Strictly Love (4 page)

As she approached the corner shop her eye was caught by a poster.

Tempted to Tango?
Ready to Rumba?
Can't wait to Waltz?
Come to Isabella's Dancing Classes on
Tuesday Evenings at 8–9.30 p.m.
Beginners welcome

 

 

Tempted? Was she ever. In her early twenties, Katie had spent a happy summer learning how to waltz. She had been young, carefree, in her first job in London, where she knew no one. Week after glorious week in a summer, filled in her memory only with sunshine and happiness, Katie had gone along to dance, and had discovered that she was rather good at it. Then she had met Charlie through a mutual acquaintance. Nothing much had happened between them till she'd persuaded him to come dancing too. Katie was fond of saying he literally whisked her off her feet. And when the summer ended in the tragic and sudden death of Katie's beloved father, it had seemed natural to fall into Charlie's arms and seek comfort there. Within the year they'd been married, but somehow they'd never gone dancing again.

She stared at the notice. Perhaps she could give it a whirl.
Maybe she should ask Charlie if he wanted to come along. She knew her mum would babysit for them, and it was certainly a way of spending more time together. Besides, if he made any objection, she could always say she was doing it to lose weight. That should shut him up.

‘Ballroom dancing? What, like on
Strictly Come Dancing
?’ Emily collapsed in fits of giggles on Katie's comfortable sofa at the idea. It always did her good to come here. Katie's house was so serene, a haven of ordered domesticity which provided a sharp contrast to the chaos of Emily's own life. She had no idea how much effort went into keeping a four-bedroom house inhabited by three males so tidy, but given how much mess Callum always seemed to make in her place, Emily guessed it was rather a lot.

‘Yes, why not?’ said Katie.

‘And you want me to come along?’ asked Emily. ‘What about Charlie?’

‘I did ask him,’ admitted Katie, ‘but he didn't want to come. Will you come with me? I used to go years ago and it's great fun.’

‘So you'll know what you're doing, then,’ said Emily. ‘Me, I've got two left feet.’

‘Oh go on,’ said Katie. ‘I need someone to keep me company. Anyway, what else are you going to do on a dull February evening?’

What else indeed? Emily thought over her options. Tuesdays usually involved getting dragged to one of Ffion's PR bashes, but Emily had scarcely seen her since Jasmine's book launch. Ffion was notoriously touchy, and had clearly taken offence that Emily had gone home early on that occasion. Not that Emily minded all that much. To be honest, it made a nice change not to have to hang around sweaty nightclubs. There was always Callum, of course. Although, since their loved-up weekend she'd scarcely
seen him either. That, too, she was finding peculiarly restful. It was always exciting being around Callum, but also incredibly stressful. You never knew what to expect. And of late the excitement didn't seem to be counteracting the stress all that much. Which only left –

‘Is working late a good enough excuse?’ Emily knew the answer to that question.

‘No, it is not,’ said Katie firmly. ‘you've used that one on me far too often recently. It's about time you got a life.’

‘Yeah, you're right,’ replied Emily. ‘I must admit, the thought of doing an all-nighter at work doesn't hold the same appeal it once did.’

‘And what about Callum?’ Katie asked. ‘Does he hold the same appeal?’

Emily sighed and sipped her wine.

‘Now there you have me,’ she said. ‘I just don't know any more. When I'm with him it's great – well, most of the time. Although he was absolutely useless about Dad. He says he doesn't do that kind of stuff very well.’

‘Didn't that make you want to deck him?’ Katie said. ‘I don't think I could put up with that. Charlie was truly fantastic when my dad died. He took a week off work to be with me, and was really brilliant to my mum. And he spent weeks afterwards giving me little treats to cheer me up. Flowers, chocolates. That sort of thing. He even remembered the anniversary, and took time off to visit Dad's grave with me. I couldn't have got through it without him.’

‘I know, I know,’ said Emily. ‘You're right. Callum uses me horribly. And when I'm not with him I'm fretting about him not texting me, or worrying that he's flirting with some other woman. And then we go out and I'm anxious the whole time in case he gets too drunk and does something stupid or comes to meet me from work high as a kite.’

‘He hasn't, has he?’ Katie looked suitably horrified.

‘Once, although he promised not to do it again,’ admitted Emily, ‘but I can't really trust him not to.’

‘What you need’, declared Katie, ‘is a change of scene. Come on, you're always banging on about how much you hate going up to town. Spend some proper time here once in a while. Get to know people round here. It might do you good.’

