by Beth Corby
She pulls her seat forward so I can climb in the back. With one leg in and my bottom presented to them like a horse, I beg to differ. I shift into my seat and try to relax as Lauren follows Alec’s directions out of the village.
We draw up outside a converted chapel. Lauren hops out, suddenly agile in her troublesome shoes, and pulls her seat forward. I clamber out and see Lady Jane Forester opening the door of the VW Golf we’ve parked behind. I give her a little wave and hurry over.
‘Thanks for coming. Nice car,’ I say.
‘I like it,’ Jane agrees. ‘I wanted a bumper sticker saying “my other car is a Bentley”, but my husband’s vetoed it. Alec,’ she says, greeting him as he joins us, and then smiles at Lauren.
‘Lady Jane, this is my sister, Lauren. Lauren, Lady Jane Forester,’ I say formally.
‘Delighted to meet you, Lauren, but do call me Jane.’ She shakes Lauren’s hand. ‘Are you joining us?’
Lauren takes Alec’s arm. ‘Yes, we’re going to be partners.’
Jane glances at me, the hint of a question in her eyes, and I work hard to keep my expression neutral. ‘Excellent,’ she says. ‘It’s an open class for beginners. Our teacher Madame Jacky is small, but don’t be fooled – she’s a big character.’ Jane takes my arm and I’m happy to be claimed. ‘I think you’ll like her,’ she says to me.
‘I’m sure I will,’ I agree, and it’s odd, but Jane already feels like an old friend.
We walk into the chapel and find a few other nervous beginners clinging to the walls. From the way they look glued there, I suspect they’ve been dragged here by their partners. They all seem to be wearing some variance on a court shoe, except for the men of course, and I look down at my pumps, hoping they’ll do. Lauren, now walking with all the poise of a catwalk model, touches Alec’s arm lightly and whispers something in his ear. She glances over at me, and even though I don’t know what she said, Alec’s air of uneasiness as he follows her gaze makes me blush uncomfortably.
A petite, formidable-looking woman in her late fifties with spiked plum-coloured hair strides across the room towards us, skirts billowing, heels tapping and swathed in a bright tasselled shawl. She regards me for a moment, then turns to assess the rest of the class.
‘Onto the dance floor, everybody,’ she shouts in a surprisingly broad Yorkshire accent. She claps her hands briskly. I’m suddenly nervous, but Jane pulls me with her, and Lauren and Alec follow. Seeing a few other all-female couples, I feel a little better, and Jane smiles at me.
‘Good,’ says Madame Jacky, and sets about teaching us the waltz as if we’re at a barn dance.
It’s actually quite fun. After five minutes, I’ve mastered pacing the edges of my own little box-shape, and I’ve never been able to do so much as a two-step before. Ridiculous as it might seem, I’m proud of myself.
‘Partner up,’ Madame Jacky shouts, and my confidence vanishes. ‘Quick, quick,’ she claps.
I scurry over to Jane. ‘What do I do?’ I flap my arms ineffectually, trying to figure out where they should go. Jane raises her eyebrows and I let my hands drop. ‘Sorry,’ I mumble.
‘There’s nothing to worry about. Now, I’m the leader . . .’ she moves my left hand to her shoulder, and takes my right hand in her left, ‘. . . and you’re the follower. No need to panic.’ I nod anxiously.
Madame Jacky turns on a CD player and Strauss plays thinly throughout the hall. ‘One, two, three! One, two, three! Do just as I taught you. One, two, three!’
‘Take your time, and remember to breathe,’ Jane says gently, and after a few false starts and a lot of counting in, we finally start to sway around a small patch of floor.
After a few minutes, Madame Jacky, who has been walking round checking on people, gets to us. She lifts my chin with a bony finger. ‘Don’t look at your feet!’ she snaps, and I instantly forget what I’m doing and step on Jane’s foot.
‘Oh my God! I’m so sorry!’
‘It’s fine,’ Jane says, but I can tell it hurt.
‘Start again,’ orders Madame Jacky, and walks off to derail another couple.
‘I’m so sorry, I can’t do this.’ Embarrassed, I try pulling away, but Jane keeps a firm grip on my hand and waist.
‘Don’t be silly. Of course you can do it,’ she says, holding tight.
Alec and Lauren sweep past doing a perfect gliding waltz. My eyes follow them involuntarily. All they need is half the feathers off an ostrich and a tub of fake tan and they could compete on Strictly.
