Starlight on the Palace Pier

by Tracy Corbett

  ‘Damned if I can remember what I had for breakfast this morning,’ Dr Mortimer said, looking dapper in his military blazer, ‘let alone learn a dance routine.’

  A few people nodded, sharing his concerns.

  ‘I’m not suggesting a choreographed routine,’ Becca reassured them. ‘It’ll be a relaxed informal dance where people watching will be encouraged to join in and hopefully come along to the weekly tea dances.’

  Eddie raised his hand, looking very smart in his dark jeans and checked shirt. ‘I’m new to this. I don’t know any of the steps.’ Jodi suspected his motivation for ‘dressing to impress’ was her aunty.

  ‘I don’t know the steps, either,’ Aunty Ruby said, voicing her agreement. ‘It won’t look very impressive if we don’t know what we’re doing.’

  ‘The spectators will be encouraged to join in if they can see varying abilities,’ Becca said, pausing when the banging above got too loud. ‘We want to demonstrate that the tea dances cater for all abilities from beginners to seasoned pros.’ She gestured to Mrs Busby, who beamed and patted the side of her new hairdo. ‘Have a think about it and let me know. I’d really love for you all to take part.’

  Jodi gauged the response. Her aunty and Eddie didn’t look convinced, but the middle-aged couple she’d seen arriving earlier were chatting animatedly. As were two women dressed in Forties tea dresses and seamed stockings.

  Becca clapped her hands, calling for a lull in the noise. ‘Shall we get started? I’m sure you’re eager to begin. If everyone could find a partner, we’ll begin with a closed position. You need to face your partner square on.’

  Becca climbed off the chair and turned up the music.

  Jodi recognised the song. It Had to be You.

  And then she spotted Leon. He was leaning against the grand piano looking relaxed and amused. He was wearing a fitted dark grey T-shirt and black jeans. He looked sexy and adorable. Her belly dipped at the sight of him.

  When he looked over, she felt herself blush. He pushed away from the piano and walked towards her, his gait slow and sexy. Her pulse kicked up another notch. Was he about to ask her to dance? His reflection bounced off the mirrors lining the walls, creating multiple images. One Leon was enough to derail her composure. A roomful was overwhelming.

  As he neared, butterflies filled her tummy, sparks of pleasure raced through her veins. Maybe he was still interested in her after all…

  And then he stopped and invited Mrs Busby onto the dance floor.

  Jodi tried not to let her disappointment show. A weight settled in her stomach, killing the butterflies dead. It was like the floor had disappeared from under her, dragging her from hope to the depths of despair.

  To anyone watching, there’d been no slight. He hadn’t been spiteful, like Vivienne. Or cruel, like Petrit. His reaction to seeing her had been polite, pleasant…and totally detached. And that’s what hurt so much.

  Dr M appeared. ‘Would you do me the honour?’ he said, tipping his non-existent hat.

  She forced a smile. ‘Of course, Dr Mortimer.’

  ‘The man, or lead partner, starts on their left foot,’ Becca instructed, shouting above the music and drilling. ‘We’re looking for a nice relaxed frame.’

  Jodi tried to focus, but her mind was elsewhere. She’d known this would happen. Even when she’d first met Leon and he’d shown an interest in her, she’d known that once he found out about her past his attraction would fade. She hated being proved right.

  Stupidly, for a brief moment she’d allowed herself to enjoy his attentions. Even hoped they might not be temporary. More fool her. And now it was over, and she was sadder than she could have imagined.

  ‘We’re going to step forwards for a slow count of two…and then backwards,’ Becca yelled, ‘followed by two quick steps to the side.’

  Jodi flinched when someone jabbed her on the shoulder. She turned to find the Woman-in-Black looking grim.

  ‘What is it, Vivienne?’ She couldn’t imagine the woman was there to foxtrot.

  ‘There’s a delivery.’

  ‘Can’t you deal with it? You can see I’m busy.’

  ‘Yes, dancing. You should be working.’

  Jodi felt aggrieved. She regularly worked extra hours, far more than she was paid for. ‘I’m supporting Becca’s efforts to increase visitors to the playhouse, Vivienne. I’d appreciate it if you dealt with the delivery yourself.’

