Strictly My Husband: It's funny, it's romantic and it's got dancing - what's not to love!

by Tracy Bloom

  Laura gasped and then laughed before Hannah dug her in the ribs and scowled. There sitting behind a Yamaha organ at the far end of the room was Jerry dressed in a glorious red frilly dress, towering red wig and gaudy over-the-top make-up. He was belting out ‘Whole Again’ by Atomic Kitten for all he was worth in some kind of dodgy foreign accent and at the end of every line he punched the air and shouted, ‘Ooh, Baby,’ at the top of his voice. A crowd had assembled round him, laughing and cheering, and he had never, in Laura’s opinion, looked happier.

  ‘I agree. You can’t burst that bubble tonight,’ said Laura to Hannah, who smiled resignedly.

  ‘Laura!’ came a cry from behind them and they both turned to see Tom and Carly fast approaching. Oh God, if only she could talk to Tom without Carly being constantly attached to him . . .

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ cried Tom.

  ‘I, er,’ started Laura. ‘I, er . . .’

  ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘As long as you are here now. There’s something I need to do then I need to talk to you. Stand right there and don’t move.’

  Laura stood stock-still, trying to ignore Carly’s semi-drunk smirk. This wasn’t a position she had expected or wanted to be in tonight.

  The next thing she knew Tom was striding across the basement, making his way over to Jerry with the flowers she’d seen in the garage earlier. Laura felt like crying. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t stand there and watch her husband gush over another woman. She had to get out.

  She tugged at Hannah’s hand but her friend wouldn’t let go. In fact Hannah gripped her even harder.

  ‘I need to get out of here,’ Laura hissed at her.

  ‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Hannah grimly. ‘We are in this together now. We are not leaving this room until your love life is sorted out.’

  Tom was now attempting to take the microphone off Jerry, who was resisting.

  ‘I’m performing,’ protested Jerry. Tom gave it an almighty tug, causing Jerry to go flying.

  ‘You can perform again in a minute,’ Tom said crossly. ‘There’s something I’ve got to say.’ He turned to face the revellers. ‘Can I have your attention please, everyone?’

  Everyone hushed and someone thankfully leant over and switched off Jerry’s backing track. Laura thought she might throw up. She looked longingly at the exit.

  ‘Before you all disappear I just wanted to thank you all again for what I can genuinely say has been the best thing I have ever done at Wonderland. Every single one of you pulled it out of the bag in the end and I could not be prouder. I must also thank again our wonderful benefactor, who has been kind enough to throw this fabulous party. Can you please show your appreciation for the one, the only, Margarita Pracatan.’

  Jerry stepped forward, took a bow and blew kisses to his fans from magenta lips as everyone went wild. Soon the chant of ‘Ooh, Baby’ filled the underground room.

  Tom signalled for quiet and everyone calmed down. ‘There is, however, one person who I need to give my gratitude to who has so far not been recognised this evening. Without this very special woman we wouldn’t all be standing here today celebrating our success. She always believed we could do it. She has stood by me through thick and thin and quite frankly we wouldn’t have a show at all if it wasn’t for her. She was the making of Malice in Wonderland.’

  Laura tugged harder on Hannah’s hand. She couldn’t bear it. She had to leave. She couldn’t watch Carly bask under the glow of her husband’s praise. She cast her eyes sideways, unable to stop herself looking at Carly’s reaction. Smug with a capital S was spelt out all over her face. Laura screwed her eyes tight shut. Perhaps it would help if she couldn’t see, even if she had to listen.

  ‘So as a token of my appreciation I would like to present these flowers to the ultimate leading lady in my life. My wife, Laura.’

  Laura’s eyes flew open. She’d heard that wrong, hadn’t she? Being blind had played tricks on her. She looked at Hannah, who had finally released her grip. Hannah was clapping. Why was she clapping Carly? The traitor. What was she thinking? She looked up to see Tom watching her expectantly, holding up the dreaded flowers. Her head flew round, seeking Carly, but she seemed to have disappeared.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ urged Hannah.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Tom’s waiting to give you flowers.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes!’ Hannah gave her a push. ‘You.’

