make a conquest. Mark looked around the room. There were hardly any other men there, so Rob wasn't likely to have much competition. But it made Mark feel more self-conscious than ever. He was going to stick out like a sore thumb.
Rob had no such worries. He swaggered through the room, smiling at the women he knew, and trying to catch the eyes of those he didn't. He nudged Mark.
‘See those women over there,’ he said. ‘Gagging for it. They‘ve been watching us since we came in the room.’
Mark glanced over at the women in question: a slim, dark brunette with a smart bob wearing a sleek black dress, and a rather plumper blonde, dressed in a frumpy skirt and baggy top. She was also quite pretty, and would have probably looked slimmer if she'd been standing up straight. Rob nodded over to them, and then turned back to Mark. ‘Keep 'em keen, that's the trick of it. I've got them interested, and now I'm going to ignore them. They're bound to come running.’
Mark wasn't so sure. The women had gone off into peals of giggles, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being laughed at.
‘Oh, and a word of advice,’ added Rob. ‘If you do start chatting someone up, for God's sake don't tell her you've got kids. She'll run a mile.’
Thinking that the chance of even talking to a woman was about zero, Mark nodded absently. He wished he was anywhere but here.
‘Ooh, I didn't have you down as a dancer,’ a familiar voice squawked in his ear. Mark turned round. A tarty-looking blonde was eyeing him speculatively. Where did he know her from? Working in the same town he lived in meant he was always running into people he vaguely knew, and he could never work out if he had filled their root canal or met them over the fish counter in Sainsbury's.
‘Your Beth looking forward to going to the Isle of Wight?’ Oh. Right. School. Mark delved into the furthest recesses of his brain. She had a son in Beth's year. What was her name?
‘Yes, I think so,’ said Mark politely, though he couldn't remember Sam mentioning the trip.
‘It's about time I made an appointment,’ the woman continued. ‘You'll be telling me off again about the state of my molars.’
Oh bugger. A patient as well.
‘I'm a bit booked up at present,’ said Mark, ‘but give the surgery a ring. Diana may be able to find you a cancellation.’
Mandy Allwick. That was it. A single mum whose predatory nature was renowned. That was all he needed. Maybe he should palm her off on Rob. It would serve him right for getting Mark into this mess.
‘Save a dance for me, Doctor Davies,’ was Mandy's parting shot, as she wandered over to the double doors at the end of the room, where a petite dark-haired woman was sorting people into groups.
Forbearing to mention that he wasn't technically a doctor – calling dentists doctor was a stupid fashion that had come over from America, along with too much litigation – Mark got up and followed Rob into the crowd.
This was going to be a long evening.
‘Tonight, chicos, we will start with the social foxtrot,’ announced Isabella with a smile. ‘For those of you who‘ve come for the first time, it is quite simple and is danced in four/four time. Take your partners – if you are two women one of you will need to learn the man's steps, but remember it is always the man who leads.’
‘That had better be you,’ said Emily to Katie, who was suddenly feeling ridiculously nervous about the whole thing. ‘After all, you've done it before.’
‘For the social foxtrot, you need to learn the cuddle hold,’ continued Isabella. ‘The man places his right arm round the lady, and rests his hand under her right shoulder. The lady puts her left hand on the man's shoulder and holds the man's right hand in her left hand like so.’ She demonstrated with a baby-faced lad who looked nearly young enough to be her son, before going round the room and checking everyone was in the right position.
‘Now, the man leads off first with his left foot, to two beats of music, while the lady steps back with her right. Then the man takes a step to the right, the lady to the left, the man's left foot closes to the right, and the woman's right foot to the left.’
‘I don't think I'll remember a word of that,’ muttered Emily.
‘It's okay,’ said Katie, ‘just follow me.’
Miraculously, mainly thanks to the fact that Katie clearly knew what she was doing, Emily did get it right, and was able to follow the next steps, which involved her stepping forward with her left foot, then stepping to the right, before closing with the left foot.
‘Right, now we put it together,’ announced Isabella with a clap. ‘I will clap out the time and you dance the steps. Slow step forwards, quick to the side, quick and close, slow step backwards, quick to the side, quick and close.’
‘I'll never get the hang of this,’ said Emily, muddling up her lefts and rights and stepping on Katie's toes.
‘Yes you will,’ assured Katie, ‘you just need practice, that's all.’
After twenty minutes, Emily wasn't convinced. Once they'd mastered the basic steps, Isabella had them trying it to music, and then she added in another set of steps which involved turns as well, and Emily got completely lost. Particularly as she'd had to change partners, and none of them bar one were as good as Katie, so she kept getting it wrong. She was sweating profusely and feeling like a total idiot. In her efforts to get it right, she had had her feet stamped on, and done her fair share of feet stamping too. She knew that dancing wasn't her thing, but she'd had no idea how little natural rhythm she actually had, or how hard it was keeping time to the music. That was until she was apprised of the fact in no uncertain terms by a gay dancer, who was training at the local dance school and had only come along to expand his repertoire. His were the only toes she'd trod on deliberately after hearing him mutter ‘bloody amateurs!’ one too many times under his breath.
Eventually the torture ended and Isabella announced it was time for social dancing, ‘So you can put it all together.’ Apparently this meant pairing up with just one other person. Emily looked at Katie, whom she'd been watching gliding around the room with a serenity she felt deeply envious of. Despite her post-baby weight gain, Katie had the natural poise and grace Emily lacked.
‘I'd say I'd partner you,’ she said, ‘but I don't want to be the cause of hospitalising you.’
‘You're not that bad,’ Katie grinned.
‘You know I am,’ answered Emily. ‘So stop being nice. We'll have to find someone else decent for you to dance with.’
‘Ladies, would you care to dance?’ The plumpish bloke from earlier on was pushing his way over, with his good-looking friend.
Katie and Emily looked at each other uncertainly.
‘Please, we don't bite,’ said the good-looking one. ‘Besides, you have to take pity on us. I'm being chased by a raging nymphomaniac, and I need to seek sanctuary.’
Katie laughed. She had been watching Mandy Allwick in hot pursuit of their new companions all evening.
‘Well, if you need rescuing from Mandy, I think we might be able to help,’ she said.
‘Oh,
