Two to Tango

Was it time for Anne-Marie to get back to the ballroom?

Anne-Marie opened the door to see her daughter standing on the doorstep, holding a cake box and a drippy umbrella.

‘It’s horrible out there.’ Heather breezed in, popping the sodden brolly in the sink. ‘Honestly, I’d rather have it cool and frosty than like this.’

Anne-Marie stared out of the window at the leaden grey clouds. She’d been in the conservatory listening to the serenade on the roof and steady drumming on the windows while enjoying her book. ‘I know. Still. It will be good for the garden. Fancy a cuppa?’

‘Yes, please. I brought cake.’ Heather rescued a couple of plates, popping a chocolate éclair on each.

Anne-Marie pursed her lips. Her favourite. Hmm. What was she up to? Heather only normally brought cake when she wanted something. She inwardly grimaced. That sounded unfair. She loved her daughter dearly. But Heather did have a habit of bringing gifts to sweeten the atmosphere before raising whatever it was that she had on her mind.

‘Have you thought any more about what I said the other day, about you joining a group and making some new friends? You might meet someone nice.’

And there it was! ‘I’m happy on my own,’ AnneMarie said mildly. ‘And I have friends and lots to keep me busy including my part-time job at the garden centre.’

Loving plants as much as she did, she’d been overjoyed at getting a job at one of her favourite places, after being made redundant.

Heather stared at her in concern. ‘But I worry about you. I mean, since Dad… Well, anyway, I know how much you and he used to like to boogie. There are going to be dances held at the church hall on Saturday nights, Abbie’s mum said.’ Abbie being one of

Heather’s close friends. ‘It’ll be a bit like Strictly Come Dancing, and I know how much you love that programme.’

Boogie! Anne-Marie’s lips twitched. Truth be told she and Bill had shuffled their way round a floor. He’d never been much for learning steps until they’d started ballroom dancing lessons.

Of course, that had been before Minnie Aldridge. Anne-Marie remembered how she’d broken her leg and couldn’t dance for several months. She’d then discovered that Minnie had not only waltzed her way round the dance floor — she’d also promenaded into Bill’s heart.

She didn’t tell Heather as she didn’t want to be pushed into making a decision, but she’d noticed the signs advertising the dance when she’d got her shopping earlier. She’d even made a note of the time on her phone.

Dare she go on her own? she had wondered. It was very tempting as she used to love waltzing and quickstepping around the

‘There are going to be dances held at the church hall on Saturday nights’

dance floor.

She blinked, realising that Heather was still speaking.

‘So, what do you think? I’d come with you, only Greg and I are going to a friend’s 30th.’ She made a face. ‘I don’t like this getting old lark!’

Anne-Marie burst out laughing. ‘You’re only 29, stop complaining. Wait until you get to my age.’

‘True!’ Heather gave her a cheeky grin. ‘Seriously, though. You look pretty good for 58.’

‘Thanks,’ Anne-Marie said drily.

‘And whether you meet someone or not, you’re bound to make some new friends if you go to the dance. So you will think about it, won’t you?’

‘Yes, dear.’ Anne-Marie patted her daughter’s hand.

Listening to the toetapping beat of the live music coming from the church hall the following night, Anne-Marie nervously took a deep breath. She hadn’t danced with anyone since her divorce seven years before and half felt like turning round and going home. But, then again, she’d made the effort and dressed up, so why not? Maybe it was time. After all, no man, or woman, was an island. Even Cinderella went to the ball in the end.

Smoothing her blue dress, to which she’d treated herself a few weeks earlier, she plucked up her courage, taking two steps inside — only to nearly trip over a stray guitar case.

‘Whoa… are you OK?’ A deep baritone voice made her look up to meet a pair of vivid green eyes the colour of fresh grass, twinkling out from under a thatch of grey hair. He held out his hand and taking it, her heart jerked.

The handsome man standing in front of her looked to be tall, and seemed to emanate a lovely old-fashioned charm. Smartly dressed in a black shirt, he gave her a warm smile.

‘I’m fine. I’ve always been a bit clumsy…’ Inwardly, she was cringing, wishing the floor would open up beneath her. Trust her to make an entrance!

‘Totally my fault. My friend plays in the band, and asked me to carry it in for him. He’s got two. But I got waylaid. I leant it up against that wall, but it must have slipped. Thank goodness you’re OK.’ His voice was full of concern, before he glanced around, his gaze searching behind her. ‘Is your husband or partner joining you? I’ll apologise to them too. I do hope I’ve not ruined your evening.’

