A Step In Time (31 page)

I’ll tell him as soon as the show ends, I thought. I’ll tell him the minute the cameras stop.

Patrick’s feet slipped again and I caught him once more. He started to laugh, too.

‘This is crazy,’ he said. ‘I’m never going to make it home.’

‘You’re just being a bit pathetic,’ I said sternly. ‘But you can stay at mine if you like?’

Patrick looked at me.

‘On the sofa,’ I babbled. ‘It turns into a bed. It’s fine. I didn’t mean share with me. Don’t worry.’

He nodded.

‘On the sofa,’ he said. ‘Thanks. I’d like that.’

‘We’ve got to get home first,’ I said, beginning to giggle again. ‘Can you walk?’

‘Only if you hold my hand,’ Patrick said. ‘Don’t let go.’

We made it back to the flat eventually, but it wasn’t easy.

‘God, I thought we’d be stuck out there for ever,’ Patrick said as we stamped our feet on the doormat. I kind of wished we had been. It had been lovely, being needed by him, and helping him like he’d helped me. And of course being so close to him. I glanced out of the window, wondering whether to suggest a snowball fight in the garden. But Patrick was already stripping off his jacket and gloves and looked so relieved to be indoors that I knew my idea wouldn’t go down well.

‘Come on then, Mr California,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and make up your bed.’

Chapter Fifty-Four

‘Would Amy Lavender and her partner, Patrick Walker, please take to the dance floor …’

Patrick took my hand and we walked out into the middle of the dance floor. My heart was pounding and my hands were clammy but I was fizzing with energy. Our Charleston had gone brilliantly. Our tango – hmm, not so much, though it was definitely better than the first time we’d danced it. And now it was time for our show dance.

Leo and Alice, the other finalists, had already danced. They had both done amazing things.

Leo, the boyband member, had done a lot of gymnastics when he was a kid. His partner, a vibrant Eastern European dancer with bright red hair, had pulled out all the stops with her choreography producing a show dance that was athletic and energetic, and had the audience gasping with delight.

Alice’s dance was my favourite, though. She was a very ‘nice’ TV presenter. Clean-cut, wholesome, pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way. She was always tramping through fields on telly, or riding a bike, or canoeing down a river. You know the kind of thing? And tonight she’d been transformed into a rock goddess. She danced a kind of tango/paso doble crossover to a Guns ‘n’ Roses song. She wore a black leather catsuit that revealed an amazing body, and she was generally awesome. It was her we had to beat, I thought.

Patrick and our four backing dancers, who were all dressed in shirts and tailcoats, surrounded me, the lights went down, the band struck up ‘Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend’, and we were off.

We quickstepped our way round the floor, this way and that. I flicked up my toes and heels, we did our little running step perfectly. I almost turned the wrong way at one point but Patrick realised what was happening and managed to stop me.

‘Stay calm,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘It’s going great.’

As the music changed into Rihanna’s ‘Diamonds’, the dancers surrounded me once again and in one swift move – with a bit of help from Patrick – I pulled my dress off, revealing the leotard underneath. Patrick yanked his shirt and took it off, too, showing the sparkly waistcoat he wore underneath. The other dancers stepped back, taking our discarded outfits with them, and we were alone on the dance floor.

During the Marilyn part of the dance, I’d felt like the audience were part of our efforts. They were cheering tricky steps and clapping and I was aware of them the whole time. But now it was different. The lights had changed, so we were in a spotlight with the trusty
Strictly Stars Dancing
glitterball spinning. The audience were quieter and because they were in darkness I couldn’t see them anyway. I was dancing my favourite dance, to my favourite song, with my favourite man – it was heaven and I honestly didn’t want it to end.

It was as though Patrick and I were one person as we swayed and sparkled on the dance floor. I felt like my breath was his breath, and his arms and legs were extensions of my own. I forgot it was a competition, I forgot we were trying to win – I just danced. And then it was over, and the audience were on their feet cheering and shouting, and I was crying. Of course.

‘Don’t cry,’ said Patrick in my ear. ‘You promised me there would be no tears.’

‘But it was perfect,’ I said. ‘So perfect.’

He picked me up and spun me round.

‘You’re perfect,’ he said. We gazed at each other for a minute, then Melissa was calling us over and we had to go and face the judges.

