Strictly Love, page 13
Mark sat on the edge of a very cold ice rink collapsed in hysterics. It seemed it wasn't just dating he was terrible at – he'd spent most of the past hour flat on his back. Beth wasn't much better, spending the whole time clinging on to him for dear life. On their last round they had both taken a tumble and Beth had ended up sitting on his head.
‘You two are so sad.’ Gemma skated up with the superiority of one who looked as if she had been born on ice. She and the dreaded Shelly were regulars at the skating rink, though up until now Mark had assumed they were merely coming to ogle boys. Apparently they had learned how to skate at the same time.
‘Here, help us up,’ said Mark, putting up his hand. Gemma leaned down and he pulled her down on top of him.
‘I hate you!’ she said, evidently irritated that the cool poise she'd been adopting had been ruined, but to his relief she was laughing. Gemma had perfected the art of giving him the strong silent treatment for the past few weeks, but here was a welcome sign of a slight thaw.
‘Come on,’ Mark said, getting them both up properly, ‘why don't we go and have burgers?’
‘Ooh yes, please!’ Beth's eagerness as ever made up for Gemma's studied indifference. Mark wished he could break through that reserve but he didn't know how. It was at times like these that he missed having a woman around. Sam always knew the best way of getting through to Gemma, and he had relied on her heavily to communicate with his often problematic daughter. But now he was on his own. He sighed heavily. Mark had half hoped that Emily might have hung around long enough to get to know Gemma. But he hadn't heard from her at all, apart from receiving his Green Wing DVD back via Katie. There hadn't been a note attached. So that was that. Back to square one. A single dad spending lonely Sunday afternoons with his kids.
‘Are you going to see that woman again?’ Gemma shocked him into spilling his Coke with the directness of her question.
‘What woman?’ Beth piped up.
‘You know,’ said Gemma, ‘Dad's girlfriend. The one he forgot to tell us about. And the one he forgot to tell he had kids.’
‘Oh, that one,’ said Beth, who seemed more interested in the contents of her burger then her dad's love life.
‘I don't think so,’ said Mark.
‘I don't mind if you do,’ said Gemma with uncustomary softness.
‘Oh.’ Mark was totally taken aback. It was the last thing he was expecting. ‘What's brought this on?’
‘Shelly said I was being stupid,’ said Gemma. ‘She thought I was making a fuss about nothing. Apparently her mum and dad have both had loads of girlfriends and boyfriends since they split up. She says that you have needs and I should understand that.’
‘Oh does she indeed?’ Mark, thinking he was never going to look at Shelly in quite the same way again.
‘So, it's okay,’ said Gemma. ‘I don't mind if you want to see Emma.’
‘Emily,’ corrected Mark.
‘Whatever,’ said Gemma with an airy wave of her hand. ‘And I forgive you for lying about us. Uncle Rob explained that it was all his fault.’
Thank you, Uncle Rob, thought Mark.
‘So,’ Gemma seemed to be warming to her theme now, ‘are you going to see her again?’
‘I think it's more a question of will she see me again?’ said Mark. ‘She's pretty cross with me right now.’
‘If she fancies you, she'll get over that,’ said Gemma. ‘You just need to send her flowers or something.’
‘Oh, it's that simple, is it?’ Mark was amused now.
‘Yes,’ said Gemma. ‘I read all about it in Mum's Cosmo. All you need to woo a woman is flowers and chocolates, a few multiple orgasms and then she'll be anybody's.’
Mark nearly choked on his burger.
‘I'm not sure life is as simple as Cosmo makes it out to be,’ he said. ‘In fact, I'm not even sure you should be reading Cosmo, but thanks for the advice.’
Rob was practising his Cuban motion in front of the computer. The phrase always made Rob laugh, but according to Carlo it was only the hip movement he needed to dance rumba properly, not something rude.
‘Remember,’ exhorted Carlo (whom Rob had decided resembled a Colombian drug dealer) from the YouTube clip Rob had downloaded, ‘it's how you move that matters. If you want to be sexy with your lady, you have to move her, baby. So let's get some hip action going.’