‘You two,’ shouts Madame Jacky, pointing at Alec and Lauren. ‘Lovely, but not in this class. Try Intermediate or Advanced!’ She points to the door.
Lauren looks smug, but Alec, shamefaced, tugs at her hand and pulls her out through the double doors. I stare after them, dithering.
‘Get dancing,’ Madame Jacky calls at us. ‘You won’t learn anything standing still!’
‘OK,’ I agree weakly, and Jane releases me so I can wipe my sweaty hands on my skirt. I hold them up again. ‘OK, one, two, three . . .’ I step straight on Jane’s foot.
‘Damn! I’m sorry.’ How bad can I be at this?
‘Calm down and take your time,’ advises Jane. ‘Just remember, we all have to start somewhere. I was lucky enough to have a wonderful teacher who twirled me around the bedroom floor until it became second nature.’ Her eyes briefly lose focus, then spring back to mine. ‘Familiarity is key.’
‘But I’ve never been good at dancing. I don’t have the coordination. I knocked over five other girls in a ballet lesson. One even wet herself.’ Jane laughs. ‘I’m not kidding, Mum took me swimming after that. She said at least if anyone wet themselves in the pool, no one would notice.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Five.’
‘Well, Hannah, I’ll make you this deal. If you can make any of these lovely people wet themselves, I’ll buy you a diamond bracelet!’
A smile creeps onto my face and Jane takes me in a determined grip. She counts us in and we start dancing. I concentrate really hard, paying careful attention to what my feet are doing while trying not to look at them.
‘One, two, three, one, two, three,’ Madame Jacky repeats insistently. ‘Much better,’ she says, tapping me on the shoulder. ‘One, two, three. Oi! You two are about to hit the wall!’ she shouts at another couple.
Jane winks. ‘You see? You’re getting better already. Let your shoulders relax.’
I waggle them, but still make damn sure I know what my feet are doing.
‘Right you lot, cha-cha time!’ shouts Madame Jacky, turning off the CD player, and though my shoulders are aching, I’m almost disappointed.
‘I was just getting the hang of that,’ I tell Jane ruefully.
‘Good! Don’t worry – you’ll like this one,’ she whispers. ‘Just imagine you’re in a bar in Cuba, and you’ll be fine.’
As we stand in line again, I see why Uncle Donald partnered me with Jane and not Alec – she’s fun and there’s no pressure.
Madame Jacky claps to get our attention. ‘Right, everyone, follow me! One! Two! Cha! Cha! Cha!’ she booms, demonstrating the moves slowly, and I have to concentrate so hard that I forget all about being nervous or clumsy.
I squeeze Jane’s arm as we leave the chapel. ‘That was fun!’
‘Wasn’t it!’ she agrees enthusiastically, but we come to an abrupt halt as we find Lauren and Alec waiting for us. A smiling Lauren is hanging off Alec’s arm, and while Alec starts off with a smile, it turns into a frown as his eyes meet mine.
‘Hello,’ Jane greets them.
Alec shifts slightly, breaking Lauren’s grip. ‘How did she do?’ he asks.
‘Incredibly well, actually – I’m impressed.’ Jane glances at me. ‘Though I think we should practise the moves before the next lesson. Practise, practise, practise,’ Jane says to me, imitating Madame Jacky. Lauren snorts, and I glare at her. ‘How do you feel about meeting up to go over the steps?’ Jane continues.
‘I
’d love to, but can your poor feet stand it?’ I ask.
‘Of course they can! There were only a few missteps and thanks to your sensible shoes, I’m fine. Honestly, you were brilliant. How about 10 a.m. tomorrow? That way we can try it again while it’s still fresh in your mind. I’ll clear the living room?’
‘Lauren’s staying,’ I say regretfully. ‘Perhaps in a few days?’
‘Don’t stay in on my account,’ Lauren butts in. ‘Alec’s happy to keep me company, aren’t you Alec?’ He nods, his face impassive. ‘You can show me the house. There must be priest holes or something?’
‘Sorry, no priest holes: wrong era,’ he explains, ‘but I’ll show you what there is. You didn’t see the kitchen, or the attics. Don’t worry, Hannah. I’ll look after Lauren.’
He’s being so nice to her; really making an effort. I fight a flash of jealousy.
‘In that case, tomorrow would be lovely,’ I say, turning back to Jane and hoping my enthusiasm doesn’t sound forced.
