Page 1 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
1
Monica Thornton
‘Balance step to the left. Then to the right. Midnight… la-la-la… sleeping…’ Clarissa’s shrill just-off-key voice is amplified by her radio mic. Her lyrics are fragmented and lag slightly behind those of Shakin’ Stevens’ “Green Door”. She gives a flick of her hand towards me.
‘Good evening, Monica.’
So much for creeping in unseen.
With a cursory wave back – head down – I make a beeline for the bench and hurriedly change into my jazz shoes.
I know the other ladies will have glanced quizzically over to me.
Monica is never late– I can almost see their thought bubbles.
Normally, Ruby and I arrive a good fifteen minutes early to help Clarissa set up, plug in the sound system, turn on the spotlights, the air con and all that. Normally Clarissa tells us how Hazel’s treatment is going as we prepare the studio… Normally – ha. Things will never be normal again. I swallow hard.
Clarissa changes direction. The dancers behind her – clad in black leggings and the black floaty tops I designed – are reflected in the full-length wall mirrors. They follow her every move.
‘Join us when you can, Monica… dum-dum-dum…’ Her tone and smile are friendly, not critical. Ruby’s covered for me, thank goodness.
A sharp pain flickers across my forehead. I can still barely believe it.
Ruby briefly turns my way. Her eyes urge, ‘You can do this.’
I respond with a weak smile before joining the end of the row at the back to get into step with the others. We move in synchronisation with the heavy beat, and I force myself to concentrate on the steps.
‘Now triple walks. Arms up in a Vee. Bonnie, get your arms higher. Da-de-da… green… no, even higher…’
I glance critically at my reflection in the mirrors as we leap in unison. OK, I look better than anticipated. The bright lights blot out some of the puffiness, so I just looka little tired. Waterproof mascara works.
‘Box step left. Dum dum… flick kick and turn.’
Ruby winks at me in the mirror. She frequently impersonates Clarissa mumble-singing out-of-time and out-of-tune. In the fleeting glance we know we’re thinking the same, Ruby taking Lady C – as she’s dubbed her – off to a tee. A loud snort bursts from my nose. It takes me and Bonnie, who’s dancing next to me, by surprise. I bite my lip and look apologetic. Bonnie merely shrugs it off.
My emotions are swinging wildly out of control, and I determine to fix my thoughts on the music, the beat.
Shaky sings out about the secrets behind the door as Clarissa calls, ‘Reach out to each corner and kick…’
Secrets. All those ones you’ve been keeping… I kick sharp and high.
‘Come on now, practise those winning smiles. Dum-de-dum da-da… Swing those arms.’
I imagine swinging for Vince.
He’d tried to phone me as I’d hurried from my car to the studio. I’d dismissed the call, stabbing a finger on his details and hitting edit. With a flourish, I changed his name toCheating Bastard, shoving the phone back in my bag with a disproportionate degree of satisfaction.
Now righteous fury and utter dismay fight for the spotlight in my turbulent thoughts.
‘Cross through… No. Janine! Wrong way – dear, oh dear. Pay attention. La-la-la door…’
I force my focus on the other women. We thread in and out of each other before returning to our original places.
Ruby gives my hand a glancing squeeze as she passes.
When she called earlier to find out where I’d got to, I barely managed to stammer out my words.
‘Monica, what the hell’s happened? Talk to me.’
