‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ I said, eyeing him over the top of my takeaway coffee cup. ‘Show me.’
‘Tah-dah!’ said Annie, pulling off the sheet.
I gasped in delight. The mannequin was wearing a long, bright-pink strapless dress just like the one Marilyn Monroe wore in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. After Patrick and I had watched the film together I’d watched it over and over again because I’d loved it so much. My favourite bit was when she sang ‘Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend’ – wearing a dress just like this one.
‘It’s like Marilyn’s,’ I said. Patrick was smiling so widely I thought his face must hurt.
‘I know how much you love that film,’ Patrick said. ‘So I thought we’d have a kind of vintage feel to the start of the show dance. We’ve practised a few bits, right?’
I nodded. We had gone over some of the steps but not in the right order and not with music – Patrick had kept it all under his hat.
‘So the first half of the dance is going to be very Marilyn. A quickstep with some American smooth thrown in for good measure. Couple of lifts. A few extra dancers like Marilyn has in the film – you know the kind of thing.’
‘Gorgeous,’ I said.
Annie took over.
‘The dress has a fuller skirt and a split because you need to be able to move your legs,’ she explained. And it’s got a flesh-coloured top so it won’t fall down. We’ve got long gloves, too, like she has in the film.’
I walked round the mannequin, admiring the dress. It really was pretty. Down the back was a row of fastenings, which looked slightly odd.
‘What’s this?’ I asked.
‘Ah,’ Patrick said, looking even more proud of himself. ‘That’s for the second part of the dance.’
‘There’s more?’ I said.
‘Well, less really,’ said Annie with a grin. Deftly, she unfastened the back of the dress and pulled it off the mannequin. Underneath was a dazzling sparkly leotard with a trailing sequined skirt to one side.
‘Oh, my,’ I said. ‘It’s like a very shiny snakeskin.’
‘For the rumba part of the dance,’ Patrick said. ‘Well, it’s based around a rumba more or less, with some other bits thrown in. We’re dancing to ‘Diamonds’ by Rihanna.’
‘That’s my favourite song,’ I said.
Patrick pretended to look surprised.
‘It is?’
I gave him a punch on the arm.
‘This is incredible, Patrick,’ I said. Suddenly I felt like I wanted to cry, but not because I was sad. ‘I honestly think it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.’
Patrick looked at me for a second, and I thought he was going to say something. Then he grinned.
‘Bet you’re not saying that when I make you quickstep for four hours non-stop,’ he said. ‘And we’ve got to sort out that back bend in the tango. And you need to not cry during the rumba.’
I turned away slightly and sneakily wiped away a tear that was threatening to drip. ‘Lots to do,’ I said. ‘Shall we get on with it?’
I had never worked as hard as I worked those last five days on Strictly Stars Dancing. Never. I’d put in long days and late nights on Turpin Road, of course – anyone who thinks being on a soap is an easy ride has clearly never been on a soap. I’d done night shoots, a few stunts, some emotional stories that took a lot of research and drained me so much I felt like it was all real. But I’d never been so full on. From that early morning on the Monday, we danced for twelve, sometimes fourteen hours each day. We paused for snacks and drinks. On Wednesday we cracked the back bend in the tango and celebrated with a cheeky Nando’s. But even then we were hard at it again shortly afterwards. On the Thursday, we didn’t go outside the studio for ten hours and, when we finally headed home, we were shocked to see it was snowing.
I was thrilled. I bounded down the steps from the school’s front door and out onto the street. It was dark and the streetlights shone orange beams onto the snowy pavements. The road was quiet and still – there were no cars – and it was like we’d been transported from Clapham to Narnia.
‘Ohmygod,’ I said, standing with my arms outstretched. ‘We’ve been working so hard I didn’t even notice winter had arrived.’
Patrick was standing very still, on the bottom step. They stairs were undercover, so they weren’t snowy, but his next footstep would take him onto the icy path.
‘Come on,’ I said, twirling round. ‘Let’s walk across the common. It’ll be beautiful.’
‘Can we take a cab?’ Patrick said.
I laughed. Patrick didn’t.
‘Oh, you’re serious,’ I said. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘It’s snowing,’ Patrick said. ‘And I’m from California.’
‘So?’
‘So, we don’t do snow in California,’ he said through chattering teeth. ‘It barely even rains in California.’
I was delighted.
‘Ohmygod are you scared of the snow?’ I said with glee. ‘Are you scared of the ittybitty snowflakes?’
Patrick sighed.
‘No, I’m not scared,’ he said. ‘Just wary.’
‘Scared.’
He made a face.
‘I’m terrified,’ he wailed. ‘Come help me, Amy.’
Giggling, I took his hand.
‘You’re wearing boots,’ I said. ‘You’ll be fine. Just walk normally.’