  ‘No.’ And with that she turned and walked off, like a vampire bat returning to Dracula’s coffin.

  Apologising to Dr M, Jodi left the ballroom and headed for reception. She might not have been overly enthusiastic about learning to dance, but it was a damned sight better than dealing with the Woman-in-Black.

  A guy with a clipboard was waiting in reception. He smiled when she approached. ‘Afternoon, love. Where would you like these?’ He gestured to a pile of boxes.

  She wasn’t expecting a delivery. ‘Can I look at the paperwork?’

  ‘Sure.’ He handed her the clipboard.

  The delivery was from London Theatrical Supplies. It was the curtains for the stage.

  Puzzled, she looked up. ‘I cancelled the order,’ she said, wondering what had happened. ‘Our funding situation changed and I emailed to cancel. There’s obviously been a misunderstanding. I don’t know how this happened. I’m so sorry but I need to reject the order. We don’t have the funds to settle the account.’

  ‘Nothing to pay,’ he said, pointing to the ‘paid in full’ stamp on the document.

  She looked at the paperwork again. ‘How…I mean, who… I don’t understand?’ The contact name at the top said Mr T Elliot. Tom had placed the order?

  ‘All I know is, I’m to deliver these boxes. Where would you like them?’

  ‘Err…in the theatre, if that’s okay. If you could wait a moment, I’ll fetch the key.’

  She headed towards the office, her head spinning. Tom had paid for the curtains? He must have taken on board her concerns about the stage looking too bare for the dance routines. She’d tried unsuccessfully to borrow curtains from a local theatre, and now they didn’t have to. Just like the roof repairs, Tom had financed the work himself.

  Lost in thought, she almost didn’t see Petrit in the office. He was crouched behind her workstation, sifting through the items on her desk. ‘What are you doing?’

  The sound of her voice startled him. He straightened, but far from looking ‘sprung’, he folded his arms. ‘I need timesheet.’

  ‘What happened to the one I gave you yesterday?’ She didn’t believe for a minute he was looking for a timesheet.

  ‘I need replacement.’

  She looked over at the safe, checking it was shut. He didn’t have the combination, but his body language told her he was guilty of something. ‘I’ll print off another one.’ She noticed the spider plant had moved. ‘In future, please don’t come in here and search through my desk.’

  The next thing she knew his face was inches from hers. He’d moved so quickly she didn’t have time to escape. ‘You have something to hide?’

  ‘Of course not. But that doesn’t give you the right—’

  ‘People who take money should be punished.’ He reeked of sweat and cigarettes. She held her breath, partly because of the smell, mostly from the fear of what he’d do next.

  He grunted and left the office.

  She sagged against the wall, her heart racing, her hands shaking.

  What had Petrit been looking for in the office?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Tuesday 14th November

  Tom parked up behind the playhouse and switched off the engine. His head hurt, he was tired, and he was hungry. He should have stopped off to buy food, but the desire to get home had been stronger. Although how much longer the Starlight Playhouse would be his home was anybody’s guess. The way things were going the place would be closed in a matter of months. It was a depressing thought. Although not quite as depressing as today’s trial.

&nb
sp; He climbed out of the car and walked over to the side door, letting himself into the darkened playhouse.

  His client today had been acquitted of domestic violence charges, which didn’t sit well with his conscience. There’d been no doubt as to the man’s guilt, or the strength of the evidence against him, but his wife was too frightened to testify against him.

  Tom was fed up with representing lowlifes. But if nothing else, today’s trial had confirmed his decision to switch career paths. It was time for a change.

  As he neared reception, he realised a light was on. He became aware of a faint banging sound. At first he couldn’t work out where the noise was coming from, but as he rounded the bend he was halted by the sight of Becca sitting on the floor hitting the radiator pipe. ‘At last!’ she said, stopping. ‘I thought I was going to be stuck here all night.’

  ‘The trial ran late,’ he said, going over. ‘What do you need?’

  She looked sheepish. ‘I may have glued myself to the floor.’

