Page 28 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
‘I know, I know… but Monica’s reaction is ridiculously extreme. To cut me off without a word. I mean, seriously? She knows what I’m like.’
‘Well, you’ve tried to explain. If she really doesn’t want to listen, you can do no more. After all, you’ve left her messages and made it clear you’re sorry.’
I didn’t tell Max about the last message. I realise it’d been a mistake to phone after I’d had a drink or two. It was last Thursday when Max was supposed to have come home, but his return was pushed back by over a week, and now I won’t see him before I go to Paris. My voice message to Monica may’ve been a bit belligerent… OK, if I’m honest it was downright abusive, but who can blame me when she’s turned colder than a frigging iceberg?
In truth, I miss her. I have loads of girlfriends, but I can confide in Monica like no other. We shop for clothes together – she has amazing dress sense. We chat about our kids over coffee and talk all the way to dance and back. She knows my hopes and desires and she was beginning to open up about what she really wants in life. Heck, we even like the same books and on top of that, we have Glastonbury; it was epic. If I have a problem, it’s more often than not Monica I’ll call, and vice versa.Wouldhave called – past tense now.
I went swimming the other night to get it out of mysystem. Did fifty lengths of the pool and then realised I’d missed the final dance rehearsal. Normally, Monica would’ve reminded me – she is uber-organised compared to me – but it just fell out of my brain.
Clarissa was unimpressed. I called her the next day.
‘Ruby, I cannot emphasise enough the necessity of rehearsal.’
‘Yes, I know, sorry, Clarissa. Something came up…’
‘Ingrida had to step in for you… and before I forget, I need to advise you I have made a change to the final sequence of the Adele number. The syncopated turn is now a turning développé kick.’
‘Oh fuc—er, fine. Right.’
Frigging hell, why does she always make last-minute changes when we have consigned the moves to our muscle memory?
‘Yes, one knee lifts into the other leg, toe pointed, and the leg gently unfolds as it extends away…’
As Clarissa explained, I rolled my eyes to heaven. I couldn’t for the life of me picture what she meant. The new step is no doubt some sort of balletic move my former exotic and pole dance classes definitely wouldn’t have included.
‘…and so we dip down on the leg lift and rise with the extension. It is quite simple. Monica will show you.’
Jeez, Lady C must be the only one not to have noticed our fall out.
‘Right. Thanks. See you at the airport then, Clarissa.’
I’ll have to get Ingrida to show me the step. We can practise in the departures lounge or even on the flight. Ismile at the thought of rehearsing ballet moves in the aisle amid a planeload of passengers.
Will saunters into the house as I finish my meal.
‘Hi. All good?’ I fix a bright smile on my face.
Will’s been funny with me on and off for months now, being generally moody and uncommunicative. So, it’s a surprise when he pulls out the chair next to mine and drops down onto it sideways, leaning forward until we are face-to-face.
‘Are you OK? Your dinner’s in the microwave. It’s your favourite, jerk chicken…’
‘What have you done to piss off James’s mum?’
‘O-K…’ I should’ve known he’d be hangry after rugby.
‘Well, you have, haven’t you?’
‘Will, I—’
‘Wasn’t she having a hard enough time without you making matters worse?’
‘What do you mean? About her having a hard time?’ Have James and Joanne found out about their father’s extra-marital affairs?
Will mumbles something incomprehensible before adding, ‘All I know is you must have really upset Monica if it’s so bad she won’t even speak to you.’
There’s no point responding to him when he’s like this, so I say nothing.
He rises, heats up his meal for a minute or so, and grabs his fork to take the plate up to his room.
