Breaking the Ice

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘I’m sorry about earlier, about the coughing and the laughing and for what I said - you know - the rehab thing,’ Samantha blurted out, her temperature rising and the headache returning.

  ‘Come and skate with me,’ Jimmy urged her and he took hold of her hand.

  His hand was firm and warm and not unpleasant to hold. He was coaxing her back onto the ice, smiling. She didn’t want to offend him, it would be rude to be rude and she kind of knew him. It wouldn’t be like touching the fingers of an acne-faced Tesco employee.

  She stepped back onto the ice and let him lead her back into skating around the rink.

  ‘So did you enjoy the show?’ Jimmy enquired as he let go of her hand and they skated alongside each other.

  ‘Well obviously, for the most part, I had to pay attention to the audience - to ensure there were no breaches of Civic Hall regulations. But what I did see was very entertaining,’ Samantha replied.

  Jimmy laughed out loud at her response. It was a nice laugh, warm and deep and it made his eyes wrinkle at the edges.

  ‘What?’ Samantha queried, unaware she had said anything to provoke laughter.

  ‘I really don’t know whether you’re being serious or not,’ Jimmy told her.

  Samantha didn’t reply, she didn’t like being laughed at, even if it was a nice laugh. And she really didn’t know what she was doing skating round a temporary ice rink after midnight with a man.

  ‘Hey, I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I understand, your job means a lot to you,’ Jimmy spoke, reaching out to catch her hand as they turned a corner.

  ‘I think I ought to see if Milo’s finished clearing up the bar. He might need some help,’ Samantha said, pulling her arm away, ensuring her hand was well out of his reach.

  ‘Don’t go. Come on, let me teach you some stuff. I meant it this morning when I said you were a natural skater,’ Jimmy insisted, moving in front of her and blocking her path to the exit.

  ‘I really don’t have time and I have to lock up. You can’t stay here either. We have to close by a certain time or we’re contravening our contract with the council,’ Samantha informed him in a serious voice.

  ‘Blame it on me. I’m Canadian, what would I know about local council regulations?’ Jimmy responded.

  ‘I know about them and I know you’re here. Milo shouldn’t have let you in, I’ll have to speak to him about that,’ Samantha continued, feeling herself getting more and more flustered as she attempted to skate around him to the safety of solid, un-slippery ground.

  ‘I did almost have to beg. I left my hotel key card in the dressing room. But then I saw the lights were still on and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to put in some extra practice so I laced up and came out here,’ Jimmy spoke, spinning around in front of her so she was unable to get past.

  ‘I really have to go, Cleo will be…’ Samantha started, her head thumping and her heart racing.

  ‘Tucking into a chicken vindaloo about now,’ Jimmy answered.

  ‘She’ll worry if I’m not there when she gets home,’ Samantha insisted.

  ‘Half an hour’s skating and I’ll drive you home. Come on, humour me,’ Jimmy bargained, moving to block her exit again.

  ‘No, I’ve got to go. Milo will be expecting me to be through soon to set the alarm system,’ Samantha babbled, trying desperately not to look at him.

  All she could see were the chocolate eyes and the warm smile, the chiselled cheekbones and the firm jaw. And it was then it hit her, full on, like an out of control train she hadn’t seen coming. The truth was she found him undeniably attractive. She couldn’t stop looking at him because she thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Incomparable with Thomas Clancy, at least a thousand leagues above. This famous skater, someone who Cleo fancied, someone who had bedded an array of women, someone who’d been to rehab, she found him attractive too, just like everyone else. It was the most outrageous suggestion but she couldn’t deny it. That was the cause of her headaches and the sweats and the panic. She had a crush on Jimmy Lloyd.

  The jolt of this realisation made her physically reel backwards on her skates. She wobbled and Jimmy swiftly reached out and grabbed both her arms to stop her from falling down.

  ‘Whoa! You OK?’ Jimmy asked as he held her arms and steadied her.

  ‘I’m fine, I have to go. I need to secure the building,’ Samantha spoke hurriedly as the lightheaded feeling returned.