‘I thought you hated it here,’ said Emily with some surprise.

‘Well, I'm here
too
much,’ said Katie. ‘I could do with an injection from the metropolis once in a while. But you, you need to take a break from all that. So come on, cut me some slack here. I'll feel too much like an idiot if I go to dance classes on my own. After all this time, I probably can't put one foot in front of the other any more. Please come with me.’

‘I am
so
going to regret this,’ said Emily. ‘But go on, you've twisted my arm. I'll come.’

‘Great,’ said Katie. ‘That's settled then.’

‘Yes,’ Emily agreed, taking another sip of wine, 'so it is.’

Chapter Four

 

‘
Bienvenida
, welcome,’ a small dark woman ushered them in. An off-the-shoulder top clung to the contours of her lean body and her red skirt swished and swirled as she moved on gold open-toed sandals with a heel, which Katie coveted immediately. With her long, raven-black hair tumbling down her back, and her gold hoop earrings, the woman resembled a glamorous gypsy queen. She motioned Katie and Emily to follow her into a large studio lined with tables and chairs. The lights were dimmed, the Blue Danube was playing in the background and couples were already dancing. Katie and Emily exchanged worried glances. They all looked scarily proficient.

‘You must be Isabella,’ said Katie. ‘I'm Katie Caldwell and this is Emily Henderson.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ said Isabella, with the faintest hint of a foreign lilt. She looked part Spanish, or Portuguese perhaps. Katie already felt clumsy beside her, and wondered whether she'd made a terrible mistake. Charlie had teased her mercilessly about going dancing, conveniently seeming to forget that at one time he'd enjoyed going himself. He was spending the week at his company's headquarters in Amsterdam discussing a potential takeover bid, so Katie had organised a babysitter. At least she didn't have to put up with Charlie's ribbing tonight.

‘Right, first things first,’ said Isabella. ‘Have either of you done any dancing before?’

‘I can waltz after a fashion,’ said Katie, ‘and I know how to rumba. But it's been a long time.’

‘Me, I can't dance to save my life,’ admitted Emily cheerfully.

‘
Excelente
. We'll put you both in the beginners’ section for now. Katie, if you find it too easy there, we'll think of moving you on. Have you ever tried for any medals?’

‘Oh God no,’ said Katie. ‘I'm more of an amateur enthusiast.’

‘We cater for all sorts here,’ Isabella reassured them. ‘Though be warned, there are some who take it
very
seriously.’

Having extricated their fee for the evening, Isabella bustled off to deal with some other new arrivals.

The women sat down and looked around the room. Predictably, there were more women than men. The dearth of decent ones ensured they all at least had partners. The room was lined with women sitting alone.

‘Oh God,’ said Emily, ‘this feels like the school disco all over again. I am so going to feel like a wallflower tonight.’

‘You'll be fine,’ Katie assured her. ‘Though I'd be a bit cagey about what you tell people about yourself, if I were you. In my experience a lot of these things tend to be full of sad blokes on the pull.’

‘What, you mean like those two?’ Emily nodded towards the door where two men had just entered. One of them was rather plumpish and balding, though the other –

‘Actually, the one on the left looks quite dishy, don't you think?’ Katie nudged her friend. ‘If I wasn't married already, I wouldn't say no.’

The one on the left was tall and dark, and looked ill at ease. Unlike his friend, who strutted confidently into the room and looked around him with a cheeky grin, eyeing up the talent. As if aware of the women's scrutiny he whispered to his friend then turned towards them and winked.

Katie and Emily snorted into their hands.

‘I see what you mean,’ said Emily. ‘Right, my name is Amelia Earhart and I'm a pilot.’

‘Aren't you a bit lost, then?’ said Katie.

‘You're not the first to say so,’ Emily replied. ‘Come on, I think it's time we got going.’

Isabella was busy rounding people up and organising them into groups. Katie and Emily followed her.

‘God, I hope I don't make too much of a fool of myself,’ said Emily. ‘I have a feeling I might regret this.’

Mark had been having similar thoughts all day. He had very nearly cried off when he'd got home from a hideous day at work. Despite accepting his decision the previous week to pull out her tooth, Jasmine had put in a complaint to Head Office to say that not only was she unhappy with Mark's treatment, but he had been 'really brutal, know what I mean?’ It wasn't the first time she'd made a complaint, and as she didn't really have any grounds to do so, Mark was intending to ignore it, but it was tedious nonetheless and he could have done without it.

