Chapter Thirty-Seven
“I know exactly what you mean,” I tell Megan, and she leans on my shoulder, earnestly explaining to me the problem with the
world. “And are you sure that’s just orange juice?”
“Yeah, it’s just orange juice,” Megan says, offended. Taking the glass from her, I taste a sip and she’s not lying. “I was
just dancing and I had ideas and I wanted to tell you about them!”
“I apologise,” I say. “Talk away.”
Up until a minute ago Megan and her friends were leading the dancing, but they drew the line at Abba, and so now it’s Sasha,
Rani, and Lady B holding forth on the dance floor with sublime gusto.
Alex has stood in the corner all night nursing one drink, and looking deeply thoughtful and kind of sad. Forrest and River
have never stopped dancing with Artie, and Hal and I have watched.
“Will you not dance?” Hal asked. “I’d love to dance with you, but I only know classical ballroom, Latin, and jive. I did not
prepare for this . . . joyful flinging around of limbs.”
“That’s just letting the music move you,” I told him. “I love dancing, but when I let the music move me, people get injured, usually, but not exclusively, by me. And I know there are only twenty of us in the ballroom, but I reckon it’s still too much of a risk.”
“What I’m saying”—Megan is telling me, earnestly and loudly enough to be heard over the band—“is how do I know what I want
to be, unless someone shows me what’s possible? Forrest showed me that stuff like poetry and art is for everyone, not just
posh people. But what else is there, Ava? How do I find out what I’m good at?”
“That’s a good question,” I tell her. “When I was growing up there was no one around to show me that a girl like me could
be a coder, let alone a computer scientist. The concept of an AI architect didn’t even exist yet, and that’s what I am now.
There are some careers or talents that are much easier to find if you come from a certain background or are born a boy.”
“Posh backgrounds.” Megan nods, gesturing at the ballroom. “Like this one.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” I say. “But very few people live in literal castles.”
“So how did you know that you were a computer genius then?” Megan asks. “Did you have someone like Forrest come and show you?”
“No,” I say, glancing at Hal, who is listening too. “I wish. It would have been much nicer. Honestly, I was unpopular at school.
At break I would hide in the computer room. I taught myself a lot of stuff just by messing around. It started there and ended
here. So really being miserable and a social outcast got me where I am today.”
“I’d rather have Forrest,” Megan says.
“Me too,” I say, before I know what I’ve said. “What I mean is, I’d rather have had someone like Forrest than finding my calling
through unhappiness.”
Megan suppresses a grin and gives Hal a look. Then the music changes.
“Hey, team!” The lead singer speaks into the mic. “Thanks so much for putting us through our paces. We’re gonna practice the
bride and groom’s first dance song now, so if anyone fancies a nice slow dance to ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love,’ by the king,
Elvis Presley, that’d be awesome. And er . . . Whoo!”
Naturally, Artie and Forrest are first on the floor, as the first bars chime. Before I know it, Hal has taken my hand and
swept me onto the dance floor with a swirl of my skirts.
“It’s a waltz,” Hal says, one hand on the small of my back, the other holding my hand in a classic ballroom stance. “I know
how to waltz.”
“But I don’t,” I tell him anxiously. As we begin to make our way around the dance floor, I screw my eyes shut, like I’m on
a roller coaster or something.
“Ava,” Hal says softly into my ear. “Open your eyes and take a look. You might not know how to waltz, but you are doing it
right now.”
Amazingly, he’s right. It’s as if somehow I have downloaded the ability to waltz in the same way I imagine he has. We move,
floating and spinning. All the while our gazes are connected, holding one another as if in the frame of a movie. Gradually
the glitter and details of the room and the people fade into a blur of colour. For one beautiful moment it feels like I’m
defying gravity. When the music stops Hal bows, and I find myself dropping an elegant curtsey. I don’t even know who I am
anymore!
“My turn!” Artie says, bounding up to us and grabbing Hal’s hand. “I want to dance like a princess too, Hal. You dance with me like that now. Daddy doesn’t know how.” She points at the stage. “Play it again, boys!”
Everyone cheers, and Hal bows and takes Artie’s hand.
“Well”—Forrest turns to me—“I don’t know how to waltz like a pro, but I’m prepared to move round the room in slow circles
with you if you will allow it, Ava.”
