Too Beautiful to Dance

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Too Beautiful to Dance Page 22

by Diana Appleyard


  ‘Tell them Jaws is definitely not coming to town,’ he said sharply. He turned to Sara apologetically. ‘Sorry, but we get one sighting of a great white two miles out to sea and suddenly it’s Amityville Horror around here. No one has ever been attacked by a great white off the coast of Cornwall, but if this story goes any further we’ll have all manner of idiots driving their motorboats up and down the coastline, ladling fish guts into the water, which attracts all kinds of predators into the shallow water and affects the whole ecology of the coast. Honestly. It plays havoc with the marine life and last time we had a scare like this about thirty harmless sharks, like reefers and hammerheads, were unnecessarily baited, caught and killed.’

  ‘That’s awful,’ Sara said. ‘But surely people know the difference?’

  Nick raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Sadly not,’ he said. He was a rather good-looking man, Sara thought, then checked herself – goodness, she must stop looking at men who were young enough to be her son and noticing how nice-looking they were. He had long, light brown hair, tucked behind his ears, and small rimless oval glasses.

  ‘Don’t you have a press officer?’ Sara said.

  ‘Nope,’ he said, picking up and scanning the letter she had sent him about helping the organization to fund-raise and find corporate sponsors. ‘Can’t afford it. We’re working on a shoestring here. Look, I love the idea of you helping us to bring in more cash, but we wouldn’t be able to pay you much at all. Could you work on commission? You know, the more you bring in, the more you get paid?’

  ‘That’s what I expected you to say,’ Sara smiled. ‘That would be fine. Do you have a good relationship with the local papers?’ she went on. ‘It’s just I think we might need to raise your profile first, and let people know what a valuable job you are doing, before we start contacting sponsors. Do many people around here know what you actually do?’

  ‘Not many,’ he admitted. ‘We tend to keep our heads down and just get on with the work in hand. To be honest, the whole media thing is a bit of a distraction, a nuisance. We’re too busy to chat to journalists,’ he said. ‘And they always sensationalize everything; it’s really hard to get the facts across. All they want to hear is that we have a giant man-eating shark in our midst which will make a great headline for them and sell papers. I mean, we try to do our bit by getting out into the local community and we go into schools fairly frequently.’ He thought for a moment. ‘We’ve got the website too, but we don’t publicize that much.’ He sighed. ‘There’s probably a lot more we could be doing if we had the time.’

  ‘I could do that, too,’ Sara said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I could handle your press as well as fund-raise,’ she said. ‘I used to work in a marketing company, I dealt with journalists all the time, and I know how to write a press release.’ She smiled. ‘It would be fun.’

  Nick was looking at her appraisingly. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude, but why would you want to work for us? I mean, you’re . . .’

  ‘Rather mature?’ Sara said smiling. ‘I know. I haven’t worked for a while, but I’ve recently separated from my husband, moved down here and I need to work. That’s all.’

  ‘We could only pay a pittance and it’s very chaotic. We should have someone running the office too, but we can’t afford a full-time secretary.’

  ‘I could sort your office out, if you like. I’m quite good at organizing. Most of all, I’d like to do something where I feel I am doing something worthwhile. I’ve become quite interested in conservation, although I don’t know much about it. Now, how do you send out press releases?’

  ‘I put it off until the very last minute and then I just bash something out,’ Nick admitted.

  ‘If you want, I could interview you, write the press release, and then you could check what I’ve written,’ Sara said. ‘A kind of practical test. No cost,’ she added, hastily. He grinned at her. ‘You’re on,’ he said. ‘Fire away.’

  ‘OK,’ Sara said, banging the front door behind her and striding purposefully into the kitchen, where Lottie was reading the newspaper still wearing her pyjama bottoms and a hoodie sweatshirt, Hector snoring at her feet. ‘While you were slumbering in bed your mother has got herself a job.’

  ‘No!’ Lottie looked up from the paper. ‘How on earth did you swing that?’

