by Karin Baine
No leotard and leg warmers were needed for him to look every inch the part, standing there with his hands in the pockets of his well-fitting black trousers, the fluorescent ceiling light reflecting off his shiny black shoes and shirt opened at the collar to show just a hint of toned chest.
‘I’ll look forward to the demonstration,’ she said, trying to play down how out of her league she was with an injection of humour. It might help her relax if she pictured him with his trouser legs rolled up showing off a pair of candyfloss-pink stilettos.
‘That’s lesson three.’ That quick dry humour to rival hers made her laugh out loud. It was heartening to know he didn’t take himself too seriously when they had absolutely no chance of winning this competition and it put her under less pressure to match whatever skills he possessed.
‘I’ll be sure to put that into my diary.’ She stepped into the middle of the floor, fidgeting with her scarf while she waited for the moment when he took her in his arms and discovered all her inadequacies.
‘I suppose we should get started then. We’re performing a waltz. That’s the dance my grandad demonstrated to you.’ He walked over to the clunky CD player plugged into the wall to change the music to that of a less frantic tempo. It was the modern equivalent to dusting off a gramophone player in the day and age of downloads and phones with the world available at the touch of a button.
‘Oh, good. I won’t be expected to drag you across the floor with a rose clenched in my teeth then?’ If he was as confident and capable as Mr Sheridan senior, she knew he’d lead and support her throughout the routine even though she’d have to work on that flourish at the end.
‘You can if you like, but we might be penalised for illegal dance moves.’
‘I like to live on the edge.’ A blatant lie but she was sick of being the one known for sticking to the rules.
‘That’s not what I’ve heard.’ Ben stepped forward, so close there didn’t seem to be any air left between their bodies.
Mollie resisted the urge to take a step back now morbid curiosity and a need to get through this rehearsal as soon as possible were taking over from her attack of claustrophobia. ‘Oh?’
‘Okay, you’re really going to have to work on your acting skills and at least pretend you don’t hate my guts.’ It was Ben who created a safe space for her in the end, his apparent exasperation driving him away again.
‘I don’t—’ Clearly her acting was better than either of them imagined if that was what he thought.
‘No? You’d think you’d just been given a death sentence, not that we’re about to dance. Loosen up.’
‘Sorry. I’ll try.’ She cricked her neck from side to side and shook out her limbs, willing the tension to leave her body along with any thoughts that weren’t strictly ballroom related. The character assassination could wait for a while.
‘We’ll start that again.’ He let her take a few breaths before he advanced again and attempted something as daring as moving her into position with him.
She could see that tic in his jaw as he ground his teeth together and it was more comforting for her to believe it was because he wasn’t any more relaxed about this than she was, rather than profound irritation with her. This really wasn’t going to work if she riled that temper again.
‘The box step forms the main basic step of the waltz and we do it with a one, two, three count. Step forward with your left foot on the one, take a sidestep with the right, and close your left foot again to the right.’ He glossed over any nonsense to demonstrate the move.
‘One, two, three...’ She watched his feet and tried to concentrate on replicating it to defuse the situation rather than overanalysing whatever it was he might have heard about her.
‘Good. Then we go back with the right, sidestep with the left, and close the right foot to the left foot. Keep repeating so it feels as though you are marking out the four corners of a box.’ It seemed so easy when he was doing it, his feet, and hips moving as though he didn’t have to think about it.
Whereas Mollie was having trouble with the concept of even counting to three. ‘Like this?’
‘That’s it. Now we’ll try it in hold. Place this hand on my shoulder and put the other in mine.’ He manipulated her frame into position until the palm of her hand rested on his solidly reassuring physique.
‘Am I going forward or backwards?’ She didn’t think he’d be able to feel the raised skin of her scars through the cotton barrier of her shirt, but she was worried if she was expected to wear one of those fairy-tale gowns for the competition she’d look more like an ugly stepsister than a princess. A low-cut back or too-short hem would put her scars on show for everyone. It was inevitable she’d have to explain them at some point in the proceedings and endure the looks of pity and disgust. Until then she wanted to revel in this belief she was actually dancing. For the next hour or so she didn’t want to inhabit the real world and instead let Ben carry her off into that magical world of make-believe.
‘You’re starting off on the back step. Ready? And...one, two, three...’ He began the count and they moved in time to the music, her odd misstep no matter with such a strong partner.
Eventually she trusted the momentum enough to stop watching her feet, but lifting her gaze meant looking deep into those gorgeous eyes and almost forgetting what it was she was supposed to be doing here other than holding on to him for dear life. They were pressed so intimately together she should’ve been embarrassed but, unlike the few men who’d been this close, he wasn’t expecting anything of her other than a willingness to learn. She wasn’t afraid but the adrenaline was pumping around her body every time his muscles bunched beneath her fingertips. It was easy to see how people found romance in dancing, but she needed to remember he wasn’t Patrick Swayze and she certainly wasn’t a young girl looking for a holiday fling.
‘Do I need to do all that head turning and bending over backwards to show the judges my teeth? It always looks a bit unnatural to me. Then again, so do the mahogany spray tans and impossibly high hair the TV dancers always have. I’m all for a girl looking her best but I draw the line at contortionism.’
