‘Your sister - she spoke to me when I rang the other day?’
‘That’s right. There’s three of us here - my sister, her husband, and me. I tell you what. Try arranging some lessons, then come to one of the dancing sessions, we get a pleasant crowd and most are at different stages of learning. They would make you very welcome. Wednesday afternoons would be best - not so many come then as on Saturdays.’
‘Ah, Wednesdays might be a problem. I’m at College, you see, and though we don’t usually have lectures on a Wednesday afternoon, I’m not sure I could get away. I’ll have to find out as soon as term begins.’
But I booked my second lesson a few days ahead and soon was on my way home feeling extremely pleased with myself. To be able to dance at last - the prospect filled me with great excitement and considerable relief. I crowed over Malcolm the next week.
‘Man, you don’t know what you’re missing. The lessons are absolutely great.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Sure - and my teacher. Oh boy! Fat and forty indeed!’
‘You’re really taken with it aren’t you, Nigel? Perhaps I’d better put it to the test.’
‘That’s great. I’m sure you’d enjoy it. She really knows her stuff. Not just the dancing, she’s superb at that, of course, but she’s such an excellent teacher. Puts you at your ease, gives you confidence, makes you feel successful. Makes you work hard as well.’
‘Sounds a teaching paragon. The VP would be proud of her.’
Very shortly afterwards Malcolm told me he’d signed up for a course. I said I was going to charge commission. Then we discovered how much more relaxed the College regime was going to be under the new Principal, so I put it to Malcolm that we might try attending the Wednesday afternoon sessions at Fernley Dance Studio. He agreed and as soon as we had covered half our course of lessons we made our first serious foray into the dancing world.
We arrived early on the first occasion, climbed the long flight of stairs, entered the studio and sat in splendid isolation in the middle of the vacant chairs arranged in a crescent beside the windows. Our teacher appeared shortly afterwards, looking as radiant as ever, and introduced us to two people with her as her older sister and brother-in-law. These were, in fact, the joint proprietors.
‘Glad to see you’re well on time,’ said our teacher. ‘The others will be coming in a few minutes, I expect. There’ll be about twenty, you’ll find everyone very friendly, so don’t look so worried!’
We laughed, but our fears remained. What was bothering us, in addition to the ,possibility of making fools of ourselves with mistakes in dancing, was the kind of dancing partners we were likely to get. My girlfriend, Kim, was at work and so was Malcolm’s; so neither could accompany us. It was not difficult to calculate that out of twenty clients attending the session, ten or twelve at least were likely to be female.
‘That’s five or six apiece,’ I said. ‘Surely it’s odds on there’ll be a young one for each of us.’
‘I wouldn’t bank on it. Don’t forget, Wednesday afternoons, how many girls are likely to be free to go dancing at this time?’
I thought desperately. ‘Shop assistants - it’s early closing day. This is a large shopping area, there must be plenty who’d be bored stiff without this place.’
‘Optimist - then why isn’t it going to be crowded?’
Our argument was cut short by the first arrivals and I had to admit the matter appeared settled firmly in Malcolm’s favour, if not his desire. The clients, whilst not exactly elderly, were mature to say the least. As they arrived in ones and twos our eyes shot to the door each time, only to meet as we silently commented on the degree of middle aged spread evident in the women as well as the men.
‘I don’t think I’ll be making this a regular thing after all,’ I whispered. ‘I wonder if I could persuade Kim to come on Saturday evenings instead.’
‘Ah, now that’s better,’ said Malcolm looking at the latest arrivals.’ These were two girls about eighteen who, whilst not absolutely stunning, were interesting enough to revive our flagging spirits. They sat down together and started animated conversation.
‘Good afternoon, everyone. Let’s begin, shall we? All take your partners fora Quickstep.’
The male proprietor’s voice was pleasant but definite. He was issuing an instruction, not asking a question. Malcolm and I looked briefly at each other and nodded. We rose simultaneously, crossed the room and I asked the girl on the left and he asked the one on the right. Both rewarded us with welcoming smiles and that was that.
