Echoes of the Dance (25 page)

‘I'm still here. Is this a bad moment?'

‘Hello, Kate. No, of course not. I was just coming back from a walk and I could hear the phone as I crossed the yard. And the dogs would all try to beat me to the door. You know what it's like?'

‘Oh, yes. I know what it's like. Thank you for your offer of lunch.'

‘Does that mean a “yes”?'

‘It does, but I'm going to be pushy and ask if you could manage Gemma's twins too.'

‘Of course I can. Splendid idea. In that case, since half-term was last week I imagine it has to be Saturday or Sunday?'

‘It does. Whichever is best for you but we'd have more time on Saturday. Gemma's collecting them from me at tea-time on Sunday.'

‘Saturday, then. We can all go down to the beach at Rock. They love it there.'

‘Shall I bring things to eat? You know, fish fingers or sausages?'

‘I can manage fish fingers but I'd be grateful if you could cope with the cake for tea.'

‘Bless you, Roly. It's good of you to have us all. They miss the dogs when they come here and I know they'd love to meet Floss.'

‘Had any more thoughts about her?'

‘Well, to tell you the truth, I was thinking about her earlier. I went to view a cottage, not very far away at Walkhampton. The really odd thing is that I used to live there thirty years ago and I think it could be the answer to all my dithering.'

‘Big enough for a dog?'

‘Oh, yes. I had my first golden retriever puppy there, Megs. She was so sweet and the twins, my twins, adored her. They were about the same age as Ben and Julian are now. And then I kept a puppy from her first litter. That was Honey. It all came back to me this morning. Rather unsettling, actually.'

‘I can imagine it might be. I'd love to see the cottage.'

‘Yes, you must. Next week, perhaps. I'll bring the details to show you on Saturday. I'd like you to see it, Roly. I feel very excited and a bit emotional.'

‘Well, I'll bring the dogs for a return match next week and perhaps we can take Nat out for supper. And Janna too, if she's around.'

‘Yes . . . I mean yes to both. I was there last night, actually.'

‘And how is he?'

‘Uuh . . . Yes. He's . . . OK.'

‘Somehow that doesn't absolutely fill me with reassurance. Is there a problem?'

‘No. No, not a problem. Janna was with him and they were both fine. Honestly. It's just that the cottage has completely thrown me, if you know what I mean. I saw the For Sale sign last night on my way to Nat's and stayed awake half the night wondering about it and then rushed round first thing this morning. I'm just a crazy woman but it seemed like a sign.'

‘Or a portent?'

‘Yes, or a portent. Are you laughing at me?'

‘Certainly not. Keep me posted.'

‘Oh, I will. See you Saturday about midday.'

Kate sat down at the kitchen table, suddenly exhausted. Impressions fluttered and jostled in her head: Gemma's brittle voice and one or two of her comments; Janna's behaviour last night and Nat's wariness; the cottage . . . It was good to be able to talk to Roly with utter freedom, no more worrying about crossing the narrow line between love and friendship. How strange to see that unhappy, stubborn passion of his flow away as he told his story about Mim's accident; but how much easier now, the relationship between them. Perhaps she was foolish to be glad – after all, it was unlikely that she would ever know that kind of love again – yet Roly's friendship was very precious to her and now she could feel secure with him. He felt the same, she was sure of it.

Her thoughts edged anxiously back to Gemma and Nat, to the cottage, and she sighed impatiently. In the past this would have been a time for collecting the dogs and setting off across the moor in an attempt to clear her mind: today, it would be more sensible to have some lunch and prepare for Michael's visit. On an impulse she picked up Dame Julian's
Showings
and opened the book at random:

If there be anywhere on earth a lover of God who is always kept safe from falling, I know nothing of it – for it was not shown me. But this was shown: that in falling and rising again we are always held close in one love.

It was clear, Kate decided rather bitterly, that despite Julian's own sufferings and the terrible times through which she'd lived – war, the Black Death and national unrest – her unwavering message was one of forgiveness and love. Oh, yes, and joy: Julian had written quite a lot about joy.

Seized by an irrational fit of irritation and frustration Kate slammed the book shut and went upstairs.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Daisy, too, was suffering a similar mood of disgruntlement. Now that she was back in Bath, the steadily growing determination to accept Mim's offer was already being undermined by the heart-fluttering anticipation of meeting Paul. Here in the flat, in the town, an awareness of his presence informed all her actions and thoughts. This was Paul territory now; the streets and restaurants were overlaid with memories and she was very quickly reduced to a state of nervous hypertension, wondering if she might bump into him or hear his footsteps on the stairs. Mim was quite right to point out that she couldn't think straight because of him: ‘
We want to cook them delicious food
and have their babies. Clever old Mother Nature has got us
well under her thumb
. . .'

Surprising herself, Daisy snorted aloud with wry amusement as she suddenly recalled Mim's tale of her marriage. It was quite impossible to imagine Mim being married yet it was clear that she had once been a victim of this terrible malaise.

‘It's only terrible,' Daisy reminded herself, ‘because it's not reciprocated. If Paul loved me I'd be dancing on cloud nine. Well, perhaps not dancing . . .'

This brought her back to Mim's suggestion: to work with Mim, to teach the children and to choreograph something for the Charity Matinée. It was a fantastic offer, and it was simply stupid of her to hesitate even for a moment; after all, what else was she to do? Her savings were dwindling and soon the old pattern of trying to find temporary work would begin to repeat itself: working as a receptionist for a dance establishment or a dance shop, or as an usher in a theatre. This time there was a difference, however. In the past these jobs would have been merely a filling-in post until a dancing job turned up; now she wasn't certain if she would ever be able to dance properly again.

