by Lindsey Kelk
‘My name is Jeremy, I work here at Dark Disco and, before I let you in, I’m going to run you through the rules,’ said a mystery voice. I could still see Sumi’s outline and a few stray chinks of light found her heavy silver necklace, covering her in stars. ‘Once you get inside, it’ll take a minute for your eyes to adjust to the low light conditions. Until they do, we suggest reserving your big dance moves. There is likely to be some accidental bumping into people but we do not condone unwelcome touching—’
‘How will we know the difference?’ asked a male voice.
‘Oh, you’ll know,’ Sumi replied before Jeremy could.
‘If you are touched in a way you do not find acceptable, in the first instance, please inform the person touching you that it is unwelcome as it could still be accidental. If it continues—’
‘Kick him in the bollocks?’ I suggested.
Sumi held up her hand for a high five which I just managed to hit.
‘Violence of any kind will not be condoned,’ Jeremy said firmly. ‘If unwelcome touching continues, please come back here and inform either myself or Mary on the bag check-in. There is a night-vision camera installed in the disco for your safety although it will only be looked at if we have any complaints.’
‘Yeah, this sounds like it’s going to be a right barrel of laughs,’ I whispered to Sumi. ‘How did you even hear about it?’
‘Wait until you get in there, it’s amazing,’ she replied while Jeremy placed neon wristbands on everyone’s wrists. Mine was orange. Sumi’s was pink. We immediately switched. ‘John brought me and Ade a few months ago, I think one of his friends runs it? We had to drag John out at the end, you wouldn’t think it but he’s the full Saturday Night Fever. Surprisingly good dancer for a tall man.’
Jeremy clapped his hands loudly. ‘Are we all ready to disco in the dark?’
Everyone cheered with varying degrees of enthusiasm and a second pair of black curtains opened, leading through to a pitch-black room where the party was already well under way. The bass thumped so loud, I could feel it vibrating from the floor, through the slender heels of my shoes and up my legs. My chest pounded with the music as my heartbeat was forced into a new rhythm.
‘Sumi?’ I yelled, totally thrown by just how dark it really was. ‘Where are you?’
‘Just dance!’ she shouted back. ‘Just let go!’
I watched her orange neon bracelet drift away from me, bobbing up and down as she air-punched her way across the dance floor.
I loved dancing as much as the next person, in that I danced when I was drunk or heard a Beyoncé song. When I was a teenager, we made up routines to every song on the charts and practised them until there wasn’t a single drop of joy left in Britney Spears’s entire back catalogue. Even two decades on, I couldn’t hear ‘Hit Me Baby, One More Time’ without bursting into the exact choreography we’d recorded off Top of the Pops. I couldn’t put an exact date on when we stopped going dancing every weekend – one minute we were hobbling home with our arms around each other, barefoot with our shoes in our hands, and the next we were putting each other in taxis and saying goodnight right after dinner. Maybe it was when we realized half the girls in the club were a clear decade younger than us, or maybe when working all week and going out all weekend became too much for our bodies to handle. And for some of my friends, a night at home was much more appealing when there was a significant other waiting for them there.
But this was a different kind of game. I didn’t need any warm-up drinks to find the confidence to bust out my moves, there was no scanning the dance floor to find a safe space, away from the good dancers and the hot girls and the stag parties and the drunks. Everywhere was a safe space when no one could see you.
Slowly, I began to move from side to side, hips moving gently at first, my calf-length silky skirt swishing against my skin. Before I knew it, my arms had loosed themselves from my sides and began to swing back and forth above my head. I felt incredible. I was Britney, Beyoncé and Lizzo all rolled into one. Why hadn’t anyone thought of this before?
With my eyes closed, I rolled and gyrated and, God help me, twerked on the spot, occasionally skipping across to another part of the room, just because I could. I hadn’t felt this powerful on a dance floor since that time I got smashed on three-for-two Bacardi Breezers in the student union and decided to leap on stage and perform an interpretative dance rendition of the Grease megamix. I felt so free, I felt so young, I felt – someone crash into me.