Getting sexy with his lady wasn't proving too easy at the moment. Things with Mandy seemed to have fizzled out. Not that he minded all that much. Apart from some sizzling sex, there hadn't been much else there.
It was funny, he thought, as he followed Carlo's instructions about bending and straightening alternate knees, when he'd started this dance-class malarkey it had been purely to meet women, but now (though he'd never admit it to anyone, least of all Mark) he was getting completely hooked. Since Mandy had lost interest there didn't appear to be a lot of other fish in the sea – Rob had by now managed to work his way round all the available attractive ones – but he was enjoying learning to dance so much, he didn't actually mind.
‘As you step forward, remember to let your hip drop,’ Carlo was saying, but when he started talking about contra-body action Rob lost him completely. He paused the clip and started it again.
There was always Katie, of course. Although it wasn't as though he fancied her or anything. She was way too plump for him, although he had noticed that in the last couple of weeks she did seem to be slimming out a little. But it did make a nice change to actually have an intelligent conversation with a woman.
After watching the bit about contra-body action for the third time, Rob finally worked out that it meant that his right arm should move forward at the same time as his left leg, while his left arm should move forward in time with his right leg. He had a practice go, but the lounge was so small he found himself banging his shins on the coffee table, so he decided to skip that bit.
The phone rang. Mark was out with the girls, which meant Rob had the house to himself. He hated to admit it but Sundays gave him that doomed, about-to-be-executed feeling that he remembered so well from his own schooldays. Some time around lunchtime he always started feeling that the weekend was already over, any possibility of fun or enjoyment gone. Perhaps it would be better if he had someone to share the dullness of Sundays with. Someone like Katie, maybe …
Stop it, Rob, he said to himself as he went to pick up the phone.
‘Rob, hi, it's Jenny Masters, how are you doing?’ Jenny was an ex-colleague of Rob's from the days when he had worked at the school Gemma now attended. There had been a time when she had also been something more, but they had settled in the end for an easy casual friendship. Besides, she was now living with a six-foot rugby player, which was one complication too many for Rob.
‘Hi, Jen,’ said Rob, ‘to what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘Well, I need a favour actually,’ said Jen. ‘You know I organise team-building courses for the Year Nines?’
‘How could I forget?’ Rob had spent the best part of three years finding excuses for not helping out at them.
‘I've got one coming up in the autumn term,’ Jen said. ‘I can't get anyone to volunteer …’
‘I wonder why not,’ said Rob. He had a feeling he knew what was coming.
‘So I was just wondering …’
‘The answer's no, Jen,’ Rob interrupted. He'd resolved years ago that he was never going to get involved in stuff like this again, and he wasn't about to make an exception, even for Jen. The memory of that night, so long ago, still haunted him, however much he tried to forget it. It was funny how since he'd met Katie, he found himself thinking about it more and more.
‘Rob, please.’ Jen was more pleading than he'd ever known her. ‘If I can't get enough help I'm going to have to cancel. We use the team-building to help the kids prepare for SATs. It's only four Saturdays of your life. They look forward to it so much, it seems such a shame if they can't do it.’
She'd got him there. Despite his outward cynicism, Rob loved his job, and he liked it that kids got better opportunities these days. It wasn't his problem, but on the other hand he'd feel a bit lousy if he was the difference between the course happening or not. And what had happened in Wales was years ago. There was no reason at all to think such a thing could happen again.
‘Are you sure you can't get anyone else?’
‘I've tried everyone I can think of,’ promised Jen. ‘Honestly, I wouldn't ask if I didn't need to.’
Rob felt himself cracking. Maybe it would do him good to face up to his demons. And maybe he'd enjoy it anyway. The reason he'd gone to Wales was because he enjoyed that sort of thing. Perhaps it was time to reconnect with his past.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I'll do it. But only on the understanding that if someone else puts their name forward I can drop out.’
‘Rob, you're a star. Thanks so much,’ said Jen. ‘What can I do to repay you?’