Jane jots down her address and some directions on the back of a dance leaflet and hands it to me. ‘Pleased to meet you, Lauren. Alec,’ she says, and she gets into her car and drives off, leaving me with Fred and Ginger.
Lauren unlocks her car and pulls the seat forward so I can climb in. ‘Who’d have thought we’d be thrown out of the class for being too good?’ she laughs, pushing the seat back and getting in.
‘Well, it was only a beginners’ class,’ says Alec, closing his door and pulling his seat belt across. Lauren does the same at precisely that moment and their hands meet at the seat belt clips. She looks up at him. He pulls back and gestures that she should go first – ever the gentleman where she is concerned.
‘I suppose so, poor things. But you’d think they’d appreciate seeing what they’re aiming for as they lurch about like a hen party of drunken zombies.’ Her laugh tinkles to soften the blow, but I know exactly what she’s doing.
I frown. ‘So what did you do after you left?’ I ask, subtly reminding them I’m still back here.
‘We found the funniest little pub, didn’t we Alec?’ Lauren touches Alec’s knee, and he turns to face me briefly before looking back out of the windscreen.
‘It was a local pub, clearly only used by locals.’
‘And when we arrived there was a deathly hush, like in those old westerns.’ Lauren shakes her head in disbelief. ‘Everyone fell silent. It was priceless! And when I ordered a cocktail it was like I was speaking a foreign language! I had to have a G&T in the end, it was hysterical!’
‘Sounds a hoot,’ I agree drily.
‘Anyway, we had a drink and a chat. It was nice,’ Alec adds, smiling over at Lauren.
‘So, you have a lot in common?’ I ask, trying to sound unconcerned.
‘Some things,’ Lauren nods, glancing at Alec.
‘Oh . . . good.’ I keep my voice neutral, but I’m fighting an almost irresistible urge to take off a pump and smack them both on the backs of their heads with it. I slump back into my seat and focus on the scenery, trying to understand why I keep having these extreme reactions when I don’t even particularly like Alec. Especially not now that he’s being so friendly with Lauren. Perhaps I just need a break. Maybe visiting Jane is a good idea.
Arriving back at The Laurels, I head to the kitchen for a dose of Mrs Crumpton’s medicinal reassurance, but she’s gone home. I sit down at the table feeling lost without her and glance at the corner where Donald hangs out.
‘Any ideas?’ I ask him, feeling a bit silly. It’s not like he’s going to answer, and I’d be terrified if he did. I collect the bottle of wine and glasses Mrs Crumpton left out on the dresser and head back to the drawing room where Alec and Lauren are chatting comfortably.
I pour everyone a generous glass and Alec raises his in a toast. ‘To another task,’ he says, his eyes latched onto mine.
‘Not that I really got to do it,’ complains Lauren, ‘but it had its moments.’ She smiles at Alec and takes a swig of her wine. ‘Perhaps you can take me to a proper club sometime, to make up for it?’
I take too big a gulp and it goes down the wrong way, so I don’t hear his response. When I stop coughing and spluttering, Alec turns to me. ‘So, how did you like dancing with Jane?’
‘It was great, actually. She helped me a lot.’
‘She seemed like the perfect partner for you,’ says Lauren, and I bite my tongue because she and I both know she’s staking her claim for Alec.
‘She is,’ I agree, suddenly tired, and I realise this is the first night Alec hasn’t disappeared off to the study. It would seem it’s not so necessary for him to work now that Lauren’s here. I guess that tells me everything I need to know. Watching them both, I take another sip, and listen as Alec and Lauren discuss what they might do tomorrow. As they talk about the local pub, I have to pull myself back from the brink of sleep.
‘I’m going to bed,’ I say, getting up abruptly, and Alec looks at me, taken aback. ‘I’m tired,’ I explain, and Lauren smiles.
‘Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite,’ she says cheerfully.
‘You, too,’ I answer, and I see a flash of excitement in her eyes – but I don’t think it’s the bedbugs she wants biting her.
‘Goodnight,’ says Alec, sounding comfortable and relaxed.
‘Goodnight,’ I say quietly, and leave them together in the drawing room. I wend my way up the stairs, reminding myself of the futility of standing between Lauren and her conquests. A roadroller has nothing on her: a roadroller would only leave you flattened. Lauren would leave bits of you scattered far and wide.
