Page 11 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz

‘You’ve had to postpone it twice, or is it three times now?

First the pandemic and then – what was it?

A death in India was it? Poor dear. Well, you need to ensure it happens this time.

I know of several young people who split up before their weddings could be rearranged.

It would be so tragic if that happened to you… ’

I smile with my eyes but – unseen behind my mask – bob my tongue out at the irritating woman.

‘Good afternoon, Mrs Little. Lie back. Now, open wide please.’

The music from the radio changes to a well-known Indian song. The track is similar to my special wedding dance. It is one of our entries in the Paris competition and I am very proud Clarissa let me assist her with the choreography. Rashmi and I used to do Bollywood dancing when we were teenagers.

My mind is solely on the music as I mechanically check the teeth in the gaping mouth beneath me and attend to the brush and scale.

I have to say, Clarissa’s ladies all look beautiful as we dance in our blue and green saris with matching scarves floating in the air.

Ma helped Monica make the costumes at our Rusholme family sari shop.

She said Monica was a very good seamstress, but I had to be very firm with Ma when the job was done.

‘Do not dare to ask Monica to work in the family business. It would be a complete insult and so embarrassing.’ I told her.

‘Monica is a very well-to-do lady of a very high class in Britain. She works for a well-known wedding dress designer. So please, Ma, she is not a lady to sew saris for a living.’

Poor Ma, now every time she sees Monica, she bows as if she is royalty.

I think of my wedding dance. None of my family have an inkling about it and Paris will be the perfect opportunity to ensure it is performed to a high standard. I want my guests to be utterly blown away with our performance.

My patient swats my metal probe away with her hand to quickly gulp down a swallow of saliva before gingerly opening her mouth again.

‘Almost done, Mrs Little. Now, wider please.’

Paris will be the first of a long line of trips for me.

I have only told a few of my patients, but I will be taking a six-month break when Jay and I go around the world on our extended honeymoon.

With a bit of luck, Mrs Little will be seen by one of my colleagues on her next check-up, which will be due before I am back.

Rashmi was furious when Jay and I announced our plans.

‘Why is Asha allowed to go gallivanting around the world?’

‘She will be with her husband,’ Ma explained. ‘Besides, you have responsibilities now. You have two children to look after.’

‘It is not fair,’ she had cried.

‘Of course it is fair,’ I said, watching her plump baby guzzle from her breast and wincing at the thought of a child latched onto my nipple. ‘I am in a professional job where staff frequently take sabbaticals. It is not my fault you are not in a similar position…’

‘It is nothing to do with your job. You always do just as you please.’ The baby started to cry, and Rashmi sat him up to wind him, when he proceeded to vomit out almost all of his feed.

‘Now look what has happened.’ She burst into tears as Ma tried to mop up both mother and baby.

‘Here, take Nikhil for a minute.’ She dumped the wet child on my lap and when the fumes of his soiled nappy hit me, I was overcome with nausea. I managed to hold him at arm’s length until Ma took him from me.

‘Can you not see you are being unreasonable, Rashmi…’ I started.

‘Unreasonable? You get to choose your husband, to choose your job, to dance in competitions, to go to Paris. I always wanted to go to Paris…’ Rashmi is now crying uncontrollably.

‘And I studied hard at university for several years to…’

‘Leave her be.’ Ma gave me a warning look. ‘Rashmi has not slept properly in weeks.’

I thought then that if this is what having children does to you, I would rather not bother…

I spot an inflamed area in the gums in front of me and test it with the probe. Mrs Little pushes her head back into the seat and I pull the instrument away.

What is it with jumpy patients this morning?

‘Ah, a sore area. Yes, Mrs Little, you need to get your brush right into this part of the gum. There is an unfortunate build-up of plaque…’

Mrs Little gargles something incomprehensible as I pick up the metal scaler to remove the hardened plaque.

My mind freewheels as I systematically scrape between the teeth.

I was over the moon when Clarissa picked me for the Expression competition.

She has only allowed a fraction of her ladies to represent the group in Paris.

I have asked the exact same ladies to dance at my wedding.

After all, we move intuitively, checking our spacing and dancing as a unified whole.

Hazel came to watch a recent rehearsal and said we oozed talent, our combined force giving a stage presence that would be hard to beat.

Mrs Little below me winces as I hook and wiggle at a resistant lump of plaque and I am brought back to the present.

‘Sensitive there, is it? Make a note,’ I call to my nurse. ‘We need to watch lower right three. No need to look so worried, Mrs Little. It is common for people of advanced years to develop sensitivity in their teeth.’

Mrs Little frowns and starts to mumble a reply but I insist she opens her mouth wider so I can reach around the back of her molars.

It will be hard to be away from Jay for three nights.

I glance at the small mirror in Mrs Little’s mouth and smile as I catch a brief reflection of my kohl-rimmed eyes.

I have started using a new type of make-up and love the effect.

With this and my efforts in the gym every evening, I am sure to look my absolute best for Paris and for my wedding. It has been worth all the hard work.

Of course, most of Clarissa’s select ladies are very fit.

Bonnie and Cath appear to do a different class every day, including belly dancing of all things.

Monica runs, Ruby swims and Fay walks and does several yoga and Pilates classes at the library where she works.

I think Ingrida is possibly the least fit of our number, but she tells me she has no time for other classes and to be fair to her, she must be on her feet all day with her nursing job and looking after Neil Goodman’s exhausting children.

Perhaps her extra weight is a sign of nervous eating?

I know Rashmi’s figure has exploded with exactly this since she had her children.

She is always in the kitchen stuffing her face…

I guess I should feel sorry for my sister.

She has lost her husband – not that he was any great loss – her freedom, and her figure.

If only she were not so annoying, I would pity her.

‘All finished, Mrs Little. Do swill out your mouth and we will see you again in six months.’

As Mrs Little almost runs from the room, I wonder about Janine.

I have no idea if she does any other fitness classes.

In contrast to Ingrida, she has lost a lot of weight in the last year; she is quite skinny now.

Janine has been a good dancer, and she is pretty enough, although her teeth could do with whitening.

I am not that close to her, so I have not suggested this as yet.

She is probably self-conscious about her height; she is very short and would look so much better if she styled her hair.

It is all lank and mousy but with a good cut it would look so much better.

I guess if her mother is that poorly, she probably has no one who can give her a little encouragement with her appearance.

I wonder what her life is like. Janine used to light up when she danced, but in the last few months her moves have become almost mechanical.

I heard Clarissa urge her to elevate her performance and wondered if she regretted adding Janine to our competition group.

Perhaps I will try to talk to Janine more in Paris.

I could always offer to whiten her teeth for free to give her a boost.