Page 2 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
‘Vince… he… for years… he’s been…’
‘What?’
‘…with other women…’
‘What the…?’
‘And I just can’t… can’t…’
‘Frigging hell. What a toerag. Look, Monica, skip dance. It won’t matter for once, will it? Although thinking about it, Lady C will effing flip if you’re not there.’ Ruby’s voice switched to Clarissa’s, ‘“Ladies, Expression Paris is only two weeks away and these last rehearsals are not, I repeatnotoptional”’
‘No, I have to… Ineedto come.’
‘You’re right. Look, think of it as displacement activity. I’ll go ahead and make up some excuse why you’re late. We’ll talk after – I can come back to yours.’
‘No, not here. Not with the twins in earshot.’
‘OK, we’ll talk at the studio. Just get yourself there when you can. And when you do, give that dance floor hell.’
Dear Ruby. She’s right. She wouldn’t allow someone like Vince to make a fool of her. She’s strong, independent, always in control. Oh, to be more like Ruby.
Reminding myself of her words, I throw myself into the dance, my whole effort channelled into executing the steps within the complex patterns of direction. The lyrics thump into my muscles and I begin to unwind.
‘Ensure you stretch out each move to fully warm-up, ladies.’
The routine demands full concentration and by the end of the number we’re all breathing quickly and have broken into a sweat. I feel distanced from the earlier revelations, which seem almost surreal.
We dive for our bags and rummage for our hats for the next dance.
Ruby leans into me. ‘You OK?’
I smack her hand lightly. ‘No being nice,’ I hiss. ‘I need to stay furious and focussed.’
Ruby grins. ‘Furiously frigging focussed. Atta girl.’
I stare at the floor and through clenched teeth ask, ‘How did I not know? Am I utterly stupid?’
‘Whoa. Stupid you are not. Come on, Monica. This dance floor needs a kicking.’
Clarissa calls from the front. ‘Ladies, “Dancing Fools” next. Positions… Janine, further forward… Fay, two steps back… and… Five – six – seven – eight…’
*
The class flashes past. An hour and a half of solid dance. By the end, the tension has ebbed from my body, and I’m in a much better frame of mind. We stretch out, Ruby next to me. My muscles are warm with exertion and my head’s clearer.
‘Endorphins work.’ Ruby nudges me, dabbing the perspiration from her brow.
‘Too right.’
‘Excellent rehearsal, ladies.’ Clarissa gently claps the fingers of one hand onto the palm of the other as she smiles her approbation. ‘Remember, when you dance, everyday life evaporates. Our troubles float away…’
If only.
‘…Nothing matters but your moves and your focus. This is what engages your audience. You are taking them on a journey, a flight of fantasy. Capturing their hearts and souls. You must put every ounce of your being into each single move from your toes to your fingertips. So, practise daily at home. The competition is very close now.’
As we change back into our shoes, other dancers edge towards me.
‘Everything OK, Monica?’ Cath asks. ‘Your solo was bang on. Best I’ve seen you dance it.’
