Page 87 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
‘Wonderful.’ Cath claps Bonnie’s back. ‘I’m just annoyed Sheila’s Maggots have made it too. Purely down to stealing Clarissa’s dance routine to “Roxanne”. The dirty wee hallions.’
I should be delighted we are through and furious about Sheila’s group, but all I can feel is a mental numbness.
The announcement was made just after Ingrida and I returned from the hospital where we had left Fay to wait for her airboot to be fitted. All the groups were called into the amphitheatre for the rollcall.
Now back in the dressing room, Clarissa distributes the judges’ written notes, her face beaming.
‘Will you look at this?’ Cath waves the sheet of paper. ‘Apparently, “Dancin’ Fool” has won the judges’ second highest commendation, and this is what they want us to perform in the finals tomorrow. Asha, did you hear?’ Cath taps my shoulder.
‘Sorry?’
‘We got a commendation. For “Dancin’ Fool”.’
I manage a thumbs up with a smile and a nod. I should be over the moon; it was all I wanted. But now there is only one thing on my mind.
I glance at the notes and feel only a mild sense of disappointment to see there were no remarks – positive or negative – about my Bollywood number. Though in truth, we did not dance our best. Not with one person down and so many of us distracted, me included.
‘Ladies, we need to get going if we are to make our river cruise,’ Clarissa calls.
Ingrida and I hastily change out of our saris.
The sun is low in the sky as we wait for our bus atPlace de la Bastille. I hold my bag tightly. The test is inside. Ingrida and I went to the chemist on our way back from the hospital.
Pregnant? I cannot get the thought out of my head. I am still hoping I am not. What will I say to Jay? I resolve not to call him until I know. It seems a leap too far to contemplate becoming a mother. Maybe these waves of nausea are purely psychosomatic; the autosuggestion of expecting a baby inducing the symptoms. I mean, I am getting married, travelling the world. A child is not part of the equation.
Our bus arrives and we show our passes. Ruby has taken over as our guide in Fay’s absence, but I can see she is flicking between the map screen and her messages in a distracted way. No doubt waiting for a call from Max. The tension sparking between them in the theatre café was downright obvious.
All the buses are equipped with a disabled ramp, so Ruby offers to push Hazel on and off in her wheelchair.
Within a few minutes, we are getting off again.
‘Where now, Ruby?’ Cath asks.
‘Hang on… Right, this is thePlace de la Concorde.Hey, wow. It’s massive isn’t it. Oh look, theChamps-Élyséesstarts just there.’ She points.
‘I read Marie Antoinette was executed here,’ Cath comments.
‘Was she really? This place is so full of history.’ Bonnie links arms with Cath.
‘And here is the Luxor Obelisk.’ Hazel stares up at the gold-tipped Egyptian relic at the centre of the square. ‘That’s said to be over three thousand years old.’
Bonnie whistles and we all take in our surroundings.
I take a deep breath of fresh air and turn full circle. ‘Hey, those buildings by the trees look a bit like Buckingham Palace.’
‘Marvellous. I had almost forgotten we were in Paris after being inside the theatre all day,’ Clarissa points to the other end of the square to a large, light stone structure topped with a glass-domed roof. ‘If I remember rightly, I think that is a palace just over there.’
‘The map says it’s theGrand Palais.’ Ruby glances up. ‘It’s a pity Ingrida is not with us. She could’ve told us more.’
I had offered to go back to the hospital with Ingrida to collect Fay – she called to say she had been seen quicker than expected – but Ingrida told me to go ahead. She knew I wanted to do the test as soon as possible.
Stop thinking about the test.
Instead, I reflect on Fay’s injury. She has been told she can collect crutches tomorrow, but they said she must not weight-bear and risk displacing her fracture in the first few days, so using a wheelchair will be a necessity. I do not know how we will get her back to the UK. I can see it will be fraught with difficulties.
I wonder about the dancer from the French quartet who had rushed to Fay’s side. Ruby wondered if she could be Fay’s daughter, but I had always thought Fay was a spinster. I mean, I cannot imagine her being married.
Ruby studies her phone for a few minutes before saying, ‘We’re only a thirty-minute walk from the Eiffel Tower… Now which way?’
