The Last Dance

by Fiona McIntosh

  Equally crisp-looking in a sombre grey three-piece was Rafe Ainsworth, unhappily standing by a window and glaring out. Stella hadn’t expected Rafe but she showed no surprise at his presence. Georgina, as expected, was in tow standing beside her seated mother, still wearing her ink-stained clothes. Stella felt another pang of misery for the skirt and now could anticipate Georgina’s tale of woe. The script was already written.

  ‘Would you like a seat, Stella?’ Beatrice began.

  ‘Not really. I feel extremely uncomfortable so I might as well remain standing.’ The defiance, though hollow, stirred her courage. She noticed Rafe turn away from the window to regard the scene as the two sides faced off.

  ‘As you wish,’ Beatrice countered but Stella had already looked away.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Ainsworth.’

  ‘Stella,’ he said softly in greeting, looking momentarily surprised to be addressed so directly.

  ‘Let’s not beat around the bush,’ Beatrice launched in, wresting back the room’s attention. ‘Georgina tells me you insulted her this morning.’

  Stella returned her gaze to Beatrice but not before sweeping a glance at the smirking daughter. She said nothing, though, forcing Beatrice to continue.

  ‘Have you no comment? Earlier you gave the impression that you might have plenty to say.’

  ‘I do, although I’m not sure any more that it matters.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because, Mrs Ainsworth, I believe you have already made up your mind and I’m here simply as a formality.’

  ‘That’s rather presumptuous.’

  ‘I apologise for any offence given. I’m just trying to make it easier and not fight it.’

  ‘Did you or did you not call my daughter a beast?’

  All right, let’s do this, Stella decided and straightened. ‘I did. I murmured it to myself because she had behaved abominably during her lesson. She insulted her father repeatedly in my presence, which I found both indiscreet and uncomfortable, given that Mr Ainsworth employs me. She refused to partake in the work I’d set; she ignored the fact that I had prepared carefully for yesterday’s and today’s lesson, sneering at your investment. Finally in a last-ditch bid to be excused from her tutorial, she deliberately leaned across the desk and knocked the inkpot over. I might add she sneered to my face over this and then excused herself without my permission.’

  ‘Mummy, I surely couldn’t be expected to sit there with ink soaking through to my skin,’ Georgina remarked with feigned shock.

  ‘Hardly,’ Beatrice agreed. ‘And that darling skirt of yours I brought back from Paris earlier this year is now completely ruined.’

  ‘I know. I’m devastated,’ Georgie moaned.

  Beastly liar, Stella thought, enjoying repeating the insult silently. ‘Surely I am not responsible for the state of Georgina’s skirt?’ she wondered.

  ‘I think you are!’ Georgie snapped. ‘This was a special gift from Mummy and you’ve spoiled it as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘But you knocked the pot over,’ Stella countered, frowning.

  ‘Because you were haranguing me. You made me nervous.’

  Stella couldn’t help the gust of disdain she gave. ‘“Haranguing”? That’s a great word, Georgina. And if you’d stuck at it you could have learned how to offer the same sentiment in French.’ It was condescending but she couldn’t help herself and suddenly no longer cared for the ungracious, manipulative youth she was supposed to be polite to. ‘I’m sorry, Mr and Mrs Ainsworth, I really wanted to make this job work – I felt privileged to be offered it – but Georgina is lying to your faces and if anything, she should be punished for today’s debacle.’

  ‘Gosh, Mummy, she’s the beast, not me! I was simply reaching for a sheet of paper,’ Georgina said, adding a tremulous note to her claim.

  ‘Mrs Ainsworth,’ Stella said, affecting a tone of reason, ‘perhaps Georgina would like to explain to you both how exactly she managed to tip an inkwell towards herself if reaching for paper. If anything, the accident Georgina is describing would send the ink my way. No, I’m sorry, I cannot tolerate the lie. She did it deliberately. She flicked the pot in her own direction to cause a disruption that would allow her to leave the lesson directly after I’d mentioned to her that I had cancelled the cocoa she’d ordered so as to avoid any disruption to our lesson. And, I might add, the paper was on the far side of the desk to my right and nowhere near where Georgina was reaching. If you’d like to check with Mrs Boyd, she’ll confirm that as she placed the paper on the desk.’

