Chapter 38
Percy Bagnor jumped at the sight of his daughter striding purposefully towards him. Alyssa noticed his head twitch as though he was seeking out his wife, but Alyssa knew she was still in the kitchen with Anna, debating the best way to core an apple.
‘Alyssa,’ he said, straightening himself as she approached and pulling his face into a nervous-looking smile.
It was one of the rare times he hadn’t gone to call her Beryl, so she had to give him that.
‘Dad.’
He put down his plate of spicy nibbles, looking not unlike a rabbit caught in the headlights of his own sensible Volvo estate.
She couldn’t pretend she was dying to have a cringey heart-to-heart with him either – but she wondered if avoiding this was keeping her own emotions stuck.
Discovering her parents’ apparent lack of love and fidelity just before she’d fled her hometown, and spending years believing they’d chosen shagging colleagues in stationery cupboards above a family life with her had smashed her last hope that true love was real.
But if she’d learned anything since she’d been back here, it was that she needed to hide from her problems less and communicate more. So she had to give this conversation a shot, come what may.
‘Well, you’ve done an impressive job,’ he waffled, waving a hand around them. The dancing and music were in full swing, voices sounding animated and drinks flowing. ‘It’s been a long time since the town has seen anything this lively.’
‘Thanks,’ she muttered. She sensed the compliment hadn’t been easy for him, but his past behaviour hadn’t made her life easy either.
‘Your mother says, I … erm. I don’t praise you enough.’
Alyssa shrugged. ‘Until recent attempts, I’m going to say never.’ And that had hurt. ‘Though maybe you didn’t see anything worthy of your pompoms, however hard I tried to be good at things.’
Oh, for the kind of dad who’d showered her in gold stars, even when she’d been a bit rubbish.
‘That’s just it,’ he said, stepping forward and taking her hands – which was weird, because he’d never been one for much affection.
She felt herself tense. ‘I am proud of you. Look at you, paving the way, in a profession I’d never even heard of.
Bringing people together. Helping folk when they’re struggling with love. ’
Her gaze moved off to the distance. It was hard to look at him just then.
‘I didn’t know you believed in it,’ she finally managed.
A wave of past emotions was rising up inside her.
Thoughts of the time when she’d believed they were the happy Bagnors and her parents were in love.
When she’d thought, without question, that she’d find her own true love one day too – or that she already had.
‘You and Mum were both having affairs. Probably lots of them. Wasn’t our little family enough?
’ She stopped short of yelling wasn’t I enough, even though her teenage self undoubtedly would have.
‘Oh, Alyssa.’ He was squeezing her hands now. Still weird, but she wasn’t yet hellbent on flinging him off. ‘Your mother and I were both young and giddy back then. Greedy for a bit of fun. We cared for each other, and both knew what the other was up to. Sometimes we even …’
Alyssa thrust up a hand. ‘If this has got anything to do with putting car keys in a bowl to wife-swap with the neighbours, I do not want to know.’
Her dad chuckled, which at least broke some of the tension. ‘Don’t be silly, love. Your mum wouldn’t bed a man who drove a Morris Minor. She’s more a luxury Cadillac kind of girl.’
‘That’s gross.’ Alyssa pulled a yuck face.
‘In all seriousness, it’s great to have you back here and to see the impressive woman you’ve grown into. Your mum’s got me following your Instagram. It’s very inspiring.’
Her heart deflated a touch, realising he was probably impressed with the feigned version of her who ate quinoa salads and had unshakeable beliefs about love apps.
Her dad seemed to be reading her. ‘And I know how it works.’ He lowered his voice.
‘The things people share online are just the best bits. We put on a good show. But I want you to know I accept you, whoever you decide to be. If I’ve ever been tough on you, it’s because I wanted you to turn out better than your old dad.
And you have. I love you, Alyssa. And I love your mother too. Always did and always will.’
She was looking at him again now, though it was becoming more difficult to see him, with the tears that were swamping her eyes.
The respectable version of Percival Bagnor always had a clean cotton hanky in his top pocket.
He pulled it out and gave it to her, and she blew her nose loudly.
A peace offering. It wouldn’t solve everything, but they were off to an admittedly snotty start.
And she was an adult now. She’d made plenty of mistakes of her own. She was learning to forgive.
Alyssa wasn’t sure whether she was sobbing because her dad seemed to believe in love, or that he might accept her even if she didn’t like quinoa, or because her mum still ironed his hankies – which was annoyingly cute, even if it wouldn’t fix everything.
But instead of being mortified that she was publicly shedding tears, she just felt relief.
Like she’d begun to let go of a ginormous fake Lulu Guinness suitcase, and the weight of expectations was lightening.
And now he was pointing to her love coaching flyers and saying he’d been proudly handing them out all evening. And did he just say her special blend of coaching was probably even better than Devan’s marvellous love app? Well, make room on that pedestal.
If Alyssa thought things couldn’t get any more surreal, Mrs Halfpenny began rounding up people to dance to the band’s impromptu version of ‘I Touch Myself’ by The Divinyls, although thank goodness, she was singing I love myself, or Alyssa’s poor head might explode.
‘Come on, dearie,’ Mrs H called out to her. ‘You’ve got to love yourself before you can let anyone else into your love garden.’ She winked. ‘And you did want more love in Hartglove without people needing a phone didgeridoo to show them the way. This town has got an award to win.’
