One Night Only

by Sue Welfare

  He looked up and smiled. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Come on in, you can leave your things on the bench. You must be Helen, my name’s Bon.’

  ‘Hi,’ she said, extending a hand.

  His grasp was firm and warm and his expression genuinely welcoming. As their eyes met she felt a peculiar little buzz of attraction, which made her pull her hand away; oh that was just perfect she thought, she was going to develop a crush on her gay dance instructor.

  Bon grinned, ‘Don’t look so nervous. I don’t bite.’

  Helen reddened. ‘And I don’t dance.’

  He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, we can sort that out. You exercise though?’

  ‘Yes, but not like this.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll warm up first –’

  ‘I’ve just come up three flights of stairs.’

  ‘Well that’s a start,’ he said.

  They worked till lunchtime, taking it literally one step at time until Bon called a halt. Arthur was right. He was brilliant and a great teacher and sexy as hell.

  ‘I’ll think we’ll leave it there,’ Bon said, as the music faded.

  ‘Are you in the show?’ Helen asked.

  Bon shook his head. ‘No, I did the choreography. Although I sometimes fill in if anyone is off sick. You know you did really well. How do you feel?’ he asked.

  Helen looked at her reflection; she was out of breath, her hair was a mess and the sweat was running down her face. Bon looked as if he had just stepped out of an advert for healthy living.

  ‘I think I’m going to die,’ she said.

  He grinned and handed her a towel. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll feel worse in the morning.’

  Amy and Helen

  Sue: Helen and her mum, Amy, have a lot of years and ground to cover when they are finally re-united. I did wonder whether to continue the story on after they met. In the end I decided to leave their conversations and picking up the threads of each others lives to the readers’ imagination, but this is some of the material I started to write about their time alone together on that first night.

  With the sound of the applause still ringing in her ears Helen made her way backstage to the dressing room. Everyone was waiting for her. Arthur, Bon, Natalia the film crew and her mum. Her mum. The words glowed like a beacon in her mind. Her mum.

  The room was awash with even more flowers, there was champagne cooling and a tray of canapés waiting on a side table. Someone – Helen suspected it was Bon - had very carefully packed her mother’s letters back into the suitcase, which now stood by the door.

  They were barely inside before Bon shooed Natalia away, saying Helen needed a few minutes alone, and then went off on the pretext of confirming a table for them in the hotel restaurant. Arthur followed, which left just Helen and her mother.

  Amy Heel stood in the middle of the room looking increasingly uneasy. ‘Maybe I should go too,’ she said. ‘Let you get yourself sorted out.’

  ‘Please come in and sit down,’ said Helen.’ I just need to take my makeup off and get changed before they all come back.’

  Her mother looked around anxiously. ‘Are you sure I’m not in the way?’ she said, fiddling with the clasp on her bag looking uncertain and uneasy.

  ‘No, of course not, please stay. When the boys get back we’ll make a start on the champagne. And I’m sure Natalia and the film crew won’t be able to keep away for long.’

  Amy Heel nodded.

  ‘You’ll come and eat with us, won’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I could go and come back tomorrow, if you like. I mean you and Bon have got a lot to talk about – the show and the wedding. He seems like a lovely man,’ said her mum, glancing back over her shoulder.

  ‘Please don’t go,’ said Helen, catching her eye in the mirror. ‘I want you to stay – if you can - I’ve waited so long for this.’ She could feel tears pricking her eyes. ‘If you go now I’ll think I imagined you.’

  ‘Oh Helen.’ Her mother smiled softly. ‘You’ve got no idea how many times I’ve thought about this moment. If you’re sure?’

  Helen nodded.

  ‘You sounded wonderful tonight,’ her mother said, voice trembling. ‘You always sang when you were little.’ She paused. ‘I really don’t know where to start. There are so many things I want to tell you and ask you. You know I never wanted to leave you. I was so worried that if I took you that your dad would get you taken away from me and put in a home. They did that back in those days.’ She sighed. ‘I loved your dad, but he was never an easy man. We made our peace in the end. I just keep thinking about all those years we wasted. In his own way he loved me, you know -’

  ‘I know,’ Helen said. ‘I read the letters.’