We acted with courage born of desperation. With our background neither of us was inclined to be quick off the mark in such affairs. Fate smiled on us because we automatically went for the girl of our choice. It would have been acutely embarrassing had we both made a beeline for the same girl.
We soon found the girl I was dancing with was named Pat and Malcolm’s was Sheila. They were indeed shop assistants; they served in one of the suburbs. Pat was fairly tall, Sheila slightly shorter; boh were brunettes. They had been to the studio twice before and danced with each other most of the time, which wasn’t difficult because the women outnumbered the men. But looking round at the representatives of our sex we appreciated they had a similar problem to ours.
The girls could certainly dance better than either of us but they also were learning. Half way through the session the proprietor and his wife taught a new figure of the Foxtrot, the dance which was being taught weekly to the group. Neither Malcolm nor I had got on to that in our lessons and we were very grateful for the help that Pat and Sheila gave us but, of course, neither was as skilled as our personal tutor who took it in turns to dance with us on occasions during the session. When the end came we both left thoroughly pleased and made firm dates with the girls for each Wednesday throughout the term.
From then onwards our dancing education proceeded smoothly, albeit to a modest level. It was very enjoyable and soon we were taking our regular girlfriends to occasional Dances of various kinds, trying out our new skills on them with reasonable success.
Then I let the whole dancing business go completely to my head. In a moment of monumental crass stupidity I arranged to take two girls to the same dance!
It happened so innocuously. Gordon Mersely announced one day that he had a small number of spare tickets for a Dance at a church hall on the south side of the city, where he lived, to which he was taking his girl Wendy. These were snapped up quickly, Malcolm and I being two of the takers. Naturally he would be taking Melanie, his girl, and I intended taking Kim. Gordon was delighted.
‘We’ll have a super group. I prefer that sometimes as a change from going just as a pair.’
I suppose it was the notion of a group that penetrated my brain. On my next visit to the Wednesday session at Fernley I mentioned the matter to Pat in casual conversation.
‘I’m going to get in more practice on Saturday. One of the chaps at College had some spare tickets for a Dance, so a group of us are going.’
‘You are doing well. Where’s it to be?’
St. Saviour’s Church Hall. I don’t expect you know it.’
‘What a coincidence: I live not far from there. In fact when I attend Church, that’s where I go usually. I heard about the Dance, a friend of mine offered me a ticket as well.’
‘That’s amazing,’ I said. Then, unthinkingly, ‘Why don’t you go?’
‘Alright, I will. Thanks. I’ll get the ticket tonight.’
Afterwards I told Malcolm of Pat’s link with St. Saviour’s and my suggestion. ‘Why don’t you ask Sheila to join the party?’
‘But I’m taking Melanie, you chump.’
‘So what? I’m taking Kim. But we’ll all be in a crowd, so it won’t matter.’
‘Of course it will. Everyone will pair off. Who’d dance with Sheila whilst I’m
dancing with Melanie and who’d dance with Pat when you’re dancing with Kim? You’ve given yourself quite a problem.’
‘Nonsense, it won’t be like that at all. She knows other people there - one of them offered her a ticket only this week. Obviously she’ll go with him, but she won’t dance with him the whole time.’
‘You’re sure her friend is a bloke?’
‘Of course....well....yes, I’m almost sure from the way she said it.’
‘You should have checked, you twerp.’
Slowly it dawned on me that I couldn’t check my facts now, even if I’d dared to do so, because I had no idea of Pat’s address. Neither did I know where either she or Sheila worked. As Malcolm’s words sank in and caused more nagging doubts, I telephoned Fernley with my problem.
‘Yes, I do see your difficulty,’ said the male proprietor. ‘However, it’s our firm rule that we never disclose clients’ addresses to anyone, not even to other clients. It preserves our confidential service, you see. Normally I could pass on a message for you but the person you mention is not on the telephone.’
‘But don’t you know where she works? You could telephone her there.’
‘No, we certainly do not ask clients for business addresses. I’m sorry Mr Flaxton, there’s nothing I can do.’
