Vive La Danse
by Sandra Crook
Flavia limped
to the door of the dance studio, casting a
baleful glance over her shoulder at Kenneth.
Other couples stood around awkwardly.
Madame
Rousillon sighed and pushed her spectacles
wearily into her polished black top-knot. Flavia
was her best dancer, and ear-marked for
Saturday’s show. Hopefully she’d
recover in time.
“Remind
me if you would, Mr Lewis, why you so desperately
want to learn to dance?”
Kenneth sighed,
and went through it again.
“It’s
for Rosie, my wife,” he said.
“She’s always pestered me to go dancing,
but it’s not really my thing. So now
she’s started dancing with a friend of hers.
At first it was just once a week but now
it’s most evenings. We’re never
together these days, so I need to make an effort.”
Madame looked
at him keenly, saw his colour rising.
“I’m
very sorry about Flavia,” he said, “and
about the lady last week. Katrina, wasn’t it?”
Madame
Rousillon nodded. “Katrina’s much
better now,” she said carefully, “but
she can’t make Tuesdays any more.”
“I could
change my evening,” Kenneth said helpfully,
“I’m on my own a lot now so
there’s no problem.”
“Er
no… that won’t be necessary,” said
Madame, remembering Katrina’s response when
asked to to partner Kenneth again.
Phrases like
“when hell freezes over” and “in a
pigs ear, I will” echoed in her mind.
“Will
Flavia be all right for next week?” Kenneth
asked plaintively. “I’m getting used to
her now.”
Madame doubted
Flavia would ever contemplate a foray into Mr
Lewis’s arms again.
“We’ll
see,” said Madame, unconvincingly.
“Same time next week.”
Sighing, he
left.
Despite her
exasperation with Kenneth’s dancing ability,
Madame empathised with this poor man, who clearly
had more serious problems than simply two left
feet.
When Kenneth
arrived the following week, he found Madame
talking to a pleasant little woman with no sign
of Flavia or any of the other couples.
“Ah, Mr
Lewis,” said Madame, “this is Stella
Robinson, my new neighbour. She’s about your
standard so I’ve decided to give the pair of
you my individual attention. I’ve switched
the other pairs to a later class.”
By the end of
the evening Kenneth’s feet were as sore as
Stella’s, and both were equally relieved
that the class was over.
“I’m
not very good, am I?” Stella said, colouring
up.
“Oh
it’s not your fault, Stella, the fault is
entirely mine,” Kenneth said gallantly.
“See you again next week then.”
After a few
months Stella and Kenneth’s dancing ability
had improved only marginally, but by now they
were the firmest of friends and often enjoyed a
drink together after the class.
Madame watched
the growing friendship between Stella Robinson
and Kenneth Lewis with interest.
Just as she
had watched the blossoming romance between one
Rosie Lewis, a talented young dancer on the
professional dancing circuit, and her handsome
young partner.
Undoubtedly
clouds were looming in the Lewis household, but
Madame had done her best to help Kenneth to
weather the coming months.
She’d
also helped a rather lonely new neighbour to pick
up the reins of a social life once more.
And she had
saved the professional careers of two of her most
promising dancers.
There was
nothing Madame liked better than finding one
solution to several problems at the same time.
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