Say it with Sequins

by Georgia Hill

When Merry was ready, he put her into her starting position, loathing and loving being able to touch her again. “Right, the Paso. Think Spain. Think bullfighting.” He warmed to his theme. “So, you’ve got to be the cape, I’m the matador.”

  Merry made a face. “Naturally. Of course, the woman couldn’t be the aggressor, could she? Macho rubbish. You know, I’m not sure I’m going to enjoy this dance as much as the others.”

  He ignored her. With a grim expression, he strode over to the corner of the studio, fetched his practice cape and stood with it high behind his shoulders. “This dance has to be full of passion, fight, anger and sex. Got it?”

  “Got it.” As Merry stood in front of him, her arms held back and high, she realised there wouldn’t be any problem whatsoever with that.

  Step Eleven.

  “So what’s the little weasel going to get you to do?” Venetia enquired later that week.

  Unusually, both women were in the flat at the same time and were making the most of it, drinking wine and catching up with one another. They were ensconced in Venetia’s opulent sitting room, enjoying a rare moment when they could relax together.

  Merry repeated what she had just told her aunt. “Bob’s got hold of some sort of Egyptian mummy sarcophagus and I’ve got to stay in it as long as I can.” She suppressed a shudder at the thought.

  “How ridiculous! Where on earth has he got hold of something like that?” Venetia, distracted by opening packets of snacks, didn’t notice Merry’s unease.

  “It’s only a fake one, I believe. He’s got some kind of contact in the magicians’ world. Somebody called the Great Jessie?”

  “Oh him,” Venetia huffed. “Never a man so aptly named. Complete and utter idiot.” She focused on her niece. “Twiglet darling? I shouldn’t, so bad for the waistline but I simply can’t resist them.” She poured some into a bone china bowl. “Oh, it’s lovely having you here, you know. But I’ve hardly seen you; you’ve been working so hard.”

  Putting down the bowl of Twiglets on the coffee table, Venetia sank onto the sofa, next to Merry. “I’m delighted you’ve got Daniel as your partner. You’re both doing so well, darling. The papers are full of you.” She patted Merry’s knee affectionately. “And you’re such a brave little thing, you’ll rise to this nonsensical challenge, I’m sure.”

  Venetia didn’t notice how Merry stiffened at the mention of Daniel’s name. Something was obviously on the Dame’s mind, as she just couldn’t keep still. She rose, muttering something about finding the bottle of wine she’d opened.

  As she topped up their glasses, Venetia came out with what had been preoccupying her. “Oh Merry, I’m opening up Little Barford,” she said, referring to her main house in the Cotswolds. “Got a bit of location work for the new ‘Persuasion.’ Goodness knows why people feel they have to keep remaking Austen but they do. The director liked the Lady Catherine I did a while ago and thought I’d be ideal for the Viscountess Dalrymple. Can’t imagine why.” Venetia primped her hair and smirked. “But darling, it’s work and they’ve very kindly offered to pick me up and drive me to Bath each day which means I can live at home. Couldn’t be easier, so I couldn’t very well refuse.”

  She looked at Merry properly. “You’ll be fine though, won’t you? Keep an eye on things here for me? I’ll only be gone for a week or so.” She stared more closely. “Darling, I hope you don’t mind my saying but you look awfully peaky. You don’t mind being here on your own, do you? Big Barry will look after you. I’d quite like to keep the place on, you know. So handy to have a place in Town.”

  When Merry didn’t answer but simply shook her head and gave her aunt a wan smile, Venetia took action. “I think, young lady, you’ve been overdoing it. Too much training! I shall have words with Daniel. You look exhausted. Early night for you. Go and pop yourself into bed and I’ll make some hot milk. How does that sound?”

  It sounded wonderful. Merry wanted to make the most of having her aunt around. Not usually so feeble, she wasn’t looking forward to coming home to an empty flat each evening. She let herself be tucked in and fussed over, and thought how good it felt to be spoiled a little. Not that she deserved it. She pulled the duvet over her shoulders and burrowed in.