I put the phone down and decided to pin my hopes on this being another example of Malc’s pessimism. I pondered whether I should tell Kim, then took the further decision to await the Fates’ smile again. Perhaps, though, they’d need to grin expansively to rescue me from this piece of idiocy. When Saturday came I met Kim in town as arranged and together we boarded a bus for St. Saviour’s Hall. As we sat on the top deck I felt rather subdued.
‘You’re unusually quiet, Nigel. Aren’t you feeling too well?’ Kim asked.
‘No, I’m fine, really. I was thinking.’
‘I suppose you’ve got your mind on your next school practice. For goodness’ sake, forget it for a while. Tell me about this Dance. So far you’ve only told me where it’s being held.’
‘Well, I don’t know too much about it myself. Gordon got the tickets and quite a number of us are going. We thought it would be rather fun to go in a bit of a crowd for a change.’
Kim gave me a slightly odd look. ‘That’s not like you at all. Usually you have to be dragged on the floor if you think there’s a chance you’ll have to dance with someone you don’t know.’
‘Ah, this’ll be different. I know most of the other chaps’ girlfriends. It’ll help to widen my experience and you’ll be quite happy dancing with the lads because you can dance with anyone.’
It was Kim’s turn to be quiet. I noticed she was looking out of the window with a rather cold stare. I decided to drop a hint about Pat.
‘Er, rather a coincidence happened last Wednesday. You know I’ve told you about Pat, the girl I sometimes dance with at the Studio....well, she lives quite near St. Saviour’s Hall. She’s going as well. Some friends of hers offered her a ticket.’
Kim’s glance now was arctic but still she said nothing. Shortly afterwards when we stood up to get off the bus she was frowning deeply. As we walked the short distance to the hall I joined her in silence because I was beginning to feel that perhaps, after all, Malcolm was right. We parted just inside the hall and made our way to our respective cloakrooms where we left our coats. I went back into the small entrance vestibule to wait for Kim. It was becoming crowded.
‘Hello, Nigel, you found the place, then?’ called a voice in the crush as Gordon pushed his way towards me, followed closely by Wendy. ‘Two or three of the others are here already. They’ve gone in. Where’ s Kim?’
‘She’s just coming,’ I replied as Kim emerged from the cloakroom.
‘‘Let’s go in, the others will join us in a moment.’
He opened up a path through the throng with his left shoulder and guided Wendy along behind him towards double doors which led into the hall.
‘Come on, Nigel, get me out of this,’ said a voice under my elbow. Kim, rather small, was having a rough time in the crowd. Quickly I held her arm and followed Gordon’s lead. We emerged in the hall to welcome breathing space. Gordon and Wendy walked ahead to join the other St. Andrew’s chaps and their girls, so Kim and I followed. Four musicians played in desultory fashion on the small stage, knowing perfectly well no one would start dancing yet. We introduced our girls to those students they didn’t already know and then sat down. The chairs, as usual at such events, were arranged in a single line all the way round the edge of the room. As I sat by Kim it became perfectly obvious that our group comprised paired units so if Pat arrived unaccompanied I was going to have a whale of a problem on my hands: I tried glancing at the door as nonchalantly as I could to see whether she had arrived yet. Kim sensed what I was doing.
‘Nigel.’ she said, with mock sweetness. ‘You’ve put your foot in it, haven’t you?’
‘Er....no....I don’t think so. That is, I’m sure Pat meant she was coming with some other people and I simply said that it would be nice to see her here. At least, that’s what I meant.’
‘But you’re not sure, are you?’
‘Well....er....to be honest, no. You see she mentioned being offered a ticket by a friend and I assumed she meant a boyfriend. I didn’t give it a second thought until Malcolm....’
My excuses were cut short as the tall figure of Pat appeared framed in the doorway. She was looking round the room, now almost full with groups of people sitting or standing and talking to each other. She was obviously looking for someone. Desperately I scanned the company, urging some unseen figure to detach himself from one.of the knots of people and cross the floor to welcome her. But no one took the slightest notice. Then she saw me. Immediately she smiled, waved and came towards me. I stood up.
