Strictly My Husband: It's funny, it's romantic and it's got dancing - what's not to love! (24 page)

‘I have no idea,’ he replied, sticking his cigar firmly back in his mouth.

‘It means that I don’t get the cigar, I don’t get the cravat, I don’t get the fake tan, I don’t get it and I think you’re making a fool of yourself.’ Hannah sat back in her seat and tried to control her breathing, which out of nowhere was suddenly very fast. What had got into her? She was being mean but sometimes Jerry irritated the hell of her and it made her want to scream. Was this normal? she wondered. Were all marriages like this? A continuous challenge to ignore the inevitable irritations of living with the same person every day of your life whilst constantly trying to recall the reasons why you’d agreed to do it in the first place?

‘I’m just upping my game,’ Jerry defended himself. ‘Everyone has put so much effort into getting the show back on track for tonight that I thought the least I could do was look the part.’

Hannah shook her head in disbelief.

‘Why don’t you try it?’ His hand clutching the cigar appeared in front of her face. ‘Smithy got them for me. They’re proper Colombian ones. The real deal. You don’t get these down Super Cigs, I can tell you.’

Hannah shoved his hand out of the way, not trusting herself to speak.

‘We could come back from Australia via South America, you know? How do you fancy that?’ he asked. ‘Actually I quite fancy Rio. I’ve always wanted to go to Rio. That’s the one with the massive statue of Jesus, isn’t it?’

‘Christ the Redeemer,’ muttered Hannah, leaning her head against the side window.

‘That’s the one. I’d like to see that, and that Sugar Puff Mountain.’

‘Sugar Loaf Mountain,’ said Hannah.

‘That’s what I said. The really weird-shaped one. I’d like to see that. Wouldn’t you like to see that?’

Hannah didn’t reply.

‘Hannah,’ he repeated. ‘What do you reckon? Do you want to go and see Big Jesus and the Sugar Puff Mountain?’

‘Not really,’ she replied.

‘Oh,’ said Jerry, ‘OK then. So where would you like to see? Or shall we just stay in Australia? We could, I suppose. Be a bit of a waste, though, don’t you think? If we are halfway across the world we might as well see some other stuff as well. Where would you like to go?’

‘I don’t want to go,’ she said quietly.

‘Don’t want to go where?’ asked Jerry. ‘To see Big Jesus? I know – you said that. But where would you like to go?’

‘Nowhere,’ she said, sitting up straight in the seat and staring forward out of the front window. She braced herself.

‘What do you mean nowhere? Do you mean you just want to stay in Australia?’

‘No,’ she said, feeling exasperated and desperate and petrified all at the same time. ‘I mean I don’t want to go anywhere.’

‘Anywhere at all?’

‘Yes.’ She faced him. ‘I don’t want to go anywhere at all on holiday.’

He glanced over at her and then back at the road ahead. They were almost at Wonderland.

‘Why not?’ he asked. She detected a slight wobble in his voice.

‘I just don’t,’ she said, turning her head away.

‘You don’t want to go on holiday?’ he asked again.

‘No.’ Christ, did she have to spell it out? She could hear Jerry breathing heavily next to her. She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want to see his face.

‘Then what
do
you bloody want, woman!’ exclaimed Jerry as he slammed his hand on the steering wheel.

Hannah jumped out of her skin. She’d crossed a line. She knew it. He was the most cheerful man she had ever met. He had never once during their eleven-year marriage got cross with her.

‘Tell me,’ he demanded, banging the wheel again. ‘Just tell me what you want, will you?’

Hannah felt tears prick the back of her eyes and she gasped, trying to hold them in check. She couldn’t answer that question. As hard as she tried, she just couldn’t answer it.

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.

Jerry pulled the car up in the staff car park at Wonderland. They could already hear the tinkling of the park music in the background – it was sharply at odds with the tense mood in the car. Jerry switched off the engine but didn’t move; he just stared straight ahead. Hannah held her breath, totally at a loss
as to how to move forward. She felt paralysed. Everything felt paralysed: her body, her brain, her heart.

They sat for what seemed like an eternity but in actual fact was only a few seconds. Suddenly Jerry reached across to open the glove box, making Hannah flinch. He took out a packet of cigars, sat back in his seat and looked over to Hannah. She looked back, fearing what he might say.

