Page 52 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz

‘What the hell’s going on?’ Ruby mutters as we finally push past the film crews to get inside the theatre.

I glance at the clock, ‘Ruby, we’re so late. When are we dancing?’

‘No idea. Quick, grab one of those programmes and let’s leg it to the dressing room.’

I squeeze through a few groups queuing for tickets, the foyer abuzz with chatter and laughter, and manage to grab a programme from a small stand. When I flick it open, my stomach drops.

‘Oh no. Ruby, “Dancin’ Fool” is the first number. We’re opening the show.’

‘Shit. We only have twenty minutes.’

We exchange a panicked look and sprint to the backstage door, weaving our way through the throng.

‘They’re here.’ Cath screams as we fly into the dressing room. ‘Now that’s what I call cutting it fine. We’d given you up for lost.’

‘Thank goodness you are back. I was about to text Clarissa to tell her we would not be able to go on.’ Asha gives a loud sigh before sipping from a bottle of water and nibbling on a crisp.

She shouldn’t eat so close to dancing, but I’m too busy rushing to get out of my clothes to say anything.

All the other women are changed and ready in their white pin-striped trousers and waistcoats, including Edith who is wearing Fay’s outfit – thank heavens I altered it before we left the theatre earlier. They’re all stage-ready with full make-up.

My heart thumps as Ruby and I race to get ready. ‘Sorry, sorry…’

I see Ingrida wave a finger to get Asha’s attention before pointing to Ruby. Asha puts a finger to her lips and mouths, ‘Not now.’

No idea what that’s about but I kick my shoes off as Ruby yanks at her top, saying, ‘We lost track of time.’

‘It is OK. You are here now, ja? Breathe slow and stay calm.’

‘Have you seen all the press interest in the show?’ Ruby asks breathlessly as she rips off her clothing.

‘ Ja .’

‘The place is swarming with reporters. What’s going on?

‘They are trying to catch a glimpse of Sheila Bold’s women,’ Asha shakes her head.

‘What?’

‘Yes, Bold as Brass have shot to fame,’ Bonnie says as she puts on another layer of lipstick.

‘Or rather, their rear ends have. Earlier they did a photo shoot outside the theatre entrance. Cath and I watched them. Very cheeky it was too. Apparently, their costume malfunction featured on the main French news last night – their exposed flesh pixelated – and its gone vinyl.’

‘Viral, Bonnie, you daft eejit.’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘You’re kidding me?’ Ruby shakes her head. ‘Must’ve been a slow news day to show Sheila’s arse on French TV.’

Edith giggles.

‘Frédéric, the Expression manager, he is over moon – Clarissa tell us.’ Ingrida adds. ‘Many people buy tickets for show and it is sold out.’

‘Grief. That explains the crowds.’

Cath continues, ‘Yes, apparently this one incident has achieved more publicity than the combined promotions from all the previous years in the history of Expression.’

‘All down to the Bold as Brass mishap? That’s so nuts,’ I say.

‘I know, and now they are saying the British press is also over it like a rash,’ Asha adds.

‘They got wind of Fay’s accident and tried to interview Fay and Edith, and then it would seem they heard about the rivalry between our two dance groups and the alleged plagiarism of Clarissa’s “Roxanne” number.

They are going to have a field day with that, I imagine. ’

‘I don’t think my mother is too happy about it.

’ Edith chews her lip. ‘They caught us outside as we arrived. I think Frédéric told them about her fall. Anyway, they started off asking her about her broken leg and how I’m taking her place in the dance, but they then moved onto questions about why we’d been…

well, estranged. I said nothing, apart from it being none of their business.

I mean, I don’t even know how they knew about that.

Anyway, Mum… Fay got all tongue-tied and said it was disgraceful – the press trying to poke their noses into a family rift.

But the reporter wouldn’t let it go and the next minute the interviewer asked about the bad blood between the UK dance groups.

I tried to indicate for her to stop, but she was so indignant and in full flow.

She ended up saying some very inflammatory statements about the Bold as Brass group. I couldn’t stop her…’

‘Jeez. Frosty Fay needs to learn when to stick a sock in it.’

I quickly nudge Ruby with my elbow.

‘Sorry, Edith… Er, I didn’t mean…’

‘It’s OK. Frosty’s a pretty good name for my mother. Although I think you ladies have managed to thaw her out a bit between you.’

‘Ladies, look at time. We need to warm-up, ja? We are on stage very soon.’ Ingrida encourages Asha to lead a hasty warm-up as Ruby and I quickly plaster on our stage make-up.

It is a real honour to be opening the show, but I wish we had a little longer. I force myself to breathe slowly as I pull back my hair into a low ponytail and put on the bright lipstick.

Ruby and I barely have time to do a few warm-up moves when an organiser arrives at the door and hurries us towards the stage.

‘ Dépêchez-vous . Vous êtes les premié res. Vite. ’

We fast walk behind her down the corridors, bowler hats in our hands.

We stop in the green room and watch the TV screen to listen to Frédéric introducing the finals show in French.

Ingrida translates for us as we take the opportunity to do a few plié squats.

‘Frédéric say, he applaud all dancers, teachers and organisers. He say a lot of hard work has gone into show. He also mention the press interest.’ Ingrida pauses to listen to more. She starts to giggle, as do the audience. ‘He make joke about derrière – it mean behind – he make audience laugh.’

Frédéric’s next joke is drowned out by laughter. Ingrida did not catch it but we all smile anyway. He then starts to announce Dancing Excellence Clarissa Kirkland and we catch the words, DECK, DICK and then zizi . The audience roar with laughter and clap.

We look to Ingrida for an explanation.

She shrugs. ‘He say something I do not comprehension. I do not know this word, le zizi , but it make everyone laugh very much.’