  Laura walked like a zombie up to the front of the room, searching Tom’s face for clues. She let him engulf her in a hug.

  ‘I know I’ve been a real pain over the last few weeks, being so obsessed with the show, but knowing I have you to come home to has made it all bearable. And you were the one who made me face up to the failure I had on my hands and do something about it. I couldn’t have done it without you,’ he breathed into her ear. ‘I love you.’

  Laura pulled back and looked into his eyes. Was this his swansong, his way of saying goodbye? Thanks, you’re amazing, now I’m off. He gripped her hand and turned back to his audience with a huge grin on his face.

  ‘So all that remains to be said is . . .’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘See you all this time next year!’

  Everyone cheered and Jerry sidled in, setting the organ off again and beginning a terrible version of ‘We Are the Champions’.

  ‘Come over here,’ said Tom. ‘I need to tell you something.’

  Laura let him drag her to the side of the room where they could be heard and not trampled by a flock of excitable performers.

  So this is it, thought Laura, bracing herself. This is when he tells me he’s going to the audition and it’s all over.

  ‘I saw Phillip earlier,’ he said urgently.

  Laura nodded mutely.

  ‘Head Office are coming up next week to understand how we made such a success of the show and they want to talk to me about helping the other attractions in the group improve their entertainment.’

  Laura looked at him blankly. She couldn’t take in what he was saying. Where was the admission that he was off to London to find fame and fortune with the girl who looked like his ex-fiancée?

  ‘Well, you could at least look happy for me?’ cried out Tom.

  ‘But . . . but what about the audition in the West End?’

  ‘I’m not going.’ Tom shrugged. ‘It was a stupid idea. Should never have let Carly talk me into it. I mean, look at all this lot,’ he said, casting his arm over the dance floor. ‘What do they wake up to tomorrow morning? The thought of moving on to another strange place in the hope of another job and then doing that all over again at somebody else’s whim. I don’t want that. I want to wake up to you every day, not in some godforsaken bedsit with God knows who. I mean, a bedsit?’ he said, shivering. ‘I’m past all that. And it’s made me realise what a great opportunity I have here. Well – you made me realise that. You and your bollocking over lunch.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Laura, before she could help herself.

  ‘Don’t be,’ said Tom. ‘I needed it. You were right about everything.’

  ‘Everything?’ questioned Laura, feeling her stomach clench.

  ‘Well, no, not everything,’ he said, snaking his arms around her waist and pulling her in close. ‘Not the bit about not living happily ever after with an unglamorous, boring wife.’

  Laura couldn’t breathe. He could so get this bit wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time. And if he did, she feared they might never recover.

  ‘I did live happily ever after with the most beautiful woman I have ever met.’ He leant forward to kiss her.

  She hesitated. Had he said enough? Yes he had. The most beautiful man that she had ever met had said she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. That was more than enough. They kissed and kissed and kissed until she felt she was floating.

  ‘Can you say that again,’ said Laura when they at last took a breath.

  ‘Which bit?’

  ‘The
bit about me being the most beautiful woman you have ever met.’

  ‘I thought that would be my winning line,’ he replied with a cheeky grin.

  She thumped him.

  ‘Just because I don’t tell you doesn’t mean I don’t think it every day,’ he said, trying to fend her off.

  ‘You should tell me more,’ she said, sticking her bottom lip out.

  ‘Tell you what I’m actually thinking?’ said Tom.

  Laura nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Only if you promise to do the same.’

  ‘Deal,’ said Laura.

  ‘Deal,’ replied Tom. ‘I do need to ask you something else though.’

  Here it is, she thought. The kicker at the end. This wasn’t going to end perfectly after all.

  ‘Would you dance with me?’ he asked, stepping back and then offering his hand.

  She looked into his eyes. ‘You want to dance with this?’ she asked, indicating with her hands her scrappy ponytail, pyjamas and unsuitable footwear.

  ‘Always,’ he replied.

  ‘Waltz?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh no,’ he said, stepping forwards and grasping her around the waist. ‘Tonight we do the dance of passion. Tonight we do the tango.’

