Page 67 of Merrily Ever After
“Nothing.” I wilt a little under her glare and since I don’t know what else to say, I don’t say anything. Neither does she. And the clock hand ticks five times before she hunches forward, sucking one final puff of her cigarette before stubbing it out in an ashtray.
“Come on then. Up. Let me see how bad you are.”
I jump to my feet. “Now?”
“Yes, now,” she says, exasperated. “Why? Do you have something better to be doing? Is there a cow waiting to be milked?”
I glance at the records. “Don’t we need music?”
“You won’t be good enough for music yet. Over there.” She points to the middle of the rug. “Feet hip-width apart.Hips,” she says, tapping her cane against my leg. I shuffle my feet out until she nods, satisfied. Or at least as satisfied as someone like Mrs Fallon can be.
“All right. Hand on my waist.”
I gawk at her until she sighs. Loudly. Then she grabs my hand and plants it on her hip and the other one on her shoulder. She smells like tobacco and lemons, and this close, I can see the mole above her lip is drawn on. She appears at once to be more fragile and sturdier, her skin frail, but her grip surprisingly strong as she holds me captive in the middle of the room.
“You’ll be standing a lot closer to the girl,” she says. “But only if she lets you. The last thing she wants is wandering hands. For now, just follow me. Can’t lead if you don’t know where you’re going. Ready?”
“Shouldn’t we—”
She starts to move, and I stumble as I follow her steps. Or at least I try to. Forward with the left foot, sideways with the right, then—
“Stop!” she snaps, and my head shoots up. “You have terrible posture.”
“Sorry.”
“Shoulders back. Chin up. You’ll wreck your back like that. You need a haircut.”
“I—”
“And stop scowling.”
I smooth out my brow obediently.
“It’s because you’re concentrating. You can concentrate now, but don’t develop bad habits. You’re dancing a waltz, not flying to the moon. It’s simple. Count to three.”
Easier said than done. But I do my best as we go once more, willing my body to learn the steps, no matter how stiffly and jerkily I do them. But we only go for another few minutes before she stops again.
“All right.” Mrs Fallon steps back abruptly, coughing into her hand. “Keep going,” she snaps when I go to help her. “Just because I can take a break doesn’t mean you can. There’s such a thing as seniority, you know.”
I wait uncertainly, feeling vulnerable now that I’m standing by myself, but as she returns to her chair, I hear her voice ring through my head.
Count to three.
I look down at my feet, only to jump when she bangs her cane on the floor.
“From the start. Arms up.” She lifts a hand as though conducting me. “And …one.”
Chapter Four
One. Two. Three.
One. Two. Three.
One. Two—
“What are you doing?”
I look up from my feet to see my sister standing at the entrance to the barn. For a moment, I’m thrown. Rachel is not quiet. She announces her entrance loudly either by voice or sheer force of will. But I didn’t hear her this time. I’ve been concentrating so hard on the steps, I don’t even know how long she’s been standing there.
