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Authors: Kerry Barrett

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BOOK: A Step In Time
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‘Doing a runner?’ he said with a grin. ‘I thought maybe we could hang out today.’

Don’t be nice to me, I thought. Please don’t be nice.

‘I’ve got stuff to do,’ I lied, trying to look apologetic. I blew him a kiss. ‘Thanks for a lovely night.’

I turned towards the front door, but Surfer Dude was too fast.

‘Was that a brush-off?’ he asked.

I paused.

‘I think it was,’ I said honestly. ‘Sorry.’

He grimaced.

‘Wow,’ he said. ‘You British girls are brutal.’

I felt a bit embarrassed.

‘Look,’ I said, knowing I was about to sound completely up myself and hating it. ‘I’m on TV – at least I was – and I’ve got an image that I need to protect. This was a mistake. I can’t be here. ‘

Surfer Dude winced.

‘It was a lovely night,’ I said. ‘Really. And I’m sorry.’

I pulled my dress down a bit so my walk of shame wasn’t quite so shameful (who was I kidding – everyone I passed was going to know what I’d been up to) and opened the front door.

It was only when I reached the street that I realised I didn’t even know his name.

Chapter Nine

Cora

The sound of a car door slamming stirred me from my doze in the armchair. I found that increasingly these days I woke very early then snoozed in my chair whenever I sat down. This morning I’d risen before six, made myself a cup of tea, and settled down to read a book. But I’d fallen asleep almost immediately. My tea was still warm, though, I thought, touching the back of my hand to my mug, so I hadn’t been dozing for long.

Ever the nosey neighbour, I rose from the chair to see who was slamming doors at this early hour. It was my new tenant – Amy. She was leaning into the window of a taxi, paying a fare. I watched as she handed over the cash, then turned away to go down to her flat. She was wearing a sparkly 1920s-style dress and in her hands she had a pair of high heels and a similarly sparkly clutch bag. She looked very beautiful, I noted, but very overdressed for a Sunday morning in Clapham. She’d obviously been out all night and I hoped she’d had some fun – she’d struck me as someone who was in need of fun when I’d spied on her the other day. I smiled as she tiptoed down the stairs to her front door. She definitely reminded me of myself, I thought once again. At least, she reminded me of the old me. The one I’d once been …

1944

I hurried through the camp, stopping anyone I recognised to ask if they’d seen Donnie. I had no idea where he’d gone. His friend, Paul, had told me he’d had a letter from home and had seemed upset. So now I was worried he’d had some bad news and I wanted to find him to see if I could comfort him.

I skirted the edge of a garage and came face to face with another of Donnie’s friends, Rog.

‘Have you seen Donnie?’ I asked.

Rog nodded.

‘Saw the back of his head,’ he said, pointing to a storage tent. ‘He was going in there.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, giving his arm a squeeze.

I dashed into the tent and let the heavy canvas door drop behind me. It was dark in there and it took a while for my eyes to adjust.

‘Donnie,’ I whispered. ‘Donnie, are you in here?’

There was a noise from the back of the tent, so I carefully picked my way towards the far end. The tent was full of bags of uniforms, piles of boots, sandbags – anything and everything. And at the back, sitting on a pile of scratchy grey blankets, was Donnie. He was holding a letter and crying, and when he saw me he turned his face away so I wouldn’t see his tears.

My heart ached for him so much I felt his pain like it was my own. I sat down next to him and gathered him into my arms and he cried and cried onto my neck.

‘What is it?’ I whispered, kissing his tears away. ‘What’s happened?’

Donnie gave a sort of hiccupping sob.

‘Gene,’ he said.

I knew who Gene was. He’d been Donnie’s best friend since they started school. They’d gone all the way through school together but joined up separately – Gene into the navy and Donnie the army. Donnie talked about him a lot and had told me how much he wanted us to like each other. Now my stomach twisted with sadness.

‘Is he …?’

Donnie wiped his face with the heel of his hand and handed me the letter.

‘Torpedo,’ he said. ‘The ship sank. No survivors.’

I scanned the letter – it was from Donnie’s mum and broke the bad news in such a sweet, sad way that I felt tears pricking my eyelids, too.

‘Oh, darling,’ I said, pulling him closer to me. ‘What a sad, sad loss.’