Anne-Marie felt her face redden under his gaze. Goodness. At her age, she wasn’t a schoolgirl but right at that very moment she felt like one. And a rather gauche one at that. ‘No. Umm… we’re divorced. I’m on my own tonight. My daughter suggested I ought to get out more…’ Her voice petered out under his understanding gaze.

‘Kids, huh!’ He gave a wry chuckle. ‘You know, it was my son who suggested I come along. “It’ll get you out of the house now you’re on your own,” he said. Honestly, sometimes I feel like our roles have been reversed and he’s the dad and I’m the errant son.’

Anne-Marie laughed with him. How could she not? He was so friendly and welcoming.

‘Well, as we’re both on our own, can I escort you in? I’m Tony.’ He gallantly offered her his arm.

Nice old-fashioned courtesy, she thought. I like it. ‘Anne-Marie. And thanks.’ Her nerves began to subside as they walked inside, as she didn’t feel so selfconscious about being on her own.

Glancing round the hustle and bustle of the room, her eyes lit up. Oh, how she’d missed this. People. All chatting, laughing and joking, or twirling around the floor. Tony found an empty table, and insisted that he get them both drinks from the bar.

As she waited for him to return, Anne-Marie felt her toes tapping in time to the music.

Tony didn’t take long, soon returning with a glass of white wine for her and what looked like a lager for himself.

Taking a sip, Anne-Marie smiled. ‘The music’s great.’

‘Must admit, I love it,’

Tony agreed. Hearing the tempo change to a nice waltz, she saw him raise his brow. ‘If you’re sure you’re OK, care for a dance? I promise not to step on your toes or cause you to trip again.’

‘In which case, how can I say no?’ she said, loving the feel of his strong

‘Whether you meet someone or not, you’re bound to make new friends’

hand taking hers.

It was good to be held in a man’s arms again. Really good. Romantic. She used to love feeling the pressure of a warm hand on her back guiding her round the floor. And as the slow music twirled around like strands of a romantic dream, she felt as if her heart were now playing a new tune.

It was with regret that she let Tony escort her back to the table. At least I still remember the steps, she thought, giving a small sigh of relief.

They chatted for a bit, Anne-Marie discovering that Tony worked in IT.

‘I love all this new technology emerging. So exciting.’

‘And confusing,’ AnneMarie said with feeling. ‘I’m more of an old-fashioned girl, though I know I ought to be more tech savvy.’

‘Nothing wrong with that.’ He gave her another warm smile that made her insides turn to jelly.

As the evening continued, conversation flowed freely, Anne-Marie finding out that Tony loved travelling, like her, and had recently returned from a trip to the beautiful island of Madeira.

‘It’s lovely there. The flora is spectacular.

And of course, there’s the world-famous

Madeira wine.’

‘It’s somewhere

I’ve always wanted to visit. A friend went there a few years ago and her photos were stunning.’

In between chatting, they danced, and AnneMarie enjoyed the feeling of being spun around the dance floor by a charming man. ‘I miss this,’ she admitted, having caught her breath after a particularly fast quickstep.

‘You’ll have to come again. Seriously, I’d be delighted if you would. I’m really enjoying your company.’

Anne-Marie beamed. ‘Me too. And yes, I will.’

She’d already told him briefly about Bill, and Tony had divulged the fact that his wife of 20 years had sadly passed away a few years previously. ‘But I like to look forward, not back. Don’t get me wrong, she’ll always hold a special place in my heart. But I like to feel that she’d want me to be happy and find love again.’

He took a sip of his drink and Anne-Marie had no trouble in recognising the hopeful look in his eyes. Someone who, like her, was ready to find someone special to be in their life once more.

With the band taking a break, Tony introduced her to his friend, recounting the story of the guitar. AnneMarie complimented him on the music. ‘I’m glad I came tonight. It’s lovely to be dancing again.’

‘Good. It’s nice to see such a great crowd. Let us know if there are any special requests.’

‘Well, I have always been an Annie Lennox fan. But I’m loving everything you’re playing.’

The band struck up a stately waltz, and Tony o ered her his arm

With their break over, the band struck up a stately waltz, and Tony offered her his arm.

As she was gently led around the floor again, Anne-Marie caught the gaze of another couple who looked familiar. Was that…? Yes. It was

Bill and Minnie!

