Chapter Sixteen #4
“Hello?” A voice interrupts me. I turn to see a slim, high-cheeked woman in her fifties, wearing a black top and gauze skirt over leggings. Her faded red hair is up in a knot, her eyeliner is crooked, and she looks anxious. “Are you here for the Charleston lesson?”
Charleston lesson?
“I’m so sorry,” the woman continues. “I suddenly remembered we had an arrangement.” She stifles a yawn. “Lara, is it? You’re certainly wearing the right clothes!”
“Excuse me.” I smile, haul out my phone, and turn to Sadie.
“What have you done?” I mutter. “Who’s this?”
“You need lessons,” Sadie says unrepentantly. “This is the teacher. She lives in a little room upstairs. Normally the lessons are during the day.”
I stare at Sadie incredulously. “Did you wake her up?”
“I must have forgotten to put the appointment in my diary,” the woman is saying as I turn back. “It’s not like me—thank goodness I remembered! Out of the blue, it came to me that you would be waiting here.”
“Yes!” I shoot daggers at Sadie. “Amazing, the powers of the human brain.”
“Here’s your drink.” Ed arrives by my side. “Who’s this?”
“I’m your dance instructor, Gaynor.” She holds out her hand and Ed takes it, looking bewildered. “Have you always been interested in the Charleston?”
“The Charleston?” Ed looks mystified.
I feel a bit hysterical. The truth is, Sadie always gets her way. She wants us to dance the Charleston. We’re going to dance the Charleston. I owe it to her. And it might as well be here and now.
“So!” I smile winningly at Ed. “Ready?”
—
The thing about the Charleston is, it’s more energetic than you realize. And it’s really complicated. And you have to be really coordinated. After an hour, my arms and legs are aching. It’s relentless. It’s worse than my Legs Bums and Tums class. It’s like running a marathon.
“And forward and back…” the dance instructor is chanting. “And swivel those feet…”
I can’t swivel my feet anymore. They’re going to fall off. I keep confusing right and left and bashing Ed in the ear by mistake.
“Charleston…Charleston…” The music is tripping along, filling the club with its peppy beat.
The two leather-trousered guys at the bar have been watching in a silent stupor since we started the lesson.
Apparently dance lessons are quite common here in the evenings.
But everyone wants to learn salsa, according to Gaynor.
She hasn’t given a Charleston lesson for about fifteen years. I think she’s quite chuffed we’re here.
“And step and kick…wave your arms…very good!”
I’m waving my hands so hard I’m losing sensation in them.
The fringes on my dress are swishing back and forth.
Ed is doggedly crossing his hands back and forth over his knees.
He shoots me a quick grin as I look at him, but I can tell he’s concentrating too hard to talk.
He’s quite deft with his feet, actually. I’m impressed.
I glance over at Sadie, who’s dancing in bliss. She’s amazing. So much better than the teacher. Her legs are twinkling back and forth, she knows a zillion different steps, and she never seems to get out of breath.
Well. She doesn’t have any breath, let’s face it.
“Charleston…Charleston…”
Sadie catches my eyes, grins, and throws back her head in rapture.
I guess it’s been a long time since she’s sparkled on the dance floor.
I should have done this before. I feel really mean now.
We’ll do Charleston dancing every night from now on, I resolve.
We’ll do all her favorite twenties things.
The only trouble is, I’ve got a stitch. Panting, I head to the side of the dance floor. What I need to do is to get Ed to dance with Sadie. The two of them alone. Somehow. Then I really will have made her evening.
“OK?” Ed has followed me off.
“Yes. Fine.” I mop my brow with a napkin. “It’s hard work!”
“You’ve done very well!” Gaynor comes over to us and, in a sudden show of emotion, clasps our hands in turn. “You’re very promising, the pair of you! I think you could go far! Shall I see you again next week?”
“Er…maybe.” I don’t quite dare look at Ed. “I’ll call you, shall I?”
“I’ll leave the music on,” she says enthusiastically. “You can practice!”