‘I feel a bit emotional myself,’ admitted the head judge, Frank. ‘I think all our finalists have done themselves proud tonight …’

The audience roared their approval.

‘Amy, you had a shaky start in this competition but you’ve worked so hard and I really think you deserve to win. I think everyone deserves to win.’

He was right, actually. Leo had come through alcoholism and bankruptcy and started a foundation to help kids pursue careers in music. And Alice had told me that she and her husband had been trying to start a family but she’d had several miscarriages and had decided to take part in the competition as a distraction.

‘Oh, that would be nice,’ said Melissa. ‘But there’s only going to be one winner – and it’s the audience who decide tonight.’

We had a break while the phone votes were counted. Patrick disappeared somewhere – the loo probably – and I went to find Cora who was in the front row with Ginny, Natasha, and Natasha’s eldest daughter.

Cora was in floods of tears.

‘Oh, darling Amy, you did so well,’ she gushed.

I gave her a hug.

‘I went the wrong way during the quickstep,’ I told her.

‘No one noticed,’ she said. ‘Honestly, darling. It was wonderful.’

Ginny prodded me.

‘When are you going to tell Patrick?’ she said. ‘Now?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Don’t prod me. I’ll tell him after the result.’

‘Tell him now,’ Ginny said. ‘Have you practised?’

‘Obviously,’ I said. ‘I’ve gone over and over it. He stayed over the night it snowed – on the sofa bed,’ I added as I saw her face light up. ‘And I couldn’t sleep. Knowing he was just next door made me very edgy. I got it all straight in my head then.’

‘And?’ Ginny looked at me in expectation.

‘I’m not going over it now,’ I hissed, looking round in case Patrick was lurking. I spotted him on the other side of the room talking to a very excited Phil and Bertie. ‘But it’s about how he makes me feel, how I think we’re good for each other. There are a few jokes in there. I’ve got it all memorised.’

‘Really?’ Ginny sounded doubtful.

‘Really,’ I said.

‘Amy,’ a voice said behind me. It was Babs.

‘Ohmygod Babs,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know you were coming. How did you get a ticket?’

‘Oh, I pulled a few strings,’ she said with a grin. She looked me up and down. ‘You’re pretty good at this,’ she said. ‘Have you ever thought of doing a musical?’

‘Have you ever heard me sing?’ I said.

‘Bad?’

‘I’m no Taylor Swift, let’s just put it like that.’

‘Maybe you could do that show where they get celebs to join a choir …’ Babs said thoughtfully.

‘Babs,’ I said. ‘No more reality TV.’

‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ she said. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’

She turned round and bustled forward a woman with wavy brown hair and a nice smile.

‘Amy,’ she said. ‘This is Winnie Williams. She’s the casting director at
Downton Abbey
.’

I gasped.

‘It’s so lovely to meet you,’ I said, shaking her hand. ‘I love that show.’

Winnie smiled at me.

‘We love you,’ she said. ‘I’d like to have a chat about our next series. Can we meet next week?’

‘Yes, please,’ I said. I let out a little squeak of joy. I felt like I’d won already even if I didn’t get to take the
Strictly Stars Dancing
trophy home.

Across the dance floor, Patrick was gesturing to me wildly. I bounded over to him.

‘It’s time for the results,’ he said. ‘Are you ready?’

We stood at one side of the dance floor, with Leo next to us, and Alice on the far side.

‘Good luck,’ I whispered at my fellow competitors and they all wished us luck, too. Patrick was holding my hand and I was super-aware of him. I hoped I’d be able to get him by himself for a while after the show, so I could make my little speech. And, of course, I hoped he’d feel the same way. I was completely excited about auditioning for
Downton
, but still I found I couldn’t even imagine the next few weeks, months or years, even, without dancing – or Patrick.

There were runners zooming about all over the place and Melissa and Vicky were in a heated discussion with a man with a headset.

‘I wish they’d hurry up,’ Patrick said. ‘I can’t bear this waiting.’

‘I’ve got an audition at
Downton
,’ I said to distract him.

He swept me up into a hug.

‘Well done, well done, well done,’ he said. ‘I am so proud of you.’

I wrapped my arms round his neck and found I didn’t really want to let go.

‘I’m proud of you, too,’ I said.

We looked at each other for a moment and then we both spoke at once.