‘I can think of lots of things,’ said Rob. ‘But I don't think your boyfriend would like any of them.’
‘I'll buy you a beer next time I see you,’ laughed Jen.
‘You'd better,’ said Rob, and put the phone down.
What had he done? He'd spent the best part of fifteen years avoiding responsibility. It was why he'd lost Suzie. It was why he was spending yet another Sunday afternoon alone. He and Suzie had seemed so special, but it had not been enough to hold them together in the wake of the tragedy that had engulfed them. He wondered what she was doing now. He hoped she was happy.
But the face that kept swimming before him wasn't Suzie's at all. For some reason, he couldn't, just couldn't, get Katie out of his head.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Are you dancin’?’ Rob sidled up to Katie as she stood contemplating the room, wondering if she really had the guts to keep coming to dance classes when Emily clearly wasn't planning to return. The thing was, Katie wasn't sure if she could live without dancing now. When anyone ever asked her, she always maintained that she enjoyed her cosy domestic set-up so much she didn't miss having a social life. ‘Being at home with the kids and Charlie is enough for me,’ she'd always say earnestly, and with most people that worked. Apart from with her mum, who had scathingly said, ‘I think the woman protests too much,’ the last time Katie had waxed lyrical about the joys of domesticity.
And, increasingly, it wasn't true. The boys needed her, of course they did, but they were at school all day, leaving her with Molly, who was great and gorgeous and all of that, but Katie could hardly have a meaningful chat with her. And then there was the house. The effort of keeping it pristine was killing her. During the day when Molly slept, Katie would run round frantically trying to put things in cupboards, clean out loos, hoover bedroom floors, but there never seemed to be enough time to get it done before Molly awoke. Oh God, maybe Charlie was right, she thought. Perhaps she was going bonkers. She'd even found herself itemising her cupboards the other day, and, let's face it, who else would dream of ironing hankies and putting them in colour co-ordinated piles to match her husband's shirts? If she was like this now, what on earth would she be like when Molly started school?
And so her dance classes had become vital to her. It was the one time in the week when no one was demanding her attention, when she could be anyone she wanted to be. She could forget that she was a size sixteen, had three children and a failing marriage. Although, of late Katie had been pleased to notice that her clothes were getting a little bit looser. Perhaps the dancing was helping her to lose weight. She had also found that Isabella's strictures about standing tall meant she was walking straighter. She'd spent so many years crouched over a buggy, she'd begun to think hunchback was her natural position.
And once Rob was leading her on the dance floor, she felt less of an ugly duckling and more of a graceful swan. She needed what he gave her each week; the chance to escape from the dreary reality of her life, to believe she could go somewhere different, be someone different. It was intoxicating somehow.
‘Are you askin’?’ Katie laughed back. Why was it that with Rob she felt ridiculously alive in a way she never (if she was honest) had done with Charlie?
‘I'm askin’,’ Rob said.
‘Then I'm dancin’,’ Katie replied, following him onto the floor to do a quickstep they had practised last week.
There was no doubt about it, Rob was the most assured and polished dancer of all the men in the room. Unlike the terrified divorcé Katie had danced with the previous week, or the supercilious young dancer from the local theatre school who'd once taken it upon himself to spin her round the room while telling her everything she was doing wrong, or any of the Jet Set, who made her feel like a plank, dancing with Rob felt natural. Instinctively, she seemed to know where he was leading her, and her body automatically fell in step and rhythm with his.
‘You not dancing with Mandy this week?’ Katie couldn't help teasing, as she counted slow, back, quick to the side, quick close, slow forward, while Rob whisked her round the room.
‘Nope,’ said Rob, deftly executing a quarter turn – so very different from the guy who'd nearly sent them spinning into a wall last week. ‘I think you could safely say that Mandy isn't going to be on my Christmas-card list any more.’
‘I wouldn't worry about it,’ said Katie, ‘I think she's got other fish to fry.’
