oh bloody hell, why not? What's the worst that can happen?’
‘Dancing with me?’ Mark was only semi-serious.
‘You're on then,’ said Emily. ‘And I really will try not to step on your toes this time …’
‘How does it go again?’ Mark said as he tried and failed to perfect the open hold that Isabella had shown them earlier. Sweat was dripping off him, and his hands were clammy as hell. Hardly a way to get Emily to take the right kind of notice of him.
‘Well, I think you're supposed to step forwards, while swinging your hips, while I step backwards,’ said Emily, ‘and then we're supposed to sway slightly and transfer our weight onto the other foot or something. Oh, and I think you need to hold your hand up higher.’
‘I thought I'd got that wrong,’ said Mark. ‘Shall we stop and watch what everyone else is doing?’
‘Perhaps we'd better,’ said Emily, and they stood trying not to giggle as they watched the rest of the class sashaying round the floor to the Cuban music that was playing in the background.
‘I have to say, it does get your toes tapping,’ said Emily, unable to stop herself from swaying in time to the music, ‘even if I can't go in step. Shall we have another go?’
‘If we must,’ said Mark. ‘Okay, so it goes, one, two, step forward, three, transfer weight, four; one, step side, two, step back, three, transfer weight, four, step forward. Hey, I think we did it!’
Growing in confidence now, and by dint of watching their neighbours who seemed to be really in the swing, eventually Emily and Mark found themselves making a reasonable fist of the steps Isabella had shown them. Emboldened by their efforts, Mark decided to really push the boat out and attempted to fling Emily to one side as he had seen other people doing. Unfortunately, in doing so, her foot got entangled around his heel, and before he knew it the pair of them had tumbled unceremoniously to the floor.
‘I don't think that's how it's meant to go,’ said Mark ruefully.
‘Me neither,’ said Emily. ‘I think someone is telling us something.’
‘Like why don't we go next door for a pint?’ said Mark with a cheeky grin.
‘I thought you'd never ask,’ said Emily.
It seemed an entirely natural thing to do until they actually got into the pub. It was only when they were facing each other over a pint that there was a sudden awkward silence.
‘So what do you do when you're not picking up strange women at dance classes?’ Emily broke the ice first.
Mark pulled a face. He hated telling people what he did for a living. Nine times out of ten they felt obliged to tell him all about their abscess, or their granny's dentures. ‘I am that incredibly rare beast, an NHS dentist,’ he said. ‘And you?’
‘Well –’ said Emily. She felt the need to prevaricate. She wasn't quite sure why, but suddenly she felt rather ashamed of what she did for a living.
‘I hope you're not going to say you're a lawyer,’ Mark added. ‘I can't stand them.’
‘Oh, why not?’
‘My wife ran off with one,’ said Mark.
‘You're married?’ Emily looked disappointed.
‘Divorced,’ said Mark. ‘She went off with the lawyer, and I didn't see much point in contesting it.’
‘And you've not found anyone else?’ Emily was determined to steer the conversation away from the subject of lawyers at all costs.
‘Not yet,’ said Mark. Again that dazzling smile. He paused briefly and then said, ‘what about you? No significant other in your life?’
‘Not any more,’ said Emily, looking down.
‘And no kids, I presume?’ Mark was feeling his way. Perhaps if he could steer the conversation around to children, he could let slip he had a couple himself.
‘Oh God, no,’ said Emily. ‘Why on earth would I want children? I've watched too many of my girlfriends turn from bright, intelligent women into poor demented creatures whose only topic of conversation is the content of their child's nappies. And then they expect you to be as entranced by their puking, shitting, squealing little bundles as they are. Children utterly ruin your life. Who in their right mind would ever want them?’
‘Who indeed?’ said Mark faintly. That put paid to that then. There was no way he could mention Gemma and Beth now. He scrambled around frantically for something else to say.
‘So, you like Green Wing?’ he said pathetically.
‘I sooo love that programme,’ said Emily, ‘the scene where Statham kills the dwarf …’
‘… is brilliant,’ agreed Mark.
‘I missed quite a bit of it, unfortunately,’ Emily said, thinking back to all those nights when she'd been out aimlessly partying, or stuck at her desk trying to see an important deal through, and wondered why she hadn't been home more.
‘Me too,’ said Mark, thinking back to the days when he'd been so busy keeping Sam sweet that he'd had to watch all the crap she liked, which included drivel like I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here and Big Brother. Love Shack, which had shot Jasmine to fame, had been on at the same time as the first series of Green Wing, so he'd pretty much missed the lot.
‘I've just bought series one on DVD. I could lend it to you if you like.’
‘Are you sure?’ said Emily. ‘I might never give them back. In fact, faced with the opportunity of being able to watch Julian Rhind-Tutt forever, I'll definitely never give them back.’
‘Nope. I can't let you do that,’ said Mark. ‘In that case, we'll have to go for a full-on Green Wing fest at my place.’
‘Oh.’ Emily was slightly taken aback.
‘There's nothing behind that,’ said Mark hurriedly. ‘I mean, it's just watching a DVD and having a beer if you want. Nothing more.’
‘Of course,’ said Emily, ‘I never thought for a moment it was.’ She ignored the voice in her head shouting Liar! at a thousand decibels.
‘Good,’ said Mark. ‘Then that's settled. What are you up to at the weekend?’
Emily thought ahead. Without Callum to distract her, or some big do of Ffion's to attend, the time stretched out before her without end. A weekend watching Green Wing with Mark – especially with Mark – might be just the thing.
‘Nothing much,’ she said.
‘Good,’ said Mark. It was Sam's weekend with the kids. ‘How about we kick off around two, then if you have something more exciting to do later, you'll still have time.’
‘Sounds great,’ Emily said. She lifted her glass. ‘To dancing like no one's looking.’
‘I thought
