I shoved him back hard. His green eyes flashed at me and when I saw the expression in them I stepped back and slapped him hard. Really hard. Across the face. I saw him very nearly go for me, but just contain himself. We glared at each other, poised to launch, both with flared nostrils, clenched fists, narrowed eyes and breathing fast.
I turned sharply away and stormed across the room. I kicked off the stupid high heels they’d put me in. And ripped the dress from hemline to waist. That felt good, so I tore it up some more and ripped the whole stupid flounced skirt off it and threw it down.
“That’s what I think of your stupid dancing and your stupid outfits and your sexist rules!” I raged and I stormed out.
Only when watching the TV episode with the Satterthwaites did I find out what happened after I left. I’d imagined that they’d all stood around having a right good laugh at my expense. But instead there was huge consternation from the dance teachers who stared worriedly after me and then went over to Quinn. He looked apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he said. “She’s just so annoying! I lost my rag with her. But I shouldn’t have tried to force her like that. She won’t put up with that sort of thing.”
He sat down at the edge, his elbows on his knees one cheek still glowing red from the slap. “But it really doesn’t help me if you pick a dance that means I have to push her backwards all the way round and then you insist on dressing her up like a big pink meringue. She’s just hating this! With Ginty, you have to remember that she doesn’t always seem to realise which gender she is, and she definitely doesn’t know what size she is.”
“So what do we do now?” The woman, Michelle, queried in a general way to the room.
“Give her some time to calm down. Let her come back in her jeans, and let me deal with her,” Quinn said.
Watching with the Satterthwaites I gave a low growl in the back of my throat. Pete grinned across at me.
Jo looked across at me. “No Eve, I’m definitely with you on this. I’d hate being made to do that!”
“You can see you two were children together,” Sue said. “You looked like you were going to get into a scrap like two year olds…”
I sighed. “I’m just working out with relief that my suspended twelve month racing ban has thankfully run out. Because the disciplinary panel made it very clear that if they heard of me slapping anyone else, either on or off of the oval, they’d be activating it straight away… And I bet they’re just itching to do it watching this…”
“So how did he ‘deal’ with you?” Pete asked with a suppressed smile.
I frowned. “I’m not quite sure. I think he hypnotised me or something. See what you think…”
When I came back into the room twenty minutes later, the production team handed us some plastic take-away cups of tea and Quinn came over and sat down by me.
“Sorry Ginty,” he said.
I turned my head away.
“What’s the matter?” He asked. “Apart from me pushing you around that is?”
I sighed. “I just feel so stupid,” I admitted. “I’m not supple. I’m not musical. I never had ballet lessons or that sort of stuff. I’m just no use at this. And I just look utterly ridiculous in that dress!”
“No you don’t,” he said with a slight smile. “You look great in a dress.”
I eyed him warily.
“You remember when Tyler first saw you in a dress? He fell head over heels…”
I sniffed suspiciously, my eyes narrow on his face.
“You remember? You were complaining, ‘Why’s he coming over Quinn when he hasn’t got the engine yet? I don’t know why he’s bothering!’ And the poor guy walked innocently in, clearly just at a loose end while over this way on business, and you demanded to know exactly where he was proposing to take you and what exactly he wanted you to wear, because you’d just got back in from work and were covered in oil and were pissed off with him. And he said, ‘far be it for me to stop a woman dressing up for me’, and because you’re so straight forward, you took him at his word and came out in that dress and he was completely floored.”
I frowned at him. “I remember he went a bit mental. Suddenly sweeping crap off the van seat and saying he’d hoover it next time. And I thought, what next time? And then he kept stopping mid-sentence and staring at me. Very disconcerting!”
Quinn stood up and pulled me to my feet. “Come on, let’s do our own thing while we’re waiting for them to decide what to do next shall we?” He took me into his arms. “What shall I sing?” He mused, looking down at me.
“What about our song?” I suggested.
He looked regretful. “I don’t think it’s our song any more do you? I sang it over and over again to you the night Tyler died, do you remember? I wasn’t sure if you could even hear me.”
“Yes, I could hear you Quinn,” I confirmed quietly. “Thanks. No you’re right. I’d just cry.”
“Ok, here goes, here’s one that has a nice dance swing to it -” He began to sway me back and forward as he sang a song, that after a few lines went – She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does, And she aches just like a woman, But she breaks just like a little girl.”
I eyed him severely. “That’d better not be about me, Quinn!” I warned.
“How could it be about you when it was written by Dylan?” He asked looking down at me with a glint in his eye.
I wrinkled my brow. “What? Jamie’s friend?”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re such a philistine girl! Bob Dylan, you idiot!”
I glared at him. “No need to be offensive! You know I don’t listen to music!”
“Ok,” he said looking down at me with a slight smile. “Let’s try that again…” And he sang it again, pushing me gently in and out with both hands and twirling me around under one arm.
“You can definitely give that one a rest,” I said with a sharp look as he got to she takes just like a woman, she makes love just like a woman, she aches just like a woman, but she breaks just like a little girl for the third time.
He smiled slightly and gave it a rest.
