by Georgia Hill
When she’d signed up for the series, she’d known something extra would be demanded of her but no one so far had any clue as to what it might be.
“Boys and girls, so pleased that you could all join me,” Bob began, his head nodding in the way some pompous middle-aged men had. “I know you’ll be dying to hear what this year’s Christmas special will consist of and so I’ll put you out of your misery right away.”
“About time,” muttered Max on the other side of Lucy.
He was looking strained today she thought, the thin face looked gaunt even and there were deep shadows under each stormy grey eye. With an effort, she tuned back into Bob.
“Right folks, this year we’ll be asking you to learn the skill of one of the other competitors.” Bob paused for dramatic effect.
He wasn’t disappointed. An audible gasp passed around the room. They’d all assumed it would be some kind of dance challenge.
“Christ Almighty,” breathed Max. “What the hell am I going to get? The only thing I can do is ruddy swim!”
“There will be, of course, a comprehensive programme of training available,” Bob droned on, “but we will expect the celebrity you are partnered with to take on the majority of the work. Cameras will follow you round as usual and the celebrities who have already sadly gone out of the competition will take part too.”
Lucy’s mind was screaming. She thought over the options. Swimmer, stand up comedian, actress, rugby player, cricketer, television presenter; they all seemed equally awful and impossible. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to do any of them.
“We’ve thought very carefully about how we paired you all up and we wanted to give you all a challenge that was completely opposite to what you normally do. So here is the list.”
As Bob read through who was to be paired with whom Lucy barely took in the information, that was, until he came to her name.
“And now we come to our best-selling children’s writer. We thought long and hard about this one but decided that the perfect challenge for our lovely Lucy was to train as an Olympic swimmer. Therefore, she will be paired with Max. Max of course will have to attempt to write a story! We’ll let him off the full eight hundred pages but he’ll need to produce at least a good length short story. Perhaps with a Christmas theme, Max? No pressure, though!
“And that’s all folks. Any questions, just ask my assistant, Maria. Stay happy and remember: who dares, dances! Keep dancing everyone and I’m sure the Christmas show will be a Christmas cracker!”
A collective moan rippled through the room at the awful pun. The dancers and celebrities milled round excitedly, some stopping to share Lucy’s panic. She looked round for the support she knew would come from Max and Daniel but they were nowhere to be seen.
Daniel had seen Max slink out of the studio. He could tell from the set of his shoulders that he was going through a low patch. It happened to them all, at some time or another. They all reached that point at which everything seemed hopeless. For Max, thought Daniel, as he followed him, it was worse than for anyone. Max had explained to him, without an ounce of arrogance, that he was used to being good at what he did. He was used to being the best, at coming out top. Holding last position on the leader board for three consecutive weeks did no one’s confidence any good. Added to that was the fact that Kevin the judge reserved a special line in insults for Max and they were becoming increasingly personal. Max, not being from the world of show business, simply didn’t understand such casual bitchery. He was one of the nicest men Daniel had ever met; he didn’t deserve the treatment.
“You all right, mate?”
Max was sitting cross-legged on the rehearsal room floor, studying his laptop. On it was the film of Harri and Julia dancing the rumba in last year’s Christmas Special.
Maybe that was it, thought Daniel, for a big man like Max the rumba would be difficult.
Max clicked shut the lid of the computer and looked up. “Yeah.” The answer was unconvincing.
“No you’re not. What’s up? The dancing?”
“Yes and no.”
Daniel handed Max one of the coffees he’d brought and sat down next to him. “Intriguing. You want to explain?”
There was a long silence and then Max spoke. “I - I don’t know if I want to carry on with this anymore.”
“With this?”
Max gestured to the rehearsal studio. “This competition.”
Daniel shook his head. “Don’t believe you, Max. You may be a gentle giant but you’re a sportsman. We’ve never had a sportsman drop out. They always rise to the challenge. And you will too.”
Max blew out an enormous breath.
“It’s not the dancing, is it?” Daniel looked at his friend curiously. “Is it Lucy?”
