Love Comes Knocking, Kathy Cakebread [top novels of all time txt] 📗

Christ how did you do it?”
Ben chewed his lip in bewilderment.
“Fran I was joking yeah? I don’t really have a collection of these at home.”
Her face sprouted into a deep emotion of relief.
“Oh thank god for that.” She laughed.
Ben’s eyes roved Francesca’s in worry. She spotted his sprout of concern and smiled awkwardly.
“Sarcasm doesn’t hit my funny bone.” She trilled.
“Fair enough now can you get me some help here!” Ben mumbled.
“What do you need help for?”
“This!” Ben shrieked pointing to his stuck fingers.
“Oooh.” She giggled.
The giggling didn’t stop there; in fact her giggling roared relentelessly for many minutes more. It wasn’t long before Ben grew tired of it and changed his mind about it being cute.
“Okay I get that you find it’s funny now come on get someone to get this ball off me.”
Francesca glanced at Ben her face creased in laughter; humour tears fell down her cheeks and her olive eyes crinkled in amusement. Just at that moment Ben realised this was probably the happiest Francesca had been in a long time. He hadn’t seen her laugh before but now he was glad he had, it was truly incredible - how her laugh transformed her face into a mirage of beauty. It may have been a cliché but it was true – a smile, a true smile in the form of a rippling laugh could transform even the hardest of face into a figure of beauty as happiness - it lit up the soul.
“Come on Ben I’ll give it a go.” She said finally, managing briefly to get a grip on her laughter.
Grasping the ball firmly in her hands she pulled at the ball with all her might; the effort infused into pulling was evident by the strained expression on her face, the determination in her eyes but despite her efforts the ball grasped Ben’s fingers as if it were some sort of modern day torture device. Dropping the ball Francesca stepped back for a breather. Glancing around Ben realised they’d got an audience; onlookers stared nosily at the scene, the shorter ones peering over taller shoulders.

Many of the bystanders sniggered at the ridiculousness of Ben’s feat imagining in their minds eye that it was his weight that contributed to his humiliating position. Others just shook their head in pity. Ben knew his situation looked a little odd, he even knew it was probably his own fault his fingers got stuck after all he was the one with a weight problem but what he knew most of all was the fact that it was downright rude to stare at someone and not offer to help!
“Right I’ve had enough of this I’m leaving.” Ben yelled, grabbing his coat.
Stumbling slightly a flustered Ben tucked his coat under the crook of his arm, held the bowling ball in his free hand and stumbled off. Francesca like the others watched flabbergasted as Ben fled the scene, his body shaking with every step he took.
“Show’s over.” Francesca yelled to those around her as she ran to catch up with Ben.
Just as she came into the reception of the bowling alley she heard a commotion overhead. Peering gingerly around the corner she saw Ben being accosted by a clerk
“What are you doing with our bowling ball?” the clerk enquired.
Ben glared irritably at the clerk.
“It’s stuck.” He said through gritted teeth.
The clerk scratched his head.
“Stuck?”
“Yes that’s what I said, what are you an echo?” Ben said rudely.
Francesca winced, that really wasn’t the way to talk to someone. In retaliation to Ben’s rudeness the clerk stood up straight, all 6ft of him, his eyes cruelly sizing Ben up.
“Okay smart arse, show me how this bowling alleys property is ‘stuck’ as you put it.”
“Pull my finger.” Ben muttered.
“Pull your finger? What?” the clerk questioned, his face not only irritated but confused too.
Ben rolled his eyes.
“The bowling ball is stuck to my fingers so by pulling the ball you will be pulling my fingers get it?”
“I’m telling you mate, if you’re lying about this…” the clerk threatened.
“I swear…” Ben said truthfully.

Grabbing hold of the ball the clerk pulled firmly, Ben watched the clerk’s attempt, his face smug in the knowledge that he’d fail. A second later Ben’s smug expression evaporated into disbelief as the ball came away in the clerk’s hands with a loud pop. The clerks face blared incrimination as a stunned faced Ben’s realised the implications of this extremely unexpected outcome.
“You swear do you mate? Little thief’s like you will get what’s coming to them!” the clerk roared.
Ben’s heart was in his mouth as he clocked the exit. He knew he didn’t have much time and certainly not enough to explain the truth. Consumed by nerves Ben willed his legs to move but under the pressure his legs had gone to jelly and shook in sheer trepidation. His eyes shifting anxiously, his face desperate Ben screamed silently for a saviour.
“Run!” a girls voice yelled.
Shocked by her sudden appearance Ben let Francesca’s flurry of energy bundle him out the bowling alleys exit down towards the street. As they escaped adrenaline-flooded Ben’s body filling him with a feeling of exhilaration so strong he’d never felt it before. For the first time in his life a girl had saved him from his own worst enemy – himself.