Frédéric then says Edith’s name and the name of her group, Corps et Ame . We all guess remplacer means Fay’s replacement.

‘He say jambe cassée . Is broken leg.’

‘We get the gist, Ingrida.’ Ruby smiles.

In Clarissa’s absence I feel duty-bound to fire everyone up and encourage them to do their best. I wave everyone across to me and we form a tight huddle.

‘OK, ladies. This is it. The audience should be well in the mood for “Dancin’ Fool” after Frédéric’s jokes. Let’s give this our all. Comedy, smiles, exaggerated moves, and fun. We need to make the biggest fools of ourselves yet, Clarissa-style.’

We have a group hug, and the organiser calls us to go through.

‘ Mesdames et Messieurs, Barry Manilow qui chante, “Dancin’ Fool” exécutée par DICK… pardon… par DECK.’

We march onto the stage to loud applause and spread out. I am at the front, centre stage. We place our bowler hats on the floor and all assume our jazz poses.

The house lights dim to blackness. The back-light shines behind us as we are silhouetted. The audience cheers and claps. We hold our positions until they finally settle down.

The track starts. A deep male voice introduces the song with ‘Ladies and Gentlemen’ and how it’s showtime at the Copacabana. Then the spotlights come on and the music starts with loud, fast drumbeats.

The first clash of the cymbals is my cue. I’m in the zone; my focus is on nothing else.

Clash – I move, as does Edith, in a prepared kick and flick so we end in a new jazz position, our hands poised over our hats.

Clash – Ruby and Ingrida click their fingers as they drop their arms, raise one knee and change position directly behind their hats.

Clash – Cath, Bonnie and Asha all do sharp head isolations before pointing to their hats.

Then the trumpets briefly flare.

One Blast. In unison, we all drop. We hold our hats between our fingers and thumbs.

Two Blasts. We take sharp steps lifting the hats in front, elbows wide.

Three Blasts. We lift and lower the hats in staccato moves onto our heads. Our hands are paused on the hat rim, three fingers lifted high. The music then surges as we lean at a jaunty angle, take a hand up and out to the side in a huge sweeping movement and walk around in a full circle.

Barry’s words kick in about the band blasting out… and we launch into the fast-all-action routine.

We hit every beat with our bent train-wheel arms. Our hands and fingers form trumpets and trombones. We raise and lower our hats. There is a sharp isolation for every word of the song.

When the rhythm switches to a brief lyrical section, our moves are soft and flowing before the pace charges up again to high-speed jazz.

I’m aware only of us on the stage. We’re one cohesive unit, completely in step. Our wide smiles are genuine. This is the best feeling ever.

The instrumental interlude sees us forming a tight group at the front of the stage.

We all sharply raise our hands high – fingers wide – and back.

Then again, splayed out so we are framed in a circle of open hands.

We twist to the side and slide-step on the spot as we look to the wings, then as one we turn our heads to the front.

We turn, sidestep, then lurch away from each other and back and start the crazy walks. Our backs are bent forward, our hands swing high and low, our faces turn to face the audience.

Ingrida, on cue, goes the wrong way and play-acts wide mouth horror before catching us up in double time.

The air between us is charged. By the time we get to the final line about being a dancing fool, we’re all crossing through each other, mock speed-running, raising our hats and finally stepping into the frantic Charleston section, hands thrown wide, eyes bright and faces animated with fun.

On the final note when Barry shouts ‘Yeah.’ We all throw our hats high into the air and freeze with our arms raised.

The applause is thunderous. Tears prick the back of my eyes as I take it all in.

We take a short bow, then the instrumental music replays as we pile the hats – one on top of each other – into Ruby’s hands and dance off the stage.

Wolf whistles can be heard along with further clapping as we leave the auditorium and green room behind.

Back in the dressing room, we all talk at once.

‘It was over too quickly,’ I say, panting like the others after the sheer exertion of the dance.

‘It went by in a flash.’

‘Edith, you were amazing.’

‘I loved it. What brilliant fun that was. I need to come down off the ceiling before we do the “Fix You” number.’

‘I’m dripping, but so happy.’ Ruby high-fives Cath, Bonnie and Ingrida. ‘Did you hear that applause?’

‘Beat that, Sheila Bold.’ Bonnie punches the air with her fist.

‘It was very good, ja? I think it was best we ever do dance.’

‘It was. And now I think we deserve to get ossified.’

‘Is that an Irish term?’

‘Sloshed to you, Bonnie.’

‘Ha ha. You were marvellous, Ingrida, fancy dancing with such high energy in your condition… oops.’

‘I do not have condition, Bonnie. You make mistake.’

‘Oh, I am so sorry, Ingrida, I must have got the wrong end of the stick… Asha, are you OK? You look a bit pale. Do you need to sit down?’

Asha shakes her head and rushes out in the direction of the toilets.

Bonnie looks at Cath with her eyebrows raised.

Edith strips off her costume and puts on her blue dress ready for her next dance before we all thank her again and she waves goodbye from the door.

‘Good luck and stay in touch,’ I call to her.

‘Will do.’

When our chatter calms, a buzzing noise can be heard. I see it is Asha’s phone on the dressing table so, in her absence, I lift it and press the flashing green answer button.

‘Hi, Asha’s phone – Monica here… Hi Hazel, everything OK? Yes, thank you. Yes, it was the best we have ever danced it. So glad Clarissa agrees.’ I call out to the others, ‘Hazel said we moved Clarissa to tears. Who? Oh, Ruby? Yes… really? Yes… OK, I will send her up.’

‘Ruby, Hazel said there’s someone to see you. He’ll meet you in the café if you can go up there now.’

Ruby questions me with her eyes and I give an almost imperceptible nod, smiling when I see the flash of comprehension hit home. She turns and rushes from the dressing room.