As she goes, hurrying across the floor with her little dancer steps, I nudge Ed.
“Hey, I want to watch you. Go and dance on your own for a bit.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Go on! Please! You can do that one–two thing with your arms. I want to see how you do it. Please…”
Rolling his eyes good-humoredly, Ed heads out on the floor.
“Sadie!” I hiss, and gesture at Ed. “Quick! Your partner’s waiting!”
Her eyes widen as she realizes what I mean. In half a second she’s out there, facing him, her eyes lit up joyfully.
“Yes, I’d love to dance,” I hear her saying. “Thank you so much!”
As Ed starts swinging his legs back and forth, she synchronizes with him perfectly. She looks so happy. She looks so right. Her hands are on his shoulders, her bracelets are glittering under the lights, her headdress is bobbing, the music is fizzing along, it’s like watching an old film—
“That’s enough,” says Ed suddenly with a laugh. “I need a partner.” And to my dismay, he barges right through Sadie, toward me.
I can see the shock on Sadie’s face. As she watches him leave the floor, she looks devastated. I wince, wishing so hard he could see her, that he knew….
“I’m sorry,” I mouth at Sadie as Ed drags me onto the floor. “I’m really sorry.”
We dance awhile longer, then head back to the table. I can’t help feeling exhilarated after all that effort, and Ed seems in pretty good spirits too.
“Ed, do you believe in guardian angels?” I say on impulse. “Or ghosts? Or spirits?”
“No. None of the above. Why?”
I lean forward confidentially. “What if I told you that there’s a guardian angel in this very room who fancies the pants off you?”
Ed gives me a long look. “Is ‘guardian angel’ a euphemism for ‘male prostitute’?”
“No!” I splutter with laughter. “Forget it.”
“I’ve had a good time.” He drains his glass and smiles at me. A full-on, proper smile. Crinkled eyes, uncreased brow, everything! I almost want to shout “Geronimo! We got there!”
“So have I.”
“I didn’t expect to end the evening like this.” He looks around the little club. “But it’s…great!”
“Different.” I nod.
He rips open a bag of peanuts and offers it to me, and I watch him as he crunches them hungrily. Even though he’s looking relaxed, the frown lines are still faintly etched on his brow.
Well, no wonder. He’s had a lot to frown about.
I can’t help feeling a rush of pity for him as I think about it.
Losing his fiancée. Coming to work in a strange city.
Just getting through life, week after week, without enjoying it.
It was probably really good for him to come dancing.
It was probably the most fun he’s had in months.
“Ed,” I say on impulse. “Let me take you sightseeing. You should see London. It’s criminal that you haven’t. I’ll show you around. At the weekend sometime?”
“I’d like that.” He seems genuinely touched. “Thanks.”
“No problem! Let’s email.” We smile at each other, and I drain my sidecar with a slight shudder. (Sadie made me order it. Totally revolting.)
Ed glances at his watch. “So, are you ready to go?”
I glance over at the dance floor. Sadie’s still going strong, flinging her arms and legs around with no sign of flagging. No wonder all the girls in the twenties were so skinny.
“Let’s go.” I nod. Sadie can catch up with us when she’s ready.
We head out into the Mayfair night. The street lanterns are on, mist is rising from the pavements, and nobody’s about.
We head to the corner and after a few minutes flag down a couple of cabs.
I’m starting to shiver, in my skimpy dress and threadbare cloak.
Ed ushers me into the first taxi, then pauses, holding the door open.
“Thanks, Lara,” he says in that formal preppy way he has. I’m actually starting to find it quite endearing. “I had a good time. It was…quite a night.”
“Wasn’t it!” I adjust my diamanté cap, which has fallen lopsided with all the dancing, and Ed’s mouth twitches with amusement.
“So, should I wear my spats for sightseeing?”
“Definitely.” I smile. “And a top hat.”
Ed laughs. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever heard him laugh. “Good night, twenties girl.”
“Good night.” I close the door and the taxi roars off.