Say it with Sequins

by Georgia Hill

  “I’m strong and I’m confident. And sexy. Got it,” said Lucy wide-eyed and giggled again. As she’d thought earlier, she was really beginning to enjoy this.

  Max settled against a set of dumb bells in the corner of the room. This was a treat, having an excuse to watch Lucy freely. He smiled as she took off her red sweatshirt to reveal the lithe body underneath. The sight made his mouth water and his body gave off unmistakeable signals which told him just how attractive he found her. But Daniel was right, she really hadn’t a clue just how sexy she was and that, if anything, made her even more appealing to him. She was tall and coltish, with long arms and legs. The thought that she’d make a good swimmer popped into his head. She verged on the thin side though and he knew that Daniel, as well as trying desperately to boost her confidence, was making her eat sensibly. Lots of protein for quick bursts of energy. Max knew all about that. He’d spent every waking hour thinking about how nutrition affected his performance since he’d entered competitive swimming at the age of twelve. He watched, half ashamed at the thrill it caused, as Lucy stretched upwards in preparation for rehearsal. The only part of her that wasn’t slim were her breasts; they were full and lush. She really was beautiful but so different to the woman who had caught his eye on the Who Dares Dances Again show last year. Will, his oldest sister’s son, had insisted they watch it. Will, a huge fan of the reality programme, was an even bigger fan of Lucy’s. Max fervently hoped the two cancelled each other out. He was too laid back to be judgemental about gay men but Will’s Cerebral Palsy would be enough of a challenge for him, without having to face another prejudice. As they’d lazed on the sofa together, he’d had to admire Will’s taste. On the television screen, he’d seen a bubbly woman with glossy brown hair and a shy smile that made his fingers tingle with desire.

  “So who’s this then?” he’d demanded, suddenly taking note of who was on the screen.

  “Shut up Max and listen. I’ve told you, it’s Lucy Everett. She writes the Davy Jones books.”

  So he’d shut up and they’d watched in silence, glued to the screen.

  When it had been suggested that he enter Who Dares Dances - and after he’d stopped laughing, the dealmaker had been finding out that Lucy was a contestant too. He couldn’t resist, and once Will had found out, he didn’t have a choice. It was do the competition or be snubbed by Will for life. And only an idiot would risk Will’s wrath.

  And now, as he watched Daniel coax Lucy into the first moves, he couldn’t help but compare the nervy stuttering woman he’d talked to a few evening’s ago with the woman in the interview. And, after what she’d told him, he couldn’t help but admire her bravery for taking part in Who Dares Dances.

  He thought back over what Lucy had told him, that night in the bar.

  Born late to academics, she had endured a solitary childhood being educated at home. When her mother became ill, Lucy had been sent to a school, which would have looked old-fashioned in the fifties. Clever Lucy had won a scholarship to her father’s Oxford college but had left in the Michaelmas term. She just couldn’t cope, she’d explained, with all those people, all those men. Scenting new blood, they sniffed around and hassled her and she hadn’t understood why. Max thought that was when he began to have serious feelings for her - Lucy simply hadn’t understood how irresistible she was. A home education by unworldly academics and a girls’ school had hardly been the best preparation for a bunch of randy undergraduates. Lucy had dropped out. Her mother’s death had forced a retreat into what Lucy trusted best: books. She read and read and when she’d run out of reading matter she’d begun to write. A chance encounter with one of her father’s old pupils had secured a publishing deal and Davy Jones, and, in a way, Lucy Everett had been launched into the world. Into a world she hardly understood.

  Max watched as Lucy tried to hold a pose and fail, wobbling on uncertain Bambi like legs. His protective impulse, always nestling near the surface of his personality, surged uppermost. Everything about Lucy was a puzzle. He’d enjoyed talking to her but at times it had felt awkward. Lucy was painfully shy and he wasn’t much better equipped to deal with the world outside the narrow watery one of competitive swimming. It had been a stilted conversation conducted in fits and starts and only warming up after Lucy had become a little drunk. It had been more than nerves and shyness though, there had been something else constraining their conversation and he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

  Step Four.

  Despite their worst fears, both Lucy and Max survived their ordeal by samba.