Alyssa couldn’t argue with that. So before she could think better of it, she was up and dancing in a big line, with everyone from Hedgehog to Horace, Jess Halfpenny to her mum Pearl – who was clearly not about to miss out on some hip jiggling.
Then her mum was dragging her dad up, and the people from Clucky Ducks were Zimmer-framing over.
And Devan was soon next to Alyssa, bumping hips and grinning at her.
She played along, in a way that looked friendly for the photos rather than like a woman falling dangerously in … love?
As the song came to an end, Teijo gathered everyone around, ready for Devan and Alyssa’s tango demonstration.
Teijo was keen for shots of them with eyes locked, limbs entwined, to show the app was bringing them closer.
Alyssa still wanted to portray the opposite.
She could only pray Devan was onside with her.
He bounded up the small steps to the wooden stage, then turned and held out his hand for her to follow.
Alyssa halted, her heart rate increasing as her mind did somersaults.
It was enough that they had to do this excruciatingly intimate dance, in front of everyone.
But up there? She hadn’t been on that stage since the night of her stupid grand gesture.
And although it was nothing more than a collection of wooden planks, and things were different now, somehow her brain had not got the memo.
Maybe she was being absurd, but her feet simply wouldn’t move.
It was as though her high heels had reached their limit of brave things for one night.
Seeming to read her, Devan nodded discreetly and jumped down from the stage with a flourish, landing in front of her as though it was part of their act.
The crowd clapped and he beamed at her. Her feet might have refused to get back onto that stage, but she was not going to completely reject Devan and his hopeful eyes.
So she took a deep breath, plastered on her show face, and held out her hand for the dance.
The strum of guitars began, filling her ears with the familiar tune she’d been dancing to with Devan during their tango lessons.
Sometimes Teijo had been there, snapping photos.
And other times, they’d practised alone at Devan’s house, lights dimmed, curtains closed.
She would have to stop thinking about those times, if she was going to get through this without melting.
Alyssa swallowed hard, knowing what was ahead.
A dance that was sensual and beautiful. In that moment, she wished the app had chosen Morris dancing, or something entirely non-sexy.
Devan took up his position, making her breath catch.
The dance would intensify, their bodies would get closer.
How on earth was she going to get through it, pretending her soul wasn’t on fire for this man?
His breath soft against her face, he spun her gently, encouraging her hips to sway and her body to find the beat.
She tried to think of it as a series of steps, a routine to pace out.
Though as his arm encircled her, his hand landing on the soft flesh of her stomach and radiating warmth through the silky material of her dress, it was becoming more difficult by the second.
He turned her away from him, his front snug against her back, his pelvis against her bum.
She heard his almost inaudible groan as he rocked gently against her, certain parts of him almost definitely warming up.
As the routine demanded, he lifted her, spinning around with her against him, before gently lowering her, her body sliding down his.
She felt her eyes flicker closed with the joy of it.
Being against him, feeling his heartbeat, the hitch in his breath.
A few gentle claps from the audience in response to the lift made her eyes pop open.
She shook herself and exhaled sharply, trying to break free from her trance.
She spun back towards him, and they paced the floor together, their feet knowing the way.
She just about managed the leg flinging bit, and the part where she had to do a snake-like tease in front of him, running her hands up and down her body.
And before she knew it, he was pacing towards her, taking her in his arms for one final spin before dipping her low, so she was bent backwards in an arch. His nose pressed against the flesh just above her belly button, moving up towards her chest as he pulled her body in.
Oh God.
His face moved slowly against her front, his warm mouth skimming between her breasts, stopping for a tantalising moment before finding her neck and breathing against it.
Every nerve ending in her body felt like it might explode.
She gasped and pulled herself back to standing, their cheeks now against each other, his lips hot against her ear.
Blood whooshed around her head, her thoughts racing, her body barely in control.
He cupped a hand around his mouth, so the watching public couldn’t catch his words.
‘Whoa, Alyssa. I’m so in love with you,’ he breathed against her, their bodies sticking together from the dampness of their flesh. ‘And I’m not saying that to sabotage you.’ He pulled away and looked at her. Those deep blue eyes, both loaded with truth.
She nodded, her eyes wide, her lips parting. ‘Same,’ was what tumbled out, in the least romantic way ever. Same? What was wrong with her? Why hadn’t she just said the L-word? But she couldn’t. Not here, not with everyone looking – even if she was coming to see that hell yes, she L-worded him too.
Her heart was melting. Was it time for this pretending to stop?
Social media post by ’Appy Together:
@appytogether – We’re excited to report that there is officially more love in Hartglove!
The results of the poll taken at the town’s recent Tango Extravaganza – supported by funding from us – showed 73% of people were feeling more love.
But is it the trial run of the new ’Appy Together love app, the presence of @alyssaheart_thelovecoach, or the surprise upsurge of self-love that is winning the day?
We’ve got to say – who cares! Love is love, isn’t it, folks? Let’s keep it up!
Private message from @agent_rufusdiamond to @alyssaheart_thelovecoach:
@agent_rufusdiamond – Sorry I didn’t make it to your dance night thing. Was planning to, but I couldn’t get my roots done in time. My grey patch was fit to scare Cruella de Vil.