Page 58 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
Staring into my eyes, I recall the other times in my life when I barely smiled. There were several long sad years soon after I rushed into marriage to Vince, having found out I was pregnant. I wondered then if I would ever smile again, but I came through it. I did. And I owe so much to Clarissa for her help. It was Clarissa who saved me after I lost my first baby. I was drowning in the depths of despair until my psychiatrist recommended taking upan open university degree in fashion design and starting dance as a form of therapy. The degree was hard work and took several years to complete, working late into the night, but the dance was sublime. I had, after all, adored ballet in my childhood.
Clarissa’s inspiring choreography and gentle encouragement slowly brought purpose back into my life. Nothing could replace the love of the baby I would never hold, but I found a rekindling of my love of music and dance as an art form. Then the twins were born and although I love being their mum, I only feel truly alive when I’m lost in the performance of an amazing dance. It allows me to express my deepest feelings without having to verbalise. To me, it has become as essential as breathing.
Making a fist, I resolve to give the competition my all. It is the least I can do to repay Clarissa.
My phone rings and I retrieve it from my bag. A satisfied smile spreads across my face. Payback time for Vince.
The message from the dating app which I have now transferred to my phone is just what I’d hoped for.
Greta Grinder, who describes herself as a super-size lover – and judging from her picture she’s not lying – has responded and has agreed to meet Vince at 9.30 p.m. tonight, providing she can have meatballs with plenty of sauce. Yeuw. Although technically, she’ll be expecting Butch Cassidy – the new profile I’ve constructed for him.
I congratulate myself for working out how to make this hidden from view, so it’s not on Vince’s homepage.He’d have to hunt to find it as it’s not obvious. He’s never been great with IT so with a bit of luck, he’ll be oblivious to the new correspondence which I’ve diverted to my phone having added my number to the secret profile.
I quickly tap in Butch’s reply, ignoring the fact it is Ruby’s voice that enters my head with the phrase,
Can’t wait to get grinding with you, Greta. Look for me on the corner table to the right of the bar. I’ll be the one ordering the extra-large saveloy sausage with fries.
I know this is Vince’s seat of choice as I have seen his previous dates made from his Ben Johnson profile. He will be under the impression he is meeting someone called Venus – set for 9 p.m. – in this Cock and Bull pub. The bastard set this up this date a week ago, so knew full well he would not be around to look after the twins while I was in Paris. All that rubbish about a conference…
Another ping and I grin to see it is a message from Cindy-Just-Cindy – her photo shows a mass of blonde curls and the longest false eyelashes I have ever seen on her air-brushed face. She asks if she can bring her pooch.
I never go anywhere without poochy poochy pie, so I hope you love doggies, Butch.
Not a problem. Bring your adorable doggy, Cindy. I will be at the corner table waiting to pet you both.
I hitsendwith a flourish of satisfaction.
Pity Vince is allergic to dogs.
I check the other arrangements before smiling at my reflection, aglow with both the exertion of dance and a delicious new sense of gratification.
As Vince meets Venus, he will first be interrupted by Greta Grinder, then Cindy with her lap dog, followed by Titania with her ‘hidden talents’ – possibly something to do with the handcuffs and whips in her profile picture. And then Bruce – who looks neither male nor female and declares he/she swings both ways – will enter the affray. I’m glad I ticked the option of him/her bringing a few extras along for the ride.
‘What are you smiling about, Monica?’ Bonnie says as she and a couple of other ladies enter the toilets.
‘Oh nothing. I’m missing a bit of a bash back in the UK. Just imagining being a fly on the wall.’
‘Wishing you were there?’
‘Oh no. I’d much rather be here.’
Asha dashes in and makes a beeline for me.
‘Monica, you will never guess what has happened?’
‘What?’
‘Sheila’s group has turned up. They have been assigned to our dressing room. Your face says it all, Monica. I know. It is horrendous. They arrived shouting and swearing. They squashed all our costumes along the rail to fit theirs on. They are loud, rude, and completely disruptive. Apparently, the officials are deciding if they can still take part after their outburst during rehearsals.I hope they cannot. Sheila is in a foul mood and Clarissa has had to go back to the hotel. She was too upset to be in the same airspace as Sheila.’
Before Asha can say more, Sheila herself and another woman burst into the ladies’, shrieking loudly to each other.
‘Thank fuck for that. I’m busting for a wee.’ Sheila’s eyes meet mine momentarily before she completely blanks me and rushes into the only free cubicle, slamming the door shut.
‘Hurry up, Sheila. I’m wetting myself here.’ Her large-busted friend cries out as she hops from foot to foot.
Sheila calls through the door, ‘I knew we shouldn’t have downed those bloody beers last night. They always make me pee for days.’ They both cackle.
Another cubicle becomes free, and the large-bosomed woman dives in. The pair continue to converse loudly from within their respective cubicles. Asha and I grimace.
