Page 19 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

“I didn’t know you meant proper cycling with Lycra and everything.”

“Is there another kind of cycling that’s not proper?”

“I had you down as a tweed-and-plus-fours man. Whatever plus fours are. But you suit this sort of cycling better.” There was a note of appreciation in her voice. “You absolutely have the figure for Lycra. Give us a twirl.”

It was embarrassing. Little girls in tutus gave twirls. He hesitated, about to refuse.

“You want to talk about elections — I need something in return.”

Stuart always kept his word and he was supposed to be coming out of his shell and having fun. He shuffled his feet so that he turned 360 degrees. It didn’t feel like fun. Florence stretched her arms out at shoulder height and smiled at him encouragingly. Feeling like a ballerina in drag, he copied her.

“I’ll fetch the music,” she said. “Let’s make the most of you being sleek, flexible and fit. And I mean ‘fit’ in both senses of the word.” She threw him a wink. “You’ll make some lucky lady very happy.”

Stuart was already hot from pedalling up the hills but now his face was burning and he could feel an increased dampness under his arms.

“This sounds like the Blackberries but actually it’s us.” She swiped something on her phone and a familiar beat filled the room. Florence’s body began to reflect the rhythm. Stuart saw past her slippers, apron and jeans and sensed her real stage presence as she fell into sync with music. This time she didn’t sing as she danced, but it was her voice coming out of the speaker. She held out her hands and called him over. “Time to keep your side of the bargain!”

His limbs moved like a wooden puppet with tangled strings. He’d discarded his cycling shoes in the porch and was now in stockinged feet, which made him feel vulnerable.

“Just mirror what I’m doing and dance like no one is watching.”

He was a couple of seconds late with every move and by the time he’d grasped one pattern repetition, Florence had switched to a different arm wave, hip wiggle or sidestep. He was like an electric toy whose diminishing battery power was making his movements slow and uncoordinated.

“You’re too uptight. Let your shoulders relax. You’ll know when you’re doing it right because the music will carry you.”

Concentration was threatening to burst his brain. He wanted to give up, flop on the sofa and simply enjoy watching Florence’s lithe movements. But giving up didn’t move life towards that bright new future. Giving up meant more of the same greyness. He didn’t want more of the same, he wanted a proper life. He wanted happiness.

His shoulders wouldn’t weave like Florence’s. His hips were made of concrete. His arms and legs were getting better at waving, kicking and generally being busy but they were headstrong and wouldn’t be governed by the music.

The song ended and Florence swiped her phone before the next track could begin. “I really enjoyed that,” she declared. “It’s so much more fun when you’ve got a partner. That’s why I love performing — everyone in the audience is your partner and we’re all urging each other on to bigger and better things. You’ll be good at this in no time — a lesson a day will chase your awkwardness away.”

They sat down on the sofa next to each other.

“My water will be going cold.” Florence pointed at the lime-green bucket by the window. The lurid colour made it obviously a new purchase and not one discovered under the kitchen sink.

There was a small gap between them, along the line of the two flat sofa cushions. If either of them moved, their thighs would meet. It would be embarrassing. Especially in his cycling Lycra. Stuart tensed his muscles and tried to lean imperceptibly in the opposite direction.

“I hope I’m paying you by results and not by the hour?” He gave what he hoped sounded like a light-hearted chuckle.

Florence frowned at him. “I hope that wasn’t a dig. I’ll be keeping the whole of this house to my usual standard.”

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “My jokes are obviously worse than my dancing. I don’t know when those windows last saw a cloth. You’re doing a fantastic job.”

She smiled and patted his knee. The spark of electricity took him by surprise and he stood up quickly. “I’d better get in the shower.”

“When I came back from the supermarket I met that woman next door, with her mother.”

“Lillian and Jayne?”

Florence nodded. “The old lady seemed subdued. She walked up to the front door without speaking. The younger woman, Jayne, was full of questions, mostly about me and how long I was staying. She was a bit pushy, if you ask me. She even asked if we were ‘having a relationship’.” Florence added the air quotes. “But I put her straight on that one.”

“You asked her the same question the day you moved in.” Stuart spoke lightly but his mind was working. Jayne’s question was a good sign, surely. He thought about the phone number underneath the change jar.

“But she was like a dog with a bone. Wouldn’t let it go. Did we spend our evenings together, she asked. I told her I was out performing most nights and she seemed to relax a little. But she has definitely got designs on you.”

Two women standing on the driveway discussing him and not even talking about how he was doing ‘a good thing’ by caring for his father. It was a weird, surreal happening.

“In retaliation I asked her about Audi man.”

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