CHAPTER TEN
It was Saturday, the day Magic of Dance was opening its doors for the first time.
And I’d woken up regretting having said I’d go along to the launch with Xander.
Dad’s condition hadn’t changed at all over the past few days and I’d been feeling so dispirited the night before that I’d drunk most of a bottle of wine in an attempt to drown my sorrows. Not used to alcohol splurges, I’d woken up with a nagging headache.
I stood at the kitchen window in my dressing gown, glugging down glasses of water and thinking about texting Xander and saying I wasn’t going to be able to make it along to the grand opening after all.
My head was pounding.
Then I thought about Dad lying motionless in that hospital bed.
Could Xander be right, that talking to him about the new dance centre might spark something in his subconscious?
He’d completely lost his love of dance when Mum died. It was as if that part of his personality – a big part of who he was – had died with her. He even refused to watch Strictly Come Dancing these days, when once upon a time they would never have dreamed of missing the show.
I swallowed down a large mouthful of water with a grimace.
If there was even a small chance that dance might be the key to Dad waking up, I had to go along today.
By all accounts, this new dance studio – set in a picturesque community of artisan craft outlets on the leafy Brambleberry Manor estate – was going to offer rather more than a timetable of dance classes.
Clara, the owner, was passionate about dance for its own sake, but also for the joyful, uplifting effect it could have on people’s mood and health, both physical and mental.
When I’d read the story in the local paper, Clara’s vibrant personality and enthusiasm had shone through every word.
‘There will be something for everyone,’ she’d promised. ‘And I mean everyone .’
I was curious to see for myself what she was talking about.
Closing my eyes, for just a brief moment I allowed myself to imagine how it would feel when I got the call to say Dad had woken up. Not if, but when ...
Hot tears burned my eyelids, thinking how amazing and joyous it would be. And when it happened, I’d never complain about anything ever again in my life!
Dad’s appetite for life had been dimmed by Mum’s death, but he was a strong man and he still had a lot of living to do. And he had me. He would be fighting his way slowly to the surface, I was sure of it.
Maybe I’d even be able to persuade him to check out Clara’s new dance emporium with me.
Once he was better . . .
*****
I’d arranged to meet Xander outside the Brambleberry Manor Café, and when I arrived off the bus just before eleven, he was already there waiting for me.
‘Coffee first?’ he asked as I joined him. ‘They do a great apple turnover here with exactly the right amount of cinnamon.’
‘Sounds like you’re a connoisseur of apple pastries.’
‘Oh, I am. Too little cinnamon and the flavour’s just not there. Too much and it completely overpowers the more subtle taste of the apple.’
I nodded. ‘Moderation in all things is what my gran used to say.’
‘Grans are very wise women.’ Grinning, he opened the café door for me and I walked into its cool interior.
‘This is on me,’ he said. ‘What would you like?’
‘Just coffee, please. But you paid last time. Here.’ I dug in my purse and pulled out a note.
He shook his head. ‘My treat.’
When he came back to the table with a tray loaded with not one apple turnover but two, and a croissant with a pat of butter and a little dish of jam as well, I couldn’t help chuckling. ‘Ever heard of a healthy mid-morning snack, Xander?’
‘My diet’s terrible at the moment,’ he admitted, as he organised the plates and cups and offloaded the empty tray onto a nearby table.
‘I just grab what I can wherever I happen to be when I get hungry. Dana was always the cook in our relationship. She wouldn’t let me anywhere near the kitchen after I burned the toast and her boiled egg the first time she stayed over. ’
We exchanged a rueful look.
‘That takes some doing,’ I pointed out. ‘Burning a boiled egg.’
‘Thanks.’ He gave a modest shrug. ‘What can I say? It’s a special talent of mine.’
‘Loathsome Les used to pretend he was rubbish at cooking just to get out of doing it.’
‘Relationships, eh?’
‘Hmmm.’
Fearing we were straying into rather dismal, listen-to-the-terrible-things-my-ex-did territory, I conjured up a bright smile. ‘Well, anyway, you’re not looking too bad on your carb-heavy diet.’ I assessed his lean physique. ‘In fact, I think I might hate you.’
His eyebrows moved up, apple turnover number one paused in mid-air. ‘Explain, please?’
‘Well, it’s only that I suspect you’re the sort of really annoying person who can eat whatever they like, whenever they like and never gain even a single solitary ounce of flab.’
‘Ah.’ He nodded. ‘Banged to rights. Sorry, officer.’ With a smile and a wink, he took a huge bite of his pastry and started chewing cheerfully.