  It had been much harder than she thought to ignore what had happened between her and Daniel; to carry on as normal. Venetia was right, Merry was exhausted but it hadn’t been because of the hard physical training; it was carrying the burden of her feelings for Daniel, of pretending she didn’t care about their shared night. It was that which was taking its toll. It had surprised Merry as she thought herself more resilient. Her only consolation was that Daniel seemed to be ignoring it too.

  She now knew all about the Who Dares Dances phenomenon where working so closely together built up an intense closeness between partners. It was inevitable that it often spilled out into their personal lives. The show was full of gossip about who had slept with whom. In her aunt’s luxuriously appointed spare bed, Merry flung herself onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling. Despite her physical and mental fatigue, sleep was a long way off.

  She’d have to chalk this one up to experience, she decided. It was obviously what happened all the time in the showbiz world. But it didn’t help her sore heart and aching head. And it didn’t help that she knew she was falling in love with Daniel. Deeper than with any man she’d ever met before.

  She thumped the duvet in frustration, switched off the bedside light and pulled the covers over her head. Maybe, in the morning, the mess she’d made of her life would go away.

  At least there was one part of her life that wasn’t such a disaster. From being the late addition to the competition, Merry found herself the hot new favourite and, not only in the broadsheets but a tabloid sensation too. In Venetia’s absence, she now began each day by scanning the online gossip pages of one particular newspaper that had taken her to its heart. She simply couldn’t help herself. It was such a novel feeling that the big world out there had suddenly taken notice of her. She was described as a ‘hilarious new talent,’ ‘clever and witty: the new Miranda Hart.’ She was even trending on Twitter. Merry now found herself regularly besieged by reporters and photographers who snapped her arriving and leaving Fizz’s television studios, turning up for rehearsals and even leaving Venetia’s flat, no matter how early the hour. Big Barry the doorman had a hard time defending his territory but assured her that no journalist would ever get past him. As he was six feet tall and nearly as wide, Merry chose to believe him.

  Even her parents had joined her fan club. They’d requested tickets for the filming of that week’s show. For the first time since she’d gone up to Oxford, Merry felt she was doing something of which her parents approved. It was another new thing to contend with. It all added to the pressure and made Merry unusually anxious.

  Step Twelve.

  It was Saturday night, filming night, and she and Daniel were waiting backstage for their cue to go on. They’d done their pre dance interview earlier in the day. Daniel had been extremely complimentary about her dancing. Had praised her to the hills, even. He’d been far warmer about her and to her in front of the cameras, than he’d been all week. They’d had a quick practice in the corridor after warming up and were now waiting for Suni and Warren to finish their waltz.

  Merry shivered and fidgeted like a racehorse before the Grand National. She hopped from toe to toe, scratched at where the cheap lace of her costume irritated and rubbed her nose where the pan-stick make-up suffocated her skin.

  “Merry, are you alright? You’ve got the jitters. It’s not like you to be so nervous.” Daniel looked at her properly for the first time since the wedding. Her face was strained and white, even with a layer or three of fake tan.

  Merry didn’t answer immediately. She waited until Bob had gone past, pulling herself in to avoid any physical contact with him. He revolted her. “Don’t know what’s wrong tonight. Just feel so nervous.” She clenched and then unclenched her hands.

  “Is it
because your parents are in?”

  Merry peered round a stage flat. “And right on the front row, I see.” Merry pulled at the neck of her skimpy costume. “Oh I don’t know. I think it’s just that I’ve realised there are expectations of me.” She sucked in a deep breath. “High expectations. I’m in all the papers all of a sudden and now my parents are sitting up and taking notice.” She looked up into Daniel’s eyes. “This isn’t just for fun, is it? It’s getting seriously competitive.”

  Daniel grinned. “Oh, my darling Merry. Have you only just cottoned on?”

  He put an arm round her and hugged her to him. It was their first non-dancing contact since they’d slept together and Merry’s senses burned. Then she clamped down on the inevitable disappointment which followed: this was strictly a brotherly gesture. No more.