“Dylan again,” he introduced after a moment’s thought. He began to sing again.
“He woke up the room was bare,
He didn't see her anywhere
He told himself he didn't care pushed the window open wide
Felt an emptiness inside to which he just could not relate
Brought on by a simple twist of fate.”
I listened with interest to the words as he took me gently around the room, moving me in and out and turning me round.
“People tell me it’s a sin
To know and feel too much within
I still believe she was my twin but I lost the ring
She was born in spring but I was born too late
Blame it on a simple twist of fate.”
I looked quickly up at him. “That’s about us isn’t it Quinn? I was born in Spring and you were born too late. You’re my evil twin…”
He smiled again but didn’t confirm either way. “Now then Ginty,” he said seriously. “Answer me a question. How would you feel if you turned up to a race and when you got there you realised that you hadn’t got the engine perfectly tuned and that you were going to do really badly in that race because you hadn’t put the preparation time in, and that everyone was going to be watching you and knowing perfectly well that’s why you lost?”
I frowned. “Well I’d feel really stupid and cross with myself and humiliated.”
“And how would you feel if another girl turned up to a big race and let the female side down by not having prepared her car properly and by being so disrespectful of the importance of the occasion that she just couldn’t be bothered to sort the engine or the tyres out?”
“I’d either be really cross with her, or dismiss her utterly as being a waste of space,” I agreed.
We were stood still now. “So Ginty, that’s how it’ll be for all
the other couples who turn up on Wednesday night for the competition. To them, this is deadly serious. This is the equivalent of your racing. They spend hundreds of hours of preparation on this, work hard, get fit, practice and practice and create new moves. And to dance in this Empress Ballroom is the pinnacle of Ballroom dancing in this country – it’s a real privilege. So don’t disrespect it, and them too, by sneering and not trying your absolute best. No-one is going to think you’re stupid for trying to do your best, but they are going to think you’re stupid and plain rude if you just trash it all by refusing to give it a go.”
I digested that.
“Do you trust me Eve?” He said suddenly.
I eyed him warily.
He laughed. “That was a bit too global wasn’t it? I’ll rephrase that. Do you trust me to be able to lift you up without dropping you?”
I nodded.
“Ok then! Here goes!” Without waiting for permission he put his hands around my waist and lifted me into the air. I grabbed at his shoulders.
“Let go,” he ordered.
Reluctantly, I let go.
“Now, go a bit stiff,” he said. “Put your arms out and hold your legs straight and keep them at that angle to your body whatever happens, and don’t move, just let me move you.”
He manoeuvred me above his head with his hands on my stomach. I was poised above his head in a kind of crucifix position and then he slowly turned round on the spot in a full circle, holding me up there and then he started turning me round in his hands without moving himself.
“Ple-e-e-ase put me down,” I begged nervously.
I watched all this with the Satterthwaites with my jumper pulled up over my nose and my knees hugged tightly to my chest. This was so embarrassing to watch.
“God, he can handle you!” Jo said to me, eyeing me sideways.
“Do you mean physically, or emotionally?” Sue asked.
“Both!” Jo said. “He’s got your measure through and through, Eve, hasn’t he?”
“I think he’s being very kind,” Sue said.
“Very clever,” Jo opined.
“He’s very gentle with you,” Sue said to me.
I looked first at one and then the other. I didn’t recognise any of those descriptions. “It’s just like he says,” I muttered. “We’ve watched each other and vied with each other for so long we’re like brother and sister now, we know each other really well, that’s all.”
In the background they showed Michelle and Phil the dance teachers watching us closely. “Hmm, don’t know what he’s saying to her, but he seems to have her completely mesmerised,” Phil observed interestedly.
“What do you think?” Michelle said. “I’d say he was doing basic jive moves with her…”
They watched Quinn put me up in the air and turn me slowly around.
Phil’s eyebrows raised. “Well the lad’s strong enough to do lifts, so that’s an advantage. We can make use of that, and he’s got good proprioception and timing at least…”
“And she’s allowing him to do it now,” Michelle said with a slight smile. “So whatever magic he’s worked, let’s just go with it shall we? I believe they both ride motorbikes, so how about starting with that as a theme, and doing more of a Grease style jive number?”
I had to admit, as we watched our final performance at the competition on the Wednesday night, the dance did look pretty good. They’d done me up in a more sassy lively costume and had us both make an entrance on a fantastic Easy Rider style choppered Harley which I drove into the ballroom with Quinn riding pillion behind me. I revved the engine dramatically a few times after we’d come to a halt, then I kicked the stand down and they had us use the bike as a prop for the first few moves with me standing on the seat and Quinn lifting me down and swinging me round.
“That wasn’t half bad!” Jo complimented me admiringly at the end.
“Yeah you were surprisingly good,” Pete said.
“Ta,” I said, eyeing him, “Even if that was a bit back handed!”
At the end they showed me sat intently cross legged backstage beside the motorbike, with a huge beardy old leathered Hell’s Angel sort bending over the bike and showing me proudly over its finer points.
