Devil's Food Cake [✓]

34 | ring my bell

At any minute, it seemed like Jonny was burst from the seams with excitement. He was trying his hardest to keep calm, but as we'd journeyed in his car to his parent's home in Kent, I could tell that this was a big thing for Jonny. I glanced at the window, the trees and historic monuments seemed to whoosh past. In Jonny's neck of the woods, the picturesque town of Whitstable, there was so much to take in. I could smell the sea ('you must try the oysters' Jonny'd said excitedly) and see the beach huts in the distance. The sky was a clear blue heralding the start of something new.

He was grinning ear from ear that I'd joked that he looked like Jack Nicholson's Joker. We'd watched the 80s Batman films the night before on the Saturday. Hence my precise definition of which actor. Jonny admitted to liking Heath Ledger's interpretation, but we wasted an hour arguing over which actor Nicholson or Ledger was better. Naturally, I'd been fangirling over Heath because he was HEATH! Jack Nicholson was so old! Jonny looked mildly disappointed with my supporting evidence - 'I expected better off you, Candy. I suppose you'll say I'm old in ten years time' - before he gave in and we snuggled on the coach, our argument swiftly forgotten about as quickly as it had started.

During our car journey, Jonny had bought along along a compilation disc of cheesy 80s and 90s hits, for us to sing along to. He had guessed that during a two hour ride, his usual rap and R&B music wouldn't be the best cure for a nervous, queasy stomach. Singing along had been a welcome distraction for me. I was really getting into my shaky rendition of 'I'm having the time of my life' imagining that I was Baby and Jonny was, well, Johnny.

'Wow, you're really getting into it, aren't you?' His mouth was twitching as though he found my attempt at singing hilarious. 'You know, we have a little pond in our garden, so I can try doing that lift. We have to call the ambulance before hand...' he paused, a naughty glint in his eye, as he took in my confused expression, 'in case of broken ribs.'

'Urgh. You promised you'd be nice to me, especially today of all days!' I punched his shoulder and he yelped in 'mock' pain, before rubbing the spot where I'd hit him.

'Candy baby,' Jonny lamented; he was struggling to hold his laughter in, 'Please don't try putting me in the corner—'

'Jonathan Francis Pollack! You are the most incorrigible, despicable, heartless, inconsiderate—'

'That's a lot of adjectives for one so tiny!' Jonny was looking at me with a smug smile, an expert troll. 'I think we need to arrive at my parents'... uh, castle. Pronto.'

I groaned, which made him smile ever wider.

'That was a good one,' Jonny looked momentarily hurt by my dismissal. 'I'm good at thinking on my feet. That's proof of my skill.'

As I sunk further down into my seat, Jonny reached over to stroke my hair. 

'By the way, how do you know my middle name? I don't remember telling you...' he mused, curiosity was written in his features.

'I found it written on one of your letters,' I said sulkily, pushing away his hand, 'maybe I should start calling you Francis, instead?' I looked over at him with a dark smile.

'Francis sounds a bit girly.' Jonny rolled his eyes.

'I'm sulking because you just mocked my favourite film—' I sniffed

We were approaching a line of cupcake coloured terraced houses, much to my delight. He saw my eyes light up because he nodded quickly, a quick smile spreading across his face. 'Ah, I can read you like a book. I knew you would love it.'

'Your parents live in one of these houses?' I couldn't believe it. They looked so pretty. Jonny had kept his childhood home very much a secret, despite my prompting.

'Well, they did last time I checked in on them,' he teased me, 'but I think my parents are like Mr and Mrs Smith... I hope they're double agents because I'd probably inherit a fair bit.' He parked in front of a pistachio green house, stepped out his side and as I was struggling to unbuckle my seatbelt, he opened the door to my side smoothly like he'd been a chauffeur all his life and not, as he was for the time being, a broke philosophy student.

'Nice pad,' I remarked, taking his proffered palm. 'Why are you being so gentlemanly towards me, Jonny?'

'Despite your questionable taste in films, I think you and my mother would get along well.' Jonny lead me up his parents' driveway. Now that I was actually in front of his family home, it felt like I was unprepared. My legs were itching to head back and run. As far away as possible. I felt sick. What happened if I didn't make a good impression? I didn't want to be the girl that possibly said the wrong thing to Jonny's parents... Sometimes when I was nervous I had the awful case of putting my foot in my mouth at the oddest times.

Jonny must have felt how tense I was because as soon as we reached the door, he turned around to face me and put his hands on my shoulders. 'Breathe, Candy. They'll love you... just like I adore you.' His voice was so soothing that I felt an instant calm descend upon me.

I softened. 'You're so sweet.'

We kissed with such affection; it was a slow, easy, playful surrender that made me feel all toasty and warm inside. He always knew what to say and do to make me feel better. That was one of Jonny's special talents.

Once we ended the kiss, he reached across for the door bell, but hesitated as he was about to press it. 'Shall I do the honours or...?'

'Um. It's just a door bell,' I shrugged.

Jonny's eyes gleamed as though he had a sudden idea. 'No, no, no! I can't possibly. You do it.'

I giggled as he made quick movements sweeping movements with his hands to signal to me to press the button.

'I don't see why I should—'

'Dearie me, Candy. I can add fear of doorbells to your sizeable list of phobias.'

'Shut up, Jonny!' I squealed.

He leaned against the nook of the door, with a self-satisfied smile touching his features. 'Oh well. Candy, I'm going to have to get less of a scaredy-cat girlfriend. You don't like baked beans, snails, clowns, slimy soap ends...' He used his fingers to tick off each of my 'phobias'.

'Jonny, stop being such a bas—' I stopped before I could utter a curse word. Defiantly, I pressed the button and turned to Jonny. 'See! I'm not a scaredy-cat!'

'Ooh,' Jonny simply remarked. He tilted his head to one side as notes of a popular and familiar song started to play with funky clarity. 'Ring My Bell' by Anita Ward. He began to sing the lyrics as though he'd had to endure listening to the song many, many times.

'That's so cheesy!' I said, once it had finished. 'Your parents chose that.'

'Each time someone rings the doorbell, it plays a different tune. Forty groovy tunes in total.' Jonny took an expression of mock pride.

I stared at him, my mouth open in disbelief. Jonny slung an arm around my shoulder, leaning closer to me. 'You should be fine, munchkin. Just pretend your mute. They don't like English people,' he said seriously.

'Argh.' I was horrified. Simultaneously, Jonny burst out laughing as, with a sinking feeling in my stomach, I watched as the door swung open as I came face to face with Jonny's mother.