  She pushed off swiftly on her skates, made it to the side of the rink and hopped off the ice. She tottered over to where she’d left her shoes and the rubbish bags, and began hastily unlacing her boots. She had to go home, she had to get out of the arena and away from him. She’d have to leave Milo to drink himself into a stupor and hope he remembered to lock up. She couldn’t stay behind a second longer, not one second.

  ‘OK, listen, we don’t start rehearsals until ten tomorrow. If you want to learn some moves, I’ll be here from eight,’ Jimmy called to her as he watched her remove her boots.

  ‘Oh I won’t be here that early tomorrow. I have - I have stuff to do first thing,’ Samantha responded, not daring to raise her face to look at him.

  ‘Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be here,’ Jimmy repeated.

  ‘Goodnight,’ Samantha answered briefly and she practically ran along the front of the seats, trailing the three full bin bags behind her.

  Six

  Samantha heard Cleo scream out loud at just after 7.30am. Cleo didn’t have an alarm clock. Ordinarily, Samantha was up as soon as it was light outside. She usually showered, went downstairs, made a drink and had some breakfast. Then she made the packed lunches. At just after 7.00am she always took a cup of herbal tea to Cleo, unless the crystals on the door handle told her not to. But today was different, today Samantha hadn’t woken up at dawn because she hadn’t actually been to sleep. She was led on her bed, still dressed in her Civic Hall uniform. Her eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep and she still had a horrendous headache.

  She’d got home at 12.45am, feeling like her head was going to burst. She’d hurried up to her room and started rifling through the pile of Star Life magazines she kept on the bottom of her bookcase. She was looking for evidence of her insanity. She was looking for any articles she could find on Jimmy to prove his complete unsuitability as an object of her affection. She found three.

  One was an article about him attending a film premiere a year ago. In the picture he was dressed in a tuxedo, accompanied by well known actress and complete floozy, Hilary Polar. She was barely wearing anything in the photo and seemed to have a vice like clamp on Jimmy’s arm. They were both smiling, their matching perfect, white teeth gleaming like ice caps. The article attached listed almost fifteen women that Jimmy had been ‘connected’ with over the last two years. Reason one for unsuitability - he was nothing but a gigolo.

  The second report she’d found was nine months old. It was a montage of photos of Jimmy falling out of various nightclubs and bars in the US. The article with the pictures commented on his excessive drinking and general bad behaviour. Reason two for unsuitability - nothing more than a drunken thug.

  The third report, only six months old, stated that he had spent two months in a rehab clinic for alcohol addiction. The picture tagged to the article was of Jimmy leaving the Freedom Vale Rehabilitation Centre, looking how he looked now. Toned in body, fresh faced, handsome and chocolate eyed. Reason three for unsuitability - good enough to eat, makes your heart leap when he touches you, no that wasn’t right that was a pro not a con. Well, unless you didn’t like your heart leaping. She was undecided.

  She didn’t know why she didn’t remember seeing the articles the first time she looked at Cleo’s magazines. Except that she never would have considered that someone in Star Life magazine would appear at the Civic Hall or that their character would matter to her as much as it seemed to matter now. But the articles were exactly what she needed to see, all in all he was unsuitable, completely not her type. He was the
archetypal celebrity indulging in all the excesses that life offered him. He had slept with more people than Cleo and he was an alcoholic. So why did she feel warm all over the minute she saw him?

  Cleo burst into Samantha’s room, her hair tied up in a dotty scarf, and last night’s mascara heavy round her eyes.

  ‘Have you seen the time?! Why aren’t you up? Where’s my tea?’ Cleo shrieked at her sister.

  ‘Sorry,’ Samantha responded, hurriedly sitting up and pushing the magazines under the bed with her foot.

  Cleo marched into the room and peered at Samantha suspiciously, putting her face right up close to her sister’s.

  ‘Are you ill?’ Cleo wanted to know.

  ‘Yes, maybe, I’m not sure. Sorry about your tea, I…’ Samantha started, not wanting Cleo to ask her too many questions.

  ‘Something’s happened. I can tell when you’re keeping things from me. Something’s happened hasn’t it?’ Cleo said with a nod, still not taking her eyes from her sister.