The Satterthwaites all laughed as one. “So that’s how they bribed you into doing it!” Pete commented smiling.
Finally they showed a short clip of the interview they’d done with us.
“So which of these activities would you do again?”
“Skiing, climbing, riding,” I said promptly. I glanced enquiringly at Quinn.
“Wind surfing, climbing, and dancing if I had a more willing partner,” Quinn supplied.
“Well it looks like you’ve found one activity at least that you can do together…”
“Sounds like a plan,” Quinn said cheerfully. “How about it, Eve? You, me, a tent and a ruddy great slab of rock some time next summer?”
“Suits me,” I say, and we high five.
Back in my real life, we were heading off to Buxton and Barford respectively over the weekend. It was coming up to the season of Whites and Yellows races, and Codie would be entering the ones at Buxton, Barford and Belle Vue so she needed practice on the tracks.
“Dad says that if I win one of the Whites and Yellows he’ll pay for me to have another year with you,” Codie said.
“Tell him we’ll only take you on for another year if he supplies us with a box of ear plugs,” Jo told her.
Cody looked blankly at her. “But if I don’t win a race by the end of the year then I’ve got to come back to Bangers,” she continued as though Jo hadn’t spoken. “And he’ll only pay for another year if I stay on to do ‘A’ levels, otherwise I have to fund myself…”
“Sounds fair to me,” I said. “So you’d better win something hadn’t you?”
Monday at work again. I wandered casually out of the shed and then back pedalled so fast, I nearly knocked Jo over.
“Mind out!” She exclaimed crossly.
I crooked a finger at her, and made her come back in with me. “You see that bright green Cayman GTS out there,” I whispered. “That’s Mohammed’s!”
Her eyes widened. “The Mohammed?”
“Ssshhh!” I hissed fiercely. “God Jo, I hope he hasn’t found out who I am and where I work? No, surely he can’t have? Shit, but my picture’s all over Entwistle’s garage website and Facebook page isn’t it?”
“Yes, but only in driving overalls and helmets and things, he’d never connect, even if he glanced at it!” She reasoned in a whisper.
“Entwistle’s just put a big framed picture on his office wall of the lot of us round my car with the cup, hasn’t he? And I’m in those damn red shoes! And Mohammed definitely always looks at feet and he’d know those red shoes anywhere, he’s looked at them loads, and commented unfavourably on them!”
“Clearly a man of good taste then,” Jo murmured approvingly.
I slapped her arm crossly. “Never mind that, if he just happens to have come in with a genuine engine fault, I know what it is, and it would only take a few minutes to fix, but will you please go out there and pretend you need him to leave it for an hour while you assess it?”
I saw she was about to query it. “Never mind why – just do it!”
I listened to her speaking to him, offering to fix it, but asking him to leave it for at least an hour. He didn’t ask about me. But who knows, maybe he was quartering the whole place with his eyes in the knowledge I worked here? My heart thudded. I strained to hear his answers but his voice was quiet. For some reason I was desperate to see him again. Just once. I found a largish knot hole in the wood. My heart flipped and speeded up. There he was. Looking thoughtful, his eyes lidded, tossing his keys up and down in his hand. As stylish as ever. A very distinctive and handsome face, I thought.
“Spying on the customers are we? Fancy him do we? Or do we just fancy his car?”
I leapt back clutching at my chest. “Fuck Tony, do you want me to have
a heart attack?”
He laughed.
“Sssh!” I whispered. “Be a bit discreet will you? I don’t want that guy to see me!”
He grinned.
Mohammed walked away down the street, leaving the car on the forecourt. Jo came back in. “All clear,” she announced.
I went out quickly and looked fiercely up and down the street. He had disappeared. I pulled open the passenger side front door and put my hand down the side. It was still there! I wriggled my fingers about to abstract it, and finally succeeded in winkling it out. I switched it off and put it in my pocket.
Tony was staring at me. “Did I see you do what I just think I did?” He asked in an unnecessarily convoluted manner.
“I’m not stealing from the customers, Tony,” I defended. “This is mine. I left it behind by accident last time I was in his car and I want it back.”
Tony suddenly looked enlightened. “Oh like that is it? Some sort of ex?”
I looked in a slightly conflicted way at him. “Something like that,” I agreed.
“Do you pick your boyfriends according to what sort of car they drive?” He asked, looking admiringly at the vehicle in front of us.
“I certainly used to,” I agreed with a slight laugh. I glanced at Jo. “Will you start sorting it out?” And then as she got under the bonnet, I went like a dose of salts through the whole bloody car. Looking under the seats, pulling out the various furnishings, looking under mats, going through the boot, the pockets, the glove compartments, the hollow space under the floor of the boot.
Tony watched me curiously. “What are you looking for?”
I stood still, hands on hips, staring at the car. “Not sure.” I sighed. “And anyway, I’ve not found a thing. I’ve never seen such a clean car! Either he’s extremely fussy, or he’s just had it valeted.”
Tony ran a finger along the roof. “And washed, and waxed…”
Jo straightened up, “Done! You were right. Ten minutes and one small part…”
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