Page 16 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz

Ingrida

Monica parks her big smart vehicle in the vast airport car park.

‘How’s Ruby getting here?’ Cath quietly asks as we retrieve our cases from the boot.

‘I would have thought Monica had bags of room for Ruby,’ Bonnie starts to say. ‘It’s an enormous car…’

‘Keep your voice down.’ Cath urges as Monica puts a crook lock on the steering wheel.

I do not say I know Monica did not offer a lift to Ruby, as Ruby had called me to see how I was getting to the airport. I make it sound as if Neil was dropping me off. I felt bad not to be honest with Ruby, but to say I was going with Monica did not feel right.

‘Oh of course, I forgot. Have they still not sorted out their argument?’ Bonnie asks in a stage whisper.

‘No.’ Asha pulls her case from the boot as she hisses. ‘I hope they do soon. It must not be allowed to interfere with our performances in Paris.’

Overhead, an aeroplane comes in to land and I give a small shiver of excitement. It has been a long time since I have been in an aircraft. Not since I first came to England six years ago. I smile to think how bad my English was then.

I think of all the things that have happened to me since I moved here.

My mama would be very proud to see how I have made good.

She would be proud to see I have become a specialist nurse and to know I am dancing again; she loved to watch me dance.

I think too, she would be very surprised to see I am now a married lady and stepmama to three children.

She thought I would never have children after my cancer, but I think she is up there watching me from heaven, and I can see her face smiling. Her last words to me repeat in my mind.

Ingrida, we have had a very unhappy time here in Latvia.

First your father die in that terrible accident, then your uncle – Papa always said he would come to no good – brought shame on all our family, then your bad illness…

and now God has decided to take me from you before my time…

Do not cry, Ingrida, you must go and make a beautiful life away from all this sadness.

Trust in God and always be kind to others.

I have done as you said, Mama. I have left Latvia and made a good life for myself here in the United Kingdom, Paldies Dievam .

‘All OK, Ingrida?’ Asha asks.

I stop staring at sky and – how you say? – ah yes, snap out of my memory. I realise my eyes are a little wet, so I dab them with a tissue.

‘ Ja , thank you. I was just thinking how I am very happy to be here and also how much I look forward to Paris.’

Monica locks the car and smiles at me. ‘Ingrida, you’re always happy. It makes a refreshing change to have such a positive person on the team.’

Asha, she frowns at Monica and say under her breath, ‘There are plenty of positive people here,’ before she pat me on my arm in a kind way.

Monica’s words, when she say I am part of the team and positive give to me a warm glow, even if I am only the reserve.

‘I checked our flight on the airport departures site and it was looking to be on time.’ Asha inform to us as we walk to the bus stop and wait for the coach transfer to the terminal.

Cath, she sings a line from John Denver’s song “Leaving on a Jet Plane”.

I love to listen to Cath sing – and to her happy chatter with Bonnie.

‘Oh, did I tell you? I nearly forgot my passport this morning,’ Bonnie announces.

‘You have got it haven’t you?’ Asha asks.

‘Yes, but I got so distracted looking for it, I actually opened the fridge door to get my jacket.’

‘You never did?’ Cath laughs out loud.

‘You are a bit on the young side to be having senior moments, Bonnie,’ Monica laughs.

Cath then adds, ‘I’m not so sure about that. Bonnie, do you remember the time you got to dance and found that instead of your jazz shoes, you had put your slippers in your bag by mistake.’

Cath’s Irish accent sounds musical to my ears.

‘Oh heavens. I’d forgotten that. Goodness, don’t tell my kids. They’ll start planning when to put me in a home. Oh ladies, did I tell you I have become an auntie again?’

‘Oh, Bonnie. That’s wonderful news. Is that Ryan and his wife?’

‘Yes, they’ve had a little girl. She was born yesterday.’

We all congratulation Bonnie and Asha asks, ‘What have they called her?’

‘Freesia.’

‘Oh, how lovely. After the flower?’

‘No, the cow.’

Asha, Monica, and Cath all stare at Bonnie, who shrugs and says, ‘They spent a lot of time in Holland. Well, I think it was Holland…’

Then everyone breaks out laughing. I join in, but I am not quite sure what the joke is.

‘Bonnie, you crease me up,’ Asha says just as the bus arrives and we set off to our terminal.

I will remember this expression, crease me up. The creases of laughter like the creases in one of Neil’s un-ironed shirts. It is good term. It make me giggle inside.