  ‘Cheek, mostly,’ Sara said. ‘The chap from the trust – Nick, the one you heard me phoning yesterday to check he’d received my letter – said he’d see me this morning. I managed to talk him into taking me on, not just fund-raising, but writing press releases. They are not,’ she added, smiling, ‘going to pay me much at all, but at least it is gainful employment of a kind. It was nice to be in an office again, actually, although they were all so young. Only a bit older than you. And it was such a mess, I itched to clear up. How they find anything I don’t know. They only want me a few days a week initially, but it’s a start. I can work for other companies, too. It is so exciting!’

  ‘What do you know about writing press releases?’ Lottie asked suspiciously.

  ‘Quite a lot, actually, I used to do it for Dad all the time. It was funny how quickly it came back, interviewing Nick and then writing up the press release. He was really pleased with the result,’ she added happily, ‘and he said I could go in tomorrow and look through their list of sponsors and think of new people and companies to approach.’ She continued, her eyes shining, ‘They emailed it over to the newspaper right away! It might be in the newspaper tomorrow!’

  ‘They’ll change it all,’ Lottie said grinning. ‘You know they will. I can’t believe how excited you are.’

  ‘The thing is,’ Sara said, ‘it’s a start. I did it, all on my own, through sheer cheek, and the thing came off. Gosh, maybe I can make a go of this after all.’

  ‘We’re only talking about one tiny charity,’ Lottie pointed out.

  ‘I know, but there are plenty more out there, aren’t there? And I can do a lot of the work from home, on your laptop, so I don’t have to leave Hector on his own.’ At his name, Hector thumped his tail against the floor under the table. ‘This really feels like a new start.’

  ‘But what will I do?’ Lottie asked pitifully. ‘I thought I was going to help you.’

  ‘You can help me.’

  ‘Only if it’s raining, actually,’ Lottie said grinning. ‘I’ve decided I must teach myself how to surf.’

  ‘I wonder why that might be?’

  ‘A girl needs many weapons in her armoury,’ Lottie said mysteriously.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sara swung her colourful striped cloth handbag as she walked towards the trust offices in Fowey. That morning, she had looked at herself sternly in the mirror and said, ‘Right, this is it, Sara Louise Atkinson. You have no one to depend upon but yourself, and you need to look businesslike and smart now you are back in the world of work. Which means make-up and nice clothes. You have to start making an effort.’

  Although she had to admit that Nick and his fellow staff were unlikely to notice if she walked in wearing a binbag. But when she did get out and about to meet potential sponsors, she’d need to look the part.

  She had decided that she was going to have her hair cut in a more fashionable style, and she was also going to buy some more clothes. All the walking and the twice-weekly Pilates sessions were definitely having an impact, and she might even have dropped another dress size.

  Last night she had felt so fired up about the prospect of work she could not sleep, but this sleeplessness was so very different from the dreadful first nights at the cottage, when she had struggled to stop herself wallowing in nameless fears. She was wakeful now because she had so many purposeful ideas buzzing around her head. This morning she had woken feeling both energized and enthusiastic. She would have to be far more proactive: she could organize events and launch campaigns. After all, she had been running a home and family for years – now she could put all those organizational skills to good use.

  In th
e middle of the night she had remembered about the discarded fishing lines. The death of the dolphin was unlikely to have been a one-off incident. Perhaps she could help the trust launch a campaign to stop fishermen dumping discarded nets and lines off their boats. She had read recently on the Internet that over a million sea creatures died each year through the debris of nets and lines in the oceans. Now that really would make her feel as if she was doing some good. Above all, she thought, as she lay staring at the ceiling, it is lovely to feel that I am needed, that I have a purpose to the day.

  Just by the trust’s offices she stopped to buy a copy of the local newspaper. As she walked into the shop, the headline splashed on a billboard by the door caught her eye. ‘NO PANIC OVER GREAT WHITES!’ it read. Almost unable to believe what she was seeing, she rushed into the shop, bought the paper and hastily scanned the front page. They had repeated her press release, literally word for word. Nick would be thrilled. She had a spring in her step as she reached the offices and a huge smile on her face. Pushing open the door, she was greeted with hoots of appreciation and Nick put down the apple he was eating, walked round his desk, and hugged her. ‘I think we really do need you, Mrs Atkinson,’ he said.

