Page 11 of The Riviera House Swap

Nina, unsuccessfully trying to cover at least some of her modesty with the leggings, forced a smile. ‘Yes, I think so,’ she said. ‘Just getting changed.’

‘Thank you,’ the woman said, seemingly in no desire to rush off. She stayed at the window. ‘This your first time too?’

‘Yes,’ said Nina, feeling goosebumps begin to appear on her legs. ‘Came straight from work,’ she said, nodding towards the crumpled trousers to ensure the woman realised the reason for her state of undress. ‘Just quickly getting ready.’

‘Gosh, it’s nerve-wracking, isn’t it!’ said the woman, fingering a gold necklace at her collar. ‘I haven’t tried anything new for a while, but when the leaflet came through, I thought – well, why not! I used to do a bit of dance back in the day – and there’s life in the old legs yet.’

‘Right! Same!’ said Nina, nodding. ‘Well, I guess I’ll see you in there?’

‘Actually,’ said the woman, her head now virtually through the gap in the window. ‘Do you mind if I wait for you? I feel a little bit nervous – so unlike me! – and it’d be nice to have someone to go in there with.’

‘Sure, of course.’ Nina said, nodding again towards her clothing. ‘I’ll just…’

‘Oh! Of course!’ the woman said as if just realising Nina was half-reclined on the back seat wearing her underwear. ‘I’ll wait.’

‘Thanks.’ Nina raised the leggings and gave them a flap as if to indicate it was time to look away. But the woman’s head remained in situ. In the end, Nina had no choice but to wriggle herself into the leggings, which to her annoyance were her oldest, tightest pair and likely had no ‘give’ whatsoever, with the woman chattering way as if the whole situation was completely normal.

‘I’m Marjory, by the way,’ she said. ‘Live just over by the doctor’s surgery. Useful at my age… Never had a bunion in my life till I was seventy, now they seem to sprout out on a monthly basis, and don’t get me started on piles…’

By the time Nina staggered out of the car, in half-twisted leggings, she was already regretting her decision to come. But she shouldn’t write it off, she told herself. Just because Marjory had no sense of personal space didn’t mean the class wouldn’t be just what she needed. She could always find a spot away from her new ‘friend’ and give it a proper chance.

Inside the room, eight other women stood, barefoot, in readiness for the class to begin. Nina followed their lead and took off her trainers, stuffing her socks inside and piling them in the corner, together with her handbag. Then she took a space on the floor, at the back of the room, and tried to stretch her legs a little, leaning forward to touch her toes.

Moments later, the door to the hall creaked open, screeching as it swung back into place, and a hush fell over the room. Nina straightened to see a woman, probably mid-sixties, with curled hair piled high on her head. She was wearing a pair of below-the-knee leggings, after which her legs were bare of everything except a jungle of coarse, black hair. Her feet, also bare, were enormous, and each toe sported a ring. She clacked across the floor, carrying an old-fashioned CD player in one hand, and (ominously) a tambourine in the other.

‘Welcome one and all. I’m Mandy!’ she said, delighted with herself. She set the CD player on the floor and beamed at the women in the class. ‘Lovely to see some new faces!’ she said in a breathy, earnest voice. ‘Let’s hope the healing power of movement will bring us all together this evening!’

Mandy bent down, the material of her leggings stretching to reveal the pinkness of her skin beneath, and pressed play on the ancient machine. The sound of panpipes, drums and chanting began to fill the room. Mandy turned, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, and raised her hands in the air. ‘Let the music fill your soul!’ she said. ‘Move, give in to the rhythm!’ She closed her eyes and began to move, trance-like, bucking and swishing her body in time to the uneven drumbeat.

Nina felt a sense of rising panic. She’d been expecting more instruction, more standard dance moves, rather than, than… whatever this was. She glanced up at the other participants, hoping to see some of them looking equally baffled, but everyone else seemed to have fallen under Mandy’s spell. They weremoving, jerking, and even spinning, their eyes firmly closed, their faces rapturous. Even Marjory looked gripped.

‘Feel free to open your lips and give in to the call of the wild!’ cried Mandy above the din. She let out a strange, animal cry – a little like the sound Rupert had made once when Nina had accidentally trod on his tail.

A cacophony of similar sounds began emanating from the lips of all the ordinary-looking women in the class with Nina. A whooping, chucking, clucking, calling, bird-like, beast-like, jungle of noise.

And it was too much.

Nina was just weaving and half-dancing her way to the back towards the door with the hope of sneaking off when she heard a voice.

‘You!’

She took a few more steps, but sensed the class had turned to look. She raised her eyes.

‘You! Yes!’ said Mandy, as she locked eyes with Nina. ‘Ilovewhat you’re doing! The speed! The movement! What would you call it?’

‘Um, I just…’ Nina began to stammer.

To her horror, Mandy dropped her shoulders to a stoop and began to step, on tip toes across the front of the room. She moved her head back and forth to the music as she did so, giving herself the appearance of a drunk pigeon. ‘I love it!’ she cried. ‘Let’s name it the “Snazzy Walk”! Now ladies, let’s all give this a go. And a one, two three four…’ The entire class turned and began to tiptoe walk to the opposite wall, arms and heads rocking to the beat. ‘Yes!’ said Mandy. ‘Oh, wonderful!’

No longer caring, Nina bolted through the women and raced to the back of the room, grabbing her shoes and bag and running barefoot into the cold car park. Reaching her car, she looked up to see Mandy, still in full trance, rocking by the floodlit window.

She started the engine and accelerated out of the car park as if chased.

This. This was why she played it safe more often than not, she told herself. This was why she didn’t try new things. Because new was not always good. Stepping out of your comfort zone was not always good. And fate? Fate could do one.

The roads were clear on the way home and once she was sure she wasn’t being followed, she began to relax. She pictured Mandy’s Movers still replicating her dance moves and her attempted escape. It was hard not to smile.

It hadn’t been what she was looking for. But it had been an experience. And what harm had it done her? She’d pushed her boundaries, even if she’d pushed them in an unexpected direction.

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