  Before Laura could respond Tom grabbed her hand and pulled her on to the dance floor, walking with such determination and speed that the party-goers, standing aside to let them through, paused their excitable chatter to check out what was going on.

  Tom walked up to Jerry, who was still banging away on the keyboard, and shouted in his ear. She watched as he scuttled off to fiddle with his state-of-the-art music system. With a determined look on his face Tom pulled her to the centre of the floor, took both her hands and placed them in their dramatic starting position.

  She looked up at him, trying to ignore the butterflies doing a quickstep in her belly.

  ‘This’ – he smiled down at her – ‘will be my favourite tango of the night.’ She felt the butterflies calm to a rumba. ‘Because now I get to dance with my favourite partner,’ he added.

  She gasped as he pulled her in closer just as the opening bars of ‘Eye of the Tiger’ filled the room. Laura closed her eyes momentarily, trying to recall the opening steps, then opened them to see Tom gazing down at her, a look of pure love in his eyes.

  She stopped thinking about the steps and let her emotions take over. She felt the music, she felt the rhythm and she felt Tom, her husband, masterfully guiding her around the floor.

  She was aware of no one as she danced, other than her husband. Nothing mattered beyond the feeling of being in Tom’s arms and dancing the night away. The explosion of applause and the stamping of feet as they struck their final pose was a huge shock. Laura felt jolted from a dream to be greeted by a sea of delighted faces, cheering and clapping and jumping up and down. She looked up at Tom, who was beaming back at her. He stepped to the side and she bowed to her audience, blushing as she did so. Then she turned back to her husband, who grasped her around the waist and spun her round and round; both laughed their heads off as they enjoyed their moment.

  Chapter Forty

  Laura

  Laura looked across at her husband and smiled. They were sitting at the kitchen table in their dressing gowns at ten thirty on a Monday morning, sipping Buck’s Fizz. She felt giddy. That could be due to the sex that they’d just had or the Buck’s Fizz. Either way she didn’t care.

  Tom grinned back, holding his glass up. ‘I could get used to this. Maybe we should take in more lodgers if they all leave us champagne when they move out.’

  ‘No way.’ Laura grimaced. ‘That is the last time you bring home a lodger, understood? We’ll manage without one in the future.’

  ‘Understood.’ Tom nodded. ‘I’m sorry. I won’t do it ever again. I promise.’

  ‘Good,’ she said, taking a glug.

  ‘Morning, guys,’ said Jerry, bursting through the back door. ‘Aye, aye. What’s this? Drinking in the morning? You trying to get Laura frisky or something?’

  ‘No,’ said Tom, getting up to find Jerry a glass. ‘She needs no encouragement actually.’

  Tom filled a glass with champagne knowing that Jerry might vomit at the thought of mixing it with juice. ‘Carly left it for us. We woke up this morning and she’d gone. All her stuff and everything. Just left this, some cash and a thank-you note.’

  ‘Blimey,’ said Jerry, knocking back a large slug. ‘Clearly it’s a day for buggering off then,’ he continued, staring for a moment into his glass. ‘I’ve come to say goodbye actually. I fly out to Australia at seven o’clock tonight.’

  ‘Tonight!’ exclaimed Tom and Laura.

  ‘Mmm-mmm,’ confirmed Jerry.

  ‘You and Hannah?’ Laura asked tentatively. She hadn’t heard from her since she and Tom had decided to make their excuses and leave the party early.

  ‘No, just me,’ sighed Jerry. ‘Me and Hannah – well, we’ve decided to part ways.’

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Tom. ‘What do you mean? No way.’ He looked at Laura in bewilderment. She tried to look equally flummoxed.

  Jerry nodded. ‘It’s not been right for ages. We both knew that. We’ve been flogging a dead horse, to be honest.’

  ‘God, I’m sorry, mate,’ said Tom. He looked devastated for his friend.

  ‘Nah, don’t be. It’s definitely the right thing.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re both OK?’ asked Laura.