  “Behind all the sequins, the slap they insist upon, what passes for the glamour,” Daniel began, “lies the blisters, the hard work and the ambition.” He nodded to Eva who wandered past in a daze. The judges had just awarded her and Harri a paltry score of twelve for their salsa. With the wedding, Harri’s rehearsal time had been curtailed and it had showed. “The celebs are in it for a variety of reasons but the pro dancers; they’re in it for the kill.” He hugged Merry closer. “Have I disillusioned you, babe?”

  Merry attempted to shake her head. It was difficult as it was pressed against his chest but it was so good to feel his hard muscles that she didn’t mind a bit. “No. I don’t mind all that. I’ve just realised how much I want to win this.”

  Daniel released her but then took her hands in his. He swung her back so that he could take a proper look, from head to toe. “Then, my darling Meredith,” he grinned, “win we will!”

  As they gazed at one another, they heard Charlie the show’s compère, yelling, “And now we have actress and comedienne Meredith Denning and her partner, Daniel Cunningham! Give them a big hand everyone!”

  “Ready Merry? Ready to dance for your life?”

  “Ready for anything, Daniel,” she replied and the voice in her head added, ‘I’d be ready for anything life threw at me, as long as I had you,’ but contented herself with just a wink.

  She flicked out her hair as she got into her Paso character and they stalked onto the dance floor to uproarious applause and a standing ovation.

  It seemed to Merry that it was seconds – or hours – or minutes later when they had finished their dance. She had no sense of time when she danced.

  Something came together for their Paso. The hours of gruelling training, the exhaustion in their limbs, the emotional battle they were fighting – and the love each was hiding from one another. It all came together in one glorious dance. Passion, fire, anger, musicality – all matched by Daniel’s clever choreography to create something very special. Merry knew it. Dan knew it. The audience knew it. They were on their feet for the entire time, clapping along, cheering and whistling, sighing at the quiet controlled parts, whooping when it became passionate.

  It was one of those times that Merry had heard about, had read about. One of those rare, magical happenings that Venetia had once explained between audience and performer. When each feeds off each other and makes a far more precious whole than any of its parts.

  As they stood, breathless, in front of the judges, waiting for their feedback and scores, Daniel held Merry so close she could feel his heart racing, almost feel the blood coursing through his body.

  “Please let us be good,” said the voice in her head. “I want this so much for Daniel. I want to win this for him.”

  Sonya was first to begin. “Well, Daniel and Merry. We knew from the start that there was something special about this partnership and tonight you have excelled yourselves.” She paused as the audience cheered its agreement. “I can find no fault with your performance tonight, so it’s a ten from me.”

  Daniel hugged Merry even closer as the audience went wild. Charlie raised his hands in an attempt to quieten things.

  Kevin, the most outspoken judge was next. He frowned. The audience held its collective breath. “I could say that this dance was disappointing, that your footwork was appalling, that you’re shaping was shoddy,” he began. “I’d quite like to say that, darlings.” The audience booed him good-naturedly. Kevin was the judge people loved to hate. “I could say that but it would be completely untrue. You were fantastic, darling!” He half rose to his feet and those watching gasped. Usually Kevin barely moved a well-Botoxed facial muscle, let alone his body. “I have no score to give other than a tempestuously terrific ten!”

  Again, the hysteria in the audience swelled and again Charlie had to try to gain control. “Quiet now please. QUIET! Let’s hear what our last judge has to say. Arthur, over to you. Could it be a ten from you too?”

  The audience indicated precisely what it thought and Arthur, head judge, simply shrugged, grinned and over the roar of approval held up his sparkly ten score.

  Charlie yelled. “Well, that’s a perfect score of thirty for our Paso Doble-ing pair, Merry and Daniel. And that takes them straight to the top of the scoreboard and into the final!”

  Merry and Daniel didn’t hear a word. They didn’t even hear the racket from the crowds around them. They simply hugged one another close. The only sound – to them – was that of their hearts beating as one.

  “Merry that was wonderful!” At the after-show party, Merry’s mother ran up to her and gave her a hug. “Darling, I had no idea you could dance.”

  Merry laughed. “I’m not sure I can.”