Slowly, we made our way through the deserted streets. Patrick kept making little yelps and gasps whenever his foot slipped and I could not stop laughing. It was so funny to see him out of his comfort zone.
‘I like that I’m in charge for once,’ I teased.
‘Well, don’t get used to it,’ Patrick said. ‘I’m back being the boss of you tomorrow.’
He stumbled as his foot shot out in front of him.
‘Catch me,’ he squealed and I threw my arms round him, shaking with laughter.
‘I’ve got you,’ I said. ‘You’re safe.’
I looked up at him. He was wearing his black beanie hat, and his blond hair stuck out from underneath. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes sparkled like the diamonds in Rihanna’s song. I wanted to touch his face and kiss him and tell him I loved him, but I also wanted to win Strictly Stars Dancing and with the final just two days away I couldn’t risk ruining our relationship, which was going so well.
I’ll tell him as soon as the show ends, I thought. I’ll tell him the minute the cameras stop.
Patrick’s feet slipped again and I caught him once more. He started to laugh, too.
‘This is crazy,’ he said. ‘I’m never going to make it home.’
‘You’re just being a bit pathetic,’ I said sternly. ‘But you can stay at mine if you like?’
Patrick looked at me.
‘On the sofa,’ I babbled. ‘It turns into a bed. It’s fine. I didn’t mean share with me. Don’t worry.’
He nodded.
‘On the sofa,’ he said. ‘Thanks. I’d like that.’
‘We’ve got to get home first,’ I said, beginning to giggle again. ‘Can you walk?’
‘Only if you hold my hand,’ Patrick said. ‘Don’t let go.’
We made it back to the flat eventually, but it wasn’t easy.
‘God, I thought we’d be stuck out there for ever,’ Patrick said as we stamped our feet on the doormat. I kind of wished we had been. It had been lovely, being needed by him, and helping him like he’d helped me. And of course being so close to him. I glanced out of the window, wondering whether to suggest a snowball fight in the garden. But Patrick was already stripping off his jacket and gloves and looked so relieved to be indoors that I knew my idea wouldn’t go down well.
‘Come on then, Mr California,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and make up your bed.’
Chapter Fifty-Four
‘Would Amy Lavender and her partner, Patrick Walker, please take to the dance floor …’
Patrick took my hand and we walked out into the middle of the danc
e floor. My heart was pounding and my hands were clammy but I was fizzing with energy. Our Charleston had gone brilliantly. Our tango – hmm, not so much, though it was definitely better than the first time we’d danced it. And now it was time for our show dance.
Leo and Alice, the other finalists, had already danced. They had both done amazing things.
Leo, the boyband member, had done a lot of gymnastics when he was a kid. His partner, a vibrant Eastern European dancer with bright red hair, had pulled out all the stops with her choreography producing a show dance that was athletic and energetic, and had the audience gasping with delight.
Alice’s dance was my favourite, though. She was a very ‘nice’ TV presenter. Clean-cut, wholesome, pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way. She was always tramping through fields on telly, or riding a bike, or canoeing down a river. You know the kind of thing? And tonight she’d been transformed into a rock goddess. She danced a kind of tango/paso doble crossover to a Guns ‘n’ Roses song. She wore a black leather catsuit that revealed an amazing body, and she was generally awesome. It was her we had to beat, I thought.
Patrick and our four backing dancers, who were all dressed in shirts and tailcoats, surrounded me, the lights went down, the band struck up ‘Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend’, and we were off.
We quickstepped our way round the floor, this way and that. I flicked up my toes and heels, we did our little running step perfectly. I almost turned the wrong way at one point but Patrick realised what was happening and managed to stop me.
‘Stay calm,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘It’s going great.’
As the music changed into Rihanna’s ‘Diamonds’, the dancers surrounded me once again and in one swift move – with a bit of help from Patrick – I pulled my dress off, revealing the leotard underneath. Patrick yanked his shirt and took it off, too, showing the sparkly waistcoat he wore underneath. The other dancers stepped back, taking our discarded outfits with them, and we were alone on the dance floor.
During the Marilyn part of the dance, I’d felt like the audience were part of our efforts. They were cheering tricky steps and clapping and I was aware of them the whole time. But now it was different. The lights had changed, so we were in a spotlight with the trusty Strictly Stars Dancing glitterball spinning. The audience were quieter and because they were in darkness I couldn’t see them anyway. I was dancing my favourite dance, to my favourite song, with my favourite man – it was heaven and I honestly didn’t want it to end.
It was as though Patrick and I were one person as we swayed and sparkled on the dance floor. I felt like my breath was his breath, and his arms and legs were extensions of my own. I forgot it was a competition, I forgot we were trying to win – I just danced. And then it was over, and the audience were on their feet cheering and shouting, and I was crying. Of course.
‘Don’t cry,’ said Patrick in my ear. ‘You promised me there would be no tears.’
