have an outside space where you live, take advantage of that. Just moving a home-cooked meal outside and lighting it with candles and a little vase of flowers will turn your average spag bol into a five-star Michelin experience in romance terms. Does that answer your question, Gary?’
With a half-shrug, Gary replied, ‘Pretty much.’
‘Great. So, some other key points about resourceful dating I’d like you to take on board before the tide advances. A golden rule is that you don’t need a fat wallet to give good date, not at all. A little creativity goes a long way. Just don’t start too high – if you give a girl a Tiffany’s necklace at the three month mark out of spontaneous affection – yes, I’m looking at you, Simon – then it’s only natural that she’ll read bad things from a Topshop cardi another three months down the line for her birthday. Your affection might not be running low, but that’s not what she’ll read from it. She’ll see herself downgraded from princess to well-dressed pauper in your eyes.
‘Sometimes, a small thing can communicate a big message. If you want to spoil her, you don’t need to dig deep into your overdraft, just your memory. Has she mentioned her favourite sweet or chocolate bar ever? If you pick one up on the way to a routine date or just before a long car trip or something, it’ll show that you listen and that you’re always thinking of her. To lots of women, this is far more valuable than a platinum bracelet with ladybug charm from Links of London.’
Simon tried to cover his shocked gasp with a gruff cough. It didn’t work.
‘What’s important is to not make money an issue in planning dates or gifts. Choose something because it feels right, not because you think your date might be looking for the price tag. If she is, I would advise you that she is not a keeper. Bin the gold diggers, and stick with the genuine ones who are charmed by a Wispa and holding hands. The real girls. They tend to be more fun, anyway.’
Molly temporarily forgot the stresses waiting for her back at the house as she really got into her stride and explained to the rapt cadets how just one perfect flower (not necessarily a rose) can, when presented at the right time, be more impressive and more effective in wooing than a whole huge, showy bouquet. She battled through their looks of disbelief as she suggested that they could earn quadruple brownie points for having a go at baking brownies for their girlfriend’s birthday. Yes, baking. It’s leftfield, but it’s pay dirt. That was a particular gem that she thought would make a lot of women happy in a lot of ways in the future. Molly listed lots of practical, affordable but inventive date venues and ideas that could keep a relationship strong, even when a cadet’s credit rating was pretty weak.
Before she knew it, the thin lip of a wave rudely nudged the heel of Molly’s turquoise sneakers and she knew it was time to go. A few bootcampers were also shivering, which should have tipped her off sooner.
‘Lesson ends, let’s hustle back to house. And remember, Delia Smith’s Classic Cookery course – page five-seven-one. One batch of brownies and she’ll be falling for you harder than Britney on a Happy Meal. Moving on!’
* * *
When Molly had crept into her bedroom that night, Rachel was already in bed, asleep and facing the wall. Or perhaps there was just a line of pillows under the blanket, doing a very good impression of a disgruntled fashionista in an REM cycle. Molly wasn’t about to investigate further. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew if she even attempted to broach the situation in this muddled mood she was likely to just make it worse. But Rach was the first person Molly wanted to talk to about all this Rob business. Had she made a huge mistake agreeing to a date with him? Or was it worth the risk? But of course, Rachel was – in actuality – the very last person Molly could confess to. If she did, it would make her the world’s biggest hypocrite. So her pride forced her lips shut that night. Molly pulled on her blue tartan pyjamas and tsked a lot as she di
d, so that if Rach was fake-sleeping she’d know that Molly was still fuming and not at all wounded by their argument. Molly had a whole lot of love in her heart for her gorgeous, funny and ever-well-dressed friend, but she also had a large corner dedicated to being a stubborn arse. Things would look better in the morning.
Chapter Thirty-One
The next morning, things looked worse. Perhaps it was because the sun had finally come out in earnest and was showing up each and every crack in the strained relationship between the privates and Molly. Perhaps it was because each girl had an extra eight hours to mull and stew and huff and puff their way into extra reasons why they were right. Breakfast was eaten in three different rooms due to the cold shoulders nurtured by the three bootcamp founders. Suze had whispered to Molly over her Crunchy Nut at the kitchen table, ‘I don’t think Josie’s talking to Rachel now.’
‘Why?’ Molly’s jaw hit the Formica.
‘Apparently she didn’t think they should have gone in all guns blazing, making it worse. To be honest, I think you might all have let things go a bit far. Can’t you just hug it out?’ Suze did her best look of empathy as she crunched her way through a nutty mouthful. Molly had filled her in on the whole salacious deal when she’d bumped into Suze on the way to the bathroom first thing that morning. More accurately, she had been lurking in the hallway in her PJs ever since she’d heard Rachel stir and escaped to avoid a pre-coffee stand-off. Suze had woken at the crack of dawn to have a rare, indulgent child-free bath. Although she was now an old married lady, Suze still remembered that taking a long bath when everyone needed to do their morning ablutions did not make you a good house sharer. Her plan was to get up painfully early to have her soak, but Molly’s outpouring of gossip easily distracted her.
The post-fall-out dissection was still going on over breakfast. Suze listened patiently as Molly once again listed all the injustices thrown her way the day before and how she was totally, utterly in the right. And not at all wrong.
The Bad Boyfriends Bootcamp Page 25