  Whatever he’d been expecting her to say, it wasn’t that. ‘How the hell did you do that?’

  She gave him a look of admonishment. ‘Well, clearly I sat on some glue.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s where you’re stuck?’

  She nodded.

  He burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. It was the perfect antidote to a crap day.

  ‘Oh, yes, it’s hilarious.’ Her disgruntled expression only added to his enjoyment.

  ‘How long have you been like this?’

  ‘Long enough to have set.’ Her blue-blonde hair was piled on top of her head. Loose tendrils framed her face and she had a smudge of red ink on her cheek. She looked adorable.

  ‘Why didn’t you call someone for help?’

  She gave him a loaded look. ‘Because my phone’s in the office, smartarse, or else I would’ve done.’

  He crouched down next to her. ‘Let me get this straight. You’re currently stuck and need my assistance?’ He scratched his chin. ‘Goodness, this is familiar. A lesser person might use this situation to their advantage and blackmail the other person into doing what they want.’

  The look on her face was priceless. ‘I never blackmailed you.’

  ‘Coerced, then.’

  She folded her arms. ‘Fine. You win. What it is you want?’

  So many things came to mind – including rubbing the smudge of ink from her cheek. ‘Nothing. I just wanted to see you squirm.’ Grinning, he stood up. ‘Okay, stay where you are. I need appliances.’

  ‘I’m hardly likely to go anywhere, am I?’ she called after him.

  He went in search of Eddie’s toolbag, chuckling to himself. She’d glued herself to the floor? Life was certainly never dull with Becca Roberts around.

  He returned to reception with Eddie’s toolbag, noticing the large display adorning the far wall. One night only! The Starlight Playhouse presents a showcase extravaganza! Book now! Tickets selling fast! Each exhibitor had their own poster with accompanying photos. The whole display was surrounded by gold bunting and varying-sized cut-out stars.

  ‘Nice work,’ he said, setting the bag down next to her. ‘Eye-catching.’

  ‘Thanks. I wanted to make an impact.’

  ‘Although, you didn’t have to include yourself in the display.’

  She glared at him, but he could see she was fighting back a smile. ‘Funny guy.’

  Sparring with Becca was definitely a tonic. ‘Where’s the glue you used?’

  She handed him the box.

  He read the instructions. ‘You used Araldite? This is heavy-duty glue, Becca.’

  ‘I know, but Pritt-Stick wouldn’t hold the bigger stars. They were too heavy. I found this stuff in the cleaning cupboard. I made a bit of a mess mixing the tubes together. The instructions said to hold it in place for fifteen minutes, so I did. But that’s when I realised I was stuck and I didn’t have my phone.’

  He crouched down next to her. ‘Has the glue seeped through to your skin?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ She yelped when she tried to lift her leg away from the wooden floorboards. That answered that question.

  ‘Can you wiggle out of your jeans?’

  He was subjected to another glare. ‘They’re skinny cut.’

  ‘Humour me.’

  She sighed. ‘Fine.’

  Watching her ease down the zip of her jeans and attempt to wiggle out of them was hugely distracting. Not to mention hypnotic. He found himself mesmerised by a flash of red silk, before she whacked him on the arm and said, ‘Stop gawping.’

  It quickly became apparent that there was no way she could get herself out of the jeans. She was well and truly stuck. She looked up at him with a pair of dejected blue eyes. ‘Any other suggestions?’

  He had a sudden urge to touch her, but resisted. He unearthed a pair of scissors from the toolbag instead. ‘Yes, but you might not like it.’

  Her eyes grew wide. ‘You’re kidding me?’

  ‘It’s that, or I call the fire service?’

  ‘Oh, God.’ She covered her eyes. ‘How has my life descended to this? Do not draw blood.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’ He shrugged off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He felt like a surgeon about to go into theatre. ‘Okay,’ he said, stepping over her. ‘We need to do this in two stages. Stage one is to cut off your jeans.’ He slid the scissors under the foot of her jeans and began to cut, slowly and deliberately up her leg. When his hand slid up her thigh, she let out a tiny gasp. He stopped cutting. ‘Painful?’