This time she did make him laugh out loud, the deep rumble reverberating through her limbs, disturbing her equilibrium enough for her to step forward onto his toes when she should have been moving back.
‘I can promise I won’t be partaking in spray tans or backcombing my hair and we’ll worry about the gymnastics later. For now just concentrate on the steps.’ The rap on the knuckles came with a grin to take away the sting.
The need for heels soon became apparent as they shifted around the floor. Her steps felt flat-footed compared to the rise and fall of her partner’s and she found herself tottering on tiptoe trying to match his easy rhythm. It was safe to say Mollie Forrester had finally moved out of her comfort zone and survived. She’d found something to make her heart race that didn’t involve fixing other people. Right now she felt as though she was doing something fun for herself.
* * *
Ben needed the refresher lesson as much as his partner. It had been quite some time since he’d tripped the light fantastic and he hadn’t seen his grandad dance since his grandmother passed away eight years ago. Her death from cancer had hit them both hard and even prompted Ben’s move towards the hospital field he worked in now. Unfortunately, that time had also seemed to mark the beginning of his grandfather’s health problems. Dancing with Mollie had managed to give them both a much-needed boost. He just wished she were enjoying it as much as he was instead of tensing every time he touched her.
‘So, uh, what was it you heard about me that made you think I was a stickler for the rules?’ The question had clearly been hovering on Mollie’s lips since he’d let that slip. He knew how inaccurate and hurtful rumours could be and he should never have opened his mouth when it became apparent she was no more of an ice queen than he was a philanderer.
‘It was nothing sinister, don’t worry. I’ve simply heard it said you don’t tend to socialise outside working hours or generally stand any nonsense.’ That was the best way he could think to phrase it. She was friendly and efficient but it was thought she didn’t like to stray too far from the rules. That droll sense of humour of hers could easily be misconstrued by someone who didn’t appreciate it, but from his own experiences over these past couple of nights he couldn’t help but wonder if it was her way of covering her nerves when she wasn’t one hundred per cent comfortable in certain situations.
A paranoid partner was the last thing he needed when he was trying to get her to relax. She was already hesitant in the basic steps, as though she didn’t have any confidence in her abilities to master the simplest move. Part of becoming a dancer was making it look effortless, as if you weren’t thinking ahead to the next step or counting the tempo in your head. The last time he’d seen her absent of worry had been under his grandfather’s influence. He wanted to see her happy and, more than that, he wanted to be the one to put the smile on her face.
Ben took a stride out of their assigned box area and began to spin her around the perimeter of the room.
‘What are you doing?’ she gasped, trying to keep up with him.
‘Trying to get you to stop overthinking everything, to just feel the music.’ They continued to cover the floor until the song finished and he ended the rogue routine with a dip.
‘See, you’re more flexible than you thought,’ he said, tipping her back in an attempt to extract that same breathless laugh his grandfather had drawn from her. Instead, as Ben leaned over her, her lips parted in surprise and her eyes darkened with something more dangerous to his well-being than laughter.
The CD finished, leaving only the sound of their breathing to break the silence in the room. All logical thought had vanished from his head so he couldn’t form a sentence even if he tried. How could anyone have believed this woman cold when the heat between them was making him sweat?
The shrill interruption of a mobile phone ringing thankfully saved him before the moment became even more uncomfortable for either of them. He snapped back upright, bringing Mollie with him.
‘You should get that.’ It was only when she pushed him back in the direction of the ringing, he realised it was coming from his jacket.
‘Excuse me.’ He was thankful for a reason to turn away from her so he could get his thoughts under control. It wasn’t as though he’d never danced with a beautiful woman, but he hadn’t anticipated an attraction to this particular partner.
He swiped his thumb across the screen to accept the call, his forehead creasing into a frown when he saw who it was calling.
‘Hi, Amy. Is everything all right?’ She’d been happy to stay with his grandfather tonight to leave him free for this dance rehearsal, but now guilt immediately swamped him with the notion something had happened while he’d been showing off up here with Mollie and thinking about how good she felt in his arms.
Sometimes he imagined this was what parenthood was like—stressful and impossible to escape once you’d committed to it. He’d become a father to a seventy-three-year-old man.
‘Not really. I was making Hugh a cup of tea. One minute he was happily sitting watching TV and the next minute he was gone.’ Anxiety quivered in Amy’s voice and Ben’s stomach dropped into the shoes he’d spent much too long polishing when goodness knew what had happened to his grandfather.
‘What do you mean “gone”?’ There were so many disturbing definitions of that word when associated with a man of his age, none of which Ben wanted to contemplate.
‘The front door is lying wide open and I can’t find him anywhere in the building. I’m so sorry, Ben. I only turned my back for a minute.’ The hiccup in Amy’s voice made her distress clear but none of this could’ve been anticipated. If either of them had imagined his grandfather wandering off a possibility they would’ve been more security conscious.
‘Okay. Have you reported it to anyone?’ They needed to think about this logically and take practical steps to find him.