‘It’s show time,’ he said firmly; then he turned and let himself out of the car.

Hannah tried to concentrate but the last place she needed to be right now was watching a Halloween Show at a theme park. But what do you do when your best mate calls and asks you to go and observe her husband whilst he cavorts on stage with an attractive younger woman.

‘No,’ had been her answer, but Laura didn’t appear to have taken that in.

‘Why don’t
you
go?’ Hannah had suggested then. ‘Go and see for yourself.’

‘I can’t, I’ve got research groups every night this week out in Chesterton,’ replied Laura. ‘But I need to know. I need you to tell me how they perform together.’

‘As in: how good they are in the show?’

‘No, not really. Just how they look together on stage?’

‘I don’t understand what you are asking me.’

‘You can tell, can’t you?’ said Laura. ‘You can tell when a couple dances together if they are in love?’

‘You want me to watch Tom and Carly dance together and tell you if I think they are in love?’

‘Yes.’

‘No way. I’m not doing that.’

‘Why not?’

‘What if I get it wrong? No, Laura, you can’t ask me to do that.’

‘But I need to know.’

‘It’s a performance, Laura. You know that. They are performers; it’s all an act. You can’t make a judgement on a performance.’

Laura was quiet for a minute and Hannah heaved a sigh of relief. Hopefully she’d got herself off the hook.

‘But there’s the moment, isn’t there?’ continued Laura.

‘What moment?’

‘The moment. The moment after the dance has finished. When they are not acting, when they are themselves. You can tell in that moment exactly what the relationship is. You can tell by the look. You can tell by the body language. You tell by the spontaneous embrace. You can just tell, Hannah.’

‘You might be able to, but not me.’

‘Just try,’ begged Laura. ‘Please.’

Hannah sighed. How did she get herself into these situations?

‘I’ll try but I’m not promising anything,’ she eventually said.

‘
Yes!
’ hissed Laura. ‘I’ll call you as soon as I’ve finished the research group. You are such a star. Let me know if I can return the favour in any way, won’t you?’

‘Of course, Laura,’ Hannah replied. ‘If I ever need someone to spy on my husband, you will be the first person I call on.’

‘It’s not spying.’

‘Then what is it?’

‘It’s data collection.’

To Hannah’s amazement she really enjoyed the show. Jerry had told her what a car crash the first night had been so she wasn’t expecting much but she was entranced by the stunning array of freaky costumes, the clever twists on the
Alice in Wonderland
story but most of all the beauty of Carly’s voice. You literally could have heard a pin drop in the large crowd that had gathered to watch the show in the darkness when she hit the high notes on her opening number.

In fact Hannah was so swept away by it all that she completely forgot to concentrate on what may or may not have been going on between Carly and Tom on stage. As the crowd erupted with delight, and she joined them in a standing ovation, she realised she hadn’t checked what they were doing at the end of the final number and had no idea whether or not they’d shared a moment – whatever that was. It was clear, however, that they’d fixed the catastrophe
from two nights ago. From the roar of the crowd it sounded to Hannah as though they had a huge success on their hands.

She watched as Tom and Carly took their bows. They were holding hands and looked extremely happy – did that count as some kind of moment? Or were they justifiably pleased with the reaction they were getting? Tom took a step back, prompting Carly forward to take her turn in the limelight as the cheers increased. She picked up the edge of her blue skirt and did a sweeping curtsey before stepping back and pushing Tom in front of her. He shook his head in a modest fashion and then dipped down in a further bow, doffing his hat. Tom and Carly retreated to let the rest of the cast bask in the ongoing glory and then easily and comfortably they joined hands again and skipped off into the wings and out of sight. Hannah studied them carefully throughout but was still none the wiser as they disappeared.

‘We smashed it,’ cried Jerry, flinging his arms around Hannah. ‘We smashed it,’ he repeated right in her face, their earlier awkward conversation clearly erased by the excitement of being the supplier of the stage to a successful theme-park Halloween show. He embraced her in a bear hug and she hugged him back, carried away by his euphoria. Eventually he pulled back and gazed into her eyes. He looked so happy. So happy it almost broke her heart.