‘I love you.’

I blinked in surprise.

‘I love you, too,’ we both said.

I felt a bubble of joy rise up inside me.

‘You love me?’ I said. ‘Really?’

Patrick looked into my eyes.

‘Really,’ he said. ‘Our show dance was basically my love letter to you.’

‘I had a whole speech prepared,’ I said in wonder. ‘And it turned out I didn’t need it after all.’

Patrick bent his head and kissed me on and on. I heard a thundering in my ears, which I thought was the sheer emotion of it all, until I realised it was the audience clapping and drumming their feet on the floor.

We broke apart and the crowd cheered.

Melissa was holding a card and standing in front of us, laughing.

‘Ready?’ she said.

‘Going to live, in three, two, one …’ said the producer. My heart began thumping, the crowd whooped again, and the band played.

‘The votes have been counted and verified,’ said Melissa.

The lights dimmed, and I caught my breath. Patrick squeezed my hand tightly.

‘And the winner of
Strictly Stars Dancing
2015 is …’

Epilogue

I was immensely proud of Amy. I watched her smiling and dancing her way round the wrap party. Chatting to everyone, laughing, posing for photos on people’s phones – and all the time with Patrick stuck to her like glue. I was thrilled they’d finally got it together. She deserved a good’un like him, after all that business with Matty.

I wondered where Ginny had got to. She was supposed to be finding me a drink but she’d disappeared. I shifted in my seat. They were very uncomfortable, these studio chairs, but I couldn’t stand up for much longer.

‘Cora Devonshire as I live and breathe.’

I looked up. Standing in front of me was the head judge, Frank. Or Francis as I’d known him, back in the sixties.

‘Francis,’ I said, with a smile. ‘I wondered when you’d track me down.’

He sat down next to me.

‘It was Alice who told me you were around,’ he said. ‘She didn’t know we were old friends, of course.’

He frowned.

‘She told me what happened to your chap during the war.’

I lifted my chin.

‘Long time ago now,’ I said.

Frank nodded.

‘My wife died,’ he said. ‘Twenty years gone now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

He looked at me.

‘We had a good time, me and you,’ he said, a hint of mischief in his brown eyes. ‘Do you remember?’

‘I remember.’

‘Could I come and call on you one day next week?’ Frank said.

I thought about what Amy had said about seizing my chance of happiness, too.

I smiled at Frank.

‘I’d like that,’ I said.

If you loved
A Step in Time
then turn the page for Kerry Barrett’s debut novel

Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

Chapter 1

I was completely out of my comfort zone. I perched on the high bar stool, legs swinging like a toddler in a high chair, and cursed Harry for insisting on meeting me here.

‘Seven o’clock, Esme,
Cara Mia
at Canary Wharf,’ she’d said in her message. ‘Don’t be late. It’s important.’

She was passing through town, she’d said, flying into Heathrow from the States and back to Scotland from City. Bad planning on her part. And even worse planning on mine to work spitting distance from the bar she’d chosen. I’d briefly considered changing jobs to get out of meeting her, but even I could see that was a bit extreme.

And so, here I was. With my legs uncomfortably wrapped around the chrome legs of a shiny stool, and my elbow in a puddle of something, in a bar full of the City types I spent a lot of time avoiding. And – I squinted at my watch in the dim light – it was now 7.25 and there was still no sign of Harry.

I shifted awkwardly on my perch and tried once more to get the barman’s attention. He’d been ignoring me since I arrived, despite my best attempts at eye contact.

Finally, I thought, as his gaze shifted in my direction. But no, instead he served the woman standing behind me, who had glossy hair and the kind of honey-coloured skin that comes from a lifetime of winters spent abroad.

That did it. I moved my arm out of the puddle, rested my wrist on the cold bar and waggled my fingers, gently, in the direction of the barman. A small shower of pink sparks – nothing anyone would notice – wafted from my fingertips. The barman looked puzzled for a moment, then he picked a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge, dropped it into an ice bucket and presented it to me, along with two glasses, with a flourish.

‘Nice,’ said a voice in my ear. ‘And you didn’t even have to ask.’

‘Hello, Harry,’ I said. Of course she would choose that moment to arrive. She didn’t kiss me. Instead she leaned over, scooped up the wine bucket and tilted her head in the direction of a booth.