‘This damn war,’ Donnie said. ‘You know, sometimes I don’t even know why we’re fighting.’

I didn’t know what to say. I’d been a schoolgirl when war broke out, and it was so much a part of my life that I couldn’t remember what it was like before. But I was lucky. I had no brothers to lose, and my dad, who’d seen action in the Great War, had passed away before war broke out this time.

Donnie was crying again.

‘I just want it to be over,’ he said. ‘I just want it to end.’

‘I know,’ I said, kissing him again.

‘I don’t want to go to France,’ Donnie said. ‘It’s awful there. It’s really, really awful. I’m scared, Cora.’

Now I was crying, too.

‘Oh, my darling, darling boy,’ I said. ‘I’m scared, too. I’m so scared. But we’ve got this time together. We need to make the most of it.’

Donnie nodded.

‘And when you’re in France, I want you to think about me all the time,’ I said, kissing his face all over. ‘I want you to think about the hours we’ve spent together, and the way you make me laugh more than anyone else, and the way you make me happier than anyone else ever has.’

Donnie kissed me deeply and I shivered in pleasure.

‘And the way your kisses turn my legs to jelly,’ I said weakly.

I began unbuttoning his shirt. Donnie stopped my hand with his and looked at me.

‘Are you sure?’ he said.

‘Anything can happen,’ I said, hearing my voice tremble a little bit. ‘Gene thought he had his whole life ahead of him and he didn’t. There are bombs dropping, and guns, and all sorts of horrible things. Anything can happen to anyone and I don’t want to regret not doing something when I had the chance.’

Afterwards we lay curled up together, under one of the scratchy blankets.

‘No regrets?’ Donnie said to me, his face close to mine.

‘Never,’ I said. ‘I will never regret today as long as I live.’

A shout from outside made us jump and I suddenly remembered where we were and what a risk we were taking.

‘I have to go,’ I said, kissing Donnie and then wriggling out from under the blanket. ‘Audrey will cover for me, but she can’t keep pretending I’m in the privy.’

I pulled on my skirt and buttoned up my shirt, while Donnie watched me, smiling.

‘What?’ I said.

‘You’re beautiful.’

I threw my hat at him, then had to retrieve it.

‘You soppy old so-and-so,’ I laughed.

‘I love you,’ he said.

I blew him a kiss.

‘I love you, too,’ I said.

For the next three days we met up in the tent whenever we could. We couldn’t get enough of each other. I wanted the smell of Donnie on my skin, the feel of his breath on my face. I just wanted to be near him all the time.

I knew that emotions were heightened because of the war, and that in peacetime our romance probably would have taken months, or even years, to get to this stage, but I didn’t care. Gene’s death had shown us how important it was to live in the moment and to make the most of every single day.

Our unit was going to London after Christmas – we had a six-month stint entertaining troops in the capital and I was looking forward to settling in one place for a while. But Donnie knew he’d be leaving for France soon. I tried not to think about how he’d be forced to live. The things he’d see and do. The danger he’d be in.

As Audrey and I were packing up our costumes and getting ready to hit the road, Donnie came to find me.

‘I have some good news,’ he said, grinning widely.

‘The war’s over?’ Audrey said, putting a feathery headdress into a box.

Donnie chuckled.

‘Not that good,’ he admitted. ‘But good for me. We’re going to be in London for a couple of nights before we leave for France in the spring.’

I was delighted.

‘Really?’ I said, throwing my arms round him. ‘So we can meet?’

Donnie looked down at me and kissed the end of my nose.

‘Oh, better than that,’ he said. ‘I thought we could get married.’

Chapter Ten

I was having fun. Lots of fun, actually, much to my surprise. It was my first day on
Strictly Stars Dancing
and so far it had been brilliant.

I’d arrived at the studios early that morning, bracing myself to face photographers but there was no one there.

‘We’ll do all the publicity shots today in costume,’ the director explained. ‘Then we’ll release your names to the press one by one, starting tomorrow. We’ve not confirmed anyone yet – it creates a buzz.’

I’d felt a shiver of excitement when she mentioned costumes. I may have had misgivings about
Strictly Stars Dancing
but the fabulous outfits weren’t one of them. And I definitely wasn’t disappointed. As soon as we arrived we were hurried into the enormous costume department, where there were rails and rails of frothy material in every colour of the rainbow, racks of shoes, and wonderful headdresses. I’d never seen so much glitter. I let out a small whimper of joy; it was absolutely amazing.