“No. Well, yes … in a way.”
Daniel made himself more comfortable. “You want to tell?” He shrugged. “I might be able to help.”
Max looked at Daniel with a wretched expression on his face and scrubbed a hand over his tightly curling hair. “Don’t think you’ll be able to get me out of this mess, Dan.”
After Bob’s startling announcement, Lucy had to give an interview for a children’s magazine and was late getting to rehearsal. She barged into the dance studio and stopped dead at the sight of Daniel with his arm round Max’s shoulders.
“S-sorry. Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” God, this was so embarrassing and she was making it worse. “I’ll come back, Daniel, if you’re busy.”
Both men looked up at her. Max rose to his feet.
“No, you’re okay. I’m calling it a day.” He strode to the door. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
Lucy stared as he brushed past and disappeared. “What’s wrong, Dan? Is Max all right?”
Daniel gathered up the empty coffee cups, a worried expression on his tanned face. “No babe, I don’t think he is.”
Step Seven.
The next week was ridiculously busy. Not only had Lucy to rehearse for the rumba, a dance that didn’t come easily to her, she also had to cope with the publicity that Whiz had organised.
“Got to strike while the iron is hot, darling,” her agent had said. “And boy, are you a hot iron at the moment!” She’d shown Lucy the photographs which had appeared in a national broadsheet. “Look, The Telegraph has adopted you! And that won’t hurt. Any sign of Book Number Six yet?”
Lucy had fudged the issue but it was useless, Whiz always sensed when she had a book on the go. If only she knew the truth. Lucy was longing to return to the nineteenth century where Simeon had just encountered the Lady Clemency: society beauty by day and jewel thief by night. She’d been up until three that very morning, fervently tapping it all out on her laptop. And then she’d had to contend with Daniel in rehearsal, getting unusually impatient with her slowness.
And, if that weren’t enough, she had to arrange a swimming lesson with Max and get him to a writing workshop. Daniel had shown interest in coming along too, as if he couldn’t bear to leave his friend’s side. Lucy would have thought it sweet, if her own raging lust for Max had abated. But the crush showed no sign of disappearing and Lucy had no idea how to cope with her feelings, never before having to face the object of her emotions on a daily basis. The cameras’ incessant presence made it all the more stressful and Lucy was wondering just what she had taken on.
The crew followed her to the Crystal Palace swimming pool on Wednesday, where they were to film her first lesson with Max. The swimmer had a loyal female fan base, which Lucy thought ironic in the circumstances and the director of Who Dares Dances was keen to get as many shots of Max in his trunks as possible.
Lucy found travelling alone a great trial, so she concentrated on the breathing strategies she always used to get from A to B. “Just remember what Dr Froggatt taught,” she muttered, as an incantation to get her from the hotel to the sports centre. She was so deep into her exercises that she forgot that, she too, would be practically naked in front of the television audience. But L
ucy was ambivalent about her body. It was something to merely feed and clothe. She rarely gave it a thought.
She was preoccupied while tugging on her swimsuit. She hadn’t swum since being at St Ursula’s. She just hoped she could remember what to do. As she stepped out into the swimming pool and into a wall of heat, a solo cameraman with a handheld hovered to her left. She knew he was waiting for the moment when she removed the thin robe she had on. And then she saw Max, sitting with his legs dangling in the shallow end, and all rational thought fled.
He looked a different man in his own world. The self-doubt and lack of confidence she’d witnessed in him had gone. Wearing only a very brief pair of Speedos, he sat unselfconsciously talking to the teenage boy next to him. Max’s back was ramrod straight showing off the lean muscles on his chest to perfection. He and the boy were in an animated conversation which ended as Lucy walked towards them. She’d never seen Max looking lovelier, or as comfortable in his own skin. Literally. It was about the only thing he was wearing.
Max spotted her. “Hi Lucy!” he said and then clapped the boy on the back and wished him good luck.
The boy eyed Lucy. “You too, Max. I’ll be voting for you!”
Lucy watched as he sauntered off. She was puzzled; she’d thought the pool was closed to the public for this morning’s filming.