  ‘I can’t believe he kept them all those years,’ said her mother, eyes with bright with tears. ‘All those years.’

  Helen nodded. She didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had never read any of them. Some things are better left unsaid.

  The moment was broken by a knock on the door. “Hello, can we come in now,’ called Natalia from the hallway.

  Helen looked at her mum. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  Amy nodded. ‘I am now,’ she said. I am now.’

  Extract from Sue Welfare’s The Surprise Party

  Here is an extract from Sue Welfare’s The Surprise party, available to buy now!

  Chapter One

  ‘If you could just take the balloons and the rest of your equipment round to the back, please. We don’t want anything to give the game away, do we?’ Suzie said, pointing the way to the young man who was standing on the front lawn of her parents’ house with a helium cylinder and a large cardboard box on a trolley. ‘And then if you could just move your van?’

  The young man was wearing spotless navy blue overalls and a baseball cap emblazoned with the legend: ‘Danny from Cheryl’s Party Paradiso – we help you live your fantasy’. His van was topped with big glass-fibre balloons and a trail of lurid candyfloss pink and silver stars.

  If acne was your fantasy, Danny was your man. He didn’t move.

  ‘It’s meant to be a surprise,’ Suzie said as brightly as she could manage. It had been a long, long day, and there were still lots of things to do, but there didn’t appear to be so much as a flicker of comprehension from Danny.

  ‘For my parents? Rose and Jack? It’s their ruby wedding anniversary – it’s on written the balloons? We’re having a party. Round the back?’ she said in desperation.

  Still nothing.

  ‘You really can’t miss it, there’s a great big marquee in the garden.’

  Finally Danny smiled. Suzie couldn’t help wondering if he had been sniffing the contents of the gas cylinder in his spare time.

  ‘Is that that woman off the telly?’ he said, pointing towards the front door.

  ‘Ah,’ said Suzie, groaning inwardly. ‘Yes it is. She’s my sister.’

  ‘No!’ said Danny, eyes wide with amazement. ‘Wow, really? That’s awesome.’

  Suzie stared at him and sighed.

  Lizzie was standing on the doorstep of their parents’ cottage, perfectly framed by a mass of pink roses climbing up over the porch. She was wearing something artfully casual and horribly expensive and was apparently just taking in the view. She had arrived about half an hour earlier and, to the untrained observer, it might look as if she was standing in the porch by accident, but a lifetime of having Lizzie as a little sister had taught Suzie that she was standing there waiting to be noticed.

  Danny reddened as Lizzie apparently noticed them. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, beamed in their direction and did one of those little show-bizzy fingertip waves before sashaying over.

  ‘Well, hello there,’ she purred, taking in the logo on the young man’s overalls as she extended her hand towards him. ‘Lovely to see you. You must be Danny.’

  The boy, all embarrassment and eagerness, looked as if he might explode. ‘That’s me,’ he said, as they shook hands. ‘Danny.’

  ‘And h
ow are you, Danny?’

  ‘Oh right, I’m fine – yeah, really great – thank you,’ he spluttered.

  ‘Good, now would you mind awfully taking all this lot round the back of the house and getting rid of the van? This is supposed to be a surprise party and it’s a bit of a giveaway.’

  ‘I’ve already told him that,’ Suzie began; not that the boy was listening.

  ‘Right-oh,’ he said to Lizzie. ‘Course, not a problem. I watch you all the time on Starmaker, you know.’

  ‘Really?’ Lizzie smiled. ‘Well, thank you, Danny, that is so good to know. And you’ve been enjoying the new series, have you?’

  ‘Oh God, yeah, this last lot was the best one yet – and that Kenny – I mean, who would have thought he’d a won? I was thinking Cassandra …’ Danny stopped and reddened up a touch. ‘I don’t suppose I could have your autograph, could I?’ he said, thrusting his clipboard out towards her. ‘Only my girlfriend is never going to believe me when I tell her that I’ve met you. She really likes you as well.’

