by Nia Lucas
It's a luminous green basque-style crop top which has thick straps, paired with a coordinating pair of black hot-pants. There’s luminous green piping round the edges of the hot-pants, mirrored in the black piping down the front of the basque. The girl modelling it appears to be part woolly mammoth as her lower legs are swamped in giant furry leg warmers which are luminous green. It does look pretty cool.
Three minutes later Rosa's on the phone to the company, rapidly firing the order off to the person at the other end.
I squeak as she lifts my top and stares appraisingly at my tummy and bra, “A size 10 should do it, stick in the fluffies too. Delivery in a week? Yep, perfect. Make it for the attention of Rosa D'Angelo. Cheers”, and she hangs up. D'Angelo, I know that name.
She nods at me, “It's all yours, sorted cara, they'll send it here in a week or so. Cough up then Jailbait, fifty-five quid”, she winks.
I reach for the cash in my bag, smiling, “Rosa, thank you so much for this, I wouldn't have found these without you. Thank you!”.
Rosa takes the cash with a slightly predatory gaze, “Look cara, gratitude’s cool but you pay me back by helping me skip the queue, yeah?”. I nod as she closes the till.
Leaning on the counter, she looks curious as she asks “So girl, what's your story eh?”
Looking at my feet I shrug, “Honestly? I don't know how this has happened. I'm bricking it and I'm not sure what's making me do it except that I really want to see...”, and I stop myself.
The truth is that I'm doing this because I want to see them. A few bits of conversation, a hand stroke and some eye contact and here I am, fifty-five quid down and risking being shipped off to a Convent if my mother ever finds out. To her credit, Rosa merely raises an eyebrow at my abrupt halt,
“Hmmmm, so where do you train Jailbait? You do dance classes round here?”, her eyes are suspicious.
Hands clasped at the edge of the counter, I confess, “Um, I don't do any classes. Until that rave, I hadn't ever danced at all properly. I actually think it was probably a fluke”, to my embarrassment, I feel tears welling up as I whisper to nobody in particular, “Shit, what am I doing? I'm a moron. Shit”, I shake my head, looking away.
Rosa takes a breath, “Riiiight”, I look up warily and see her eyes narrow further, “I've gotta see this dancing. Where do you live Jailbait?”
I tell her the name of my sleepy little town and she shouts her astonishment, “Shit, no way! That's where I'm staying with my Uncle and Auntie, it's their mate that owns this shop”, she looks around, sneering.
A light bulb goes off in my head. “Are you related to Nico D'Angelo?”.
She scoffs with an eye roll, “Yeah, my cousin. Dirty little shit does nothing but stink, wank and eat. Why, you know him?”
I grimace, smiling warily, “Er, yeah actually”.
Nico D'Angelo sat next to me every day at Primary School, I went to his Seventh Birthday party, the only girl invited and he was an oddly persistent if very annoying presence until Secondary School separated us. He now has a reputation for surliness and fighting and when I've seen him in and around town or at Mass, he just glares at me, never speaking.
Rosa sneers, “Jesus, he's rank. Look Jailbait, come to mine tonight after work, I've got the place to myself and we can see what moves you've got. My boyfriend’s staying but he's got his own shit to do. You know my Auntie's place, yeah?”, she cocks an eyebrow.
I nod rapidly, “That sounds really good, thanks”, I’m beaming at her, amazed that this is being offered.
She moves away, “Right, see you later JailBait”, and with a waggle of her fingers, she heads towards another customer.
I get back on the bus, grabbing Dan his favourite KFC in thanks for his intervention with Mum last week, acutely aware of the need to get the house cleaned and the tea cooked before she comes home from work lest the aggro commence. Dan is home when I get back, raiding the kitchen cupboards whilst devouring some sort of spicy sausage that’s drooping with e.coli-laden malice. He turns fifteen next month but at over six-foot, he doesn’t ever stop eating. It's astonishing and he falls on the now-cold KFC like a starving man. As I chat to Dan, frantically cleaning and cooking tea, I grin to myself at the possibility that Mission might actually happen.
