‘I need a drink,’ groans Yan. ‘Shall I pop open the Lambrusco?’
‘No, I should get going.’
‘You can’t leave without seeing how they’re getting on.’
‘That’s the last thing Theo needs. It’s bad enough that we’re in here cackling at his efforts.’
Before I can stop him, Yan’s bounding into the living room. I follow at a respectful distance, my curiosity too piqued to stay behind.
Mark is sitting on the arm of the sofa counting while Theo moves around the centre of the living room, his arms holding a non-existent partner. They both stop when they see us.
‘Don’t mind us,’ says Yan blithely. He drops himself on the sofa, but I stay at the kitchen door.
Mark begins counting again. But before Theo can take a step, Yan interrupts. ‘Surely Theo needs to be dancing with a partner?’
‘We can work on that another time,’ says Mark.
‘Nella’s right here. She can do it with him.’
I try to stare daggers at Yan while at the same time trying to look supportive of Theo so he doesn’t feel rejected. The net result is a facial expression that probably baffles everyone.
Theo turns his hopeful gaze to me. ‘Could you bear it? It would really help.’
‘I haven’t done tango for ages,’ I say, stalling. ‘Plus, I’m not sure I’m dressed for it.’ I’m wearing ballet flats, a narrow knee-length skirt, and a chiffon blouse that doesn’t haveanygive in it. If I stretch my arms too much, the buttons will pop open and give everyone an eyeful of my faded old M&S bra.
Yan is on his feet, pulling me towards the centre of the room.
‘It’s like riding a bike, Nell. Come on, it’s for a good cause.’
Against all fifteen stone of Yan’s gym-honed bulk, I’ve got no chance, and I find myself standing in front of a grateful Theo.
‘Do you know how to get into hold?’ I ask him.
‘Yes, I’ve been watching videos,’ he replies proudly.
‘Of the wrong dance,’ mutters Mark.
Theo looks confused. ‘But Tig said I needed to watch that last dance inDirty Dancing.’
‘That’s because she’s teaching yousalsa,’ says Mark.
Theo looks at me, confused. ‘And they’re different?’
I nod with a new-found grudging respect for what Mark’s up against.
‘You’re not doing that overhead lift, are you?’ I ask, suddenly nervous.
‘No, no,’ Theo replies.
Markjustmanages to make ‘Thank fuck’ sound like a cough.
I offer Theo my hand, and he stiffly takes it.
‘More extension,’ says Mark, coming to stand by Theo’s side. Theo corrects his arm and looks to Mark, who shakes his head. ‘Too much.’
Theo frowns in concentration and makes another adjustment.
‘Better. Now drop your shoulder.’