  ‘No, nothing’s happened. I just overslept that’s all,’ Samantha replied.

  ‘Argh! Oh my God!’ Cleo shrieked, and she grabbed a fistful of Samantha’s Civic Hall polo shirt.

  ‘What’s the matter? What are you doing?’ Samantha demanded to know, trying to pull herself out of Cleo’s clutches.

  ‘This! This is why something has happened! This is last night’s uniform!’ Cleo exclaimed, her eyes wide in horror.

  ‘It isn’t,’ Samantha lied.

  ‘Yes it is. Yesterday was a jumper and polo shirt day and today is a Civic Hall sweatshirt day. I live with you Sam, I know all your completely annoying routines and this is yesterday’s uniform. So spill, what happened last night? Because I know you didn’t go out with Connor. He phoned Jeremy, right in the middle of the main course I might add. Said you rattled on about allergies and fish oils,’ Cleo spoke.

  ‘Nothing happened. The hall was a mess after everyone left. I stayed behind to clean up, I got home late and just got into bed. I didn’t even clean my teeth,’ Samantha informed her, trying to kick a wayward protruding Star Life magazine back under her bed.

  ‘You didn’t clean your teeth? You didn’t gargle with that awful mouthwash stuff you use? Now I know something’s going on. Come on, out with it. You might be making me late but this is serious. You’re not being normal,’ Cleo answered and she sat herself down on the edge of Samantha’s bed.

  ‘I don’t always do the same thing every day,’ Samantha responded, moving a little away from her sister, hoping she hadn’t taken up mind reading.

  ‘Yes you do,’ Cleo insisted.

  ‘I told you. I cleaned up the hall and it was late so I just - you know - crashed,’ Samantha told her, knowing how ridiculous she sounded.

  ‘Oh God, it’s a man! This is man behaviour. This is how you behaved the last time you were interested in someone. This was what you were like when you met that guy from the bookshop, the one with the…’ Cleo began as she became animated.

  ‘Don’t say it!’ Samantha begged, cringing at the thought of the body piercing.

  ‘When you met him you went all weird and started acting out of character and that was when you did a wash without separating the whites. You never do that, ever!’ Cleo reminded her.

  ‘You’re making me sound like some sort of freak,’ Samantha answered, not enjoying hearing her personality analysed.

  ‘So it’s a man. And that’s why you turned down Connor. Why didn’t you tell me you had your eye on someone? Poor Connor, I actually think he was quite interested in you - despite your best attempts to ruin it,’ Cleo continued.

  ‘Connor was very nice but very small. For future reference I really don’t go for men who could jockey greyhounds,’ Samantha told her.

  ‘So who have you gone for then? Who is this mystery man that’s made you throw caution to the wind, go to bed with your clothes on and forget your sisterly duties?’ Cleo demanded to know, jumping up and down on the bed.

  ‘There isn’t any man. I told you, I was just tired. I had worked all day and most of the night,’ Samantha reminded, swallowing as she lied.

  ‘You swallowed, you’re lying. Sam, I know you. You not only have major routines but you have major habits too, ones you can’t control. Swallowing when you’re lying is one of them. Now let’s not spend all morning playing cat and mouse, just get it over with and tell me,’ Cleo ordered, her eyes wide.

  Samantha let out a sigh. There was no use lying to Cleo. She knew her too well and she was like a dog with a bone. Once she latched onto something there was no stopping her.

  ‘OK, there’s a man,’ Samantha admitted bravely, sitting up straight and taking a deep breath.

  ‘Argh! I knew it! Who is it? Do I know him? Tell me! What happened last night?’ Cleo blurted out, pulling the scarf from her hair and twirling it round her hand excitedly.

  ‘Nothing happened last night and you don’t know him,’ Samantha informed, putting her hand up to her throat so Cleo couldn’t see her swallowing.

  ‘So, who is he? I want name and vital statistics,’ Cleo carried on.