Three hours later, Rosa answers the D'Angelo's front door wearing some baggy tracksuit bottoms and a crop top which displays an expanse of very toned, tanned flesh as she grabs my hand and drags me into the lounge. Nico's house is the sensory assault that I remember, with pot-pourri and photos everywhere. Absorbed in the memories of Nico’s 7th Birthday party, I belatedly clock a scowling, dark haired, olive-skinned lad watching TV with a beer in his hand, his t-shirt revealing tattoos on his arm.
Rosa shouts out, “Ti, this is the girl I was telling you about, Lorna”, Ti nods but his eyes only flick my way, he's focused on the TV.
Rosa turns to me and raises her eyebrows, “Yeah, Ti’s a real talker”, she pokes her tongue out at him and he scowls menacingly but Rosa is not phased as she kisses his cheek and we head into Nico's garage, a space which appears to have been converted into a little dance studio.
Rosa gestures at the space, “Yeah, my little Cousin Lea does ballet, so my Uncle built this for her. Handy innit”, she leans against the wall looking me up and down.
My desperation to delay having to make a fool of myself makes me chatter and a couple of questions about college lead Rosa to disclose more about herself. The grandchild of the same Italian immigrants as Nico, Rosa’s lived in Tottenham all her life with her mum and her brother. A dismal performance in her Second Year at College resulted in her mum deciding that Ti was to blame before shipping Rosa off to a quieter life with her Uncle. Rosa’s in the midst of re-taking her art-related A Levels.
“Ma's never liked Ti, he had some trouble a few years ago and he went away for a bit. Whatever Ma thinks, the only reason I did shit in my exams was coz I was partying too fucking hard and Ti weren't to blame for that”, Rosa’s frowning as she talks and I get the distinct impression that this is not the first time she’s shielded Ti from blame.
Rosa’s nineteen in July by which time she plans to be back in London with Ti, whose Mum is Portuguese.
Rosa turns and fishes a stack of CDs out of her bag, “Right, Mission’s normally pretty hardcore but the night next month is more Trance and progressive house”, she's looking at me intensely, watching to see if I understand.
I nod, lacking any sort of clue as she continues, “I reckon that this will do to start as a warm up, c'mon, get changed Jailbait”, Rosa looks me up and down.
I turn towards the wall and shaking with nerves, strip off until I’m in the crop top and cycling shorts I hid under my jeans. I hug myself protectively, feeling horribly exposed. You intend to wear an overgrown bikini in front of a crowd? No chance.
Rosa’s frowning, “Look, let’s start with this track, we can see what we're dealing with yeah?”, I hear scepticism in her tone.
I feel like I've disappointed her and I suddenly wish I wasn’t here. She puts the CD in and an electronic beat starts to thump out of the speakers, Rosa moving her hips in a corresponding rhythm. Then a very distinctive set of notes in a syncopated beat starts and I feel my skin tingle and my hair stand on end. This is what I felt at the warehouse. Rosa waves encouragingly but I’m too embarrassed to do more than a shuffle. She shows me some of her moves again but I look uncomfortable and freeze up.
After a good minute of me looking terrified and moving little more than a few steps, Rosa stomps over to the CD player and hits 'pause'. “Are you fucking kidding me? You don't look like no dancer. This all bullshit or what?”, she looks properly pissed off.
I’m mortified until a rush of something unexpected comes coursing through my veins. Anger.
The words fly out and I'm shocked by my boldness, “Look, you offered to meet me tonight but I told you I don't know what I'm doing so the last thing I need is shit from somebody who only got involved because the
y thought I could be a useful queue jump”, I'm a bit breathless.
We eyeball each other for a few seconds before I shake my head and walk to grab my clothes, “I'm gonna go. Thanks anyway yeah”, I head for the door, shamed tears making my vision swim.
Rosa pauses before calling out, “So who's the guy you really want to see?”.
I jolt and turn, “Eh?”.
Her arms are folded over her chest as she tuts, “You said in the shop that the only reason you was going ahead with this whole thing was that you wanted to see something, I guessed it was a guy”, she's cocked her head and is waiting for an answer.
Oh sod it. I wipe my eyes, sigh and cross my own arms defensively, “Yeah, well there's these two lads, they'll be working at Mission too and I want to see them again but like you said though, I know jack-shit so maybe it's time I just left well alone. Thanks anyway”, and shaking my head, I walk towards the door.