  ‘Yeah, we talked it all through this morning. We both want entirely different things. Hannah spelt it out really. She said to me, “Will you have more fun in Australia with or without me?” I had to admit, it would be without her. Makes it crystal clear, doesn’t it? She told me to go and enjoy myself and she’ll hold the fort whilst I’m away. The good thing about Hannah is she’s as straight as a die. I know she’s not going to diddle me. We’ll sort the divorce out when I get back.’

  Clever Hannah, thought Laura. She’d played it exactly as she’d said she would. Sometimes it didn’t do to give Jerry too much information.

  ‘It’s still sad though,’ said Tom.

  No one said anything.

  Then Jerry grinned. ‘I’m going to fucking Australia! I can’t be sad about that.’

  ‘I’m not sure Australia is ready for you, Jerry,’ said Laura.

  Jerry grinned. ‘Ooh, Baby,’ he said.

  ‘You’re not taking Margarita Pracatan, are you?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Margarita goes everywhere with me from now on,’ said Jerry, pounding his fist on the table. ‘Now let’s get some more champagne in these glasses and have a toast.’

  Jerry held his glass high in the air when they had all been topped up. ‘To a new lease of life,’ he declared.

  ‘A new lease of life,’ chimed in Tom and Laura, grinning happily.

  ‘And Carly,’ continued Jerry.

  Laura frowned. ‘Carly?’

  ‘Yes, Carly.’ Jerry nodded thoughtfully. ‘Carly who created chaos in our lives but has left us all behind the better for it.’

  Tom and Laura glanced at each other.

  Laura raised her glass. ‘To Carly.’

  ‘To Carly,’ agreed Tom.

  The End

  Dear Reader

  Thank you so much for reading Strictly My Husband, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I find it really useful to know what readers think of my books so if you could leave a review I would be very grateful. I read them all, and it’s helpful for other people who might be considering buying this book. It doesn’t have to be long, just click here and write a few words.

  If you want to see what else I’ve been up to or wish to contact me you can find me via the links below. Please do check out my Facebook page so you can see how I got on with learning the Argentine tango – it’s not pretty! And if you ‘Like’ my page I will enter you into a draw to win a signed copy of one of my books.

  Happy dancing and thanks again for reading,

  Tracy Bloom

  x

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  Tracy Bloom – The Low Down

  Tracy Bloom was born quite a while ago, is average to short in height, buys clothes based on their ability to hide stuff rather than reveal stuff, has chemically enhanced hair and wishes she had kept her braces in longer as a teenager. But apart from that she really enjoys describing herself!

  Tracy has always liked to say it how it is in her writing, right from when she began her first novel No-One Ever Has Sex on a Tuesday nearly ten years ago. This honesty and a desire to see the funny side of things, helped her to become a number one bestseller, published in over a dozen countries and twice winner of the Love Stories Award for Best Author-Published Romance. Not bad for a farmer’s daughter from Derbyshire whose previous major achievements include winning a bottle of sherry in a raffle at the age of eight.

  Other Books by Tracy Bloom:

  No-One Ever Has Sex on a Tuesday

  Single Woman Seeks Revenge

  I Will Marry George Clooney (By Christmas)

  No-One Ever Has Sex in the Suburbs

  Acknowledgements

  Firstly thank you to all the dancers in my life. To Bruce who has always danced with me, even on crutches at a relative’s wedding. You are my dancing hero. To Tom and Sally who are ever ready to crank up the tunes and give it some, and to my mum and dad who did learn ballroom dancing when they were young and can still show us youngsters how to do it.

  Technical support on this book has come from Gary, a legend regarding all things research but please do not judge my portrayal as any reflection of his expertise. I must also thank Richard Swainson of Swainson Productions who provided me with many a useful anecdote but who also produces my book trailers, which you can find on YouTube. It is the best fun making them and you are a joy to work with.

  The One Off have pulled it out of the bag yet again with a brilliant cover, spurred on by my daughter Sally’s fantastic idea. My son Tom is, as ever, my right hand man when it comes to commercial decisions. I am very grateful for your input. I only wish you were as grateful for mine!