However, Rob was having none of it when Mark tried to get out of going.

‘You're coming out tonight, and that's that,’ said Rob. ‘So quit moaning and get your coat.’

Mark felt even more ill at ease when they walked through the door and saw the place was heaving with women, many of whom were dancing already. Rob had insisted Mark couldn't go in the jeans and trainers in which he felt comfortable, so he'd dug out a pair of smart trousers he barely ever wore and a pair of ancient brogues. Rob himself was dressed in black chinos, a dark blue shirt and tie, and black shoes with a Cuban heel. He had piled on the aftershave, evidently hoping to make a conquest. Mark looked around the room. There were hardly any other men there, so Rob wasn't likely to have much competition. But it made Mark
feel more self-conscious than ever. He was going to stick out like a sore thumb.

Rob had no such worries. He swaggered through the room, smiling at the women he knew, and trying to catch the eyes of those he didn't. He nudged Mark.

‘See those women over there,’ he said. ‘Gagging for it. They‘ve been watching us since we came in the room.’

Mark glanced over at the women in question: a slim, dark brunette with a smart bob wearing a sleek black dress, and a rather plumper blonde, dressed in a frumpy skirt and baggy top. She was also quite pretty, and would have probably looked slimmer if she'd been standing up straight. Rob nodded over to them, and then turned back to Mark. ‘Keep 'em keen, that's the trick of it. I've got them interested, and now I'm going to ignore them. They're
bound
to come running.’

Mark wasn't so sure. The women had gone off into peals of giggles, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being laughed at.

‘Oh, and a word of advice,’ added Rob. ‘If you do start chatting someone up, for God's sake don't tell her you've got kids. She'll run a mile.’

Thinking that the chance of even talking to a woman was about zero, Mark nodded absently. He wished he was anywhere but here.

‘Ooh, I didn't have you down as a dancer,’ a familiar voice squawked in his ear. Mark turned round. A tarty-looking blonde was eyeing him speculatively. Where did he know her from? Working in the same town he lived in meant he was always running into people he vaguely knew, and he could never work out if he had filled their root canal or met them over the fish counter in Sainsbury's.

‘Your Beth looking forward to going to the Isle of Wight?’ Oh. Right. School. Mark delved into the furthest recesses of his brain. She had a son in Beth's year. What was her name?

‘Yes, I think so,’ said Mark politely, though he couldn't remember Sam mentioning the trip.

‘It's about time I made an appointment,’ the woman continued. ‘You'll be telling me off again about the state of my molars.’

Oh bugger. A patient as well.

‘I'm a bit booked up at present,’ said Mark, ‘but give the surgery a ring. Diana may be able to find you a cancellation.’

Mandy Allwick. That was it. A single mum whose predatory nature was renowned. That was all he needed. Maybe he should palm her off on Rob. It would serve him right for getting Mark into this mess.

‘Save a dance for me, Doctor Davies,’ was Mandy's parting shot, as she wandered over to the double doors at the end of the room, where a petite dark-haired woman was sorting people into groups.

Forbearing to mention that he wasn't technically a doctor – calling dentists doctor was a stupid fashion that had come over from America, along with too much litigation – Mark got up and followed Rob into the crowd.

This was going to be a long evening.

‘Tonight,
chicos
, we will start with the social foxtrot,’ announced Isabella with a smile. ‘For those of you who‘ve come for the first time, it is quite simple and is danced in four/four time. Take your partners – if you are two women one of you will need to learn the man's steps, but remember it is always the man who leads.’

‘That had better be you,’ said Emily to Katie, who was suddenly feeling ridiculously nervous about the whole thing. ‘After all, you've done it before.’

‘For the social foxtrot, you need to learn the cuddle hold,’ continued Isabella. ‘The man places his right arm round the lady, and rests his hand under her right shoulder. The lady puts her left hand on the man's shoulder and holds the man's right hand
in her left hand like so.’ She demonstrated with a baby-faced lad who looked nearly young enough to be her son, before going round the room and checking everyone was in the right position.

‘Now, the man leads off first with his left foot, to two beats of music, while the lady steps back with her right. Then the man takes a step to the right, the lady to the left, the man's left foot closes to the right, and the woman's right foot to the left.’

‘I don't think I'll remember a word of that,’ muttered Emily.

‘It's okay,’ said Katie, ‘just follow me.’