  At that moment Darren Jacobs was invented. Samantha made him six foot, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Average looking, a nice pleasant face but not someone Cleo would call ‘drop dead horny’. Even though she was thinking of Jimmy she was trying to depict a handsomed down version of Jason Donovan - although she didn’t really know why. She told Cleo he’d been in the audience and had stayed behind to talk to her after getting chatting while buying a Berry Fruits ice cream in the interval. If only! He worked in the financial sector and lived in the smart area a couple of tube stops away, in one of the expensive apartments that Samantha knew Cleo loved. She embellished the story with details of what he’d been wearing, what car he drove and the fact he’d been accompanied to the show by his seventy five year old mother who was hard of hearing but a big ice skating fan.

  ‘Wow Sam, he sounds fantastic! So when are you seeing him again?’ Cleo asked excitedly.

  ‘Today, maybe. I have his number and he wants me to call,’ Samantha responded with half a smile.

  She almost believed the story herself. Although she wished she’d dressed him in something less bright - a red shirt and chinos made him sound a bit camp.

  ‘Well, I would leave it until lunchtime at least before you ring. You mustn’t seem too keen. That’s the art of seduction, you have to keep them guessing,’ Cleo spoke with a nod of authority.

  ‘Oh I don’t know whether to ring or not. I’m not sure he’s really my type,’ Samantha answered.

  ‘He’s six foot, nice looking and has money - of course he’s your type! Get with the program!’ Cleo ordered her.

  ‘Yeah of course, silly me,’ Samantha said with a nervous laugh.

  ‘Now, now that we’ve got it all out in the open you’d better change into the sweatshirt and go and make me a cup of tea, because otherwise I’m going to be really late and probably lose this job. Do you want to be responsible for me having to go into that horribly dowdy job centre with all the benefit cheats again?’ Cleo spoke, standing up and moving towards the door of Samantha’s room.

  ‘No of course not. I’m getting on to it right now,’ Samantha replied with a false smile, standing up from the bed as well.

  ‘Good and I want an introduction to Darren as soon as the first date is over. And I want all the gory details if you - well you know - if you…’ Cleo spoke, referring to Samantha’s pure status.

  ‘Complete rundown if we go all the way, of course,’ Samantha answered, smiling so much her face was aching.

  Cleo giggled excitedly and then disappeared as swiftly as she had appeared, banging the door loudly behind her.

  Samantha was just about to let out a sigh of relief when Cleo reopened the door and screamed loudly again.

  ‘I almost forgot to tell you! I met Jimmy Lloyd last night! Oh my God, he is so gorgeous and so nice. Chantelle took photos, I almost died!’ Cleo exclaimed, her eyes glazing over a
s if she was reliving the moment.

  ‘That’s nice,’ Samantha responded.

  ‘It was more than nice it was fantastic. The funniest thing though, he knew who I was and he knew your name. Obviously because of that silly name badge you wear, but he remembered it none the less. Actually though, I think he called you Sam,’ Cleo exclaimed, pondering on the fact.

  ‘Well that’s just typical. Can’t even read a name badge properly,’ Samantha remarked quickly with a smile.

  ‘Right, well, I’d better get ready. Any chance of tea in ten minutes?’ Cleo asked, smiling at her sister and leaving the room.

  Once the door was finally closed and she could hear Cleo running the shower Samantha slumped back down on the bed. She was crazy, why had she made up a fictional boyfriend? Nothing had happened last night with anyone. All that had happened was she had come to the devastating realisation she was no different to Cleo and had developed some insane crush on Jimmy Lloyd. She hated herself, she was pathetic. The chocolate eyes and the athletic frame affected her.

  But no more. Now she had spent the entire night reading about his questionable character, no amount of sex appeal was going to make her resolve weaken.

  It was after 9.00am when Samantha arrived at the hall. Gobby was parading up and down outside the front doors, as if waiting for her and when he saw her approach he trotted up to her, clawed at her trousers and began weaving in and out of her legs.

  ‘It’s too early Gobby, there’s no food yet,’ Samantha told the cat, bending down to stroke his back.

  He mewed and nuzzled his mouth against her hand.

  ‘Samantha! What time d’you call this? It’s well after nine. I do trust you’ll be working through your lunch hour to make up the time.’