  “So you live to fight another day!” exclaimed Julia as she clinked glasses with Lucy at the after show party.

  “I do indeed,” Lucy beamed in response and downed her champagne in one swallow, relief that it was all over making her reckless. “Oh but Julia, I think it was worse than last week. I’ve never been more scared!”

  “Well you hid it extremely well darling and,” Julia broke off what she was saying as Max hurtled over and enfolded Lucy in an enormous bear hug. He had to bend down to put his arms round her and Julia was intrigued at the tender way in which he embraced her friend.

  “We did it!” He picked Lucy up and whirled her round. “I really didn’t think we’d get through this week.”

  “Oof. Max, erm -” but Lucy’s protests were lost in Max’s broad back and long arms.

  Julia laughed as Lucy’s gold dancing shoes swung into the air and her white-bobbled green dress slithered up to reveal slender legs.

  Max put Lucy down eventually but still held onto her, as if reluctant to let go. “You were great!”

  Julia watched as a blush stole over Lucy’s usually pale complexion.

  “I, w-well it’s all down to Daniel really,” she stumbled out.

  Max looked into Lucy’s eyes. “He got me through this too. Well, you and him really. Watching your training I mean. It was very, erm, inspiring.”

  Julia’s romantic antennae prickled. How very fascinating. Here was this hugely tall man positively glowing. And he was glowing at Lucy. Just what was going on? Was it possible that Max Parry was straight? Julia thought back to what Harri had said. No, she remembered, Harri had definitely said Max had been out with a man called Joe.

  “Julia!” called a familiar voice, “stop frowning like that babe, it’ll give you wrinkles!” Daniel appeared from nowhere and kissed her on both cheeks. “Oh how I’ve missed you!”

  “Daniel! How lovely!” All thoughts of Max’s possible sexual orientation fled as Julia turned to greet her old friend.

  “Fancy a dance for old times?” Daniel offered his hand in an old-fashioned gesture and a cheeky grin which definitely wasn’t.

  “Try and stop me!” Looking at Max and Lucy, who were still hugging, Julia grinned. “Shall we leave them to it?”

  Daniel led her to the dance floor, making room for a boy in a wheelchair as he did.

  “Oi Max, put her down. I’m here!” the boy yelled.

  From somewhere below her Lucy heard a thin, slightly slurred voice. Reluctantly she stepped out of Max’s embrace and turned to see a skinny boy, of maybe fourteen or so. The boy’s head wobbled, as if too heavy for its neck.

  Max leaped forward. “Will, me old mate! Did you enjoy it?”

  Will raised an eyebrow. “Well most of it was okay.” He nodded up at Lucy. “Are you going to introduce me?” he asked meaningfully.

  Max laughed and did a half bow. “Of course. Lucy Everett, meet Will Tanner, my reprobate of a nephew.”

  Lucy hesitated; Max had never mentioned Will’s disability. She found it difficult enough to talk to any teenager, let alone one in a wheelchair. The boy sat very still, a beady expression in his eyes, as if knowing exactly how uncomfortable she was.

  Eventually she put out a hand and he shook it. “Hello Will. W-what did you think of your uncle’s samba?”

  “It was crap!”

  She heard Max give a belly laugh.

  “But you were wonderful,” the boy continued. “You
looked very beautiful. I love your dress. It was the sexiest Christmas samba I’ve ever seen.”

  “T-thank you, I think.” Lucy was nonplussed and looked to Max for help. He winked back.

  “Haven’t you got something to say to Lucy, Will?”

  The boy grinned. “Thank you for the books and DVDs. I got them yesterday.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’ve read all the books already, of course.”

  “Yes. Max said you had.”

  “So, I’ll be able to sell them on e-Bay.”

  “Will!” Max said warningly.

  “Only joking!” Will reversed his chair with surprising agility. “I really am your biggest fan, Lucy. I wouldn’t dream of selling them.” He gave his relative a pointed look. “Max might though, he doesn’t read much.”

  “Well,” said his uncle mildly, “the pages get all wet in the swimming pool.”

  “W-we’re just off to get a drink,” Lucy said, a little desperately. She wasn’t at all sure how to take this alarmingly confident teenager.