‘Fuck, I’m sorry,’ a voice said, immediately backing away, their striped blue and green bracelet moving across the floor.
‘That’s OK,’ I replied, as I waved the stranger on with a thumbs up even though he couldn’t see my gesture. Maybe it was best to keep my eyes open, I decided. With slightly more awareness, I slipped back into my groove as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Now I could make out shadowy shapes of human beings as they rolled and thrust to the music, just the outlines of their bodies, like shadows moving to a Motown beat.
The more I surrendered to the music, the further away my problems felt. No need to worry about work, no need to wonder where I was going to live. Why concern myself with Mum and Dad’s second wedding and Jo’s antics and Nana’s casual bigotry? Even my existential angst felt far away. So what if I couldn’t bring myself to look at a newspaper? Sure, climate change was destroying the planet but we could figure it out! All that mattered was the music and the dancing and not getting twatted in the face again.
Only one niggling doubt remained.
Patrick.
I was annoyed he had backed out on our plans and I was annoyed that I’d let him get away with it so easily. Was it a mix-up or could he just not be bothered? Like Sumi had said when he sent that first text, he’d always had a tendency to be a little callous, a little carefree with other people’s plans and feelings. But he wasn’t malicious, he wouldn’t let me down. Would he? No. So what if he was a bit flaky? These were simply growing pains, bumps in the road that would be smoothed out by time. For a moment I considered going back out to get my bag to text him. This was the kind of thing he’d get a kick out of. Not that he was a big dancer but he’d definitely enjoy a dark disco. Probably. Maybe in an ironic sense. I felt my arms sliding back down towards my waist in the time-honoured tradition of your mum dancing at her work’s Christmas party.
‘No,’ I whispered to myself, forcing all thoughts of my sort-of-boyfriend out of my head and throwing my arms back up in the air, waving them around like I just didn’t care, hoping that if I kept it up, it would become true again.
Before I knew it, my body was dripping with sweat, my black camisole sticking to me like a second skin as I sang out the words to every single song. We could have been in there for fifteen minutes or fifteen hours, I had no idea. Sumi was right, you didn’t need a drink to do this and you definitely didn’t need drugs. If I was any higher, I’d be a kite.
Someone’s unknown body part bumped into my hip while I was gyrating wildly to some vintage Prince, knocking me out of my euphoria for just a moment.
‘Sorry,’ a male voice yelled over the music.
‘No worries,’ I called back, dancing towards the tall, slender shape. In the misty darkness, I could just about make out a smile as we tentatively orbited each other. A long dormant flutter came to life in my chest. How long had it been since I danced with a stranger in a club?
Slowly, we moved closer and closer until I had my back pressed up against his front and his hands rested on my hips. Every moment of contact connected sharply; there was no booze in me to make my decisions fuzzy but the darkness kept reality at a safe distance. It felt so good, leaning into his solid chest, to move with someone, to connect with another body. And it was just dancing, no big deal, nothing to feel guilty about.
The music switched to a classic Madonna song and suddenly my hips took on a life of their own. I felt myself twist and turn, grinding against my partner and finding him more than up to the challenge. Without rea
lly thinking, I turned around, looping my arms around his neck as my skirt rode up above my knees to make room for his thigh between my legs. We swayed back and forth, skin on skin, sweat mingling with sweat as the gospel chorus kicked in, the two of us moving together in time to the music. Life is a mystery, indeed.
It’s only dancing, my mind whispered, my eyes closed and my body on fire as the sound of everyone singing drowned out the song and the pounding of my heart drowned out the voices of everyone singing around us. His hands moved down my back, slipping lower, his warm breath against my cheek …
And then without warning, the song ended and the music stopped. My dance partner and I froze, still pressed together, panting, sweating, on the precipice of something.
‘That’s a wrap on another Dark Disco, thanks for coming, everyone,’ a voice boomed through the speakers. ‘We’ll be back next month, hope we won’t be seeing you!’
And then the lights came on, unflattering fluorescent strip lights that were no one’s friend. I looked up at the man’s face and gasped.
‘John?’
I dropped him faster than if he’d been on fire. Staggering backwards, I pulled my skirt back into place, searching for the right words, but I was still half lost in another world.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, holding out a hand.
