Page 96 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
Hazel struggles to stand but with Clarissa’s help gets to her feet as do we all, apart from Fay who is wheelchair bound.
‘To the wonderfully talented Clarissa Kirkland.’
‘To Clarissa,’ we raise our glasses and look at each other. There is not a dry eye among us and a great deal of sniffling and reaching for serviettes and tissues.
‘And to Hazel,’ Bonnie adds.
‘Hear, hear,’ Clarissa helps Hazel back into her chair.
‘Clarissa and Hazel,’ we all shout, sip our champagne then dab at our eyes as we smile self-consciously at each other.
Hazel gives a little cough to get our attention again.
‘Finally, I would like to say life really is too shortto hold onto resentments and anger. I say we let Bold as Brass perform in the finals on the proviso it’s made clear it’s Clarissa’s choreography.’
Gnasher-Asha mutters and Frosty Fay frowns. It’s clear they have mixed feelings about this proposition.
‘As long as they don’t put in the same stark ending as today,’ I laugh.
‘Or should that be starkers?’ Bonnie quips.
We all smile, and I’m relieved the sombre mood starts to lighten.
‘Well I for one am sorry I missed the Bold as Brass performance,’ Hazel grins. ‘Ladies, for your final dance tomorrow, I won’t say break a leg. That didn’t turn out too well the last time it was uttered…’
We giggle and look to Fay who is smiling good-naturedly back at Hazel.
‘But I will wish you well as they do here in France,bonne chance.Bonne chanceto you all.’
We toast another glass and collapse back into our chairs.
‘Wow. What a tearjerker.’
‘I’m emotionally drained,’ Monica admits. ‘I also need to order a coffee. After all that champagne, I think I can see double of the Paris skyline.’
‘That’s just the reflection in the ship windows. But I know what you mean. I’ll go and order us some.’
‘Thanks, Ruby.’
I walk to the bar suddenly realising I haven’t checked my phone all evening. I retrieve it from my bag. Two missed calls. Max? I hurriedly go to the missed call log.They’re not from Max but Will. I frown.
I dial Will’s number but can’t get a signal to call back. I hope he’s all right. I realise, a little guiltily, I haven’t checked in with him since this morning when I sent a message from the hotel.
‘Excuse me, does the boat have Wi-Fi?’
The barman, who has had his back to me wiping down the bar surface, turns around and I realise he’s Swastika-man. He glares at me, grunts and walks purposefully away from the bar muttering some obscenities in French. He’s not going to serve me. Bastard.
A waiter rushes past placing empty glasses and a half bottle of red wine on the bar surface next to me. When he’s gone, I gently and deliberately tip the bottle onto its side, so red wine leaks all over the bar and drips onto the floor before I brush my hands and walk away.
Up yours.
I return to the table to find coffee pots are being delivered by a waitress.
Monica pours us both a large, steaming cupful and Fay taps her cup with a teaspoon.
‘Not another speech,’ I mutter to Monica. ‘I’m not sure I can cope with any more.’
Fay, her voice taut – and for some reason sounding alarmingly like that of the late queen – begins, ‘On behalf of us all I would like to express our enormous gratitude to Clarissa and Hazel for this wonderful meal.’