Rosa tuts, “Right, we're gonna do this differently”, she’s walking towards a cupboard, sheer nosiness halting my exit.
She returns with a cheap looking disco ball on a stand and turning off the other lights, plugs it in casting multi-coloured spots all over the room.
“Right, go in the middle of the room and face away from the mirrors. Close your eyes and imagine you want their fucking attention. Dance so you get it”, she nods at me forcefully.
With the intro to the track, the chills start, the beat prompting me to move as I picture Shay and Leon. In the dark, I start to dance, my hips the centre point but my arms sweeping wide, my feet moving me gently into different spots in a small radius. As the track starts to build, I include a couple of turns and dips, my hands going above my head as I wine and twist my hips and kick my feet out, my movements slicker than I can believe. I open my eyes and I see Rosa nodding with approval, a smile on her face as she turns off the CD.
“Yeah, you're good Jailbait but you need bigger moves and you gotta shape up girl, if you want my honest opinion?”, she looks at me through her lashes, I sense apology.
I beam at her, nodding, “I do want your opinion. I need it. You'd be doing me a massive favour and I'm honestly grateful. Sorry if I was a bitch before Rosa”, I walk to stand next to her.
I'm breathless and she laughs, “Shit woman, you gotta get stamina. You're gonna be dancing for like a whole night. You'll be dead if you don't get no fitter and you need to tone up, get definition”, she’s looking me up and down and I feel a twinge of hurt that she has not declared me a prime specimen, an astonishing omission when you consider my complete lack of sporting endeavours since birth.
Rosa carries on, “Jailbait, do planks and sit ups for your belly, start running for forty-five minutes a time and do squats for your legs and arse. We can meet a few times here if you want and I'll help you sort a couple of big moves to use”, she shrugs nonchalantly and any hurt I had evaporates, replaced by pure gratitude.
She turns around with a bunch of CD's in her hand, “....and you need to get familiar with the music, take these home and fucking listen to them”
Grateful for her help, we agree that we would meet again on Saturday after both of us have finished work and in the meantime, I agree to do daily runs and exercises. Christ on a bike.
I start running with Han most evenings. I lie, telling her I’m training for a sponsored charity run at school. It very nearly kills me, Han guffawing at my lack of athleticism but I grit my teeth and keep going. I want this.
Saturday 18th February 1995
My sixteenth birthday having passed in an underwhelming flurry of droopy cheap cards and ragged fivers, after work on Saturday I head to Rosa's as arranged, her CD's clanking in my bag. As I approach the house I can hear voices shouting within, suggesting it's not an optimum time for visitors. I knock the door quietly, partially hoping that nobody hears me but the door is yanked open.
“Davies?! What the fuck are you doing here?”. Ah Nico, how nice to see you.
He's taller and broader than when I last saw him, his curly, black hair cropped short, a small silver hoop in his ear and freckles across his nose. He looks surprised to see me, his vivid green-eyed gaze fierce as he looks me up and down slowly, his appraisal making me nervous.
I mumble, “Ummmm, I'm here to see Rosa, is she in?”, I'm blushing and hope I don't look as uncomfortable as I feel.
Without taking his eyes off me, he shouts, “Rosa, you've got a mate here to see you”, he sneers, his lip curled with derision.
Rosa appears from behind his shoulder, “Haven't you got a bra catalogue to go and wank to, fucker?”, she pushes him out of the way, earning herself a, 'Fuck off you slag”, as Nico retreats back into the house and Rosa drags me out to the garage.
“God, I fucking hate living here. They came back from Italy early”, agitation radiates from her.
As we enter the little dance space, she rages, “Ti was staying here while I was at work but they came back fucking early. My Uncle went batshit coz he thought Ti was a burglar, Ti's on probation and my Uncle kept going on about police and I get home just as Ti’s leaving with his stuff. He wouldn't talk to me Jailbait, he just drove off, the prick”, to my horror Rosa's face crumples, covering it with her hands as she sobs.
I awkwardly pat her back, “I'm sure Ti’ll calm down when he realises it's not your fault?”, I'm grasping at straws. I know nothing about Ti other than his entire lack of charm.