‘There you are.’ Sumi, glassy-eyed, sweaty and utterly euphoric, bounced across the dance floor as everyone else began to filter out towards the doors. ‘John! I wondered if you’d be here, we came last minute. How brilliant was that? I wish they would do it every week. Once a month is not enough.’
John and I were still staring at each other, him looking more than a little confused and me feeling utterly mortified. He pushed damp, messy hair away from his face, recovering just enough to give Sumi a smile.
‘Yeah, great one,’ he agreed, eyes drifting back in my direction. ‘Glad you had a good time. I’ve got to go, see you tomorrow, yeah?’
‘OK, weirdo.’ Sumi pulled a face at me as John turned around and bolted for the door. Bouncing up and down on the spot, she grinned at me madly. ‘Don’t know what’s wrong with him. Did you love it? Was it the best thing ever?’
‘So good,’ I replied, forcing weak enthusiasm into my voice.
‘Ready for a Nando’s?’ she asked.
‘Always,’ I replied, forcing a smile and pushing away difficult thoughts I wasn’t ready to deal with.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
‘Do you think women glow when they’re pregnant because of the baby or because they’ve had nine months off the sauce?’ I asked Sumi, pressing a hand against my face, only shining thanks to my liberal application of highlighter. Lucy’s baby shower was packed full of gorgeous, glossy pregnant women I had never met before and half-hoped never to meet again. They all squealed as they arrived, grabbing each other’s hands with pincer-type movements and enthusiastically comparing bumps.
‘I don’t know but it’s enough to put me on it,’ she replied, eyeing the bar. Beyond the glasses of pre-prepared mocktails was a whole wall of hard liquor that we could not touch. For shame.
‘You’ve done an amazing job on the party,’ I told her, looking around at the picture-perfect shower. ‘Lucy’s never looked so happy.’
I’d turned up early as promised but there really was no need. Sumi had failed to mention the fact she’d hired an events company to take care of the entire thing, leaving me standing around like a complete tit, holding the world’s saddest papier-mâché stork. Because Lucy and Dave didn’t know the sex of the baby, she had gone to town with a gender-neutral bunny theme. Rabbits hopped all over the walls, girl bunnies in bows, boy bunnies in shorts and, Sumi quietly informed me, non-binary bunnies in shorts and bows, just to piss Dave off. A plush carpet of fake grass was spread beneath our feet and even the corridor down to the toilets had been turned into a rabbit warren with carrot-shaped soaps in the lavs. All the food was bunny-themed, carrot juice to drink, cottontail cupcakes, rabbit-food sandwiches and a huge carrot cake with a dummy on top. And in the middle of the room was the pièce de résistance, a giant eight-foot stuffed rabbit that I really hoped she had a home for after the party because there was no way it would fit through Lucy’s front door. I also hoped Creepy Dave had been lifting weights in secret because I’d helped the delivery men bring it in and it was not light.
They’d even created a ‘traditional’ cigar lounge for Creepy Dave and his man friends and, even though there was nothing traditional about the baby’s dad and awful friends even attending the shower, Sumi had provided exactly what he’d asked for. Through heavy wooden double doors was the smoking lounge of dreams, decanters full of Scotch, hand-rolled Cuban cigars and, at Creepy Dave’s special request, a box full of Peperamis. It was a horrible, horrible dream come true.
‘I should definitely get these people to do Mum and Dad’s wedding,’ I breathed, watching as another pregnant woman arrived, gleefully accepting her bunny ears and tail from one of the waitresses. ‘Do you think they could put an entire party together by next Saturday?’
‘I think they could take over the world by next Saturday,’ Sumi replied. ‘Wedding planning not going well?’
‘It’s going OK, I think,’ I said, utterly unsure. ‘Although I did see a Post-it note on the fridge that said “Call Pam about cake” and then “Venue” with ten question marks, so that’s reassuring.’
‘As long as you’ve got cake,’ she said. ‘What else could you need?’
‘Flowers, music, chairs, tables, decent food and a muzzle for Jo.’