Down in Cornwall, talking to Mim and Roly, she'd experienced a sense of growing excitement at Mim's plan. Encouraged and enabled by their enthusiasm, with her passion for Paul weakened by distance, this new exhilaration fanned the flame of her real, true love of the dance, of music, of drama and colour. Yet now, back in Bath, her emotional antennae were attuned to him again: she longed to see him so much that the fervour of her new resolution was beginning to dwindle and die down, smothered by the anxious awareness of his proximity.

She wondered if, during the last week, he had missed her.

Perhaps, when she saw him again, there might be a difference in his attitude towards her. Watching from the window she tried to imagine her reaction if he were to greet her with real love: which then would she choose? Supposing she were to tell him about Mim's offer; it might open his eyes to the possibility of her moving away. On the other hand, he might encourage her to go, and then what? She shivered a little, imagining how cheerfully brutal he might be, and decided that she wouldn't tell him her news too early. She would play it cool, give herself time to assess his reactions when they met again.

His car sped up Henrietta Street and pulled in beside the kerb. Instinctively Daisy drew back, unwilling to be seen as if she were spying on him. She heard the car door slam and, a few moments later, his front door closed. Waiting, wondering if he would come upstairs to see her, Daisy suddenly remembered Mim's words: ‘
There is one who kisses and one
who extends the cheek
.' Galvanized by a quick hot spasm of angry shame, giving herself no chance to recover from it, she picked up her bag and went swiftly out and down the stairs.

It was some minutes before Paul answered the door. He was pulling on his cotton jacket, looking rather preoccupied, and he seemed almost surprised to see her.

‘Hel
lo
!' he said jovially. ‘I thought I heard a knock and wondered if it was Andrew coming to collect me. How are you? How was the holiday, and Mim and Roly and all the dogs?'

All the time he was speaking he was shrugging himself into the jacket, patting the pockets to check for keys, and she was mesmerized, as usual, by his vitality and by the energy that flowed from him. She felt wrong-footed, embarrassed and awkward.

‘Are you going out?' she asked foolishly. Once again he'd taken control. Going into his flat clearly wasn't to be an option, and she struggled to hold on to her composure. ‘I was going to suggest we had a drink or some supper. Catch up a bit.'

‘I've got this meeting on at school.' He made a rueful face. ‘I have to say that it's going to be a great deal easier when I'm living on site. Look,' he glanced at his watch, making up his mind, ‘I was going to snatch a sandwich on the way. I only arrived back from holiday last night and when I got home from school I remembered that I haven't done any shopping yet. I've decided to grab something
en route
and go to the supermarket later. Since Andrew hasn't turned up we could have a quick bite together, if you like.'

She briefly considered rejecting his offer with a cheerfully unresentful remark – ‘No, you get on. We'll meet up later when you're not so rushed' – but she was already as helpless as if she had moved within the range of some powerful force of gravity: she wanted to be with him, sharing in the warm radiance of his personality, keeping close to him.

‘I could make us something: an omelette.' She chuckled, making light of it. ‘To tell you the truth I can't afford to eat out. I've got to start earning some money pretty soon.'

‘Poor you.' He slammed the door behind him, looking at her sympathetically. ‘Is that going to be easy under the circumstances?'

‘It depends. I've had an offer of something.' Reluctantly she made her move simply to hold his interest, to keep him there beside her for a few moments more. ‘I thought it might help to talk it through with someone. I miss having Suzy and Jill to help clear my head.' She saw him glance instinctively at his watch and she writhed inwardly from humiliation. ‘Look, don't bother. You're clearly in a hurry.'

It was a huge effort to refrain from sounding hurt, to keep smiling brightly as she turned away, but he caught her by the arm in his familiar, easy manner.

‘Oh, come on. My treat. Let's have something delicious in Bar Chocolat.'

At the touch of his warm hand her resistance melted and he gave her arm a little friendly squeeze within his own as if to reassure her. She went with him, out into the street, struggling to regain her poise in an effort to match his own sang-froid.

‘Tell me about your holiday,' he was saying – and she marvelled that he should recall the tiny details she'd told him about the Carradines and their menagerie of dogs.

As they turned into Argyle Street on their way to the Bar Chocolat she remembered how he'd once met her, further along on the opposite side of the street, standing on the kerb with her arms full of purple tulips.

‘I think we should go to Bar Chocolat and have something delicious,' he'd said. ‘Your flowers will match their décor so perfectly' – and she'd been unable to refuse him.

Today, written on the board outside were the words: ‘I can resist everything but temptation.'

They ordered truffle torte and mugs of hot chocolate, topped with marshmallows, and admired the chocolate-shaped contents of the glass display cabinet: dogs named ‘Jess' and ‘Shep', boxes of tiny rabbits with pink ears, and the cleverly crafted fish.

As they ate their torte and watched the marshmallows melting into the hot chocolate, Daisy told him why it was that she was running out of funds: explaining that because dancers are always so desperate for work, and the competition is so fierce, they are exploited by the smaller dance companies.

‘We're so grateful to get a job that the contract is never our prime concern and we're unlikely to contest the fact that there is no safety net when we suffer injuries. Some companies pay a certain amount for the rehearsal period and then you receive a further fee for each performance. But the bottom line is simple: no performance, no fee. Weeks of sweat and toil all finished in one careless moment by a painful tearing of tissue.'

He was fascinated, asking intelligent questions, completely focused. Under the searchlight of his interest she blossomed and expanded, making him laugh and recoil equally with stories of courage and agony; showing the contradictions of the highly disciplined, finely honed dancers who nevertheless chain-smoke and require regular shots of caffeine: telling amusing tales of petty jealousies and childish bickering and then describing the misery of pulled muscles, bleeding feet and the relentless wear and tear on vulnerable human bodies.