‘We’ll miss the opening at this rate,’ I remarked, nodding at the remainder of the pile.
‘Nah! You do the talking and I’ll be ready to go in...’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Six minutes tops.’
Chuckling, I set the timer on my phone and watched, sipping my coffee, as he ploughed through his elevenses.
‘Lovely,’ he announced, crumpling his paper napkin into a ball just as my timer went off.
We were still laughing as we left the café and walked past the row of artisan outlets to the building at the far end, which housed the new dance emporium.
A group of little girls wearing ballet dresses were gathered with their mums outside the entrance and when we walked in, the reception area was filled with people of all ages milling about.
Some were talking in groups and others were wandering around looking at the posters ranged around the walls that displayed the activities on offer for visitors to the centre.
As we walked over to a poster intriguingly headed, ‘Dancing in the Dark’, I glanced up at Xander’s profile, feeling suddenly grateful to have him as a friend.
He’d managed to make me forget my woes for a moment – and that was no mean feat considering I was constantly worrying about Dad and had a painful hangover into the bargain.
At that moment, a girl I recognised came over and handed us a one-page sheet showing the timetable for the day. Her badge read ‘Maddy, Little Duck Pond Café’ and I realised that’s where I’d seen her. I sometimes met Lyndsay there for coffee on a Saturday morning.
Maddy beamed at us. ‘Welcome to the launch day! Are you into dancing at all?’
‘Well... I am.’ I gave her a rueful smile. ‘I mean, I don’t dance myself anymore but my mum and dad were local Latin champions back in the day, so I know a bit about it.’
‘Oh, wow. Dance champions! Are they coming today?’
I swallowed hard.
How to even begin to explain about Mum and Dad without putting a dampener on the mood of the day?
Luckily Xander stepped in at that moment, saying, ‘No, no. Just us. But we’ll be reporting back on everything that’s going on today.’
I glanced at him gratefully as Maddy rushed on.
‘Well, there’s plenty to tell them! There’ll be a street dance performance by some talented youngsters from the local school in the main hall.
’ She glanced at her watch. ‘In precisely five minutes, actually. And then we have a fabulous display by the women from the local WI, followed by a tango demonstration that’s definitely not to be missed if you like your dancing hot and steamy. ’
I nodded. ‘Brilliant.’
‘I quite fancy going along to one of their tango nights,’ she confided. ‘It’s going to be held every Wednesday. Tango experts and complete novices all welcome. Clara’s mission is to get everyone joining in.’
‘Is there a café here?’ asked Xander, and I turned to him with a chuckle.
‘What?’ He shrugged, all wide-eyed innocence. ‘Got to keep the energy levels topped up.’
Maddy grinned. ‘Of course you do. Especially if you’re going to join in with the Dancing in the Dark event later.’
Xander’s eyes swivelled to mine, with a look that said, No way on this earth!
‘So yes, there’s a cute café that’s open for hot drinks and a variety of goodies, all supplied by the Little Duck Pond Café.
’ She tapped her badge and leaned closer with a smile.
‘I made the chocolate chip shortbread myself and it’s very good, if I say so myself.
The Little Duckling Café is just through there.
’ She pointed to a door leading off the reception area.
‘So... have fun and I might see you later, dancing in the dark.’ She slapped her forehead.
‘Actually, no, I won’t see you, will I? Because. .. well, it’ll be dark !’
Grinning, she whisked off to deliver her speech to the next group arriving.
‘Phew, I wouldn’t mind some of her energy,’ I murmured with an admiring smile.
‘And enthusiasm.’ Xander grinned. ‘If she tells me to do the Dancing in the Dark thing, I’ll probably be too scared to say no.’
‘It sounds like fun, though?’
‘Er, no. No, it doesn’t. It sounds like a total nightmare.’
I chuckled at his wary expression. ‘Great name for a small off-shoot of the Little Duck Pond Café, though. “The Little Duckling”.’
‘Very witty,’ he agreed. ‘And the chocolate chip shortbread sounds nice.’
‘Not yet, though?’ I stared at him in amazement. ‘You’ve just ploughed your way through two apple turnovers and a croissant. You can’t possibly be hungry yet.’
He grinned. ‘No. But it always pays to know where your next snack’s coming from, for when those hunger pangs strike.’
I laughed. ‘You really are mad.’
‘Nothing wrong with being different, is there?’
‘Nothing wrong with it at all. So... shall we go and watch the schoolkids doing their street dancing?’