Rosa rolls her eyes and sighs, “He’s pissed off y’know that I’m still down here but if I go home now, chances are I'll get the same shit grades”, she looks pleadingly at me and to be honest, Ti sounds like a proper dickhead.
I nod earnestly, “But if you said that you stayed with him when he was away, well, shouldn’t he do the same for you?”, I’m trying to apply logic to a situation that I really don't know the details of.
Rosa snorts though, “Oh Jailbait, he didn’t have no choice- he went away because he got sent down, cara. He got eighteen months for Street Robbery with a weapon and ABH”, she's laughing as my jaw dislocates and drops to my chest, shocked.
“Oh, er, right, well, you still stuck by him. Robbery? Shit. Was it a gun?”, I’m gobsmacked.
Rosa shakes her head, “Nah, it was a blade but he got out early so he’s licensed to his mums address for Probation. You're right. He'll fucking calm down, bastardo always does. I'll go home tomorrow night for a few days and see him”, she's shrugging off her tears and I catch hold of her hand, giving it a squeeze.
Rosa flicks her gaze down to my hand and then up at my face before she smiles a genuine smile and winks, “C'mon Jailbait, let's work on those moves”, and I grin as I take off my coat.
I find that for somebody who has a proven history of athletic incompetence, I get Rosa's instructions. In fact, I pick up moves so quickly that she ends up teaching me loads, including more complex twists and flicks.
Rosa wiggles her way over to the CD player, dancing as she goes. “OK Patatina, I'm putting on a tune, lets see what you got”.
As the music thumps and my body responds, I build in the new flips and twirls as the music builds. My skin is completely goose bumped and my heart is beating but I have got this.
Rosa’s smiling, a hand clap demonstrating her satisfaction, “That was good but Jailbait, you gotta keep practising. You need to keep doing those exercises cara”, I nod obediently, agreeing that I'll come over on Thursday night to practice again.
Monday 20th February 1995
“What does it think it looks like Melly?”, Lucinda Matlock’s cackle is loud in the classroom before registration.
Emelia Hunt’s clipped, horsey bray grates my nerves as always, “I think it’s trying to look alluring but when all you do is not wash, spread your legs and reek of Council estate, you can’t hope for much more”.
Lucinda’s fake whisper attracts attention, “Roll on next year- I heard that it’s not staying on for A Levels. It’s not too bright after all”.
Chinless wonder George Newton-Harris turns f
rom the desk in front of me, his pale fish-eye gaze travelling up and down my seated form, “So if you’re not here next year Davies, it must be my turn soon, eh? Don’t miss me off that rota- it must be full, busy girl like you”, I feel my blood roar in my veins.
He snorts loudly, “Mind you, maybe a blow job is safer, I don’t want to have to soak my dick in bleach after, Forsythe said you were absolute filth”, as the laugher ricochets around the classroom, I stare at the pages of War Poems on my desk and wish myself far away.
Lunch looks and smells grim so I bypass the school dinner hall and head straight to a large, empty classroom at the top of the main building, away from prying eyes. Grabbing out my dance kit I load the CD into the elderly but functioning player and take my position in the centre of the space. With the caressing syncopated beats of a new CD purchased with birthday cash, it all slips away. The taunts, the sneers, the whispers- they’re gone. The music guides me and tells me what to do, it takes me to a place of beat-led bliss. If Justin never calls me again, if I never see Leon and Shay ever again, I still want this. By sheer accident I have found this part of me and now I’ve got it and I’m refining it, I can’t let it go. I’m back in my seat for afternoon lessons with a minute to spare.
I start getting off the bus eight stops early and I run to school each morning, my PE locker now containing evidence of actual sporting activity for the first time in five years. I spend lunchtimes dancing in the empty classroom and I do my sit ups, squats and planks in my room at home. I’m starting to see changes in my body. It's working. I lie and tell a suspicious Han that I've joined the Cross Country Team. She laughs until she pees. The guilt about keeping more secrets from her eats at me.
Thursday 23rd February 1995
Rosa opens her front door this evening with an excitable yell, “Your stuff turned up at the shop, Jailbait!”, she drags me in, thrusting a large bag into my hands.