‘I wish we didn’t have to be at the airport so early.’ Monica frowns.

‘It’ll be all the security checks,’ Cath replies. ‘But it means I’ll get time to buy some perfume and I love looking in the wee shops in the forecourt.’

‘Will you be buying anything, Ingrida?’ Bonnie asks.

‘I am going to look for gifts for Grace, Theo, and Lizzy.’

‘Oh yes, your new stepchildren. How lovely. And don’t forget your new husband. But perhaps you should wait until we’re in Paris and get them something French?’

I think to myself what Neil tell me, that Paris is expensive place to buy souvenirs and I have only small amount to spend. I did have a credit card but Neil, he does not like them and he tell me many people get into bad debt with these cards so he tell me it would be good idea to cut mine up.

Now we are married, I want us to do everything together and we are to have new joint bank account.

Neil says my nurse salary can be paid in there and he will give me money every week.

He say this is a tradition in the United Kingdom for a husband to give his wife – what did he call it?

– ja , I remember, the money for keeping the house.

My nursing friends they say to me this is not tradition any more, but I do not mind if Neil is old-fashioned.

I like being a traditional United Kingdom housewife and I think it is good to share everything.

I am surprised at how much is the cost of the shopping for a family with three children.

This cash, it does not go very far but I am very good at making budget.

I use less expensive cuts of the meat, bake my own bread and always use leftovers.

When my poor mama had to manage on her own, she show me how to make a little go a long way, God rest her soul.

*

We arrive inside the busy terminal and Clarissa and Hazel wave us across to the area near the check-in desks. Hazel is sitting in her wheelchair. I think she look pale, but I can see she is content to be here.

‘Good to see you, ladies.’ Clarissa smiles at us. ‘I managed to book assistance for Hazel to get onto the flight and they will come across as soon as we are all here.’

‘Who are we waiting for?’ Monica asks.

‘Ruby and Fay. We all need to check-in together. Has everyone got their passports ready?’

Clarissa anxiously scans the busy area for the others.

My Latvian passport is at the top of my bag. I smile when I look at the name: Valenko. I will soon be getting a British passport with my new name, Mrs Ingrida Goodman.

Clarissa suddenly gasps and we all look up. Her expression, it has changed to one of horror.

We turn to see what she is looking at.

A big group of about twelve ladies, all dressed in fluorescent pink leggings and tight matching tops – which are so low cut you can see their black bras – head towards us.

They are giggling and speak very loudly.

Many passengers have turned to look at them.

As they get closer, I recognition them. They are the group who won the heats in the North West Expression dance competition.

I do not know them in person, but I know Clarissa she does not like them at all.

The woman at the front of the group – I think she is call Sheila – is wearing a lot of make-up. She stops when she see Clarissa and clicks her fingers. All the other pink ladies suddenly shuffle into different places behind her, dragging their suitcases behind them.

‘Clarissa. Pleasure to see you…’ She wink to her group who form a semicircle behind her.

‘The pleasure is all yours.’ Hazel folds her arms.

Sheila turns her back on Clarissa and she make some kind of signal to the other ladies.

They instantly start to click their fingers at the same time.

Sheila turns sharply back to face us and she and the women dance, in unison, towards us using what Clarissa calls exaggerated crossover steps.

They are all singing a chorus from a well-known Tina Turner song, “Simply the Best”, as they advance.

Clarissa takes a step back, closer to Hazel, and the passengers nearby get out their phones to film.

‘It’s a flash dance,’ someone shouts.

The pink women spread out and surround our group, each one coming right up close to each of us, clicking their fingers in our faces.

I do not like this. It is what Fay say is intimidating.

They then stop – Sheila bang in front of Clarissa – and do a front twist turn.

I briefly see the rhinestone letters ‘BAB’ emblazon across the back of each top.

The women face back to us again and each one extends an arm and then sticks a single finger in air.

I pull back so the woman’s finger right next to me does not touch my face.

I know this is a rude sign in England. It is also a rude sign in Latvia.

‘See you in Paris, Clarissa, but don’t expect to beat us,’ Sheila shouts at Clarissa who has almost turned the very same colour of their pink tops.

‘Expression Paris winners, this way,’ Sheila calls to her group. They scream with laughing as they get their bags and head off to the check-in desk.

Monica puts her arm through Clarissa’s. ‘Take no notice of them. They’re dreadful.’