Page 15 of Dance Dirty With Me

He closes his eyes again and settles down in the grass.

“Back home there was nothing much to do. Those of us who weren’t good at school were just waiting it out until we could leave and do something else. The choices were slim... pit work or go into a trade. We had a youth club where we used to hang out. I think they created it to keep us off the streets and out of trouble, and it mostly worked. They’d try and get us to engage in activities. One year they decided to try theatre, and they put onMe and My Girl. You know, ‘doing the Lambeth Walk.’” He says the last few words with an awful cockney accent and I giggle.

“They brought in a couple of professionals to help us. I guess they wanted to give something back. I couldn’t act but I was interested in dancing. I asked a lot of questions, and learnt all I could from the choreographer who was a former ballroom dancer. She kindly taught me much more than we needed for the production. I learnt all the different dances, the basic and advanced steps, and then how to make routines out of them. After I left school I managed to get a job with a dance troupe, which lasted a few years, but finding work was hard. Then four years ago I managed to get the job at Poplins for the summer season, and I’ve been head of the dance team for the last two years. In the winter I find whatever work I can, but some years are better than others.”

He stays silent for a few minutes as if deep in thought. “I suppose I’ve been lucky, really. At least I haven’t had to work at the pit.”

He turns his head and looks up at me, saying abruptly, “Are you dried out enough?”

I guess he doesn’t want to tell me any more, I nod, and we dress in silence before driving the short distance back to the busy resort.

I’m starting to dream about the dance routine and I’m pretty sure I could do it in my sleep. Dancing it in front of an audience is a different matter, though, and I try not to let those thoughts crowd into my head as I make my way to the studio. We only have a couple of days left until the show, and although we practiced the lifts in the sea yesterday, we still have to try them for real.

I half run along the path. I’m late, as it’s been getting harder to get away from my family. Another lie about joining a treasure hunt did the trick this time, which narrowly got me out of joining them for tennis.

Of course, dreaming about dancing has kept Johnny firmly in my mind, and the thought of being near him again is another reason that spurs me on. I’m excited to see him, to be in his arms even for a little while, so by the time I stumble through the door to the dance studio, I’m breathless and already sweating. Two startled faces look up at me. Penny’s presenceinstantly brings me crashing back to earth that this isn’t about me dancing with Johnny and being near him. This is about me doing a favour for Penny. I take a deep breath to steady myself.

“Sorry.” I grimace. “I thought I might have had to spend the morning making up a double for tennis.”

Penny laughs and comes over to me. She takes my hands and pulls me into the middle of the room. “Johnny says you’re doing well with the routine but we thought it was time to teach you a few flourishes to dance more like a woman.”

Oh! My cheeks burn. I’d been so caught up in enjoying the dancing I’d forgotten that aspect of it—that I was supposed to be passing as Penny. Now I feel like a fool.

“Don’t worry.” Penny smiles encouragingly at my embarrassment. “You’ll be fine.”

She releases my hands and walks over to the chairs, then comes back with a bundle of soft looking material. When she holds it up I see it’s a skirt.

“Here, put this on,” she says.

I gulp. She wants me to wear it?

“I can’t wear that,” I blurt out and she presses her lips together.

“You’re supposed to be me. What did you think you were going to wear?”

She has a point and I take it off her, then I turn my back on them both as I slip it on over my shorts. I smooth it down with my hands. It’s made up of layers of a chiffon material, something very much like my sister would wear. I look up and catch sight of myself in the mirror. It looks odd to me; I don’t look like myself. It’s like I’ve become someonedifferent. I twist a little from side to side, watching the skirt billow and swish. It’s not unpleasant, but it does feel odd.

“Very fetching.” I catch sight of Johnny’s smirk in the mirror and a chill runs through my veins. Clearly he thinks I look ridiculous in it, and I’m embarrassed he thinks that way.

“Johnny,” Penny growls, and I hear him utter a sorry, but it’s too late. Any joy I had of seeing him again today, or the tiny dream I harbour—the one in which he might like me too—is extinguished.

“Let’s just get this done,” I grind out. I’m not giving up on Penny, but now she’s the only reason keeping me from walking out the door.

We start dancing, and at first it feels stiff and forced, but Penny’s behind me, one hand on my hip and the other on my back. She adds encouragement and a few corrections, and eventually I begin to relax. She calls a break and I go to grab a glass of water. I see Penny talking with Johnny and then he walks over to me.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I wasn’t making fun of you.”

“Did Penny make you come over and say that?” I ask bitterly, and the look on his face tells me the truth. “Forget it,” I say, turning away from him, but he catches my arm and swivels me back to face him.

“I mean it. I’m sorry.” He looks down at the skirt and back at my face. A deep, unfathomable look crosses his face and my heart beats a little faster.

“Have you never seen a bloke in a dress before?” I squeak, trying to sound casual.

“None that look like you.” His voice is low and husky, butbefore I can try to work out what he means he drops my arm and walks back to the centre of the room.

“Let’s go through it again,” he says, still with a hint of huskiness in his voice.

We dance through the routine a couple more times and I only manage the lift on one of them, but Johnny tells me not to worry, that it’ll be different on the night.

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