My head wants to say no thank you, but my body has other ideas, and I will not be taking any questions at this time. Before
I know it, I have taken Forrest’s hand. One arm winds around his neck, cinching us close together, and that’s all me. It’s
me going, oh sorry do you have personal boundaries? It’s just that, as Whitney Houston once said, “I want to feel the heat
of your body.” Well, not me saying that out loud. There’s no need when my breasts are pressed against Forrest’s chest, and
I haven’t even taken him out to dinner first.
The rest of our bodies graze at almost every point as he holds my hand against his heart. As we sway and shuffle, I realise
there is no way that I can look into his eyes without probably dying, so I rest my cheek on his shoulder, feeling the graze
of his stubble on my temple. He smells of citrus and summer with a faint hint of cedar trees and oil paint. It’s as if every
nerve ending in my body is magnetised towards his body. Every part of me that touches him is tingling with excitement; every
part of me that isn’t is full of jealous longing.
Now I get it. This is what it means when the storybooks describe desire.
I thought I understood it, that I was familiar with it; something I’ve fantasised and dreamt about. But I couldn’t really
know until it actually happened, what it will be like and how it will burn through you like a wildfire. A few minutes ago, I danced the perfect dance with my perfect man, and it was not even one percent as thrilling as just standing this close to this man who makes my body sing.
Rani always did say I was a late developer, but seriously, only I could have waited until my thirties to have my dream man
materialise at exactly the same time as someone who should be my polar opposite but feels like my North Star.
It’s just physical, it doesn’t matter, that’s what I’m going to tell myself as the song ends. This is lust. Lust is just evolution
trying to make more humans. It’s just hormones and chemicals. This will subside and reality will set in soon enough. Bloody
reality.
Forrest and I stand there for a good ten seconds more after the song is finished and the band has struck up something much
more upbeat. When we do part, it feels painful to step out of the heat we built between us.
“That was a good dance,” Artie says, still holding Hal’s hand and swinging it. “Now let’s all bop. Come on, you teenagers,
let’s bop!”
“I am going to get a drink,” Forrest tells his daughter, looking at me. “I’m suddenly really thirsty. I’ll be right back.
Ava, Hal? Can I get you anything?”
I shake my head. I feel like even accepting a drink from Forrest right now might somehow be dangerous, one incremental inch
more towards giving in to the feelings that are still flowing through me.
Hal reaches for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine.
“I loved dancing with you,” he says.
“I loved it too,” I tell him, and that’s not a lie.
“Oh, I say, do we have a romance at the castle?” Lord B asks as he and Lady B approach us.
“Honestly, darling, you are the most unobservant man.” Lady B laughs. “I noticed that Ava and Hal were spending a lot of time
together ages ago. I think it’s lovely the birth of a new tech power couple happening at Castle Beaumont. They’ll be running
the world this time next Tuesday.”
The song ends, but instead of another one striking up, it seems that Alex is standing at the microphone.
“I have something to say,” he says, his cheeks flushed red. “And I would ask that everyone here bears witness to my . . .
declaration.”
“What’s this now?” Lord B asks his wife. “Has the young feller gone mad?”
“Not entirely sure,” Lady B replies, “but I do know that Alex is always full of surprises.”
“Rani Shah,” Alex says, “I need to tell you something important.”
Rani moves away from the girls she was dancing with and goes and stands in front of him, crossing her arms across her chest.
“It has come to my attention that my mother has been rather concerned about my suitability as a potential future romantic
partner, specifically for you, who she is a great admirer of. I believe the word ‘cad’ was used.”
“It was,” Rani says.
“Darling,” Lord B says. “Not the C word.”
“If the cap fits,” Lady B says with a shrug. “I was just trying to help.”
“When is the dancing again?” Artie asks.
“One moment please, Artemisia,” Alex says.
“Mother, you are right. Or rather, you were. In the past I have been immature, selfish, and, dare I say it, scared of commitment. Change only happens when one is given a reason to change, and Rani Shah, I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I truly do believe you are that reason.
So, Mother, you were right. Rani, you are the most astonishing woman, and I hope you will continue to allow me to get to know you until I can show you that I am worthy of your interest, or until you decide I am not, at which point I shall accept your rejection with as much dignity as I can muster and perhaps join a monastery.
But please, give me, give us a chance and dance with me. What do you say?”
“I say we will take it one day at a time, and that time might as well start with dancing,” Rani says. “Get over here, lover
boy.”
Another track starts up, and all of us hit the floor, even Hal. We laugh and dance and flail our limbs around. I spin and
laugh and feel like the teenager I never was. The evening unfurls in a golden dream of peak experience, and for a while—quite
a long while actually—I completely forget that I have an appointment to kiss my Hal in just a couple of hours’ time.