Page 10 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
Her face had lit up when I described it as a welly-wallowing-wet-wonderland.
‘So, let me get this straight. We’ll be staying in tents among crowds of people, with barely any facilities, in the mud and the rain?’
‘All that and worse. But there’s music, dancing,atmosphere… Oh, and Kylie…’
‘Kylie? Deal breaker. OK, yes.’
‘Really?’
‘We’d love to come. The twins’ll be so excited, and Vince is away on a work trip.’
That was the first I’d heard of the bloke. I’d been chatting to Monica intermittently for maybe six months and she’d never mentioned him before. Anyway, our kids – pre-teen – adored the freedom of the festival and we all got on famously. The weather was phenomenal – dry and hot – and Monica and I laughed the entire weekend. It was the start of our close friendship. We would’ve gone every year since, but sadly the pandemic put paid to that and we couldn’t get tickets to the ones since.
Kylie’s “Spinning Around” plays in my head and I can picture Will, Joanne, James, Monica, and myself all copying the moves of Kylie’s stage dancers with thousands of others. We still jump to our feet every time we hear it to relive the moment.
A cool breeze prompts goosebumps, and I come back to the present, opening my eyes to see a threatening cloud starting to blot out the sun. I head indoors, downing my remaining coffee.
I can’t think of a better mate than Monica. I can tell her anything. If it hadn’t been for our lads accidentally swapping mud-covered PE kits at school, I’m not sure we would’ve ever spoken. At first, I was a little wary of her. I mean, it’s slightly intimidating to be with someone who looks so perfect, but once we got into conversation, she and I just gelled.
Monica introduced me to Clarissa’s dance class. Lady C might be somewhat regal, but her careful tuition and attention to detail has transformed my dancing. It’s going to be great to be performing on stage in Paris.
I wonder why Monica cancelled on me this morning. Her text was brief.
Do not come to my house.
She would only ward me off if Vince had arrived home early. He must know she’s discovered what he’s been up to. The bastard. She needs to kick him out.
Hopefully, she’ll phone soon, but I know better than to try calling when she’s having it out with him. Besides, if she doesn’t manage to send a message, we’ll be able to catch up before dance tomorrow when she picks me up.
Monica deserves someone way better than Vince. Would I like to give him a piece of my mind…? I furrow my brows. I can’t picture him. He’s never at the school – Monica does all the parents’ evenings and events – and I never go over if he’s at home. It struck me as odd at first, but we got in the habit of it just being us and I never thought any more about it. Well, I hope for Monica’s sake, he goes quietly. In her shoes, I’d ditch the crappy husband and, come to think of it, the crappy job; she’s paid an absolute pittance for her incredible wedding dress designs.
Talking of crappy jobs, I must go back to my laptop and work on this groan-worthy presentation. Time to put aside the true Ruby. My team will see the efficient business-like, down-to-earth Ms Anderson.
I glance at my phone to see if Monica’s texted. I can’tresist quickly scouring my chats. And then I see it…
No. I stare in disbelief. I’ve made a total balls-up.
It’s right there above thedo not come to my housetext. The recorded message I thought I’d sent to Max last night, telling him all about Vince, I sent it to Monica by mistake.
Oh my God. How on earth did I do that? I quickly replay it, slowly covering my mouth with my hand.
Hi, Max. Missing you like crazy and guessing with you being several hours ahead, you’re already tucked up in bed. I can picture you lying there, curly hair all ruffled. So, you’ll get this message when you wake… sexy man.
Just back from dance. You should come over here after one of my classes. Dance always puts me right in the mood. A nice rub down in the shower would be the perfect way to end the evening… My voice makes loud panting noises.
This whole being-apart-for-an-entire-fortnight is beginning to drag. You’ll have to tell your firm they can’t send you away like this. Never mind you being their senior engineer, it is tantamount to torture.
OMG, Max, there’s been a real crisis with my mate, Monica. Before you ask which mate, SaintMonica. You know, Practically-Perfect-In-Every-Way-But-Never-Had-An-Orgasm-Monica.
Anyway, she found out today her husband’s been cheating on her for years. What a prick. While I’ve always wondered if she was happy with him, she doesn’t deserve to have been treated like that. Seems he’s been with dozens of women. Even when their twins were born, he was playing away. And they’re now the same age as Will. That’s fourteen frigging years. Monica says she suspected but only got the proof today. I can’t understand why she didn’t confront him before, the horrible toerag. Why she ended up marrying such an arsehole, I’ll never know.
I hope you manage to get back before we leave for Paris. I miss you. Well, your body, obviously. And I guess your mind isn’t so bad either. So, hurry home. Your Racy Ruby is waiting.
No, no, no. I shake as I hurriedly delete the recording, but there’s no way Monica hasn’t heard it. It was sent at midnight, that’s almost twelve hours ago. No wonder she hasn’t called. She won’t see those comments as a joke, or even remotely funny. The message I’d read as a warning to say Vince had returned early now looks like an angry and final dismissal.
Shit, what have I done?
I dial her number but all I get isnumber unobtainable. She’s blocked me.