‘Hello Nigel, I couldn’t see you at first. I thought perhaps you were even later than me.’
‘Er, no, we’ve been here a few minutes. Er, you know Malcolm, of course. This is Melanie, and Gordon, and Wendy.’ I quickly performed the necessary introductions.
‘And this is Kim,’ I concluded.
Kim rose, and faced her. Their difference in height didn’t help the moment one little bit, neither did the awkward silence which settled on our group as its members watched in fascination, all fully apprised of my stupidity.
‘Kim....your girl....?’ Pat’s expression changed to one of amazed incredulity.
‘Hello, Pat.’ said Kim. ‘Yes, you may have heard about me. I think I’d better ask the direct question. Were you expecting to be at this dance with Nigel?’
‘Yes, I was. He said a group of students were coming from St. Andrew’s, and then he invited me.’ She paused. ‘At least, that’s what I thought he did.’
‘Oh, I’m sure he did - in a vague way. But he does have some remarkably blank moments, sometimes. You see, he invited me some time ago.’
‘Now look....I’m awfully sorry....I didn’t think it would be....’ I tried.
‘No, my sweet,’ said Kim in her deliberately prim voice, ‘you don’t think, do you? Come on, Pat, let’s sit down, shall we?’
‘No, maybe I made a mistake as well. It’ll be simpler if I go. I don’t want to....’
‘Oh no, don’t go - that would let Nigel off far too lightly.’ She took Pat by the arm and sat her down. Then she looked up at me. ‘He’s mad keen to practise his dancing, so let’s take it in turns to make him work at it, shall we?’
The rest of the group sat back and relaxed. They thoroughly approved of Kim’s handling of the matter and were happy to see me get my deserts.
‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to St. Saviour’s. We’re very pleased there’s been such an excellent response to this event which has been arranged in aid of the Church Restoration Fund.’ The MC’s announcement brought a hush to the room. �
�I hope you’ll all have a most enjoyable evening. Now, let’s begin the way we mean to continue, shall we? Let’s see you all on the floor for the opening Quickstep. Thank you.’
The quartet on the stage struck up in lively fashion and within seconds the floor was filled with couples, leaving the chairs almost completely empty. Our group responded to the MC’s instruction in exemplary fashion, with the sole exception of me. I was still standing, staring down at Kim and Pat.
‘Well,’ challenged Kim, ‘which of us is going to be honoured first, Nigel?’
‘Er....’
‘Oh, go on, you idiot. Take Pat. I’ll watch, and give you marks out of ten on your progress.’
What else could I do? I stumbled round the room with a very straightfaced Pat, desperately trying to apologise whilst simultaneously wrestling with quarter turns, natural turns and reverse turns. My shirt became distinctly sticky. Suddenly the music stopped. I dropped my arms from Pat far too rapidly and we walked back in silence to Kim.
‘I’ll only give you three for that, Nigel. You have a rest, Pat, while I put him through his paces in the Waltz.’
The MC really hadn’t given people time to sit down. Delighted with a good initial response he wanted to keep up the momentum. Within seconds Kim was swinging me out of trouble’s way as much as she could as I tried to make further excuses to her, getting thoroughly bumped in the process. My mind became a whirl of black feet on white feet and simply refused to slot into the melting movements of dance with my Fernley teacher. We circumnavigated the room like dodgems at a fair.
A Paul Jones was announced. For once I joined in with alacrity because, even in my bemused state, I could work out the arithmetical fact that this obliterated ordinary pairing and both Pat and Kim would keep getting partners. It was worth braving my fear of dances I didn’t know with strange partners of disparate ages with holds ranging from weak and droopy to judo attacks. This time was no exception and I was pushed and mauled by matronly hands in the Veleta, Gay Gordons and Military Two Step, whilst I struggled hopelessly to guide unknown feet in the other dances. Each time partners tried to make light conversation with me but failed as abysmally as I did with the dancing. By the time everyone was performing hilariously in a Knees Up, I was as miserable as sin.
Greetings Noble Sir Page 17