  “’Bout time. I’m dying for a pint.”

  Max cuffed Will’s ear lightly. “The only pint you’ll be getting is one of orange squash.”

  “Gross! Isn’t it about time you drank a proper drink? What’s your poison, Lucy?”

  Max winked again but this time at Will. “Ah, Lucy does like a pint – of lager. First round on me? And is that your sainted mother I see over there, Will?”

  “Yeah, she wants to know what your plans are for Christmas. Come on then, lead the way Maxwell the Mighty!” The boy cried. “You may dance like Rudolf with two broken legs but at least you’ve got the height to get the barmaid’s attention. Follow on Lucy, I’ve got some ideas for another Davy Jones adventure that I want to discuss with you.”

  Max shrugged at Lucy in apology. “What can I do with him?”

  Lucy trailed after them to the bar, listening to the banter between uncle and nephew and enjoying seeing Max in an entirely different light.

  Step Five.

  The days flew past in a whirlwind of dance rehearsals and publicity. Lucy was, ever so slightly, beginning to regret taking part. Who Dares Dances was taking over her life. She hadn’t managed to buy one single Christmas present, or even write a card. More importantly, the novel, begun so enthusiastically, remained at thirty thousand words or so. She simply hadn’t the time or energy to write very often. She had learned to loathe the long make up sessions; the pan stick made her skin itch and the vast gallons of hairspray made her sneeze. She’d had no idea just how much hard work it would all be. It was one thing to dance along to Radio Two in the comfort of her own home, it was quite another having to endure Daniel’s well meaning but strict tutorage. The one ray of light in a world of gruelling training sessions and nervy nightmare live shows was that she and Max had finally relaxed with one another. She regarded him truly as one of her closest friends. Any other feelings for him were squirreled away and, when she got the chance, written down in the form of Simeon Jones, the irresistible Victorian Rake with the mysteriously gained fortune. She’d left him tracking mysteriously dainty footsteps in the snow and was dying to get back to him.

  Two hours after Friday night’s dress rehearsal had ended, a frozen-looking Max returned to Studio One from Kings Cross saying that nothing, absolutely nothing was moving out of central London. He’d made a futile attempt to get home to his temporarily rented flat only to find the trains grinding to a halt and refusing to move until morning.

  “The snow’s really bad just north of the city and it’s forecast to be heading our way. The underground and buses are slowly shutting down too. It’s gridlock out there. I haven’t a hope of getting a train from Kings Cross until the morning. You’d better get home now, before it gets any worse,” he advised the few dancers who’d remained for a last minute practice. Rehearsals came to an abrupt end, as everyone scattered to pack up their belongings and speed off into the snowy night.

  “What about your driver?” Daniel asked, as he buttoned his coat. “Surely he could’ve taken you onto St Albans? It’s not that far.”

  “Who, Stefan? He’s got a terrible cold. He was sneezing all the way back from the station this morning, so I sent him home.”

  “That was a mistake, mate. Where are you going to stay?” Daniel eyed Max as a mischievous plan formed. “You’ll have to share with someone then. “‘Fraid I can’t put you up though, my old china.” He turned to Lucy. It wasn’t the most subtle of ideas but it might just do the trick. “Didn’t you say your hotel room was quite, erm, roomy?” he trailed off, letting the thought sink in, an amused smile flickering at his lips.

  Lucy looked at Daniel in horror. There would be room enough for the entire group, as Daniel knew quite well, but she couldn’t share a room with Max. Could she?

  “I , I d-don’t think—”

  Max, in his kind way, took pity on her. “It’s alright Lucy, don’t worry. I’ll find somewhere to stay. Bound to be a room going somewhere.”

  Lucy thought otherwise. With so many people likely to be stranded, there would be very little accommodation going and certainly not at an affordable price. She and Max were good friends now; surely it wouldn’t do any harm to let him stay with her? It wasn’t as if he was interested in her in that way, after all.

  She took a deep breath and made her decision. “That settles it,” she said with unusual resolve. “You can come and bunk up with me at the Artemida.”

  Max looked startled. “Well, I’ll come back to the hotel with you but it might be better if I get a room of my own.”