‘It’s all going to be all right,’ he said, grinning. ‘Everything is going to be all right.’ He lunged forward and kissed her full on the mouth. She kissed him back. She couldn’t remember the last time they had kissed like this. Lips, tongues and in public. She pulled away. It was wrong, all wrong. He beamed at her and reached inside his pocket and pulled out a cigar and flicked it up to his mouth. He missed; it fell on the floor. He shrugged, his grin not fading; then he bounded off, leaving Hannah gazing at the discarded cigar lying amidst the post-show debris.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Laura

‘What are
you
doing here?’ gasped Laura, nearly spitting out a piece of homemade flapjack. She’d just settled herself into the lounge of a very nice five-bedroomed detached house on the brand-new upmarket estate on the edge of Chesterton and was quite looking forward to picking the brains of half a dozen women in the ‘Successful Suburbs’ demographic. This was supposed to be a focus group comprised of previously high-earning mums with one or more pre-school-aged children, which under no circumstances included someone like Karen.

‘Ooh, I remember you,’ said Karen, settling herself into the enormous corner sofa. ‘You were at the last one I did – you know, the one about . . .’

‘Incontinence pants,’ said Laura.

‘Yeah, that’s right.’ Karen leant forward and grabbed a piece of flapjack.

‘What are you doing here?’ asked Laura. ‘This is a research group for young mums, not, er . . .’

‘Yeah, I know, don’t rub it in. But I fancied a look round one of these posh houses and my sister-in-law said that if I told you I had four grandchildren under five then that would be OK.’

‘Your sister-in-law?’ asked Laura.

‘Yeah – Liz. She recruits for these things,’ replied Karen, flapping her hand around the room.

Laura tried to stay calm. ‘Well, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to leave,’ she said, standing up. ‘I’m afraid your sister-in-law was very wrong. I can’t allow you to participate in this group. You don’t fit the criteria. For many reasons,’ she added.

‘I can’t go,’ countered Karen without missing a beat. ‘Neil dropped me off and he won’t be back for an hour and there are no buses. I checked.’

Laura sat back down, speechless.

‘You wouldn’t chuck an old woman out in the cold, would you?’ asked Karen, taking another bite of flapjack.

Laura seethed inwardly. She was stuck. Karen was right; she couldn’t chuck her out. She couldn’t even ask the host if they could shove her in a different room; it wouldn’t be fair on the host and goodness knows what snooping Karen would get up to if left alone.

Luckily for Karen the rest of the participants arrived at that point, distracting Laura as she got them settled on to the various sofas and chairs scattered around the room and supplied them all with name badges. She was careful not to sit anyone too close to Karen.

‘So I wondered if you could all introduce yourselves and share how many children you have and what ages they are?’ Laura asked after she’d been through the usual introductions. ‘Could we start with you?’ She indicated a very smart-looking woman to her left.

‘Hello, everyone, I’m Charlotte and I have a two-year-old called Oliver.’

‘Hi, I’m Fran and I’ve got Isla who’s three and Evie who is thirteen months,’ carried on the lady sitting next to her.

‘Ooh, is it me?’ apologised the next woman with a white stain down her shirt in the midst of cramming flapjack in her mouth. ‘My name is Vicky and I have twin boys aged two and a half.’

All the women assembled nodded in appreciation of her challenges.

‘So I’m Philippa and I’ve got Isaac who is four, Tilly at eighteen months and another on the way.’

There were several sharp intakes of breath.

‘I’m Rachel. Chloe was eighteen months last week.’

Karen looked Laura’s way as it approached her turn. Laura glared back, willing her not to take her usual disruptive stance.

‘Karen,’ announced Karen, nodding to the group. ‘I had Leo when I was nineteen followed by Cindy when I was twenty-one. Their dad left three years later so it was just the three of us for about five years. Then I met my Neil and we had our Sean followed by our Sammy. Of course they’ve all left home so now the house is full of bloody grandkids. You’re never shot of them, I tell you!’ She grinned, leaning forward to help herself to yet another flapjack.

Laura was very aware that the inhabitants of the room were staring at Karen in silence. She needed to fill the gap but she didn’t quite get there in time.

‘I tell you what,’ said Karen. ‘They do a better class of biscuit here than they do at your office.’ She held up a half-eaten piece of flapjack and scrutinised it.

‘Karen happens to have been to a research group before,’ Laura informed the rest of the group. ‘Something we don’t encourage. However, there appears to have been a mix-up in the recruiting.’