But what a change. Bill was now rather portly and Minnie was as round as a barrel. No wonder she hadn’t immediately noticed them. Their dancing wasn’t up to much any more either! She saw Bill give her a surprised look and AnneMarie grinned. Never had moving on felt so good.

Hearing the band then strike up a familiar tune, she shared a smile with Tony.

Yes. Life certainly had some twists and turns. One moment it could feel like a nightmare, and the next be full of sweet dreams. She was so glad she’d decided to come along. It had taken a bit of courage, but sometimes that was needed to step into a new and more optimistic future. And it was the ballroom that made Cinderella realise she was worthy of happiness again.

Her daughter was definitely right about her getting out more — and who was she to disagree?

Ruby had a thing about men’s hands. She couldn’t bear the thought of being touched by anyone with short stubby fingers and chewed nails.

Darren had strong brown hands with long fingers, tipped with clean, well-shaped nails.

He picked up his pint, his hand encircling the glass. Little trickles of condensation ran down the outside of it until they reached his index finger.

As he set down the glass, he touched his finger to his lips and, with the tip of his tongue, licked off the moisture.

Ruby wriggled in her seat and felt a little shiver run through her.

They’d met on the internet and it was their first date.

‘I never asked what job you do,’ he said.

It was the question Ruby always tried to avoid.

She picked up her drink and took a sip while her brain frantically sifted its way through lists of jobs.

Model? Teacher? Nurse?

She needed some sort of white lie.

‘I’m a nanny,’ she said, and tried to head off further questions on the subject by asking what he did.

‘I’m a delivery driver. It’s dead boring.’

He switched the conversation back to how she spent her days.

By the end of the evening, Ruby had invented a whole family. A rich couple and their three spoilt kids, Opal, Ollie and Osmond.

‘It’s a big responsibility,’ Darren said, ‘looking after someone else’s kids.’

‘Mmm,’ said Ruby, avoiding eye contact, and instead staring at his hands.

When they said goodnight, he gently placed a hand either side of her face before kissing her.

The next morning, Ruby felt sick at the thought of all her lies. Her work suffered. She nearly missed putting ‘a big crack’ on the report she was typing. What if the sewer had collapsed because of it?

She worked for a company who put cameras down sewers to see what condition they were in.

Ruby typed up the reports, complete with photos, to send to the clients.

She’d stopped talking about her work to friends. Especially boyfriends.

‘Seen any dirty pictures lately?’ they’d laugh.

That was one of the clean jokes. The rest weren’t funny, just rude. Her last three boyfriends had all pushed her to the limit.

If Darren insisted on talking about her job, she’d eventually have to tell him the truth.

She stopped typing and instead dreamt of Darren’s hands stroking, caressing…

The office wasn’t the right place for such thoughts. So

Ruby switched to making up amusing stories about Opal, Ollie and… what was the other one called?

‘Can you think of any names beginning with O?’ she asked Jan at lunchtime. ‘Boys’ or girls’ names?’ ‘Both.’

Ruby couldn’t even remember which sex the third child was meant to be.

The waitress joined in the game. So did the people sitting at the next table. Nothing sounded familiar.

Ruby was so deep in thought as she left the office that she stepped into the road without looking.

A horn blasted. Brakes squealed and a loud voice swore and then asked worriedly: ‘Ruby, are you OK? I could have killed you.’

Ruby’s body was shaking. Darren got out of his van and took her by the hand.

‘Shock,’ he diagnosed and opened the passenger door. ‘Get in. I’ll take you home.’

‘I need to go back to work.’ Ruby’s voice was shaking too. There was an important report waiting to be dispatched. Without thinking, she directed

Darren to the office.

‘That’s where I work,’ she said. ‘There is no Opal or Ollie or whatsisname.’

It was time to confess about the sewer cameras.

Darren listened and laughed.

‘That’s why I didn’t tell you,’ Ruby said. ‘You’re the same as all the others. It’s not funny.’

‘No, it’s not,’ he said. ‘But I understand. People make fun of my work too.’

‘What’s so funny about being a delivery driver?’

‘It’s what I deliver,’ he said, twisting in his seat and pointing behind him.

It was as dark as the grave in the back of the van, but Ruby could just make out a long shape lying there.

‘I collect them from the hospital and take them to the undertaker’s where I work,’ said Darren.

Those beautiful hands. Ruby shuddered, thinking of what he handled every day of his working life.

‘Told you my job’s dead boring,’ he grinned.