I was whisked away by a dresser who took me to a rail with a sign saying AMY. It was filled with lots of very sparkly, very small costumes. I swallowed.

‘There’s not much to them,’ I said.

She grinned.

‘There’s not much to you,’ she said. ‘You’ll wear long dresses for ballroom and whatnot, but for the pics we wanted to make the most of that gorgeous bod of yours.’

The outfit she chose was a gold mini skirt and fitted crop top. Both the top and the skirt were completely covered in fringing and shimmered under the lights.

‘Really?’ I said, holding up the tiny scraps of material.

‘You’ll look fabulous,’ she said. ‘Trust me.’

At the risk of sounding big headed, she was right. Good genes – my mum still had the figure of a twenty-one-year-old despite three kids and a fondness for sangria – combined with years of controlling my diet and working out every day had made sure I didn’t have an ounce of blubber. The costume showed off my tight abs and my toned legs.

The hairdresser kept my brunette locks loose and gently waved. Instead of having my extensions taken out like I’d planned to do if I went into the jungle, I’d had them redone and I was very pleased with them. My hair fell over my boobs and halfway down my back and it was thick and lush. The
Strictly Stars Dancing
make-up was way over the top, but it worked with the costume and all, in all, the final result was pretty good.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, turning from side to side to see every bit of the costume. I didn’t look like the normal me, but I quite liked the effect.

‘Smoking,’ said my dresser in admiration as she looked at me. ‘You look like the real deal.’

‘Except I can’t dance,’ I said, looking at my back view over my shoulder. ‘So as soon as I start to move, everyone will realise I’m not the real deal at all.’

She gave me a nudge.

‘Every single contestant I’ve ever dressed has said that,’ she said. ‘And they’ve all had a ball. The professional dancers are amazing – they’ll soon whip you into shape.’

Oh, God. I’d been trying to forget that, as well as having our photos done, we’d also be meeting our dance partners. I already felt sorry for whoever landed me. I was a lost cause.

I didn’t have long to wait. We gathered together in the main studio. I looked at the dance floor and imagined dancing there in front of millions of viewers and a lively audience and felt a bit sick.

‘Nervous?’ said one of my fellow competitors. He was a rugby player – absolutely enormous with broad shoulders and ripped abs.

‘So nervous I can’t even think about it,’ I confessed.

He laughed.

‘It’ll be fun, I reckon,’ he said.

‘Definitely,’ said the woman to my other side. She was a newsreader who must have been in her late forties but looked a lot younger.

‘You’ll be fine,’ she assured me. ‘You actors always do well. Didn’t you have dance training at drama school?’

‘I did,’ I admitted. ‘Until the day I made my dance teacher cry because I was so awful and she chucked me out of the lesson.’

‘Ah,’ said the newsreader.

The rugby player chuckled.

‘Stick with me,’ he said. ‘I’m so rubbish I’ll make anyone look good.’

I smiled widely. I was having such a lovely time my nerves were beginning to recede. All the other contestants seemed very nice. They were a mixture of celebs from all walks of life – I’d met the rugby player and the newsreader, of course, but I’d also said hello to an older actor who’d starred in a rival soap for years and who I knew from various awards ceremonies. He’d greeted me like a long-lost friend, and I realised everyone was just as nervous as I was. There was also a beautiful actress who’d been a model in the sixties, then moved into films and now made documentaries in which she travelled round the world. She was one of my heroes and I was too starstruck to even speak to her. There were a couple of pop stars, an Olympic swimmer who was wearing her gold medal round her neck, and a few TV presenters. Even if I got nowhere in the competition, I thought, it would be nice to meet all these people and find out more about them.

There was a buzz of chatter from the back of the studio and I turned to see the two presenters come in. They were both women and always amazingly, astonishingly glam when I saw them on TV. But today they were both wearing jeans and vest tops. The blonde one – who I knew was called Melissa – had her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and the other one – Vicky – had a blunt, dark, Mary Quant bob and wasn’t wearing any make-up.

‘Oh, God, you all look so beautiful,’ Melissa squealed. ‘Are you all raring to go?’

BOOK: A Step In Time
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