  ‘Nope, it’s okay.’ She sounded slightly breathless. ‘Carry on.’

  Slowly undressing a woman as gorgeous as she was should be erotic as hell. Unfortunately, when the woman in question was glued to the floor, it put a real damper on the proceedings. ‘Can you lie down?’

  She blinked. ‘Excuse me?’

  He grinned. ‘I need you on your back.’

  ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

  He tried to look bashful. ‘Why would you think that?’

  She started laughing. Shaking her head, she lay down. ‘You’re not filming this, are you?’

  ‘Of course not. Only a sick person would film someone in a compromising situation.’ He tried to focus on the job in hand, and not on the rise and fall of her chest. ‘Stop wiggling.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Her jeans were now cut open and her leg was on display.

  For a moment, he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Lust had rooted him to the spot.

  She raised herself onto her elbows. ‘Finished?’

  ‘Not quite.’ Again, he didn’t move.

  ‘I meant cutting, not gawping.’

  ‘I’m not gawping, I’m appreciating,’ he said, removing a wallpaper scraper from Eddie’s bag.

  Her eyes grew wide. ‘What are you doing now?’

  ‘I need to get the cloth away from the floor.’

  As gently as he could, he used the scraper to prise her away from the floorboards.

  Grappling with a woman’s bare thigh wasn’t exactly conducive to maintaining a platonic friendship. Add in the faint scent of strawberries, the lure of her glossy lips and he was wishing he had called the fire service. But then, he wouldn’t be happy about a load of firefighters gawping at her, so maybe it was better he did it.

  When he was done, he took her hands and pulled her to her feet. One leg was still encased in fabric, the other was sporting a patch attached to her thigh. The rest of the garment flopped about like a mudflap, revealing the full length of her leg and her underwear.

  ‘Nice pants.’

  ‘Oh, put a sock in it.’ She shoved him playfully, making him laugh.

  ‘You’re on your own for this bit.’ He handed her a bottle of white spirit. ‘Soak the material. See if you can ease it away. Shout if you need me.’

  ‘Oh, now you choose to be a gentleman.’ With her sass returning, she marched behind the reception desk, hiding her lower half from view.

  ‘I�
�ve had an idea about the showcase,’ she said, her face a picture of concentration as she tried to remove the patch of material. ‘I think we should invite the council along.’

  He nearly dropped the scraper. ‘Are you serious?’

  She glanced up. ‘Think about it. It’s better than a stuffy report. We can demonstrate how we’re meeting the conditions of the grant. It’ll have a much bigger impact than writing to them. We can show them our vision and persuade them to believe in us.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Us?’

  She shrugged. ‘I’m as invested as you are.’

  ‘Because of Jodi?’

  ‘Partly, yes.’ She returned to removing the material. ‘I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want my cousin to succeed and gain a permanent job out of this. But I need to do this for me too. For the last seven years, I’ve been part of a tightknit community. Dancing is about evoking passion, connecting with people and providing escapism. People need that in their lives. Whether it’s my tappers looking for friendship, or my ballet kids dreaming of being the next Darcey Bussell. The Starlight Playhouse provides an opportunity for the whole community to leave behind their ordinary lives and enter a world of the extraordinary.’ She winced as she tried to remove the material. ‘And I need that optimism in my life as much as the next person. I think you do too.’

  Did he? ‘Not really.’

  ‘Oh, come on. You love playing the hero.’ She continued battling with the stuck material. ‘It’s what drives you. Underneath that conservative exterior is a man who secretly enjoys taking risks and being adventurous. Isn’t that why you became a barrister, so you could save the day?’

  He honestly didn’t know anymore. But maybe that’s why he found defending criminals so unsatisfying. He was on the wrong side of the equation.

  After much puffing and panting, she admitted defeat. ‘It’s no good. There’s no way I’m getting this material away from my thigh. You’re going to have to help me.’ She appeared from behind the desk. ‘Where do you want me?’

  Tom had several answers. None of which were appropriate. ‘Lie down again.’

  She dutifully obeyed. This time on her front, so he could gain access to the back of her thigh.