30
This Ain’t a Love Song
In the end, Simon came round at five to help me prepare for my Greek night with Alice and the girls. I put him in charge of food and he happily emptied the shelves of my local Waitrose of anything resembling Greek food. His overzealousness had resulted in some samosas sneaking into his basket, but they were delicious so I couldn’t complain. He even made an extra trip to Tesco, because he knew I preferred their taramasalata.
It was such a sweet gesture, but my feelings for him, which had once run so hot, could barely reach lukewarm levels.
Give it time, I told myself. I just needed a bit of fun to lift myself out of this slumped mood and then everything would be back to normal.
*
Alice and co. arrived exactly on time and Annette made a beeline for the dining table, where Simon had laid out the finger buffet.
‘I’m starved,’ she announced. ‘I skipped lunch so I could stuff myself tonight.’ She turned to Alice. ‘I love you, but hate dieting for your wedding.’
‘We should have ordered the fourteen – you never looked overweight to me.’
‘Nah, size-twelve Annette will be unstoppable. I’m planning to pull at your wedding, Alice. Lock up your menfolk, Zoë!’ I thought of my cousins coming over from Cyprus. Annette was going to terrorise them.
When we’d all piled our plates high, Alice came over to sit next to me on the sofa.
‘How are things with you, Zoë? Any more men fistfighting over you?’
‘A couple of duels and a sword-fight, but no fisticuffs.’
She smiled. ‘Is that your way of telling me you don’t want to talk about it?’
Her perceptiveness disarmed me. I hadn’t even realised I’d dodged her question; I fell back on humour so often, I’d forgotten how not to.
‘I will talk about it with you. But not tonight. Tonight is about you.’
Annette, who was sitting nearby, and who’d clearly been earwigging, made a face. ‘Less talk and more prosecco!’ She got up to refill our glasses. ‘Now, are we going to bust some Greek moves, or what?’
I’d decided to teach them two dances: a fast one and a more sedate number that the bride’s female friends performed together.
‘It’s calledKalamatiano,’ I explained. ‘And before anyone asks, yes, it’s related to Kalamata olives – it means “from Kalamata”, a place in Greece. You see them dancing it at the end ofMy Big Fat Greek Wedding.’
We pushed the furniture to one side till we’d cleared a decent-sized space on the carpeted lounge floor. Then we all held hands in a circle and I walked them through the steps, which basically involved, well, walking in a twelve-step pattern.
We ran through it a couple of times and then I put the music on, which was way faster than we’d practised and had us all bumping into each other.
Helen, who’d done a lot of ballet and tap in her not-so-distant youth was a natural, and I let her lead so I could stand between Alice and Annette and help guide their wobbly legs.
‘No, the back step is on the two and six,’ Helen admonished on our third attempt with the music.
I let the girls practise while I scrolled through my playlists to find a slower version and came across a classic tune from my childhood.
‘Okay, let’s try it to this,’ I said. ‘The lyrics are a bit bonkers – it’s called “Maria in Yellow”, and it’s about a woman who wishes her husband would turn to stone because she’s in love with her neighbour.’
The bonkers Maria song turned out to be much catchier, and on only our second attempt we danced the whole way without anyone putting a step wrong.
‘That was brilliant!’ said Alice, collapsing to the floor in a tired and happy heap.
We popped open another bottle of wine and once we’d been suitably refreshed, I walked them through the steps of a second dance.
‘This one’s calledSousta, which means “spring” or “bounce”. It’s a traditional dance, but you can do it to ‘Zorba the Greek’, which will get everyone going. I have to warn you, though – it’s fast and jumpy.’
‘Ooh, lucky I’ve got my sensible M&S bra on, then,’ said Annette.
