Page 54 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz

There is a loud blast of music – the first bars from the “Roxanne” track – over the speaker.

The audience cheer as Sheila leads her group to the front of the stage.

They all turn their backs on the audience and give a saucy wiggle of their rear ends – annoyingly to the flashing of cameras and rapturous applause – before accepting a small shield.

We all clap half-heartedly.

Frédéric then puts his hand up in the air and adds, ‘ Mesdames et messieurs, la chorégraphe de cette danse était Clarissa Kirkland. ’ He starts clapping and points to where Clarissa is sitting in the audience next to Hazel and Fay. She gets to her feet and bows graciously.

We all cheer loudly. Sheila grimaces and gives a slow handclap, clearly disappointed she’s no longer the centre of attention.

‘ à en deuxième place… ’

We all hold hands, willing our group to be ahead of Sheila’s.

‘…c’est le groupe, Dance Excellence avec Clarissa Kirkland by ze very same Clarissa Kirkland.’

We whoop and grin at each other as the audience applaud and whistle.

‘Wowzers, second place.’ Bonnie gives Ingrida a high five.

‘Result. We beat Sheila’s Maggots.’ Cath punched the air.

We head for the front of the stage and pass Edith, standing with her quartet. I reach for her hand and pull her along with us to the front of the stage, shoving Fay’s green bowler hat into her hands.

A few bars of “Dancin’ Fool” play out loudly and we all step to the front of the stage and in unison raise our hats then bow.

Asha accepts the shield on behalf of the group, and we all turn to acknowledge Clarissa with our outstretched hands.

She again stands and even from this distance we can see she is wearing a grin like a Cheshire cat.

‘ Et maintenant, Mesdames et Messieurs, les gagnants d’Expression Paris sont… Corps et Ame .’

Edith and the other three dancers in her ensemble leap up and down, and we all cheer loudly as they claim their trophy.

‘What a result.’

‘First and second place for Fay’s daughter. She will be very happy, ja? ’

Clarissa meets us in the dressing room, her eyes sparkling, as she thanks us for all our hard work.

‘What a shame Monica missed the awards,’ Bonnie says.

‘I understand some important family business came up.’ Clarissa barely looks at me, but in the briefest of eye contacts I know Monica’s told her about Vince and that we won’t be sharing this information with the others.

*

Once changed and packed, we all have a celebratory drink in the café, and I wave the other women off in their taxis as Hazel and Clarissa leave for their posh hotel and the others return to Smut Central with Fay.

The night’s getting cold and, waiting on the steps of the theatre, I pull my jacket tighter around me. Come on Max. Where are you? If only I had my frigging phone.

His taxi finally appears, and he gets out, tells it to wait and walks to meet me.

I hug him close. ‘All go OK?’

‘Bit of a rigmarole, but Monica’s on the flight. I’d forgotten how far out the Charles de Gaulle airport is. Come on, Mademoiselle , the taxi’s taking us to our dinner date. How did you get on in the competition?’

‘You are talking to a runner-up. Second place and Sheila got third.’

‘Congratulations.’ Max pecks me on the cheek and we start to walk towards the taxi when I see a man with a vaguely familiar face emerging from the theatre.

‘Max, hang on a minute.’ I cross to speak to the smartly dressed gent. ‘Excuse me?’

‘ Oui? ’

‘Are you Jean-Claude?’

‘ Mais oui .’

‘I’m Ruby, a friend of Monica’s.’

‘You were one of ze Dancing Fools?’

‘Yes, I’m a dancing fool.’ I smile. ‘I’m afraid Monica had to rush home to the UK. A family matter.’

‘ Mon dieu! I ’ope everything is all right with her family.’ He looks genuinely concerned.

‘She’ll be sorry she missed you.’

‘I was hoping she would call me.’ Jean-Claude holds up his phone and shrugs.

‘Her phone got smashed.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Er…’ I then remembered Frédéric’s word for Fay’s broken leg. ‘ Cassée? ’ I mime dropping a phone and stamping on it. I then open my arms wide to show there was nothing she could do.

‘ Je vois! I see.’

‘I’ll ask Monica to call you when she’s sorted a new phone.’

‘Ah oui , thank you.’ He pulls out a business card and puts it into my hand. ‘In case she has lost ze last one. Please tell Monica I am sorry to miss her. By the way, your dance was magnifique!’

‘Thank you.’

‘ Au revoir .’

I watch Jean-Claude hail down a taxi and disappear into the Parisian night. Now that’s one lovely-looking man.

‘What are you thinking?’

‘Nothing. Just that Monica could do a lot worse.’

Max taps my nose, wraps his arm around my shoulder and once in the taxi we hold hands until we get to a small bistro in the Marais district.

We take our seats in the characterful small restaurant with raw-stone walls and exposed wooden beams.

‘This is romantic.’ I raise my glass of red wine to chink his.

‘I booked us into a boutique hotel nearby. We can walk there from here, but for now I need food.’

‘Me too. I’m ravenous after all that dancing. You’d struggle to get food this late in Cheadle.’

‘Ah, but this is Paris.’

Over a selection of tasty French dishes, Max tells me all about his conversation with Monica on the way to the airport.

‘She admitted she’d been disingenuous and apologised.’

‘Good.’

‘Although I still don’t understand how you ended up with Vince?’

‘Complete fluke. I take it Monica told you I’d never met her absent husband, crazy as that sounds.’

Max nods.

‘So, I’d no idea. I mean I barely remember it; it was eons ago. He was a spontaneous encounter. Didn’t use his real name.’

‘Like you, Scarlet?’

‘Point taken. But I had no idea he was a) married and b) married to Monica. Believe me, I feel completely weird about it.’

‘Can you imagine if you’d met up with him after, at Monica’s place?’

‘That’s just what Monica said. Thank God I didn’t. She’s going back to confront him. End it.’

‘She told me. She also told me what a great friend you are.’

‘As if you needed confirmation. So, what about you, Max? Why the big I’ve-had-it-with-relationships-based-on-lies-and-deceit speech?’

Max opens up about a previous partner where he was subjected to all kinds of falsehoods and inventions. It also turns out he never knew his dad; his mum being a single parent who refused to disclose even a name.

By the time we’ve finished our meal, I’ve gained a fair understanding of why he’s remained single and why he reacted the way he had when he discovered I hadn’t been honest with Will about his biological father.

I finish my wine and stare at the table.

‘Penny for them, Ruby Anderson?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Penny for your thoughts.’

‘Shouldn’t that be a euro?’ I smile. ‘Max, I’m going to tell Will about his father.’

‘Good.’

‘I was planning to, anyway. I just don’t want the guy in our lives, but I guess that will be Will’s choice.’

‘I don’t want him back in your life, that’s for sure.’ Max’s brow furrows.

He purses his lips and I see a flash of something. What is that? Jealousy?

‘Max, you do know I’m not and never have been the slightest bit interested in this bloke, right? I haven’t clapped eyes on him in fourteen years.’ I lift his hand and kiss the backs of his fingers.

Max visibly relaxes. He hugs me close to him and strokes my cheek and neck. It triggers an instant response, and I can sense the feeling is mutual.

We pay the bill and hurry back to our hotel, making all sorts of outrageously sexy suggestions on the way.