Miraculously, mainly thanks to the fact that Katie clearly knew what she was doing, Emily did get it right, and was able to follow the next steps, which involved her stepping forward with her left foot, then stepping to the right, before closing with the left foot.

‘Right, now we put it together,’ announced Isabella with a clap. ‘I will clap out the time and you dance the steps. Slow step forwards, quick to the side, quick and close, slow step backwards, quick to the side, quick and close.’

‘I'll never get the hang of this,’ said Emily, muddling up her lefts and rights and stepping on Katie's toes.

‘Yes you will,’ assured Katie, ‘you just need practice, that's all.’

After twenty minutes, Emily wasn't convinced. Once they'd mastered the basic steps, Isabella had them trying it to music, and then she added in another set of steps which involved turns as well, and Emily got completely lost. Particularly as she'd had to change partners, and none of them bar one were as good as Katie, so she kept getting it wrong. She was sweating profusely and feeling like a total idiot. In her efforts to get it right, she had had her feet stamped on, and done her fair share of feet stamping too. She knew that dancing wasn't her thing, but she'd had no idea how little natural rhythm she actually had, or how hard it was keeping time to the music. That was until she was apprised of the fact in no uncertain terms by a gay dancer, who was training at the local dance school and had only come along
to expand his repertoire. His were the only toes she'd trod on deliberately after hearing him mutter ‘bloody amateurs!’ one too many times under his breath.

Eventually the torture ended and Isabella announced it was time for social dancing, ‘So you can put it all together.’ Apparently this meant pairing up with just one other person. Emily looked at Katie, whom she'd been watching gliding around the room with a serenity she felt deeply envious of. Despite her post-baby weight gain, Katie had the natural poise and grace Emily lacked.

‘I'd say I'd partner you,’ she said, ‘but I don't want to be the cause of hospitalising you.’

‘You're not that bad,’ Katie grinned.

‘You know I am,’ answered Emily. ‘So stop being nice. We'll have to find someone else decent for you to dance with.’

‘Ladies, would you care to dance?’ The plumpish bloke from earlier on was pushing his way over, with his good-looking friend.

Katie and Emily looked at each other uncertainly.

‘Please, we don't bite,’ said the good-looking one. ‘Besides, you have to take pity on us. I'm being chased by a raging nymphomaniac, and I need to seek sanctuary.’

Katie laughed. She had been watching Mandy Allwick in hot pursuit of their new companions all evening.

‘Well, if you need rescuing from Mandy, I think we might be able to help,’ she said.

‘Oh, you know her?’ Mark asked.

Katie pulled a face.

‘For my sins.’

Mark was about to chip in with something about Beth being at school with Mandy's son, and then, remembering Rob's strictures, thought better of it.

‘As it's your first time,’ Rob whispered to Mark, ‘I'll give you the pretty one, and I'll have the one with the fat thighs.’

Mark, who thought the not-so-pretty one had seemed rather nice, smiled awkwardly at Emily and said, ‘Shall we?’

‘If you like,’ said Emily. She felt awkward too. The new arrival was even better-looking close up. He had rather soulful eyes, she thought. There was a kind of brooding intensity to him that she found appealing. She felt a brief flickering of interest, which she dismissed instantly. She was here for fun, not to pick up men.

Katie was fuming. She'd overheard Rob's whispered aside, and her poor opinion of him, based soundly as it was from two minutes' observation of his cockiness as he came into the room, had increased a hundredfold. She would have liked to tell him where to get off, but she thought Emily deserved a decent shot at his friend, who seemed altogether nicer.

‘The one with the fat thighs heard you, by the way,’ she said, as Rob took her by the hand and started to quickstep.

‘Oh.’ Rob had the grace to look sheepish. ‘Did I say fat thighs? I meant to say gorgeous eyes.’

‘Of course you did,’ said Katie drily. The cheek of him. He was so sure a pathetic compliment would make up for insulting her. Still, he was so sure of himself, maybe she could have a bit of fun with that …

‘Do you come here often?’ Mark decided that a mocking approach was the best way to deal with the situation. It was so long since he'd asked a woman to dance, and the hour he had spent trying not to trip over people's feet had made him very aware that he was a contender for the most useless dancer in the room. But for the first time since Sam had left he felt the spark of interest in another woman. Mark wasn't sure if it was the determined look that had come across her face while she was listening to Isabella's instructions, or the rather panicky eye rolls that had set in when she had clearly forgotten them again. Or it might have been the way that she pealed with laughter when he stepped on her toes. He was so grateful that she hadn't slapped him.