Like Redmond, Phillipa had the ability to make someone feel like the centre of the universe for a moment, and then dismiss them without a second glance. Really, Lisa thought, looking from his dark chiselled good looks, to her statuesque blond form, they deserved each other. They’d probably get together after the series, once Red didn’t have to pretend to be with Lisa any more. Lisa wondered idly how long they’d wait.
Chapter 6
This time, Tiffany didn’t even wait to get to the dressing room before she started on Lisa.
As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, everyone started getting up from the sofa to go and change. Lisa paused for a moment, delaying the moment when she had to put more weight on her sore ankle.
It was a relief to see Redmond coming over. Not that there was much he could do to help, but somehow his presence was a reassurance.
Tiffany hadn’t gone either.
“That was a nasty bump,” she remarked, shifting a little closer to Lisa on the sofa, into the space that Caroline had vacated. “We were worried about you.”
“Yes, you were obviously very concerned,” Lisa remarked. “I presume that’s why you waited around to make sure we were OK after running into us at full tilt. It’s so nice to know someone cares.”
“Really, Lisa,” Tiffany didn’t allow her smooth façade to crack for a moment, “we’re professionals here. The show must go on, regardless of our personal feelings. I thought you’d know that. But then, of course, you’ve not been dancing much apart from teaching the kids’ classes for the last few years, have you? I suppose one forgets these things.”
One does? Tiffany’s cut crystal accent and perfect diction could almost fool you into thinking she’d been born in Kensington rather than the East End, but Lisa had met football hooligans with more manners.
“I suppose one does,” Lisa agreed icily. “Funny, I had a notion that it was professional to face up to the competition and take one’s chances, instead of trying to sabotage anyone who might be a threat.”
There was a long silence. Then Tiffany slowly drew in a breath, and was obviously ready to speak, when Redmond chimed in, “I’m sure you didn’t mean that the way it sounded, Lisa. Is your ankle hurting very much? Maybe we should go and get it looked at. Here, lean on me.”
And he swept Lisa off, her feet mercifully hardly touching the ground, while Tiffany stared after them as if she could shoot daggers of ice into Red’s and Lisa’s backs if she just tried hard enough.
“Ignore her,” Red said.
“I can’t. You try ignoring someone who launches a full-scale attack if you happen to stand in the wrong place. I never know what she’s going to do next. We can’t just let her get away with it.”
“We can. We’re better than them and they know it. That’s what it’s all about. All we have to do is keep going, and sooner or later they’ll be out of the running.”
“If she hasn’t crippled me in the meantime.”
Red sighed heavily as they turned the corner and arrived outside the dressing room. “I know it’s hurting, but try not to overreact. It’ll only stir up more trouble.”
“And try not to patronise. It won’t make me feel any better.” Lisa lowered her voice to a hiss as she noticed an unfamiliar man standing outside the dressing room.
“Is Lisa in there?” he called.
“She’s here,” Redmond answered for her.
“Hi, I’m Jonathon, the physio. Can I get a look at that ankle?”
“Sure.”
Red pulled up a chair for Lisa and she sat down. It seemed odd being examined in the corridor, but she supposed it saved disturbing the girls while they were changing.
She bit down hard on the whimper that tried to emerge when Jonathan manipulated her ankle.
“Does that hurt?”
Her wince answered for her, but she told him, “A bit.”
Red was hovering over her protectively. Some protection he’d turned out. She wished he’d go away.
“Just a bit of bruising,” Jonathon said. “Try some ice when you get home, and you might want to put a support on it for a few days. Take it gently, but don’t stop moving altogether.” Nothing Lisa hadn’t expected.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll be fine now,” she told him and Red, then dived for the dressing room door before they could argue. Inside, she flung herself down on her chair and fished in her bag for one of the range of supports that she knew would still be there from the other times she’d wrenched an ankle, knee, or shoulder.
By some miracle, the other girls seemed to know she needed to be left in peace, and got changed in almost complete silence. One by one, with a murmured, “Hope it feels better soon,” they left, until Lisa was sitting alone in the empty room, staring at a blank wall bathed in cold white flourescent light, and trying to summon up the energy to move.
Finally, there was a tap on the door.
“Lisa? Are you still there?”
Redmond. Of course. How had she thought she’d get rid of him just by sitting it out? He’d probably been sitting outside the door all this time, watching the others leave.
“Yes.”
“Can I come in?”
“OK.”
Moving still seemed too much effort, and she sat slumped in her chair as the door creaked open.
“Need a hand?”
In the mirror, Lisa watched Redmond approach her chair. She didn’t want to rely on him. He hadn’t backed her up after the collision — if anything, he’d behaved as if she, not Tiffany, was the foolish one who needed to be humoured. He’d been helpful, true, but not exactly sympathetic. And he’d flirted with the presenter. She couldn’t trust him. But if she didn’t move soon, she’d still be sitting here when the caretaker came round to lock up. And she didn’t feel like moving without a strong arm to lean on.
Lisa took the offered hand and levered herself to her feet. Red swung her bag onto his other shoulder, apparently unworried about being seen walking around the TV studio carrying a large and exceedingly pink leather holdall. Lisa couldn’t help grinning at the effect.