‘No. It’s literally just happened.’ Amy wasn’t usually one prone to panic, which had made her the ideal candidate for the job in the first place, and Ben didn’t know how he would cope without her.
‘In that case he couldn’t have got very far. Knock on the neighbours’ doors and check if anyone’s seen him and I’ll jump in the car and take a spin around the neighbourhood. What’s he wearing?’
‘That’s just it—he was only wearing his pyjamas and his slippers when I saw him last.’
That made him more vulnerable than ever. Not only did it mean he was in a more confused state than usual, but he was also exposed to the elements. Now the summer was at an end those cold, dark nights were beginning to draw in and flimsy nightwear was not adequate protection from the chill of September. Neither was walking the streets in his pyjamas the act of a man who’d always taken pride in his appearance, insisting a doctor had to look respectable to earn respect.
‘I’ll be there in five minutes. Don’t worry, we’ll find him.’ He ended the call, aware that Mollie had walked towards him during the course of the telephone conversation. It would’ve been impossible for her not to have overheard, or get the gist of the crisis currently going on. Given the look of concern on her face, she wanted to help whatever way she could, but Ben had to make the decision whether or not that was one step too far into his personal life.
‘Is everything all right?’ Mollie touched him lightly on the arm in a gesture of support he wasn’t prepared for but appreciated all the same. There hadn’t been anyone else other than Amy to offer him any comfort recently and she was paid to help.
‘It’s my grandad... He’s gone missing. I’m sorry, I have to go.’ He didn’t want to waste any time trying to think of a cover story when the basic facts gave him reason enough to turn the lights out and start locking up.
‘Can I help?’ Mollie shrugged on her jacket and jogged down the stairs after him.
‘Thanks, but I’m sure we’ll manage.’ He’d learned, when it came to ailing pensioners, most people usually only offered their services out of politeness, so few following up on any promises it had become second nature to decline and save them all the bother of pretending. It was at this point alleged good Samaritans took their leave, conscience salved, never to be seen again. He hadn’t expected to find her still standing on the pavement after he’d closed the shutters.
‘Surely two sets of eyes are better than one? When and where was he last seen?’ In complete contrast to last night when she couldn’t seem to get away quickly enough, she followed him to the car park at the back of the shop. It crossed Ben’s mind that perhaps she was one of those people with a knight-in-shining-armour complex—or in this case a nurse-in-shiny-red-lipstick—who simply thrived on being needed.
The uncharitable thought was quickly wiped from his mind when he saw her uploading a map to the phone in her hand. She was taking this seriously.
‘At home.’
Mollie’s frown was the last thing Ben saw before he jumped into the car. He could’ve driven away and left her wondering how on earth a man in his seventies could get lost in his own house. It would be easier than opening up and having to explain exactly what was going on in his life.
This dance thing was only supposed to be a bit of fun to raise money, not an invitation for someone he hardly knew to pry into his personal business. It was only night one and she was already showing an interest in the area of his personal life he guarded most closely. He was wary of letting anyone breach those defences again after Penny had so cruelly abandoned him and his grandfather when things got tough.
Yet he still found himself stretching across the car to open the passenger door for Mollie; that strong pull of wanting to have her near greater than his need for privacy in this moment of crisis.
&
nbsp; She peeked her head through the door, as though still waiting for confirmation she was welcome to join the search.
‘You’re right, two heads have got to be better than one,’ he conceded, trying to convince himself this was about what was best for his grandfather, not him.
‘Does he live far from here? Could he be on his way here?’ Mollie was already scanning the dark streets as she put her seat belt on and it wouldn’t have been a bad theory if not for the fact he would’ve had to get on public transport to get here. Even in this day and age, Ben would like to think a frail man in his pyjamas would warrant some help in the city before he got this far. Unfortunately, the apartment was in a more secluded area where he might not be spotted so easily.
‘I think it’s too far for him to have come in such a short space of time.’
‘Was that your grandmother on the phone? I’m sure she’s worried sick.’
‘No...er...she passed some time ago. That was Amy. She helps me look after him. He gets a bit...confused sometimes.’ There really was no way of explaining this without referencing his grandfather’s ill health otherwise he just came across as an overprotective control freak.
‘Does he live on his own?’
‘Not any more. He moved in with me just over a year ago.’ He let the implication of that sink in as they drove ever closer to the place he called home. Far from the carefree bachelor he was rumoured to be, he was in fact a man with a dependent relative in tow. It was unfortunate that by revealing this snippet of information, he’d proved how inept he still was at keeping him safe.
‘Wow. That must have been difficult for you.’
Ben shrugged. ‘Not any more than it was for him. He’s always been such a strong, independent man it wasn’t easy for him to give up his home.’
It was frightening being ripped away from everything you’d ever known and deliver control of your life into someone else’s hands. He’d gone through it himself as a kid, having to accept a sudden change of circumstance and leap into the unknown praying it would work out. It had taken faith and a lot of trust that someone who loved him would only have his best interests at heart and it was ironic—if more than a little cruel—that more than twenty years later the situations had been reversed. Ben only wanted to do the best for his grandfather, even if they could never hope to have the happy ending he’d had as a boy. Dementia would never allow it.