  Georgina gave a look so hostile that if Stella had been one ounce weaker than she felt right now, she was sure she would flee the room. ‘And I can’t find my earrings either, Mummy. You know the ones you gave me for my sixteenth?’

  Stella was well ahead of the minx with the silver tongue.

  ‘They’re right here, Georgina.’ She dipped into her pocket and retrieved them.

  ‘How convenient!’ the girl sneered.

  ‘Not at all. I offered them to Mrs Boyd to return to you a little earlier but she suggested I bring them here to the meeting.’ Stella leaned forward and placed the pearl earrings on the desk where they gleamed, fat and accusingly, tempting Georgina to try a final parry over them. She hesitated so Stella took the advantage. ‘They’re very beautiful and you should not remove them in case someone less honest than I should happen upon them. If you care to, please check with your housekeeper that I am recalling only the truth. And if you wish, Mrs Ainsworth, you may like to double-check my references at Bourne & Hollingsworth. I have never been known to tell lies; it is not in my nature to be anything but truthful . . . and, just as it has now, this level of honesty can get me into trouble.’

  ‘None of this excuses the fact that you insulted my daughter.’

  ‘No, that is true.’ Stella shifted her attention back to her daughter and fixed her with a steady gaze to prove her sincerity. ‘Georgina, I’m appalled that I lost my composure with you today. I apologise unreservedly for accusing you of being beastly for calling your father a constant embarrassment and a drag in your life. And saying that you wished him dead.’ She glanced at Rafe, then to his wife, who looked thunderstruck. ‘I apologise to all of you for repeating that but you are forcing me to defend myself. I found Georgina’s remarks to be insensitive especially as I have recently lost my father and would give anything to have him still in my life.’

  She hadn’t meant to open her heart but the words and the powerful emotion they travelled on were out of her mouth before she could close it on them. And now they were free and resonating around the trio of Ainsworths.

  Rafe cleared his throat, Beatrice had the grace to look at least slightly sympathetic and only Georgina kept her mask in place without so much as a flicker of acknowledgement that Stella’s situation might well have led her to take offence at her careless and sulky criticism.

  ‘Well,’ Beatrice said into the awkward silence. ‘Of course that does throw a different light on the situation.’ Her daughter glared at her. ‘Georgie, did you really say those things about your father?’

  ‘Mummy, she is exaggerating ridiculously.’ Stella’s gaze narrowed as she wondered whether there was no end to this girl’s ability to tap dance her way out of situations. ‘We all tease Daddy, don’t we?’

  Beatrice regarded Stella, waiting for her to jump in and deny Georgina’s claim, perhaps even accuse her of lying in order to dilute how vicious she had truly been. Stella desperately wanted to; hated the notion that Georgie might get away with her scandalous behaviour. Nevertheless her sensibilities told her it was gracious to remain silent now. She returned Beatrice’s look with an unblinking gaze and an unspoken message passed between them as though Beatrice understood that Stella had been truthful with them. She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod and with that gesture Stella no longer cared now whether they fired her or not. The fact that Mrs Ainsworth seemed to believe her side of the story felt like exoneration.

  Georg
ina had turned her attention to her father by now and was oozing all the charm she could muster in his direction.

  ‘. . . against you, Dad, you know that!’ She giggled for his benefit and Stella felt ill.

  ‘Thank you, Stella,’ Beatrice said and her daughter went quiet. ‘It seems to me no matter what occurred this morning that you and Georgie are finding it difficult to work together.’

  ‘I am more than happy to help Georgina as I was employed to do.’

  Georgina sighed. ‘I’m sorry. After today I think I will find it awkward and uncomfortable. You see she’s called me a beast and now she’s really calling me a liar to your faces. I don’t think I want to learn from Stella.’

  ‘Not sure you ever did, though, Georgina,’ Stella defended.

  ‘It’s no secret that I think I should be allowed my holiday freedom, yes. But I find you difficult to work with, Stella. You’re prickly and you have a high opinion of yourself and frankly, it’s intolerable.’