9. A picture of innocence

A while from the bowling alley Ben stopped; his back arched, his hands resting on his hips he gasped hungrily for breath. Directly behind him Francesca didn’t see Ben’s sudden stoop and crashed into him, the force of the impact sending her bag flying into the floor. The bag had fallen at Ben’s feet, its contents sprawled chaotically over the ground: lip-glosses, makeup items, a compact mirror, a purse and a photo attached to some keys. The photo seemed instantly to catch Ben’s attention as his eyes were drawn to it. It was dated, probably five or six years old and it contained the image of a man and woman proudly looking down at a newborn baby nestled in the crook of its dad’s arms. It seemed such a cosy, heart-warming image, the type of photo Ben could only imagine happening to him in his dreams.

Frantically stuffing her possessions back in her bag Francesca’s hand reached for the photo. His gaze hovering on the picture Ben’s mind was pondering on what he’d seen, the effect it had on him. As she grabbed the snap Ben’s eyes fell on her face, his eyes locked with hers, a direct, inquisitive emotion was portrayed through his eyes, penetrated through Francesca’s vision like a bullet. Ben held the gaze till Francesca turned away. He didn’t know what it was but something had made him feel uneasy, initiated the seeds of doubt in his stomach. It seemed he wasn’t the only one; Francesca stood awkwardly on the spot, her mouth pursed into a fake smile. Shoving the niggling doubt aside Ben smiled warmly, her eyes meeting his smile Francesca let her insecurity fade, transforming her forced smile into a reality that Ben recognised as a Francesca trademark.
“Who was in the photo?” Ben enquired curiously.
“Oh the photo… that was just me, my brother and his baby.”
“Oh?” Ben replied.
In his minds eye Ben could see the imprint of the photo; the image of two ecstatically happy people holding a baby, Ben wasn’t stupid that didn’t look like a sibling photo but then what was he to know, he was an only child after all.
“Well you sure have a cosy family life that’s all I can say.” Ben muttered, a hint of sadness in his voice.
Francesca looked at Ben, her eyes kind.
“Aw Ben, don’t worry about it I’m sure you’ll have a big family of your own one day.”
Ben looked at Francesca his face full of hope.
“Really? You think that?” his voice was high-pitched like a child excitedly questioning their parent.

No one had ever offered Ben that much hope before, the hope of having his fairy tale come true and so he grasped it dearly. His face was expectant, encouraged by her words, but he still needed the guarantee, the motion that would make it completely true. Her voice silenced she slipped her arm into Ben’s. It was a common knowledge that actions spoke louder then words, Ben had said it himself many times, but at this moment her actions told him everything he could ever want to know without even saying a word. As they neared the town Francesca suddenly cleared her throat.
“Hey Ben.” She said.
“Yeah what’s up?”
“I think in all the rush you forgot your shoes.” She said.
Glancing down Ben took in the hideous bowling shoes and laughed.
“Guess I’ll have something to add to my collection after all.” He added quietly.

A few days later as he tried to fill in paperwork Ben felt his mind diverging unhelpfully to the issues of his love life. He hadn’t heard from Francesca since their date, she hadn’t even come in for coffee. It pained him to think of her absence as he knew in his heart that it was probably Friday’s disastrous events making her think twice about even contemplating a life with a calamity zone like himself. As negative thoughts threatened to destroy his positive, upbeat mood Ben delved deep into his memories, relishing in the reality of the memory as her words flooded his head once more, those precious words of hope that made his dream of having a family that much easier to grasp.

Why would she offer such hope just to disappear into oblivion? It didn’t make any rational sense to Ben and he realised her absence was probably down to an illness, nothing more, nothing less. His mind at rest Ben found the art of concentration flood his head once more. An hour later Ben’s concentration was knocked once again as a loud noise from the café alerted his attention. Away from the café while he’d filled in necessary paperwork Ben’s staff were left to hold the fort. Aside from being Ben’s loyal binder, Jose, whose occupation involved working as headwaiter at the café, was left to cover Ben’s customer relations whilst he was away.

Today something was clearly rubbing him up the wrong way as his voice strained from shouting had a tone of agitation Ben had never even heard before. Unwilling to walk into a war zone Ben pricked his ears up, anxious to hear the next instalment in the loud argument outside.
“Oi you where do you think you’re going?! What do you want?” José yelled angrily.
As José spoke his voice was drowned by a loud, irate reply that seemed very near indeed. It was almost to close for comfort.
“Ben Dover!” he roared, spying the back room.
The walls seemed to shake as the irate man thundered down the short corridor. Only too willing to obey to the unidentified assailants commands Ben hurriedly jumped under the clothed table, quickly bending down out of sight. Crawling backwards as far as he could his back hit the far table leg, constricting him of space and forcing him to hug his body close, anything to avoid being spotted. Aware a single sound could lead his aggressor to locate his whereabouts Ben held his breath silently willing the man, whoever he was, to leave him alone.

Seconds dragged by agonisingly as Ben’s chest suppressed from the lack of air ached