  Lizzie’s smile warmed a few degrees more. ‘Of course you can, Danny.’ She took the pen from between his fingers. ‘What would you like me to put?’

  ‘Oh I dunno. I can’t think …’ he said.

  Now there was an understatement, thought Suzie grimly.

  Lizzie pressed the pen to her lips, apparently deep in thought. ‘How about “To Danny, thank you for making my party so very special, lots of love, Lizzie Bingham, kiss, kiss, kiss”?’ She purred, barely breaking eye contact as she scribbled across what looked like it might be their delivery note. ‘Would you like me to put, “You’re the star, that’s what you are?”’

  It was the Starmaker reality show’s catchphrase, but on Lizzie’s lips it sounded positively erotic.

  Danny giggled and blushed the colour of cherryade. ‘Oh my God, right, well yeah, that’d be lovely, thanks,’ he blustered, waiting to take back the clipboard. Making an effort to compose himself, he said, ‘So are there going to be a lot of famous people here tonight then?’

  All smiles, Lizzie tipped her head to one side, implying her lips were sealed, while managing to suggest that anything was possible. ‘We’re just glad that you’re here,’ she said after a second or two.

  Suzie shook her head in disbelief; the woman was a complete master class in innuendo and manipulation. Poor little Danny was putty in Liz’s perfectly manicured hands.

  ‘Righty-oh,’ said the boy, coming over all macho and protective. ‘Well in that case best I’d get a move on then, hadn’t I? Get these balloons sorted.’

  ‘Thank you, that would be great. Hope to catch you later,’ Lizzie said, all teeth and legs and long, long eyelashes.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, put him down,’ said Suzie under her breath as Danny strode away like John Wayne, dragging his gas bottle behind him. ‘Do you have to do that?’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ said Lizzie, switching off the glamour like a light bulb. ‘You’re just jealous and I was listening, remember – you weren’t getting anywhere with him. Besides, he loved it. Did you see his face? It’s made his day, probably his decade. You know you always have to remember the little people, darling,’ she said in a mock-starry voice, with a big grin. ‘They’re the ones who can make you or break you; although I have to say it really pisses me off that after ten years of a career in serious journalism, it’s two series of that bloody reality TV show that’s finally put me on Joe Public’s GPS.’

  ‘Come off it, Lizzie, if you’re looking for sympathy you’ve come to the wrong place. You told me you hated roughing it – living out of a knapsack with no toilets, constant helmet hair, and how being embedded with the troops played hell with your skin.’

  ‘Well it does – just look at Kate Adie and that Irish woman – have they never heard of moisturiser?’ Lizzie peered myopically at her watch. ‘What time did you say Mum and Dad are due back?’

  ‘Still not wearing your glasses?’

  ‘Oh please. It’s fine if you’re Kate Silverton, all feline and serious, the thinking man’s love bunny, but trust me it really hasn’t worked in light entertainment since Eric Morecambe.’

  ‘What about contacts—’

  ‘Darling, I’ve got more contacts that you could wave a wet stick at,’ Liz said slyly with a wolfish grin.

  ‘You know what I mean, and don’t come over all starry with me, kiddo. Remember I was there with you when you were in your jarmies interviewing Billy the guinea pig and Flopsy rabbit with a hairbrush.’

  Liz laughed. ‘I’d forgotten all about that.’

  ‘Well, don’t worry, I haven’t. Anyway, Aunt Fleur says she’ll try and keep Mum and Dad out till six if she can.’ Suzie checked her own watch. ‘She’s going to give us a ring when they’re on their way back. So that’s just on two hours, I reckon, if we’re lucky. So can you come and give us a hand? We’ve got to put out the tables, get the chairs sorted out, then there’s the flowers, the banners to be hung, the red carpet, the balloons. After that we need to get the cake sorted, check on the glasses and then there’s the fireworks … God, actually there’s loads more to do, so which do you fancy doing?’

  Lizzie pulled a face. ‘You know, sweetie, I’m useless at all that sort of thing. I’ve got some calls to make and I need to get ready. It sounds like you’ve got it all covered. You won’t really be needing me, will you?’