“Let’s get some dinner,” Red suggested. Lisa wanted nothing more than to go home, soak in a warm bath, and hide under the covers. But now Red had mentioned food, she realised her stomach was ready to begin growling. There probably wasn’t any food at home, and if there was, it would be well on its way to independent life.
Lisa didn’t feel like going out. Plus, she’d just caught sight of herself in the mirror. She’d taken her hair down from its stern pleat, but it was so thick with hairspray that the waves had stayed in place, and now stuck out awkwardly in all directions. And Red had interrupted her before she’d removed her make-up, so she still had thick black lashes, green eyelids, and bright slashes of blusher across her cheeks.
“I’m a mess,” she protested. “I can’t go out like this. Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Firstly, you’re never a mess,” Redmond said firmly, “and secondly, even if you are, you still look ten times better than most people when they’re smart.”
“That’s not true and you know it. But it’s nice of you to say so.”
Lisa didn’t remember him being so gallant. Was it something he’d picked up on the cruise ships, or in America, along with “Have a nice day”?
“It’s entirely true.”
Yes, and he probably said that to all the ugly old widows on the cruises too. She almost liked him better when he wasn’t being charming. She knew where she stood with the affectionately teasing insults that had been part of their youthful friendship. She didn’t quite know what to do with this smooth, adult new Redmond.
“But if it makes you feel any better,” he went on, “the place I’m thinking of going, it really doesn’t matter how you look.”
He gave a mischievous grin and Lisa w
ondered what she’d let herself in for. McDonald’s? Or a greasy spoon café?
“So, is that OK? Shall we go?”
“Go where?”
“You’ll see. It’s a great place.” Of course it was. Eight years out of the city, and Redmond still knew the best places to eat. Just as on Friday evening, though, he was giving nothing away. He must have been told that girls liked to be surprised. Maybe someone should have explained that, now and again, it was actually nice to be treated like a partner in the relationship instead of having all the decisions taken for you.
Still, there wasn’t much point in arguing about it now. Lisa simply didn’t have the energy. Anywhere she could eat would do fine, and then she could head home to bed.
She watched curiously as they passed the shops and restaurants on the High Street and she eyed each eatery in turn, wondering what he had in mind.
“This way.” He turned into the car park of McDonald’s and she laughed nervously. Hungry as she was, burgers and chips weren’t her idea of a good dinner, although she had to admit there was a certain nostalgic charm to the junk food of their teenage years.
“Remember how we used to get burgers to eat on the bus back from dancing?” she asked.
“How could I forget? Ah, the delicious greasiness of cheap buns soaked in beef fat.”
“So we’re not going to McDonald’s then?”
“What do you take me for?” He laughed. “No, we’re not going to McDonald’s. This is just a short cut.”
They emerged from the car park into a narrow street she’d never noticed before, and Redmond pulled up alongside the last space in a row of cars. He angled the car neatly into the space and then came around to help Lisa out.
She noticed a stylishly lettered board by the door of what she’d assumed to be just another small terraced house. Discreet bronzed script across the window of what looked like a front room told her that this was Marrakech. Sure enough, on closer inspection, it looked like a small piece of Morocco transplanted into London. The door was teracotta coloured, and the doorsill was tiled with an intricate abstract mosaic.
Lisa let Redmond hoist her out of the seat, but she was determined to make her own way to the door. She pulled away from Red as he moved to lock the car, and he reluctantly released her. Before she’d taken two steps, though, she somehow turned her shoe on the edge of a paving stone and found herself faltering.
Instantly, Redmond’s strong arm was around her, steadying her.
The sudden unexpected warmth of his body against her startled her more than the fall had done, and she drew in her breath sharply.
“All right?”
She made the mistake of looking up and found herself dizzied by the intensity of his eyes on her.
Speechless, she nodded.
“Sure? We want you fit for dancing,” he said, and she couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious.
“I’m not Jerry. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” She forced herself to sound light and cheery. All that mattered was the dancing. Right. She could do that.
She drew herself up straight, forcing herself not to wince as she put her weight back on her sore foot. She’d already been told it wasn’t seriously hurt, and suddenly she didn’t want Redmond’s strong, protective hand resting on her back a moment longer.
Redmond spread his hands in a mock-innocent gesture.
“Do I look as if I’m trying to get rid of you?”
Lisa shrugged. Sometimes she didn’t know what he looked like. It was hard to tell what he was thinking when he’d switch from joke to serious in an instant and back again a second later. He could mean anything, or nothing.
“Is this where we’re going?” she asked, gesturing towards the small café in an attempt to deflect the question with another of her own.
In answer, Redmond pushed open the door and ushered Lisa through.
She gasped. It was like walking into a tiny, exotic grotto. Low sofas clustered around small tables, with the odd small leather stool scattered around. Swathes of white cloth separated the deep, narrow room into a series of secluded booths, illuminated by soft coloured lights and candles. There was a scent of something spicy, and low music was playing.
“Wow,” Lisa couldn’t help murmuring.