  Stella wanted to laugh in her face and accuse her of needing to look in the mirror. Instead she looked down. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that.’ It was neither an admission nor a denial but she could almost sense Rafe cheering silently at her diplomacy.

  ‘And then there’s the business of you encouraging Grace to mimic me,’ Beatrice launched at Stella.

  ‘I really didn’t encourage her, Mrs Ainsworth, and I am genuinely sorry for any offence Grace gave. Truly, I think it was meant affectionately.’

  ‘Oh, how so, Stella? Do educate me on this aspect of parenting I’m clearly lacking in.’

  Stella felt herself blush at the barb but she pushed on regardless. ‘Well, I’ve watched Grace poke gentle fun at her father in a similar manner – I think she’s an alert, mature girl with a dry sense of humour that is a compliment to you both. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to making similar affectionate fun at the expense of my parents. There was nothing cruel intended by Grace.’

  ‘I see. So while you can see the fondness of Grace for her father, for example, when gently mocking, you cannot see the same affection in Georgie’s remarks.’

  Bravo, Beatrice, Stella thought. Cunning. ‘No,’ she replied. Beatrice waited and Stella felt obliged. ‘Because Georgina’s body language, tone, her whole disparaging manner was about giving offence, while Grace in her mimicry was doing so in a joyful way that was humour-filled and in a tone of genuine affection. You were there, Mrs Ainsworth, and perhaps if I hadn’t been you may have found Grace’s performance charming. There was no cruel mockery meant.’

  It was a far longer explanation than she’d intended and she was not surprised to note that Beatrice was suddenly looking bored of the confrontation and either in need of her first gin of the day, or certainly to be rid of them all from her salon.

  ‘What do you think, Doug? You’re very quiet over there and this really is all about you.’

  All eyes turned towards the man of the house who visibly quailed beneath the scrutiny. ‘Er . . . really dear, I’d rather not —’

  ‘Yes, but I insist. It’s not fair that I have to be the ogre all the time and reach all the tough decisions. There is no easy way out of this. Georgie feels slighted and clearly isn’t going to get the best out of Stella’s tutoring, while I can understand now that Stella’s comment in the light of her explanation seemed understandable, albeit unnecessary.’

  This is going to be interesting, Stella thought, adopting a careless attitude now. Whatever Rafe said she believed it really was all up to Beatrice and what she wanted. Was she to be bullied by Georgina or was she going to stand up for what Stella suspected the woman knew to be the reality of this morning’s confrontation? She looked at him, fascinated as he dithered, hands in pockets one moment, then the next pushing his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. He’d perfected his character and was able to move, it seemed, near invisibly around his family, only reminding them of his presence with deliberate antics of clumsiness.

  ‘I . . . er, well, Bee, I do agree with your summation of the situation.’

  ‘That’s not terribly helpful, though, darling. Help me to reach a decision.’

  ‘How’s this, then? Why don’t you and Georgie head up to London for a few days?’ Georgina gasped with pure elation erupting into her expression and Stella felt a surge of angry disappointment with Rafe. She’d expected so much more of him.

  ‘How does that help, Doug?’ his wife said, sounding softly exasperated. ‘The problem is still here.’

  ‘Yes, but we can let Georgina blow off some youthful steam and you can get a chance to rest up, have some fun in the city. How about Claridge’s?’

  ‘Oh, Daddy, the Ritz please, please, please! Claridge’s is too stuffy and it’s being renovated still I’m sure,’ Georgina gushed.

  Stella had to close her eyes momentarily to prevent her disgust bubbling up and showing itself in her expression. Georgina really was sickeningly spoilt but she’d thought it was just by her mother; now she began to believe her father was part of the problem too.

  ‘Go on, Bee. You need a rest, I think, and a chance for some fun in the big smoke with your friends.’

  ‘Well, you do know how I hate to be trapped here in Kent and I can’t recall the last time I had a few days free to myself in London.’

  ‘Take a week.’

  What about Grace? Stella wondered. What about me?

  ‘Take a week, dear Bee. You and Georgie go bonkers in the shops, enjoy the Ritz and spoil yourselves.’