She pulled me in for a hug then rested her head on my shoulder, bracing herself for another round of braying as the door flew open.
‘Where did Lucy meet all these women?’ I asked as our lucky thirteenth pregnant guest arrived. ‘I didn’t know there were this many pregnant women in all of England.’
‘It happened when they moved,’ she whispered, lowering her voice so that the mombies wouldn’t hear. ‘Suddenly there were all these shiny couples hanging around their house. Very straight, very white, literally no sense of humour.’
‘So, Dave’s friends?’ I guessed.
‘That’s what I thought at first but there can’t be this many people on earth who actually like him,’ Sumi reasoned. ‘Every time I went over there were more of them. I blame you for leaving. I think she was auditioning to replace you in case you never came back.’
‘Looking for a shinier version with more functions?’ I asked, comparing myself to the sparkly herd of pregnant women, swarming around my friend.
Sumi shrugged. ‘When you buy a new phone, you don’t ask for a model that’s worse than the one you have, do you?’
‘When I buy a new phone, I accidentally send a text out to everyone I’ve ever met and end up getting spammed by personal accident lawyers morning, noon and night,’ I replied. ‘Is it me or do they all have the same handbag?’
‘It’s not you.’ Sumi pressed her hand against her forehead and groaned. ‘How have I got a headache when we didn’t even drink last night?’
‘It’s only about to get worse,’ I warned cheerfully, watching as the door opened. ‘Patrick’s here.’
‘And he brought his friends,’ she sighed happily. Behind Patrick was Adrian and behind Adrian was John. ‘This should be fun.’
‘Wow.’
Patrick, hair mussed, shirt, tie and trousers all tailored to perfection, swooped down on my best friend before greeting me, planting here-I-am kisses on both of her cheeks before she could protest. The charm offensive, I noted with relief, was on. His black tie was loosened slightly at the throat, the top button was undone and his sleeves were rolled halfway up his perfectly toned forearms. He looked as though he’d just stopped in on his way to compose an epic love poem or rescue a baby from a burning vehicle. He was perfect.
‘This is incredible, Sumi. Did you do all this?’
‘Yes,’ she lied, giving me an almost imperceptible look of disapproval. ‘Nice to see you, Patrick.
’
‘It’s been a long time,’ he said genially, bending down to give her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Good to see you again.’
‘Is it though?’ she asked, smiling at the warning on my face. ‘I’m joking, I’m glad you came. On time.’
He cleared his throat and stuck his hands in his pockets. He had never really known how to deal with Sumi, she was the only person impervious to his charms, his intelligence and his never-ending supply of witty comebacks. Sumi was Patrick’s kryptonite.
‘You look beautiful.’ Patrick gave me a brief but tender kiss. ‘I missed you last night, what did you get up to?’
‘We went dancing,’ Sumi answered for me. ‘It was amazing, we had the most incredible time.’
‘I can’t believe you took my girlfriend out dancing and left me all alone at home to work,’ he said, wrapping his arm round my waist. Girlfriend, I registered, stunned. He called me his girlfriend.
‘You should have come with us,’ Sumi said, bundling Adrian and then John into hugs, a much warmer welcome than she’d reserved for Patrick. I caught John’s eye and then quickly looked away. ‘Dark Disco is amazing, isn’t it, John?’
‘You were there too?’ Patrick said, his tone light and breezy but the look he gave me was anything but. ‘Now I really do feel left out.’
‘If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t invited,’ Adrian said as it became clear that John had no interest in joining in the conversation.
‘Yeah but you were too busy with your girlfriend,’ Sumi sang. ‘Where is she anyway? This mythical beast of a woman who’s infected you with such an incredibly virulent strain of feelings?’
‘Having a wee.’ Adrian blushed. ‘I think she’s nervous about meeting you all.’
‘Isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to say “Why would she be nervous?”’ Patrick asked me.
‘No,’ Sumi, John and I all said all at once.
‘I’ll talk to her, if you like,’ Patrick said, clapping Adrian on the back while Sumi made a very sour face, this time not even attempting to hide it. ‘Tell her none of you bite.’