  At lunchtime she offered to go out and buy everyone a sandwich. Nick looked at her gratefully. ‘We often don’t have any lunch,’ he said. ‘We just seem to forget.’

  ‘Well, you must eat,’ Sara said briskly, straightening a pile of papers as she walked past his desk. ‘What does everyone want?’

  Armed with a long list, she headed for the sandwich bar next to Pip’s restaurant. She couldn’t stop herself peering into the window. It was dark, and seemed empty. She turned to walk on. Just as she was doing so, the door opened.

  ‘Hi,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, hi,’ she said, casually. ‘I’m just going to buy some sandwiches.’

  ‘I see,’ he said gravely.

  ‘Sorry, that sounded rather mad. I’ve just started work, well, part time really, helping out, at the trust.’ She waved her hand up the street. ‘I said I’d get lunch.’

  ‘The wildlife trust?’

  ‘That’s right. I used to do some fund-raising professionally and I thought that rather than sitting about at home surrounded by builders and getting in their way, I would see if they needed some help, and they do, so here I am.’ She finished off her sentence breathlessly. She paused. Why was she talking gibberish?

  ‘Good for you. They do a great job.’

  They stared at each other in silence for a moment before Sara said hurriedly, ‘Did you have a good surf? The other day, in our cove?’

  ‘Your cove?’ He smiled and Sara realized she had forgotten just how very attractive he was. ‘I thought the sea was free. Not bad. It’s still so cold though. The waves aren’t really up to much on this stretch of coastline but I only get one day a week off, and I’m so knackered after all the late nights I need to kip. So I have to make do with whatever is available nearby.’ He smiled again and Sara thought how perfectly white and even his teeth were. ‘Are you in a rush?’ he asked suddenly.

  ‘No,’ she said, startled by the question. ‘I’ll have to get back reasonably soon, but I’m free for a few minutes, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘Cool. Would you like a coffee?’ he asked. ‘I’ll treat you.’

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Why not?’ She was glad she’d made an effort with her appearance this morning, if only for her self-confidence.

  ‘May as well have one here,’ he said. ‘We’re not open for lunch today. I’m just setting the tables up for tonight.’

  ‘I thought you were treating me?’ Sara teased.

  ‘OK. I owe you one,’ he said. ‘Next time.’

  Sara perched on a bar stool as he walked behind the bar and switched on the big coffee machine. As he turned away from her, she found herself studying the back of his head, thinking how thick his hair was, as black as a raven, curling down to the top of his shoulders in gleaming waves.

  ‘How do you want it?’ he asked, turning to her, and Sara realized he must have caught her staring at him, and blushed. She suddenly had the urge to giggle. Tonight she was going to her first Women’s Institute meeting at the village hall, and here she was, apparently being chatted up by a beautiful young man who appeared, for whatever insane reason, to be genuinely interested in her. Life was full of surprises.

  ‘White,’ she said smiling.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ he asked, a puzzled look on his face.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Just a silly thought.’

  ‘So how are you enjoying living here?’ He put a white porcelain cup as large as a small bowl in front of her, sprinkling chocolate powder on to the top of the coffee from a steel pot on the bar. She took a sip, before wiping the froth from her top lip.

  ‘I really love it. We both do. Lottie – you’ve met my daughter, haven’t you? – says it feels as if we have lived here for years. But it’s going to be chaos for the next few months,’ she added.

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember. You’re having some building work done, aren’t you?’

  ‘That’s right. It’ll be murder. At least working here in town will make life a little more peaceful.’

  ‘It’s not so peaceful here,’ he said, raising an eyebrow. He leant towards her, his elbows on the bar. Sara breathed in his warm masculine smell, with a hint of aftershave and salt water. His hair was still slightly damp – perhaps he had been swimming or surfing this morning. Discomfited by his proximity, she sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. She took a sip of coffee. Her heart was beating rather faster than usual. ‘Why isn’t it peaceful?’ she asked in a high voice, and then coughed.