  ‘Oh, Daddy, you’re a brick,’ Georgie crooned, rushing to hug him. Stella blinked with deeper disgust at the girl who had claimed she despised her father only an hour or so earlier. She looked down, waiting for the inevitable blade of doom to fall.

  ‘Stella . . .’ Beatrice began in a tone that told her it was time to pack her bags.

  ‘Yes?’ she replied, resigned.

  ‘Er, Bee, I haven’t finished,’ Rafe continued, his voice charmingly apologetic for interrupting her.

  ‘What is it, darling?’

  ‘Well,’ he hesitated, frowning. Rafe pushed the glasses up his nose further in another heartbeat of delay. He frowned deeper still. ‘Um, while I agreed with you that the situation between Georgina and Stella now feels awkward and perhaps even untenable – although thank you, Stella, for taking the generous attitude that you can put this unhappy business behind you and continue to teach Georgina. . . .’ He looked momentarily confused as though he’d lost his original thought.

  ‘Yes, Doug?’ his wife glared, almost looking as though she wanted to leap up and snap her fingers before his face to liven him up.

  ‘Er, where was I? Um, that’s right. While I agreed with you . . .’ Both wife and daughter gave dramatic sighs of impatience as he repeated his opening gambit. ‘. . . what I prefer to suggest is that we design a new role for Stella,’ he said, and as his glasses slipped this time Stella noticed that he didn’t adjust them and everyone could see his dark eyes simmering clearly now with their intent.

  ‘Really?’ his wife’s expression clouded with query.

  ‘Yes.’ No hesitation now, Stella noted. ‘I want Stella to keep teaching Grace, you see. I think Stella is very good for our child.’

  ‘Well, Stella hardly wants to sit around here all week with the odd lesson for Grace. She’ll be back at school shortly and then Stella will find herself twiddling her thumbs until the end of the day.’

  ‘Exactly. So I have decided that Stella is going to work for me for the hours that she’s not with Grace.’

  Stella knew her mouth had opened with shock but the expression on the two Ainsworth women’s faces were priceless for the confusion they showed.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, dear, I’m sure I’m speaking English. It’s not hard to understand, is it?’ The edge of sarcasm was not lost on his wife whose gaze narrowed. Stella was certain she was not used to Rafe pushing through Dougie. He strode towards the door as though he had little more to say and Stella imag
ined neither his wife nor daughter could surely miss how confidently he moved without a single trip or knocking anything over. At the door he did pause, turning around. ‘Stella will from today work for me when she is not tutoring Grace. I will draw up a new schedule. Neither Mrs Boyd nor Georgina has reason to work alongside Stella again. Now you two go off and have fun in London – I’ll make the hotel bookings and have Mr Potter ready for you this afternoon.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Shall we say a four o’clock getaway? You can be in London by six and at dinner for eight. I’ll book a table at the Ritz for tonight as well.’ The women were speechless. Stella swung around and eyed him. ‘Ah, Stella,’ he said, grinning, and there was a wolfish quality to his expression now that she had seen on their first evening but not since. He hid in his sheep’s clothing very well at home, she could tell. ‘My manners escaped me. Of course this is all dependent on whether you wish to remain at Harp’s End. I hope you do. I think Grace will blossom beneath your tutoring and I want her French wildly improved over the next couple of months.’

  Beatrice suddenly appeared determined not to be left out of any conversation that involved her daughter, even if she did seem careless around Grace. ‘What’s so important about the summer?’

  ‘Well, dear, we shall be going abroad.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yes, I was going to discuss it with you tonight over dinner but I can’t be in two places at once and you shall be in London. So now’s as good a time as any I suppose. I’ve decided we are going on a voyage.’

  ‘All of us, Daddy?’ Georgina gasped, as if she dared not even ask the question for fear of being wrong.

  ‘Yes, Georgie, all of us. So my advice to you and your mother is to go shopping for a summer wardrobe because where we’re going it will be hot the whole time.’

  Georgie actually screamed, alarming everyone. Stella swung back to regard the teenager who was making her mother shrink back at her hysterical delight. ‘A cruise . . . is that what you mean?’