“Shane Amory,” Max said as he followed the direction of her gaze. “Next Team GB hopeful. Got bags of talent and only fifteen. He’ll be at his peak for the next big competition if we’re lucky. He’s just finished a training session with me.”
“Oh. I d-didn’t know you trained people,” Lucy managed, trying not to think about Max’s glorious body currently on display. “Yourself, I mean.”
“Best part of the job. I’d like to do more but I haven’t the time at the moment. It’s the most rewarding thing I do.”
“What, better than winning all those medals?”
Max shrugged his broad shoulders. “Yeah, I think so. Passing on the skills. Seeing boys like that improve. He couldn’t swim at all three years ago.”
Lucy looked to where Shane was collecting his towel and waved. The boy grinned and waved back. “That’s amazing.”
“Shane is amazing.”
“Perhaps it’s more to do with his coach?” Lucy ventured a smile.
“Well, maybe.” He laughed but without ego. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, well I think so. Maybe.”
“You’ll have to take that off, Lucy.” He nodded to the scarlet robe that the girls in wardrobe had insisted would ‘grab’ the lens.
“What? Oh, yes.” For the first time Lucy felt self-conscious. She was sure she’d be fine once in the water but would have liked some sort of teleporter in order to get her the short distance from the side into the inviting blue. The cameraman nosed in for the shot.
As if sensing what she was feeling Max turned away from her and slid in. He executed a graceful twist and then stood up. The water barely made it to the top of his thighs.
Lucy hurriedly averted her eyes from the water streaming down Max’s muscles and shrugged off the robe. Making a swift decision, she held her nose and jumped in. She surfaced next to him and was very aware of the man’s nearly naked body. She gulped, swallowed water and coughed violently.
“Are you alright?” Max asked. “You did say you could swim quite well.” He held her under the shoulders to steady her. Like the rest of him, his hands were large and they brushed the side of her nylon-covered breasts. Lucy blushed pink and escaped his grasp. She did an ungainly and very splashy front crawl into deep water and then had to pause to get her breath back. Max swam after her, using half the energy and swimming twice as fast.
He trod water beside her. “Well, you’ve proved you can swim,” he said with a grin, “but we’ll have to work on your technique if you’re to swim a couple of lengths of this pool.”
Lucy nodded, not having the breath to speak. She’d thought she’d got this crush under check but it was threatening to go somewhere she didn’t recognise. It wasn’t simply that Max looked physically perfect – he did – it was the air of complete power and confidence that exuded from him today. He was in his natural element, where he felt most at home. Where, he said, he came to hide. Lucy thought back to how unhappy he’d looked the other day and wondered what it was that he was hiding from.
He swam closer and eyed her curiously. “Are you sure you’re alright Lucy?”
She nodded again. The crush couldn’t be called that any more. She knew, without a doubt, that she was in love with this man. Tears threatened and she brushed at her eyes, hoping Max would think she was just getting rid of pool water. The love she felt so longingly for him simply couldn’t be.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Max said kindly.
In the car on the way home, memories of her swimming lesson blanketed the anxiety she normally felt at having to travel without Whiz or her father. Max had been gentle and patient, even when she’d struggled to grasp the finer points of technique. Leaning back, as her driver negotiated the traffic, Lucy felt immensely warm and relaxed. As she lifted a hand to brush still damp hair from her face, she smelled chlorine. It brought back the vivid memory of how Max’s huge hands had supported her hips while she practised the correct leg stroke. She could still feel his silky touch as he corrected her arm movement, his smooth wet body sliding over hers, showing her what to do, his hot breath murmuring encouragement in her ear. The bath-warm water had made everything seem slow and languid and dream-like. A breath caught in Lucy’s throat. It had all been impossibly erotic.