  “Are you kidding? Most of the other celebs are staying there as it is; it’s been full since I’ve been living there. And with the snow storm, there’ll be nothing to be had for love or ready money.”

  Max looked down at her, with a grimace. “Really?”

  “Trust me. It’s happened to me before when I came to town for the Sparklies Award.”

  Max looked blank.

  “Sort of, um, the children’s Booker prize,” Lucy explained.

  “Ah.” He grinned. “Did you win it?”

  “I did as a matter of fact.”

  She said it with a hint of smugness that he found very appealing so he grinned even more.

  “We’d…hadn’t we, we’d better get going then, hadn’t we? Are you ready to g-go?” All of a sudden Lucy seemed nervy and flustered once again.

  He could never understand what made her so. He helped her into her coat and waited patiently while she buttoned and unbuttoned it three times.

  “Here, have my scarf. It’s absolutely freezing out there. Quite literally.” Max took it off and wound it round Lucy’s neck. He noticed she flinched as his icy fingers made contact with her neck. He could never quite work out exactly how she felt about him. He bit down on his own feelings and withdrew, even though he longed to caress her bare, warm skin.

  They made their way out of the Fizz TV studios, calling their goodbyes to the few remaining dancers, as they went. Daniel watched them go, a satisfied grin embellishing his handsome features.

  Max and Lucy’s attempt to flag down a cab failed. All those which passed were full of commuters making their desperate attempts to get home.

  “Shall we walk, then?” Max asked, looking at the stationary traffic. “It’ll be as quick.” He glanced down at Lucy’s flushed face and into her sparkling dark eyes.

  “Why not?” She beamed up at him. “It’s not as if we get any exercise nowadays!” He’d never know, she realised, how happy it made her, to be able to take a simple walk outdoors. It was something most people took completely for granted.

  Max shouldered their bags easily and offered Lucy an arm. “It’s not far, is it?”

  “N-no, not that far.”

  “I know it’s cold but it’s a really beautiful night.” He smiled and tucked Lucy’s arm closer into his.

  It was a beautiful night. This part of the city had fully embraced the Christmas spirit and had deco
rated the trees with masses of white lights. Beyond, against the black night, huge snowflakes fell silently, mostly blanketing any noise. With the traffic at a standstill, everything felt very unreal, and very unlike London. Some people were making the most of the situation and had crammed themselves into pubs and restaurants. As Max and Lucy slithered along, laughter and gusts of heat burst out as doors opened to let in more revellers.

  “So what’s your room like then?” Max asked, thinking of some of the places he’d put up with while travelling the world for competitions. Some of the London hotels rooms he’d experienced had been the worst: small and pokey and ridiculously expensive. “A bit grim?”

  A vision of the suite with its Jacuzzi and vast plasma screen swam into Lucy’s mind. “Erm, not exactly. Well, you’ll see for yourself, soon.”

  “I’ll check at reception to see if they’ve got another room, shall I?”

  “Yes, if that’ll make you happy then shall we grab something to eat? I’m sure you must be starving.”

  Food always made Max happy so he hugged Lucy’s arm closer still against the cold. “Sounds like a plan.”

  They crossed the road, nipping in between cars with ‘snow hats’ and dodging around some brave cyclists. They found themselves at the entrance to the park opposite the main television studios.

  “You know, it’s so cold, even my face feels frozen,” Lucy laughed. She took in a great breath and spluttered a little. “Not sure I’m too enamoured of the diesel fumes though.” She glanced at the ornate park gates, their intricate patterns made magical with frost hoar and then gazed up at Max. “Shall we? It might be a short-cut, although my knowledge of London’s streets is a bit hazy, to say the least.”

  “I’m game,” Max replied and hoisted the bags further up onto his shoulder. He swung his arm around Lucy’s shoulders and rested a casual hand on the back of her neck. To his surprise and joy, this time she didn’t resist his touch.

  Away from the heavy foot-fall, the snow in the park was deep and crisp. As they left the bustle of the street behind them, it was as if they were wrapped in their very own world of sparkling-white cotton wool. The only sounds being their crunchy footsteps and their cold gasps for air. There was no lighting along the path but the snow lit their way with a soft gleam and added to the dreamlike atmosphere.