Typically, as soon as I climb into bed I’m not sleepy. I try reading, but it doesn’t have its usual soporific effect, and as I reach the last page I’m just as awake as when I started. Putting the book aside, I lie back and think about the task. I’m surprised I enjoyed it so much. I’d have thought dancing would prove to be my Waterloo, and it might have been if it wasn’t for Jane. She was so patient and kind, but I get the feeling that’s only part of why Donald chose her. I think he wanted me to meet her for some other reason, because judging from what I saw, Alec could easily have taken me dancing.
The stairs creak, and I just make out Lauren and Alec saying goodnight on the landing. I may as well admit it to myself: this is what I’ve been waiting for. Unable to resist seeing what’s going on, I go out to use the bathroom and am almost bowled over by Lauren hurtling out of her bedroom. I try not to let my eyes bulge as I take in her lurid red baby-doll nightdress.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she says, looking at me and folding her arms. ‘I thought you were asleep?’ The hint of accusation in her tone isn’t lost on me.
I smile, feeling positively puritanical in my plaid cotton pyjama bottoms and camisole top. ‘I need the bathroom.’
Lauren rolls her eyes and flounces back into her room, closing the door.
When I come back a few minutes later, all is quiet. I get back in bed, but I’m unable to stop replaying the incident. I turn over, kicking off the sheets that have become knotted around my legs, and try to relax every muscle. I’m just about to drop off when I hear the squeak of a door opening. Immediately, I’m wide awake. It takes only a few seconds for a second door to open.
‘Fancy meeting you here,’ I hear Lauren say out on the landing.
I don’t catch Alec’s reply, but Lauren’s giggle comes through loud and clear. I pull a pillow over my head, but it doesn’t block out the image of Lauren twirling her finger in the hem of her red nightdress, with him looking like Christmas has come early. Aaargh! I lie still, but even from under the pillow I hear a door close. Just one. I roll over, fighting unwanted images of frills and lace, rosebuds and bows, thighs and cleavage. Alec, taut and muscled, just wearing his pyjama bottoms . . . I go hot and cold and turn onto my back, trying to both hear and not hear what’s going on. This is not healthy.
I turn on my light and dig out my phone and headphones. Then I set a playlist going, and flick through my r
eading app for something comforting. I dismiss Great Expectations, Northanger Abbey, Pride and Prejudice and A Room with a View as all being a bit too close to the bone right now. I settle on The Hobbit – I don’t remember anything too romantic in that – and, lying back in the pillows, I read into the small hours, finally falling asleep somewhere near dawn.
Chapter 16
I wake up late and, staring blearily at the clock, see I’ve left hardly any time to get to Jane’s. Groaning, I roll out of bed, and race to get ready. On the plus side, it’s a relief to run out of the house, shouting that I’m late for Jane, rather than experience all the coy awkwardness of the morning after their night before. The downside is that I am a little hungry. Luckily I have an old cereal bar in the glove compartment, so I munch on that as I make sense of Jane’s directions and set off.
I pull up in front of Jane’s stately pile with my mouth hanging open, because if I thought The Laurels was impressive, it has nothing on this place. This estate was really built to subdue the masses, with its wide sweeping drive and enormous, ornate frontage, and I’m guessing from the sheer quantity of balustrades and roof cresting that at one time it had the luxury of its own stonemason and blacksmith hammering away in a workshop around the back.
I clamber out of the car, conscious that my denim shorts and T-shirt are not exactly in keeping with my illustrious surroundings, but it’s not like I have a handy cocktail dress tucked in my bag, so I guess they’ll have to do. I crunch across the gravel, feeling like it’s my first day at school, but I haven’t even reached the wide sweep of steps before Jane opens the front door.
‘Hannah!’ she says delightedly, coming down and giving me a huge hug. ‘You found the place, then?’
‘Yes.’ I’m not admitting that I nearly drove away again when I saw the size of it. ‘Thanks for inviting me.’
‘You’re welcome,’ says Jane, matching my politeness, then leans in. ‘The trick is not to be intimidated.’
‘Thanks, but this is a big house.’ I laugh nervously.
‘I know, but I’m still me, and I’d do anything for Donald. Besides, I like you.’ I relax a little. ‘Come on, I’ll show you the living room.’ She takes my hand and leads me up the steps and through a grand entrance hall that probably emptied an entire quarry of its marble, and into a house-sized living room worthy of its own open days.
