Say it with Sequins

by Georgia Hill

  Say it with Sequins

  The Complete Series

  GEORGIA HILL

  A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  HarperImpulse an imprint of

  HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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  First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2014

  Copyright © Georgia Hill 2014

  Cover images © Shutterstock.com

  Georgia Hill asserts the moral right

  to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue record for this book is

  available from the British Library

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

  The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

  the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

  actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

  entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International

  and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

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  written permission of HarperCollins.

  Ebook Edition © October 2014

  ISBN: 9780008113551

  Version 2014-09-30

  Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

  For Mum, who loved to jitterbug.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  The Rumba: A Dance Full of Passion.

  The Waltz: A Dance Full of Romance.

  The Charleston: A Dance Full of Laughter.

  Georgia Hill

  About HarperImpulse

  About the Publisher

  The Rumba: a dance full of passion.

  “The rumba is my favourite dance; it’s really sexy. It gives you a great excuse to get up close and personal with your partner!” Bob Dandry, Executive Producer and Director, Who Dares, Dances.

  Step One.

  “You can do this!” she said in her head.

  Julia Cooper, not yet star of stage and screen, bit her lip and tried to follow her own advice – and her partner’s lead. Trouble was, when you were a novice and dancing with a monosyllabic and bad-tempered hulk of a Russian, it wasn’t easy to pick up the steps. Or should that be steppes? Julia giggled and muttered her mantra again, “Concentrate, you can do this!”

  “What?” said the Russian hulk from somewhere above her. “What you say? No, Julia. Have told you. Like this!”

  For the umpteenth time that day, Julia wondered just what she had got herself into. Who Dares Dances was supposed to be a fun dance competition come reality show, wasn’t it? She was supposed to be having fun!

  “We’d better raise a barrel load of money to make this worth it,” she mumbled, as she was swung round so hard her neck ricked. She’d never worked so hard in her life. The charity, Pennies for Pencils, for which the show raised money, had better be grateful.

  “Julia! Have told you. Like this. Concentrate!”

  “That’s just what I’ve been telling myself, Jan.” Julia looked up at her partner with a bright smile. “But it doesn’t seem to be working. Can we stop now? Don’t we need to get ready for the launch party?” She made a hopeful face, which was completely lost on the Russian.

  “Pah! Party!” he spat. “We must work, work, work. Have much to learn. Stand up. Chin to left. More. More! Count in head.”

  “One, two, buckle my shoe,” Julia began and it sounded facetious, even to herself. But she really was exhausted. They’d been practising since eight that morning.

  “One, two, three, one. two, three,” Jan inevitably corrected her in his harsh way and they stumbled round the room one more time.

  Julia gritted her teeth and did her best to stand straight, hold her head at the right angle, keep her elbows up and remember her steps. Who would have thought learning how to waltz could be so hard!

  ***

  The launch party was in full swing by the time Harri got there. Filming had overrun and he was late as usual. And, as usual, he hated it. He was a man who’d been brought up to be on time. Nowadays he seemed to be constantly chasing his rear and life was never less than hectic.

  He loved fronting the children’s TV show most of the time though. In the three years he’d presented it, he’d been all around the world, had done the most incredible death defying stunts, had met and interviewed some of the most famous people in the world. He was one lucky bloke. Fizz TV had set up Red Pepper as a direct rival to Blue Peter and it was gradually getting more and more popular. Harri had thought at one time he might have a go at getting the big job – Blue Peter itself - but peculiar though it seemed to him, at thirty-one he was getting too old for the plum role. But still here he was, an ordinary guy, Harri Morgan from Swansea, who had struck lucky. He knew his looks had helped but he hoped it was more than that, he hoped he was thought of as someone with genuine talent. He’d certainly worked his way up the hard way, spending six years in the niche world of Welsh television learning his craft.

  So why, if he was happy with his career, had he agreed to this? To Fizz TV’s dance show? When the suggestion had come from his agent, he’d been mildly interested, had never watched the programme but he knew of it and knew it raised millions for charity. When he’d signed up, he thought he’d treat it as another physical challenge, just like learning to fly a jet, or bungee jumping off the San Francisco Bridge. He liked learning new physical skills and it would show his mates back home in Swansea that he could dance after all.

  In his heart though, he knew he’d taken this on for another reason. His life expectancy as a children’s TV presenter was running out and it was notoriously difficult to make the transition to adult TV. Producers seemed to think that if you worked with, and for, young children you had the intellect to match. Harri knew he had a lot more to offer, it was just that he didn’t know what it was or how to achieve it. The invitation to do Who Dares Dances seemed to be the answer. He could have a go at a new challenge, and get himself noticed by a completely different audience.

