there you have me,’ she said. ‘I just don't know any more. When I'm with him it's great – well, most of the time. Although he was absolutely useless about Dad. He says he doesn't do that kind of stuff very well.’
‘Didn't that make you want to deck him?’ Katie said. ‘I don't think I could put up with that. Charlie was truly fantastic when my dad died. He took a week off work to be with me, and was really brilliant to my mum. And he spent weeks afterwards giving me little treats to cheer me up. Flowers, chocolates. That sort of thing. He even remembered the anniversary, and took time off to visit Dad's grave with me. I couldn't have got through it without him.’
‘I know, I know,’ said Emily. ‘You're right. Callum uses me horribly. And when I'm not with him I'm fretting about him not texting me, or worrying that he's flirting with some other woman. And then we go out and I'm anxious the whole time in case he gets too drunk and does something stupid or comes to meet me from work high as a kite.’
‘He hasn't, has he?’ Katie looked suitably horrified.
‘Once, although he promised not to do it again,’ admitted Emily, ‘but I can't really trust him not to.’
‘What you need’, declared Katie, ‘is a change of scene. Come on, you're always banging on about how much you hate going up to town. Spend some proper time here once in a while. Get to know people round here. It might do you good.’
‘I thought you hated it here,’ said Emily with some surprise.
‘Well, I'm here too much,’ said Katie. ‘I could do with an injection from the metropolis once in a while. But you, you need to take a break from all that. So come on, cut me some slack here. I'll feel too much like an idiot if I go to dance classes on my own. After all this time, I probably can't put one foot in front of the other any more. Please come with me.’
‘I am so going to regret this,’ said Emily. ‘But go on, you've twisted my arm. I'll come.’
‘Great,’ said Katie. ‘That's settled then.’
‘Yes,’ Emily agreed, taking another sip of wine, 'so it is.’
‘Bienvenida, welcome,’ a small dark woman ushered them in. An off-the-shoulder top clung to the contours of her lean body and her red skirt swished and swirled as she moved on gold open-toed sandals with a heel, which Katie coveted immediately. With her long, raven-black hair tumbling down her back, and her gold hoop earrings, the woman resembled a glamorous gypsy queen. She motioned Katie and Emily to follow her into a large studio lined with tables and chairs. The lights were dimmed, the Blue Danube was playing in the background and couples were already dancing. Katie and Emily exchanged worried glances. They all looked scarily proficient.
‘You must be Isabella,’ said Katie. ‘I'm Katie Caldwell and this is Emily Henderson.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ said Isabella, with the faintest hint of a foreign lilt. She looked part Spanish, or Portuguese perhaps. Katie already felt clumsy beside her, and wondered whether she'd made a terrible mistake. Charlie had teased her mercilessly about going dancing, conveniently seeming to forget that at one time he'd enjoyed going himself. He was spending the week at his company's headquarters in Amsterdam discussing a potential takeover bid, so Katie had organised a babysitter. At least she didn't have to put up with Charlie's ribbing tonight.
‘Right, first things first,’ said Isabella. ‘Have either of you done any dancing before?’
‘I can waltz after a fashion,’ said Katie, ‘and I know how to rumba. But it's been a long time.’
‘Me, I can't dance to save my life,’ admitted Emily cheerfully.
‘Excelente. We'll put you both in the beginners’ section for now. Katie, if you find it too easy there, we'll think of moving you on. Have you ever tried for any medals?’
‘Oh God no,’ said Katie. ‘I'm more of an amateur enthusiast.’
‘We cater for all sorts here,’ Isabella reassured them. ‘Though be warned, there are some who take it very seriously.’
Having extricated their fee for the evening, Isabella bustled off to deal with some other new arrivals.
The women sat down and looked around the room. Predictably, there were more women than men. The dearth of decent ones ensured they all at least had partners. The room was lined with women sitting alone.
‘Oh God,’ said Emily, ‘this feels like the school disco all over again. I am so going to feel like a wallflower tonight.’
‘You'll be fine,’ Katie assured her. ‘Though I'd be a bit cagey about what you tell people about yourself, if I were you. In my experience a lot of these things tend to be full of sad blokes on the pull.’
‘What, you mean like those two?’ Emily nodded towards the door where two men had just entered. One of them was rather plumpish and balding, though the other –
‘Actually, the one on the left looks quite dishy, don't you think?’ Katie nudged her friend. ‘If I wasn't married already, I wouldn't say no.’
The one on the left was tall and dark, and looked ill at ease. Unlike his friend, who strutted confidently into the room and looked around him with a cheeky grin, eyeing up the talent. As if aware of the women's scrutiny he whispered to his friend then turned towards them and winked.
Katie and Emily snorted into their hands.
‘I see what you mean,’ said Emily. ‘Right, my name is Amelia Earhart and I'm a pilot.’
‘Aren't you a bit lost, then?’ said Katie.
‘You're not the first to say so,’ Emily replied. ‘Come on, I think it's time we got going.’
Isabella was busy rounding people up and organising them into groups. Katie and Emily followed her.
‘God, I hope I don't make too much of a fool of myself,’ said Emily. ‘I have a feeling I might regret this.’
Mark had been having similar thoughts all day. He had very nearly cried off when he'd got home from a hideous day at work. Despite accepting his decision the previous week to pull out her tooth, Jasmine had put in a complaint to Head Office to say that not only was she unhappy with Mark's treatment, but he had been 'really brutal, know what I mean?’ It wasn't the first time she'd made a complaint, and as she didn't really have any grounds to do so, Mark was intending to ignore it, but it was tedious nonetheless and he could have done without it.
However, Rob was having none of it when Mark tried to get out of going.
‘You're coming out tonight, and that's that,’ said Rob. ‘So quit moaning and get your coat.’
Mark felt even more ill at ease when they walked through the door and saw the place was heaving with women, many of whom were dancing already. Rob had insisted Mark couldn't go in the jeans and trainers in which he felt comfortable, so he'd dug out a pair of smart trousers he barely ever wore and a pair of ancient