  ‘It’s like a party here every night, we don’t shut until at least two.’

  ‘But that’s at night. I’ll be working during the day.’

  ‘Nothing to stop you joining in,’ he smiled. ‘Most of the locals end up down here on a Thursday night, when we have live music. It’s a riot. You must come. Bring your daughter.’

  Aha, Sara thought. So that’s why you’re being so nice to me. She smiled to herself. Delusions, again. She must stop forgetting that he would look at her and see a woman almost as old as his mother.

  ‘It would be fun,’ she admitted. ‘Lottie would love it. I do worry she’s getting bored, she misses all her friends in London. We meant to come a few weeks ago but we just didn’t get round to it. We were celebrating – Lottie has a place at Bristol University in September.’

  ‘Good for her.’

  Was Sara imagining it, or did that odd melancholy look she had seen before flit across his face? He turned away from her, using a J-cloth to wipe the nozzle which had just frothed the milk.

  ‘So you came from London?’ he remarked casually, turning to wipe the top of the bar.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Big change.’

  ‘For the better.’ Why had she said that?

  ‘Good.’ There was a long pause. Now he’s wondering why he invited me for coffee, Sara thought. What could we ever have in common? Then she noticed he was smiling at her encouragingly. ‘Look, come this Thursday. Everyone ends up dancing. Even the staff have been known to join in.’ He shrugged. ‘You’ll have to promise to save me a dance, though.’

  ‘I haven’t danced in years,’ Sara said laughing. ‘I’m not sure I still know how to. You kind of grow out of dancing, you know.’

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t,’ he said, leaning towards her again. This time Sara did not move away.

  ‘I think,’ she said, ‘you may be quite right.’ For a heartbeat, they looked steadily at each other.

  The door banged behind them. Sara jumped, and turned to see the waiter with the ponytail standing behind them.

  ‘This is Jake,’ Ricky said. ‘Jake, meet Sara.’

  ‘Hey,’ Jake held up his hand in greeting.

  ‘How’s the hangover?’

  ‘Killing,’ Jake replied, walking round the bar. ‘Get me some black coffee, will you, man
? I’m still drunk, I didn’t get to bed until five. How did you get home? You couldn’t have driven.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Ricky said. ‘I ran. Quick dip in the sea, then came in here. I’m shafted, mate. Still on cloud nine.’ Jack laughed. Sara felt as if a spell had been broken. How could she have thought they might be friends? He was of a different generation. Lottie’s generation, of wild parties and staying up all night. She was slippers and a glass of wine by the fire before a nice early bed with a good book. She smiled to herself. ‘I must be going,’ she said. ‘Thanks so much for the coffee.’ She slid off the bar stool.

  ‘No worries. Do come on Thursday. It’ll be cool,’ he said.

  ‘Bye,’ Sara said, as casually as she could manage. ‘See you. Nice to meet you, Jake,’ she added. He smiled at her and held up his cup of black coffee in farewell.

  ‘Ciao,’ Ricky said, bending down to run the tap under the bar to rinse out some glasses from the previous night.

  ‘I saw you,’ Helen whispered. ‘Disappearing into a doorway with a gorgeous young man.’ They were sitting in the back row of the village hall, while a woman called Gloria ran through a not very brief account of a recent holiday hill-walking in the Alps, accompanied by many slides of the Alpine flowers she had encountered along the way. Sara giggled. ‘Have you got spies everywhere?’ she whispered back.

  ‘You didn’t notice me, you were so wrapped up in your toy boy,’ Helen murmured. ‘I was in the delicatessen. I called hello, but you didn’t hear me. Or blatantly ignored me, which is far more likely.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I was miles away.’

  ‘I bet you were.’

  ‘He was only chatting me up to find out about Lottie,’ Sara said, out of the corner of her mouth. ‘Sadly.’ A woman sitting in the row in front turned to glare at them. Gloria had reached Italy.

  ‘At least she didn’t need an elephant, not with those thighs,’ Helen muttered.

 

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