Page 54 of Clara's Secret Garden
‘Youlooked deep in thought there.’ He grins. ‘I bet you were imagining jiggingaround on the floor with me at the village hall.’
I laugh.‘Jigging around?’
‘Well-knowndance term. We experts use it all the time.’
‘Right.’ Ismile up at him. I never know whether he’s joking or not. (Although I’mstarting to realise that he usually is.) ‘Are you really good, then? At thesalsa dancing?’
‘Oh, yes.Twinkle-toe Terry. That’s my nickname in performing circles. I do a pretty meantango as well and –’
‘Well, ifit isn’t Shaun Arnott! And Harry!’
We bothswing round. A young woman in a pale green mac with curly red hair and glassesis standing beaming from me to Shaun and back to me again.
‘Rita! Longtime no see. I like your hair like that. Very Christina Hendricks.’
‘Thankyou. How’s it going, Shaun? The place hasn’t been the same since you left towork for yourself. We miss your jokes. Well, some of them.’ She gives me aknowing wink. ‘I’ve always said you need a medal for putting up with the “dadjokes”.’
‘Oh. Yes.’I force a laugh and stare at her in confusion. Does she think she knows me?
‘So whereare you working right now, Shaun?’
‘Over atBrambleberry Manor. The artisan craft community is expanding. We’re buildingsome new units.’
‘Oh,lovely.’
‘This isClara, by the way.’
The womancalled Rita looks at me, puzzled, for a second. Then she smiles. ‘Nice to meetyou, Clara. Better dash. Late for work.’
Shehurries off.
‘Why didshe call me Harry?’ I ask.
‘Did she?’Shaun frowns. ‘No idea. She’s a bit short-sighted, though, is our Rita. Probablymistook you for someone else.’ He’s edging away now. ‘If you fancy the dancing,let me know. I promise there’ll be no dad jokes.’
‘Okay.’
‘Is that a yes?’ He’s walking backwards now, and before Ican stop him, he collides with the postbox.
I start to laugh as he rubs his arm with a comical face.‘It’s a maybe.’
‘Progress!’ He sticks up his thumb, smiles and walks off.
*****
Later, at Gran’s, I ask her outright why she hasreservations about me going dancing with Shaun.
She studies me for a moment as if she’s debating whether ornot to tell me. Then she says, ‘I’ve got something to show you. If I can findit.’
She goes off upstairs and I sit there, wondering what onearth she’s going to come back with. My imagination is running riot.
A sleazy newspaper with the headline: Former mad axemanShaun moved in next door to me!
Shaun pictured smiling and all loved-up after his weddingto Derek?
As it happens, Gran does return with a photograph, but it’snot of two men.
She lays it in front of me on the table and I stare at it,frowning. ‘But... that’s...’