  “Rubbish, Merry. I’ve always told you, you can do anything you set your mind to,” her father added.

  It wasn’t quite what he always said to her, but Merry chose to take the diplomatic route and stayed silent on the subject.

  “What a shame Venetia is away working and missed this. You will get us all tickets to the final, won’t you, darling?” Mrs Denning said, while looking around. She was obviously star-struck. “Oh my, is that Scott? I love him. And Suni the Indian chef? I made one of her veggie curries just last week, it was absolutely delicious.” She turned to her daughter. “Do you think she’d mind if I went over for a chat? I do so adore her cookery programmes.”

  “I’m sure she wouldn’t, Ma. Suni is one of the nicest people around and everyone likes to be congratulated on doing something well.”

  Merry’s sarcasm went completely over her mother’s head. She watched, as Mrs Denning, wearing unfamiliar high heels, tripped over to Suni. “Mum’s enjoying herself.”

  “She certainly is. She’s always loved this show, it’s a real treat to get these tickets and on the front row too! Ah, Daniel, old boy,” Merry’s father added, as Daniel joined them, bringing champagne. “Sterling work, may I say. To make this lump of a daughter of ours dance like that takes real talent. The choice of the Adele track was a masterstroke for a Paso.”

  Daniel kissed Merry on the cheek and handed over a glass of bubbly to her father. “Oh, I think there always has to be some latent talent in a celebrity. It’s just a question of exploiting it.” He raised his own glass in a toast. “And it was Merry’s idea to use that song.” He winked at her. “An inspired one, if I may add.”

  “Thank you, Daniel,” Merry said, demurely.

  Merry’s father huffed. “Yes, well. It’s just good to see you stick at something for a change. You’ve wasted enough time since leaving Oxford.”

  Daniel saw an uncharacte‌ristically defeated look on Merry’s face and wondered how she’d grown up so carefree with a father like this. “Mr Denning,” he said brightly. “Who can I introduce you to? I know you and your wife are big fans of the show. Maybe our esteemed executive producer and director. Have you met Bob Dandry?” He steered Merry’s father away, leaving her to be surrounded by the other dancers. She disappeared into a cloud of congratula‌tions, champagne and hugs.

  Step Thirteen.

  Merry’s euphoria at getting into to the final was short-lived though: she had her fund-raising challenge to get t
hrough first.

  For the entire week after the semi-final, Bob pestered Merry. He took any and every opportunity to brush past her, to snake a hand around her waist, to whisper vaguely threatening remarks to her about her challenge. Merry bit her lip and tried to ignore him, muttering curses all the while under her breath. She even flirted with the idea of sticking pins in a plasticine doll. Venetia had assured her she’d once tried it on someone and it worked. The man was truly loathsome. She missed her aunt’s lightening presence. No matter how revoltingly Bob behaved to Merry, she’d always had Venetia to help her laugh it off. Even though they hadn’t really coincided in the flat all that often, it had been comforting to know someone else was occasionally available to chat over things. Someone who understood the tribulations of the showbiz world. Things were still awkward with Daniel, and any conversation she had with him was restricted to training matters. She missed him too.

  Merry was also preoccupied by the dances she and Daniel had to do in the final. As well as a free dance, where, he told her, anything went, they’d decided to reprise their Paso. It had been one of their most popular dances, both with the judges and the voting public. Daniel explained that now they had two weeks of training in front of them, they could add some more exciting details. Knowing Daniel as she did now, Merry was more than a little anxious about what he had in mind.

  She soon found out.

  ***

  She and Daniel began their fortnight of intensive rehearsing at eight am sharp on the Monday morning. Merry had barely shaken off her hangover from the party on Saturday.

  “So,” Daniel said, the minute Merry walked into their favourite rehearsal room at the Maida Vale gym, “I thought we’d give them some really thrilling lifts.”

  “Lifts,” squeaked Merry. “I’m five feet ten and weigh a ton.”

  “Merry, it’s not about how big you are, it’s all about technique.”

  “Oh, that’s alright then. After all, technique is what I’ve mastered after, oh yes, all of five weeks training.”