They stopped dancing for a minute to watch as Mandy sashayed up to the divorcé (from whom Katie had managed to elicit the information that he was a rather wealthy stockbroker) and proceeded to guide him by the hand and throw him round the dance floor. The poor man looked terrified.
‘That's a relief,’ said Rob, as they attempted the Forward Lock step Isabella had shown them earlier. ‘Sorry, I got that wrong, my right foot should have been to the left of your feet.’
‘Ooh, Rob's actually made a mistake,’ grinned Katie, as they started again.
Rob glanced over at Mandy and the divorcé again, who were dancing incredibly close, like something out of Dirty Dancing.
‘At least I don't have to feel guilty that I didn't call her at the weekend,’ he said, nodding towards Mandy, who was lasciviously trailing a hand down the divorcé's back and hooking a finger on his jeans. Her victim was coming out in a cold sweat and looking as if he was completely out of his comfort zone.
‘I find it hard to imagine you ever feeling guilty when you don't call a woman,’ said Katie as they completed a quarter turn.
‘Oh ye of little faith,’ said Rob. ‘I do have my principles, you know.’
‘Why do I find that hard to believe?’ said Katie.
‘Believe it,’ Rob replied. He brought her close to him as the dance came to an end. She could feel the thump of his chest against her, and for a moment, as she stared into his eyes and looked at his cheeky grin, she did believe it. For a moment. Then she came quickly to. Rob was as much part of the fantasy as the dancing was. She knew him for what he was. It was all right to engage in harmless flirtation with him, but it could go no further. Even if she weren't married. She recognised a heartbreaker when she saw one.
‘Are you coming to the pub this week?’ said Rob. He asked every week, and every week she said no.
‘Not this week,’ Katie replied. ‘Thanks for asking, though.’
‘What is it with you?’ Rob asked. ‘I swear you turn into Cinderella when you leave here, you're in such a hurry.’
‘Yup, Cinders, that's me,’ Katie said, curtseying as she got to the end of the dance.
‘I'll have to turn into Prince Charming to get you to stay then,’ said Rob.
‘I think it will take a little more than that,’ said Katie, and made her excuses to leave, wishing that she didn't really feel like Cinders going back to her daily grind.
Mark had read the letter three times, and still he couldn't believe what he was reading.
‘What is it?’ Diana looked up from the reception desk, which she was busily trying to restore to some kind of order after mis takenly allowing Sasha loose on it the previous Friday.
‘Jasmine's going to sue us. Well, me specifically.’
‘No.’ Diana put down the case notes she was holding, and looked at him aghast. ‘She can't.’
‘Apparently she can,’ said Mark. ‘She's been advised by her PR agency that the News of the Screws was given the story about her tooth by someone at this practice, which is tantamount to a breach of confidentiality. Without anyone else to point the finger at, they're blaming me.’
‘Here, let me see,’ said Diana.
Mark handed her the letter and she scanned it rapidly.
‘It's not as if they can prove it's you. Shall I run it past my old boss, see what he thinks?’
In her previous incarnation, Diana had been a legal secretary.
‘Would you?’ Mark felt all at sea. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before, and he hadn't a clue what to do next.
‘Have you informed Head Office?’
Mark grimaced. Since the practice had been bought out by a corporate dental group, there were precious few people at the top who knew the first thing about dentistry (their current CEO had been big in dog biscuits once, apparently), so he wasn't at all convinced anyone would even have a clue what he was up against, let alone think about supporting him. If anything they would be more likely to buy Jasmine off to shut her up, and leave him out to dry.
‘I have already told them she might be complaining,’ he said. ‘So I suppose I'll have to tell them this too. Thank God I rang my union rep.’
The meeting was fortuitously scheduled for this week. He was relieved beyond measure that he had someone professional to talk about it with.
‘I'm sure it will be all right,’ said Diana. ‘Judging from this letter, all they've got is hearsay. I doubt very much that it will go to court.’
‘I hope you're right,’ Mark replied, taking the letter back from her and going to his surgery to ring someone in HR. He had a nasty feeling, given Jasmine's propensity for wanting to be in the public eye, that this one was going to run and run.
