‘Back to back. Two steps right.’ I keep on instructing out loud because Tom’s even worse than I am. He had somegreatmoves in the silent disco (if I’m honest I couldn’t have looked away if you’d paid me) but right now he’s basically laughing too much to concentrate.
I, however, have decided that I want to get it right, so I tut and just keep on going.
Tom carries on too, but I can see that his heart isn’t in it.
And now people are tutting at both of us and if I’m honest I’m feeling a bit sick from all the backwards and forwards and turns.
‘Maybe we should take a break,’ I whisper to Tom next time our heads are close.
‘Good idea. Right now?’
‘No. At the end of this dance. We can’t let our set down.’ Although weareletting them down right now by constantly goingsowrong. ‘Now focus, just for the next few minutes.’
‘You’re very strict,’ Tom grumbles.
* * *
Eventually the dance is over and we march ourselves straight over to the door.
On our way out we encounter a bartender carrying a tray of cocktails, which he offers to us.
‘Rude not to.’ I take one for each hand.
Tom raises his eyes at me.
‘The tray looks really heavy,’ I point out. ‘We’re doing him a favour.’
‘Oh yes, you’re right.’ Tom takes two too, and then we go and sit on a little window seat near where the fortune teller was, and drink in companionable silence.
‘I feel like we should go for a walk,’ I say, when I’ve finished the first cocktail. I feel like I’m getting hiccups so I decide not to drink the second one for now, and stash it carefully by the side of our bench. ‘Blimey,’ I say admiringly. ‘You’re very good at drinking.’
‘I am actually, yes. Also, this stuff has grown on me. What did you just say we should do?’
‘Walk.’ I stand up and sway a little, so I hold on to the wall for a moment. ‘Outside in the garden.’
‘Good idea.’ Tom stands up. He isn’t swaying at all, I notice.
‘You’re very clever,’ I say.
‘Thank you.’
We wander off down the corridor and then Tom halts.
‘We missed a room.’
We poke our heads inside. It’s a kids’ party game room but for adults.
‘Ireallywant to play,’ I say.
‘Me too.’
‘This one first.’ I advance to the other side of the room. ‘Pin the tail on the donkery.’
‘Donkey,’ Tom corrects.
I shake my head at his pedantry and also because he’s wrong. ‘Donkery.’
‘Donkey,’ he persists.
