Page 122 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
‘Right. That Monica. Well, good. And yes.’
‘You’ll give up your ticket?’
‘First, I need to check if I can transfer it. If so, I’ll have to go to the airport with her, it’s so close to the flight. Plus, we’d need to leave now. Ten minutes tops.’
‘Really? You’d do that for me… I mean Monica?’
‘Well, I’d then need to get home another way.’
‘You could use Monica’s Eurostar ticket. I’m sure we can pay an admin fee to sign it over to you. I mean, that’s if you were OK with spending the night here and travelling back with us tomorrow?’
‘Depends… I need to check my diary to see what’s on in the morning.’
Max rubs his forehead and scans his phone. He looks up with a shake of his head, then his face splits into a beaming smile as he says, ‘OK. Yes, I can return tomorrow, but I have one condition.’
‘Name it.’
‘We dine out by ourselves to talk and…’
‘And?’
‘And decide where we’re going to spend the night.’
I leap at him and press my lips against his. He kisses me back but has to pull away when his phone rings.
Max speaks to the taxi driver, ‘Pouvez-vous attendrequelques minutes, s’il vous plaît? Merci.’ He then points me in the direction of the backstage area. ‘Taxi’s waiting. Go and get Saint Monica while I check it can be done. Go.’
‘Thank you,’ I shout as I dash back to the dressing room, unable to wipe the grin off my face.
Monica takes little persuading and we rush round, helping her change, passing her wipes to quickly remove her make-up and hastily packing her suitcase.
‘Why are you rushing back again?’ Bonnie asks.
‘Childcare arrangements,’ I say quickly before Monica can speak.
‘Yes. I need to get back. Oh no, I’ve left a good few things at the Charbon.’
‘Me too. Ingrida, can you and the others grab our stuff and bring it with you to the train station tomorrow?’
‘Where are you off to?’ Bonnie asks.
‘Ah, that would be telling.’ I wink.
‘Ja. We can bring your things.’ Ingrida smiles.
After Max leaves for the airport with Monica, I sit with the other ladies watching the competition finalists on the dressing room screen. We had hoped to sit at the back of the auditorium but the show is now packed to the hilt after all the publicity.
In between the dances, we chat and laugh.
‘Are you OK now, Asha.’ Bonnie subconsciously pats her own stomach as Cath nudges her in the ribs.
‘Look, you may as well all know.’ Asha throws out her hands. ‘I am pregnant, but I must swear you all tosecrecy. You have to promise you will not breathe a word to anyone. Not until I have told Ma and Baba. It is a good job I am wearing a sari for the wedding as I can wrap it looser so no one can tell. I have a few very traditional relatives who would be most shocked to know I even live with Jay let alone that I am expecting.’ Asha is surrounded by empty crisp packets and discarded bottles of sparkling water.
‘How exciting and let’s hope you’ve stopped being sick for your wedding.’ Bonnie remarks as her phone buzzes. ‘Oh look, it’s Maureen again. She wants to know what’s going on in Paris. Apparently, the competition has made the local news. Yes, really. The report featured Sheila’s costume malfunction, Fay’s broken leg, and what they called fierce rivalry between Bold as Brass and the DECKs. DECKs? What can they mean? Oh dear, is that what our new name spells? Goodness, it’s as well that second letter is an ‘e’ and not an ‘i’ or that would spell something much w…’
‘Bonnie, what planet are you on?’ I shake my head as Bonnie turns back to the text message.
‘Anyway, Maureen says she may need my autograph when we get back. Ha ha. How funny. We could be famous.’