Redmond grinned. She thought he was reacting to her expression until she noticed the small man who had seemingly drifted out of the shadows to greet them. Lisa found herself being helped out of her coat, relieved of her bag, and ushered to one of the sofas, where Redmond joined her, still exchanging muted small talk with the tiny man.
She hadn’t been able to hear what they were saying, but when the man bent solicitously towards her to adjust the cushions around her, she caught a few words.
“ … see you again, and your lovely guest. You have done well for yourself this time.”
So this was where Redmond always brought his women. A slow fuse of anger began to burn in her.
“This is Lisa,” Redmond introduced her. “Lisa, this is Luca, who owns the restaurant. He’s also one of the finest chefs and best kept secrets in London.”
“You will please keep the secret? It would not be so lovely if it were full of strangers. Here we are all friends. It is only to be shared with someone special.”
Or a whole series of special someones, if you were Redmond, she supposed, although how he’d found the time to do so was beyond her.
Nonetheless, she nodded. Then, as Luca turned away, the anger flared into life. She didn’t want to be just another in Redmond’s string of women, and at that moment not even the thought of the dance studio and the TV crew could make her accept that as her place.
“And I’ll let you into a secret in return, Luca,” she said sweetly, and he drew close and listened hard, no doubt expecting to hear sweet murmurings about her wonderful Redmond. Well, he could think again. “Don’t believe everything you hear. Redmond’s nothing special. He’s just a guy who dances and thinks he’s God’s gift to women. They’re ten a penny.”
Luca stood open-mouthed and even Lisa began to wonder what had possessed her. Of all the moments to drop her act and tell the truth, she’d done it in front of a gnome-like restaurant owner she’d known precisely two seconds! There was no telling what it could mean for Redmond and Lisa’s attempt to pose as a couple. Though perhaps a lovers’ tiff wasn’t so unlikely. If the two of them were together for real, there would be plenty of them.
Of course, restauranteurs heard it all, and Luca soon recovered his composure and bustled off to find “something for the lady and gentleman to drink while they settle their differences.”
“What was that for?” Redmond turned to her, looking more inquisitive than angry.
Lisa shrugged.
“Come on, you can tell me.”
“I don’t know.”
How did you explain your irrational fury in one or two short sentences to someone who was sitting looking at you with such an open, reasonable expression? The truth was so complicated. She was suddenly furious with his arrogance and presumptuousness and with the whole stupid situation. Here she was pretending to be a person not in love with him pretending to be a person in love with him, when all the time the truth was that she was only angry because she wanted him so much it hurt.
She opened her mouth to try explaining, but no words arrived, and eventually she settled for reiterating, “I really don’t know.”
“You do,” he insisted.
“Stop telling me what I do and don’t know. You can’t read my mind. If you could, you’d know why I was cross, wouldn’t you?”
She was pleased with that masterstroke of logic.
“OK, I can’t read your mind. So you’d better tell me, hadn’t you?”
Lisa shook her head. The more she thought about it, the less she felt she could explain her ou
tburst.
Redmond’s eyes, fixed on her, were losing their gently inquisitive look. He was frowning now: an expression Lisa recognised well, although she wasn’t sure she’d ever been on the receiving end of it herself. It meant an impending storm.
“You must have meant something.” Redmond wasn’t going to let it go.
Lisa would have to tell him something.
She racked her brains.
“Nothing much. I’ve had a lousy day and my ankle hurts and I was taking it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.” Somehow the apology failed to sound meaningful. Probably because she was still furious and didn’t mean a word of it.
“Is that really all?” Redmond asked disbelievingly. The thundercloud dispersed as fast as it had arrived, but Redmond still looked at her intently, as if it would enable him to divine her thoughts.
“Yes,” Lisa said, quietly but in a slightly defiant tone, daring him to suggest there was more.
The silence between them lengthened. Redmond didn’t say he didn’t believe her, but she knew it by the way he was waiting for her to speak again.
“No,” she amended, confused. “Maybe. I don’t know. Oh God, I don’t know. Just stop it! Leave me alone!”
She sank her head into her hands to hide the tears that shamefully, hotly pricked her eyelids. She rarely cried, and when she did, she cried silently: streams of hot tears running down her cheeks and escaping through her fingers.
Somewhere in the distance she was aware of the gentle clunk of glasses being set down on the table in front of her, and Redmond’s voice murmuring, “Thanks.” Then she heard Luca’s footsteps receding and Redmond’s voice, closer now as he leaned in towards her, asking with a gentleness she’d never imagined him possessing, “What is it? Is there anything I can do?”
What could she say to that? The first answer that presented itself was, “Get out of my life,” but he’d already done that for eight years and it hadn’t helped. It was hard having him back, but she wouldn’t wish him gone again. No, senselessly, despite her anger at being taken for one of his many women, that was exactly what she wanted. Well, not exactly. She wanted to be not one of many, but the one and only. She wanted him to care for her and protect her against the awful Tiffany, and all their opponents. Only Redmond wasn’t that kind of man. Never would be. And Lisa had never thought she was that kind of girl.
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