Page 29 of Teacakes & Tangos
I swallowed down a large mouthful of water with a grimace.
If there was even a small chance that dance might be the key to Dad waking up, I had to go along today. By all accounts, this new dance studio – set in a picturesque community of artisan craft outlets on the leafy Brambleberry Manor estate – was going to offer rather more than a timetable of dance classes.
Clara, the owner, was passionate about dance for its own sake, but also for the joyful, uplifting effect it could have onpeople’s mood and health, both physical and mental. When I’d read the story in the local paper, Clara’s vibrant personality and enthusiasm had shone through every word. ‘There will be something for everyone,’ she’d promised. ‘And I meaneveryone.’
I was curious to see for myself what she was talking about.
Closing my eyes, for just a brief moment I allowed myself to imagine how it would feel when I got the call to say Dad had woken up. Not if, butwhen...
Hot tears burned my eyelids, thinking how amazing and joyous it would be. And when it happened, I’d never complain about anything ever again in my life!
Dad’s appetite for life had been dimmed by Mum’s death, but he was a strong man and he still had a lot of living to do. And he had me. He would be fighting his way slowly to the surface, I was sure of it.
Maybe I’d even be able to persuade him to check out Clara’s new dance emporium with me.
Once he was better . . .
*****
I’d arranged to meet Xander outside the Brambleberry Manor Café, and when I arrived off the bus just before eleven, he was already there waiting for me.
‘Coffee first?’ he asked as I joined him. ‘They do a great apple turnover here with exactly the right amount of cinnamon.’
‘Sounds like you’re a connoisseur of apple pastries.’
‘Oh, I am. Too little cinnamon and the flavour’s just not there. Too much and it completely overpowers the more subtle taste of the apple.’
I nodded. ‘Moderation in all things is what my gran used to say.’
‘Grans are very wise women.’ Grinning, he opened the café door for me and I walked into its cool interior.
‘This is on me,’ he said. ‘What would you like?’
‘Just coffee, please. But you paid last time. Here.’ I dug in my purse and pulled out a note.
He shook his head. ‘My treat.’
When he came back to the table with a tray loaded with not one apple turnover but two, and a croissant with a pat of butter and a little dish of jam as well, I couldn’t help chuckling. ‘Ever heard of ahealthymid-morning snack, Xander?’
‘My diet’s terrible at the moment,’ he admitted, as he organised the plates and cups and offloaded the empty tray onto a nearby table. ‘I just grab what I can wherever I happen to be when I get hungry. Dana was always the cook in our relationship. She wouldn’t let me anywhere near the kitchen after I burned the toastandher boiled egg the first time she stayed over.’
We exchanged a rueful look.
‘That takes some doing,’ I pointed out. ‘Burning a boiled egg.’
‘Thanks.’ He gave a modest shrug. ‘What can I say? It’s a special talent of mine.’
‘Loathsome Les used to pretend he was rubbish at cooking just to get out of doing it.’
‘Relationships, eh?’
‘Hmmm.’
Fearing we were straying into rather dismal, listen-to-the-terrible-things-my-ex-did territory, I conjured up a bright smile. ‘Well, anyway, you’re not looking too bad on your carb-heavy diet.’ I assessed his lean physique. ‘In fact, I think I might hate you.’
His eyebrows moved up, apple turnover number one paused in mid-air. ‘Explain, please?’
‘Well, it’s only that I suspect you’re the sort ofreally annoying personwho can eat whatever they like, whenever they like and never gain even a single solitary ounce of flab.’