  So far it had been, well, interesting. He’d spent four weeks in training with Eva, his Swedish professional dance partner, and it was a lot tougher than he expected. He wasn’t sure why. He could pick up the steps pretty easily, his rugby and fencing training helped with the footwork, but he just couldn’t get into it somehow. Since the cocaine fiasco on another well known children’s TV show a few years ago, the producers of Red Pepper had upped the censor code on the programme and on its presenters. They had even gone as far as forcing him to sign a ‘no personal relationships’ clause with any of the other dancers in Who Dares Dances. He’d always had to conduct any relationship with complete discretion beforehand and now he was in an even worse situation. Any whiff of scandal or smut, and he’d be summarily dismissed. He knew it had taken that infamous children’s presenter years to get his career back on track and Harri didn’t want to risk the same. So he felt uncomfortable mixing his kid’s TV persona with the blatantly erotic things Eva expected him to do.

  He
grabbed a drink from a passing tray and sipped the warm white wine thoughtfully. He grimaced, it didn’t do the job like a pint of Brains bitter but it would help him unwind. He didn’t seem to have the time to catch his breath nowadays. Was he getting old? Was he losing the hunger for all of this? He hoped not. He didn’t know what else he could do.

  ***

  Julia spotted Harri come in from the corner of her eye. Half listening to what a fellow competitor was saying, she saw him making his way around the edge of the party. She liked the way his nose crinkled up as he tasted the wine – it was vile – and then she watched as he got into an animated conversation with Callum, the enormous Scottish prop forward. Talking about rugby no doubt – or trashing England. Funny how the Welsh and the Scots had those two things in common.

  She giggled. The wine may taste foul but she’d hardly eaten anything all day and it was going to her head. She put her half-empty glass down on the table behind her.

  “Revolting isn’t it?” Fellow actress, Lavinia Smart, sidled up to her and did the same. “You can tell it’s not the beeb, can’t you? These new TV channels just don’t seem to get things quite right. I can’t wait to see what excuse they’ll serve as food! But darling, tell me, how’s your gorgeous man of a partner?”

  Julia thought about Jan the professional dance partner she’d been assigned. If only she had had a choice! He was tall, impossibly fit, blonde and beautiful, she admitted that much. He was also a terrible bully. “He’s lovely,” she said finally, “but I’ve never worked so hard in my life. I ache in places I never knew existed!”

  “Oh darling, I’m the same. Warren is a darling, an absolute hoot but can you imagine, at my age? Any minute during training, I swear it’s all going to drop off – or out.”

  Julia laughed. Lavinia was the oldest in the group of competitors by far. She claimed to be thirty-nine but was probably closer to sixty. Julia had seen her in films dating from way back. She’d assumed the role of mother hen over them all and did things strictly her way – didn’t rehearse before eleven, broke for a two-hour lunch at one and finished on the dot of four. Her dancing partner Warren, a little man from Stoke-on-Trent and as ordinary as Lavinia was exotic, despaired. He’d won the competition last year and had been hoping to do what had never been achieved before – two successive wins. Julia thought his chances this year with Lavinia were remote to say the least.

  She turned to the older woman: “The competition is pretty fierce this year isn’t it?”

  In an automatic gesture, Lavinia captured another glass of wine off a waiter, took a sip and called him back.

  He came immediately, people tended to do as Lavinia said, Julia noticed. She had that bitchy, middle class, actressy quality that was thankfully rare in the profession nowadays.

  “Another one for my friend if I may,” Lavinia ordered. She passed the glass to Julia. “There darling, this one must be a new bottle, same wine but at least it’s so cold you can’t taste it! What were you saying?”

  “That the competition is tough. Who do you think is going to win?”

  “Well my angel, I know who desperately wants to win.” Lavinia smirked and nodded to where eighteen year old model and aspiring actress, Casey, was batting her enormous false eyelashes at Harri. Someone had tacked up a bedraggled sprig of mistletoe as an early nod to Christmas and Casey had half an eye on it.

  The poor man was trapped. He was visibly backing off from the torrent of giggles and nonsense that passed as conversation from the girl.

  “Met her type before,” Lavinia sniffed. “God, I think I was her once a long time ago. All hair and short skirts and dangerous ambition. When you’re older you learn how to hide it better.”

  “What, stupidity?” Julia said, without thinking.

  Lavinia snorted. “She’s not stupid, she’ll go far. No, you learn how to play the game with a little more finesse, a little more decorum.” Lavinia’s eyebrows rose. “Look at the length of that skirt!”

  Julia laughed again, Lavinia was always good company. “I’d wear skirts like that if I had the legs.”

  “Keep training as we’ve been doing and you will, darling. Have you ever met a chubby dancer?”

  Julia tried not to bridle at the inference that she was fat, she’d lost a stone and a half already. She’d been consoling herself with the thought that if this TV show didn’t revive her flagging acting career, at least she’d have a fit and toned body at the end of it.

  Lavinia eyed her closely. “I know why Casey’s doing it,” she said, as they watched the girl run her fingers up an alarmed Harri’s arm, “but why did you get involved in this farce, angel? I thought you were legit theatre?”

