second. Kevin looked scornfully around him, his disdain for the audience was well known. “Let me finish, please.” He fixed his pale eyes back on Julia and she braced herself. “Julia dear, your posture is still dreadful despite this being the third week of the competition and we’re nearly halfway through, your footwork is appalling and you’re still letting Jan do all the work. On this performance I don’t think you should go through to the next round, I really don’t, darling.”
At this, the audience actually hissed him. It was almost like a pantomime, thought Julia hazily, as Jan’s arm tightened its hold.
Sonya, the sole female judge and the most venomous, piped up through the audience’s booing. “I agree Kevin, it’s week three now and we should be seeing some improvement but each week you’ve come out, Julia, and trotted out the same old stuff. And it’s getting boring. You must listen to Jan; sort out your upper body and neckline and work, work, work on your feet.”
Julia was tired, she and Jan had put in over seven hours training each day that week and she was exhausted. She felt her throat thicken and tears caught at her. This was ridiculous she thought and tried to hide her reaction but it was too late; her shoulders began to shake and tears ran down her cheeks making a trail through the thick stage make up. The audience, scenting blood, quietened. Charlie the compere made an aaahing sound and said something like, “There there,” and then Jan dragged her off the dance floor. When they got to the back room he refused to wait for their scores and left Julia standing in front of Carol alone. Suni thrust a tissue into Julia’s hand.
Carol wasn’t quite sure what to say and stuttered a little until she got a prompt through her ear piece. “And now, after those shocking words from the judges, how do you feel?”
The fatuous question had what was left of Julia’s rational brain dissolving and she broke down completely. Someone tallish and solid took her in his arms and led her away from the cameras. She vaguely heard Carol flapping in the distance as she tried to fill the air time.
Strong arms held her and a soft voice whispered: “Don’t take on so, cariad bach, it’s not worth it.” As her sobs really began to take hold Harri took her through the doors, well away from any prying cameras which may have followed them and into the chilly corridor. He was now swearing quietly in Welsh – or at least that’s what Julia assumed he was doing, there was real vitriol in the tone of his voice which suggested anger.
He took her outside, to the courtyard in the middle of the television studios. There was a low wall which bordered a small garden and Harri led Julia to it. He sat with his arms tight around her until her sobs lessened and she was calmer.
Julia blew her nose into the tissue Suni had given her. “Sorry.”
“Uffern dan! What the hell for?” his accent sounded stronger and his voice was still full of anger.
“I’m such an idiot to break down like that. God, I must look like a mess.”
“You’re fine and it wasn’t idiotic. They really slammed into you back there. I could’ve punched Kevin.” Harri’s hand fisted.
Julia laughed, a little tremulously, but it was a laugh at least. “Thanks for coming to my aid. I really don’t think I could’ve coped with Carol or Jan …” she trailed off; the thought of having to face Jan was horrible. “God, I’ve really messed it up haven’t I?”
“What, by crying?”
“No, by showing I couldn’t cope with the stress.” Julia added mournfully, “I can’t see Cabaret coming my way now.”
“Don’t be so sure, cariad; in the face of what Jan’s made you do, they may see it as gritty determination. And as for the crying bit I think you’ll get the sympathy vote.”
“I don’t want the sympathy vote!”
“Do you want to stay in the competition?”
Julia thought about it. In some strange and possibly masochistic way, she did want to stay in the competition - if only to torture Jan. But she’d really like to prove to herself and the viewers that she could improve; that she could put two feet in front of one another without falling over. “Yes,” she said, in a determined voice. “Yes, I do want to stay in.”
“Well, there you go then. I think the viewers are seeing straight through Mr Moscow and can see how evil he’s being and are voting for you.”
“It’s twisted!”
Harri laughed. “It’s showbiz! Ready to go back?” He looked at her, concern in his dark eyes.
Julia took a deep breath and gave him a wobbly smile. She nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Bring it on!”
“That’s my girl.” He stood up and held out a hand. As he did so, a solitary snowflake fell from the cold dark sky.
“It’s snowing. Oh, it makes me feel so Christmassy!!” Julia exclaimed, with all the wonder of a small child. “It’s not often you get to see snow in the middle of London.”
Harri looked up and followed the passage of another snowflake, making its way to the concrete. “It is indeed.” He grinned. “It’s a good omen for you!”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
Julia put out her tongue. She closed her eyes and reached her face up into the night.
Harri gazed at her and at the vision of her pink tongue held out in the hope of catching a snowflake. He moved towards her, without thinking and then stopped. He longed to capture that tongue with his own, to twist it with his and make it hot. For the first time in his life, he wished he were an ordinary bloke with an ordinary job and one who could simply make the next move. And not somebody with this ridiculous clause hanging over him.
Julia opened her eyes and caught him staring.
“Oh Harri. This is amazing. You’re amazing!” She flung her arms round him, her mood obviously restored.
For a long second, he returned the embrace and then disentangled himself. “Oh, I’m bloody amazing, cariad. Now, go back in, it’s freezing out here.”
Julia blew him a kiss and ran back into the television studios.
As he watched her go, he knew he couldn’t risk making a move. Not yet. He had to be one hundred percent sure. Julia didn’t seem the kiss and tell type but he couldn’t risk his entire career for what might turn out to be a one-night stand. He just couldn’t, no matter how big the temptation. And, oh boy, was he tempted. With a heavy heart, he followed her in.
Step Six.
And now it was, unbelievably, week four. And, she was still in, by the skin of her teeth. For some reason the public kept voting for her, even though the judges held nothing back and criticised her dancing remorselessly.
As Julia stood with Jan waiting to go on and do their Quickstep, her hardest dance so far, she thought it was inevitable that she would go out this week. She’d struggled all week to master the intricate and light steps and, despite putting in over seven hours training each day, was no more confident now than she’d been on Sunday when she’d begun learning.
Lavinia
