Page 24 of Not Strictly Ballroom

“Liked?” She snorts with derision.

“You want some time alone with someone you just like? He’s been your best friend forever, surely even that is worth more than like?” She won’t let up at all.

I grit my teeth. “Will you just help me, please?”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you.” She cups her hand over her ear and leans in closer. “What was that? Yes, Claire, I needed your help because I love Nick soooo much.”

I sigh in exasperation and throw a cushion at her.

“Fine, I more-than-like Nick.” That’s all she’s going to get from me.

What was she asking, though? Yes, I fancy him and want to be with him. Yes, as a friend I said I loved him, but this step is huge. Was I in love with him? I don’t want to think about that right now.

She preens a little at my words and luckily doesn’t ask me to say anything else.

“Actually, I do have a plan. I’ve already sorted it.” She smirks at me again. “You can just chip in for it, if you want.”

“What?” I whisper.

“I’ve booked a hotel in London for Mum and Dad’s anniversary next week. I’ve also booked a show for Mum—an evening with Bruce de Silva—and I’ve booked them a meal at Bertoffs for Dad to enjoy.”

I stare at her, well aware that my mouth is hanging open and I’m blinking like a newborn in the light. Bertoffs is a Michelin-starred restaurant my dad has wanted to visit for a long time, and I think my mum would enjoy seeing Bruce. She met him a long time ago when she still danced competitively, before he struck stardom on the dancing shows on television.

“You’re welcome,” she says, and pretends to ignore me by turning back to the movie.

I’m part shocked, part madly happy, and part mad. I decide to tackle the initial emotion first.

“You arranged all that, and you didn’t tell me?”

She gives a casual shrug and I ask, “When were you going to tell me?”

“Tonight.”

“But I . . .” I trail off as I know where this is going. I asked for her help first. Which brings the mad back to the surface. “You put me through all that and you’d done it, anyway.”

She grins at me. “You’re too easy, Darcy, always have been.”

I rock back away from her. “You evil witch.” I always resort to insults when I’m mad at her.

“You’re so cute when you’re mad. Does Nick think so, too?”

I launch at her with a cushion, piling on top of her, trying to smother her while she cackles helplessly. I end up laughing, too. I’m still mad at her, but I am also grateful to her. Immensely grateful. Eventually, we subside and sit side by side on the couch, panting. She grins at me again.

“Thank you.” I manage to be gracious this time, but a thought suddenly occurs to me.

“How did you know?”

“Oh please, Darcy, why do you think I left home? You should try it sometime. It’ll do wonders for your sex life.” She gets up and pushes past me. She picks up the bowl and heads to the kitchen to microwave some more popcorn. I stare after her. My sister has never mentioned anyone else in her life, never brought anyone home or introduced them to us.

I follow her, too intrigued to stay in front of the movie; not that we’ve been watching it for a while, anyway.

“You have a sex life?” I sit at the breakfast bar while she sets the microwave and fetches us a drink from the fridge.

“Just because I don’t tell you something doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”

“How come we’ve never met any of your, er, many partners?”

She turns round and her eyes flash. “Not many, just some, and not any I’d want to bring home.”

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