Back in the swimming pool, Max reached the end of the lane, did a swift underwater turn and returned the way he’d just swum. He’d already done thirty furious lengths and the burning he felt for Lucy still hadn’t abated. The swimming lesson had been disastrous; he wanted her all the more now. Why, he cursed himself, hadn’t he stayed on the side and coached her from there? That’s what he usually did when training someone. But he’d given into his feelings and it had been his undoing. He put new energy into his front crawl and ignored the knowledge that the lifeguards were waiting to open the pool to the public. Well, they’d just have to wait a little longer. For once in his life, Max Parry was going to be selfish. He needed to be.
Step Eight.
Lucy pulled at the dress but no matter how hard she tried, it just didn’t feel comfortable. It had felt fine during the fitting but something had gone wrong since. The live Saturday show was due to start in twenty minutes and she and Daniel were to dance first. Lucy was dreading it. It was the rumba. And, to make matters even worse, her costume just wasn’t right.
“Don’t fiddle with it,” Daniel said in a calming voice. “It’s nearly time to get into the studio.”
Daniel was on guard in Lucy’s dressing room, as was his habit. He always did this in the hour before the live show began. He knew that, given half a chance, Lucy would slide out of the door and run off into the cold December night, faster than Santa with a forgotten present. And tonight, the chances of her doing this, were high. As the weeks had gone on, instead of becoming more confident, she was getting worse and tonight she was as jumpy as he’d ever seen her. She’d been muttering about it being the fourth dance but, for the life of him, he couldn’t see the relevance. He glanced over as he saw her pick irritably at the shoulder strap. He suspected the cause of her nerves lay in her lack of confidence with her rumba. Technically, she’d picked up the steps quickly but she was too uptight to feel the mood of the dance.
“Dan, it doesn’t feel right. I’m convinced it’s going to give way halfway through and there‘s a lumpy bit sticking into my shoulder blade.” Lucy heaved at the strap again. Her dress was one shouldered, but had been cunningly built around a bodice engineered with sections to support Lucy’s not inconsiderable bosom. The problem lay with the flesh coloured safety strap that was cutting into her shoulder and making any arm movement stiff and awkward.
Daniel laughed but not unkindly
. “Well, flashing your boobs should get a few votes coming our way.”
Lucy poked her tongue out at him and tried to raise her right arm above her head. “I can’t go on and dance in this!” Then she gaped in horror as a violent twang reverberated around the tiny room. Her right side felt suddenly very loose.
“Oh God, what have I done?” She twisted in front of the dressing room mirror to see what had happened. “It’s snapped, the strap has snapped!”
Daniel sprang into action. “Get it off.”
“W-what?”
“Get it off and I’ll find Roxie. She’s the only one who can repair stuff at this short notice.”
Lucy glared at him. He might well be gay but she wasn’t going to strip naked in front of him. “But I haven’t got anything else to put on!”
“I won’t be a tick and anyway it’ll take you ten minutes to get back into it. No,” he added, as she began to argue, “you haven’t got time to find anything else to wear.” He gave up. “Lucy, just take the damned dress off!”
“Turn your back then.”
“Lucy!”
“Turn your back and hand me that towel.”
Daniel handed over the only one in the room; a small hand towel and turned to face the door. He tried not to look but it was tempting. She may be as barmy as a basketful of kittens but the girl was built.
Getting the dress off was easier said than done. All the women’s costumes were built around a leotard base that was very tight fitting. Lucy yanked and pulled but, without a dresser, it took an effort. At last it pooled round her ankles. She snagged it with the toe of her dancing shoe, kicked the emerald scrap of material up into the air and caught it. Under it, all she wore was a pair of tiny black briefs. Clutching the towel to her breasts, she handed the dress to Daniel who raced out of the dressing room in search of Roxie.
Lucy shivered. She felt very naked but, strangely also very freed. She pulled a face at her reflection. If Daniel couldn’t find Roxie maybe they could dance later in the order, or better still, not at all? Miracles happened. She allowed herself a jittery giggle. It was the fourth dance that was the problem. To distract herself she examined her body more closely. She hadn’t really taken much notice of it before. It had changed over the last three months. The regime of hard physical exercise and healthy food had had an effect. There were subtle muscles in her arms and legs now and a new curviness to her body that balanced her large breasts better.