  At which point Sam, Suzie’s husband, appeared from around the corner of the garage wheeling a great pile of chairs. ‘Oh there you are. For God’s sake you two, we haven’t got time for a girlie chat,’ he said, talking and walking and heading for the back garden. ‘It’s total chaos round the back there. Can you catch up later and get round there and give us a hand?’

  Suzie glared at his retreating back: as if she hadn’t been working like a dog since the instant her mum and dad pulled out of the driveNot to mention all the planning and hiring and booking and worrying about whether the party would all come together.

  ‘So what’s up with Mr Happy?’ asked Lizzie.

  ‘Don’t take any notice, he’s just a bit stressed, that’s all,’ Suzie said, wondering why on earth she felt the need to defend him. ‘Work and things, and the girls are a bit of handful at the moment – well, Hannah is. Teenagers, you know how it is.’

  Lizzie wrinkled her nose. ‘Fortunately I don’t and to be honest the man’s got no idea what real pressure is.’

  No, thought Suzie, but I certainly do.

  The last few months had been a mass of subterfuge, stealth and planning, culminating in today’s big event for Jack and Rose’s fortieth wedding anniversary – forty years. Given Sam’s current frustrated and grumpy mood, Suzie was beginning to think that another forty minutes together was starting to look close to impossible.

  The wedding anniversary party had grown out of a chance conversation they’d had when Liz came to stay with them for a few days over Christmas, after a trip to the Caribbean with the guy she had been dating had fallen through at the last minute.

  One dark winter afternoon, they had all been sitting around in front of the fire, looking through the family photo albums in the sentimental way you do when everyone gets together, and along the way Suzie had realised their parents’ fortieth anniversary was approaching. Somewhere between the wine and breaking out the Baileys they had come up with the idea of throwing a party, which had somehow transformed into a surprise party and then snowballed from a small family get-together to a blow-by-blow recreation of their mum and dad’s wedding reception.

  ‘It’ll be absolutely brilliant,’ Liz had said, topping up her glass. ‘I can see it now. Masses of flowers, wedding cake, photographer – I know this brilliant guy. And maybe we could sort out a second honeymoon for them? What do you think? Where did they go first time around?’

  ‘Devon, I think,’ said Suzie.

  ‘Perfect. I know this lovely little hotel. Do you think there’s any way we can get hold of the original guest list?’

  At which point Su
zie had turned over a group photo that her mum had given one of her daughters for a family history project and said, ‘Actually I think quite a lot of the names are on the back here.’

  Liz had grinned. ‘Fantastic, that’s a start and I’m sure between us we can come up with the rest of them. Maybe you could email Aunt Fleur? Wasn’t she Mum’s chief bridesmaid? The woman’s got a memory like an elephant; she’s bound to remember. Hang on, I’ll grab my diary.’ Liz leant over the arm of the sofa and, grabbing it from her bag, had started thumbing through the pages. ‘Okay, so their actual anniversary is on the Thursday but that weekend is free – how about we tell Mum and Dad that we’re taking everyone out to dinner at Rocco’s on the Saturday evening – my treat?’

  ‘You’re saying we can’t afford to take everyone to Rocco’s?’ asked Suzie.

  ‘No, no, of course I’m not, what I’m saying is that we want to make them think we’re taking them somewhere really special just in case they come up with a better idea.’

  ‘They don’t usually make a lot of fuss about their anniversary,’ Suzie pointed out.

  ‘Well, it’s high time they did,’ said Liz. ‘Forty years has got to be worth celebrating. Right, so, now what guests …’ she said. ‘Have you got a piece of paper there? What do you think, a hundred? Hundred and fifty?’

  Suzie shrugged.

  ‘Let’s say a hundred and fifty to be on the safe side,’ Liz said, sliding the photo album she had been looking through over onto Suzie’s lap. ‘We could have their original wedding cake copied and those table settings don’t look like they’d take much and all this bunting. I mean, we’ve all got the photos, haven’t we? It wouldn’t be that hard to do. It would be lovely. Mum would love it.’