  Julia shrugged. “I am, when I can get it. In between the funding crisis and all these big name American TV stars coming over and getting the plum roles, I seem to have hit a dry spot.”

  “It was ever thus.” Lavinia gave a theatrical sigh. “Are you hoping it’ll get your face known on the box, darling?”

  Julia nodded. “And it raises money for a good cause.”

  “Ah yes, the charity.” Lavinia smiled. “Never harms one’s profile to be seen doing something good for charity.”

  Julia was silent for a moment. Lavinia had misunderstood her but she let it go. It hadn’t quite been what she’d meant. She needed some publicity, it was true, but didn’t want to support the charity simply in a cynical bid to get it. She really believed in the cause.

  They all forgot why they were really here sometimes. The children’s charity, Pennies for Pencils, raised money and awareness for a range of education projects, in the UK and abroad. This was really why they were all still in the studio, after a long day’s rehearsal, supposedly mingling and getting to know one another better.

  Lavinia trilled goodbye, wandered off and left the younger woman alone. Julia watched the crowd. She enjoyed people watching; she loved to see how people moved, how they related to one another.

  The show was only a week old, they’d done the pre-practice rehearsals and were about to film the first programme before a live studio audience.

  On the eve of filming, the producers had brought everyone together tonight as an icebreaker. Lavinia was now talking to Daniel Cunningham, Casey’s stunning professional dance partner and Ted, another actor, and a recent refugee from Eastenders. He was a nice man thought Julia and he deserved to do well. But, as everyone knew, nice didn’t count for much in the acting business.

  Julia watched as Casey, having given up on Harri, was flirting with Callum instead. In contrast to the younger man, he seemed to be taking Casey in his stride. One large hand was fondling her naked back. As she was wearing a criminally low halter-top, access to naked flesh was made easy. Casey never seemed to wear many clothes and Callum’s hairy hand was inching its way to her barely concealed bottom. He was edging her nearer the mistletoe and she didn’t look at all unhappy to be led. The girl had better watch out, thought Julia. Rumour had it that Callum was unhappily married and on the lookout. Julia had already fended off his inebriated advances earlier in the evening.

  Harri looked across at Julia and caught her eye. He smiled in his friendly way and made his way over to her. “Thought I’d leave them to it,” he grinned.

  “Um, yes, they certainly seem to be getting on well.” Julia averted her eyes as Callum’s hand found its target and squeezed.

  She turned back to Harri. He’d been dwarfed by Callum, but away from the rugby player’s bulk, she could see he was actually quite tall in his own right.

  Julia had never seen Red Pepper but her twelve-year-old niece was crazy about it and mainly because of this man. She could see the attraction. He’d been blessed with the unthreatening good looks of the boy next door, a warm smile, and dark hair, fashionably gelled up at the front.

  Looking closer though, Julia saw the broken nose of a sportsman and high cheekbones, which any actor would happily die for. He had beautifully shaped expressive eyebrows too.

  On the surface he appe
ared to be Harri Morgan, TV presenter with a reputation for being a daredevil, a laugh a minute and game for anything. Underneath, Julia thought she sensed a reserved, rather shy man. He had something more complicated in his soul and she was intrigued.

  At the moment, however, it seemed Harri’s thoughts were centred on the simple things in life. “God, this wine’s terrible!” He looked around him longingly. “What I wouldn’t do for a pint.”

  “I know what you mean.” She laughed up at him and was mesmerised for a second by the intensity in his warm dark eyes.

  The moment was interrupted by Bob Dandry, the executive producer and director of the show, tapping his glass.

  “Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming and welcome to the wonderful world of Who Dares Dances. I know you’re going to have a truly marvellous time tonight getting to know your fellow competitors but just before the food is served I’d like to say a few words.”

  Julia groaned and Harri leaned closer. “I know, anyone who says a few words usually means the exact opposite. Do you think we can escape? I know a good pub just over the road.”

  Julia giggled and shushed him and turned to listen. Bob droned on about it being a fantastic show that drew in an audience of over two million and had raised, in its six year run, nearly thirty million pounds. There was applause at this point and Bob put out his hands in a gesture of mock humility. “No, no please. We do all we can for Pennies for Pencils. I’m sure you’ll agree it’s a worthy cause.” He smoothed a strand of ginger hair over his bald spot and smiled greasily.

  “Not to mention that it boosts one or two careers,” Harri whispered in her ear, his Welsh accent smooth and seductive. She stifled another giggle and elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Ow!” He rubbed the offended part in pretend outrage and a few heads turned their way with interest. Anything was better than Bob’s speech.

  But then the producer said something which caught everyone’s attention. “As you know, we try to keep the show fresh, to keep the audience interested and voting - and raising money of course. And we need to keep our image separate from that other little dance show on TV.”