‘But it was perfect,’ I said. ‘So perfect.’
He picked me up and spun me round.
‘You’re perfect,’ he said. We gazed at each other for a minute, then Melissa was calling us over and we had to go and face the judges.
‘I feel a bit emotional myself,’ admitted the head judge, Frank. ‘I think all our finalists have done themselves proud tonight …’
The audience roared their approval.
‘Amy, you had a shaky start in this competition but you’ve worked so hard and I really think you deserve to win. I think everyone deserves to win.’
He was right, actually. Leo had come through alcoholism and bankruptcy and started a foundation to help kids pursue careers in music. And Alice had told me that she and her husband had been trying to start a family but she’d had several miscarriages and had decided to take part in the competition as a distraction.
‘Oh, that would be nice,’ said Melissa. ‘But there’s only going to be one winner – and it’s the audience who decide tonight.’
We had a break while the phone votes were counted. Patrick disappeared somewhere – the loo probably – and I went to find Cora who was in the front row with Ginny, Natasha, and Natasha’s eldest daughter.
Cora was in floods of tears.
‘Oh, darling Amy, you did so well,’ she gushed.
I gave her a hug.
‘I went the wrong way during the quickstep,’ I told her.
‘No one noticed,’ she said. ‘Honestly, darling. It was wonderful.’
Ginny prodded me.
‘When are you going to tell Patrick?’ she said. ‘Now?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Don’t prod me. I’ll tell him after the result.’
‘Tell him now,’ Ginny said. ‘Have you practised?’
‘Obviously,’ I said. ‘I’ve gone over and over it. He stayed over the night it snowed – on the sofa bed,’ I added as I saw her face light up. ‘And I couldn’t sleep. Knowing he was just next door made me very edgy. I got it all straight in my head then.’
‘And?’ Ginny looked at me in expectation.
‘I’m not going over it now,’ I hissed, looking round in case Patrick was lurking. I spotted him on the other side of the room talking to a very excited Phil and Bertie. ‘But it’s about how he makes me feel, how I think we’re good for each other. There are a few jokes in there. I’ve got it all memorised.’
‘Really?’ Ginny sounded doubtful.
‘Really,’ I said.
‘Amy,’ a voice said behind me. It was Babs.
‘Ohmygod Babs,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know you were coming. How did you get a ticket?’
‘Oh, I pulled a few strings,’ she said with a grin. She looked me up and down. ‘You’re pretty good at this,’ she said. ‘Have you ever thought of doing a musical?’
‘Have you ever heard me sing?’ I said.
‘Bad?’
‘I’m no Taylor Swift, let’s just put it like that.’
‘Maybe you could do that show where they get celebs to join a choir …’ Babs said thoughtfully.
‘Babs,’ I said. ‘No more reality TV.’
‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ she said. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’
She turned round and bustled forward a woman with wavy brown hair and a nice smile.
‘Amy,’ she said. ‘This is Winnie Williams. She’s the casting director at Downton Abbey.’
I gasped.
‘It’s so lovely to meet you,’ I said, shaking her hand. ‘I love that show.’
Winnie smiled at me.
‘We love you,’ she said. ‘I’d like to have a chat about our next series. Can we meet next week?’
‘Yes, please,’ I said. I let out a little squeak of joy. I felt like I’d won already even if I didn’t get to take the Strictly Stars Dancing trophy home.
Across the dance floor, Patrick was gesturing to me wildly. I bounded over to him.
‘It’s time for the results,’ he said. ‘Are you ready?’
We stood at one side of the dance floor, with Leo next to us, and Alice on the far side.
‘Good luck,’ I whispered at my fellow competitors and they all wished us luck, too. Patrick was holding my hand and I was super-aware of him. I hoped I’d be able to get him by himself for a while after the show, so I could make my little speech. And, of course, I hoped he’d feel the same way. I was completely excited about auditioning for Downton, but still I found I couldn’t even imagine the next few weeks, months or years, even, without dancing – or Patrick.
There were runners zooming about all over the place and Melissa and Vicky were in a heated discussion with a man with a headset.
‘I wish they’d hurry up,’ Patrick said. ‘I can’t bear this waiting.’
‘I’ve got an audition at Downton,’ I said to distract him.
He swept me up into a hug.
‘Well done, well done, well done,’ he said. ‘I am so proud of you.’
I wrapped my arms round his neck and found I didn’t really want to let go
.
‘I’m proud of you, too,’ I said.
We looked at each other for a moment and then we both spoke at once.
‘I love you.’
I blinked in surprise.
‘I love you, too,’ we both said.
I felt a bubble of joy rise up inside me.
‘You love me?’ I said. ‘Really?’
Patrick looked into my eyes.
‘Really,’ he said. ‘Our show dance was basically my love letter to you.’
‘I had a whole speech prepared,’ I said in wonder. ‘And it turned out I didn’t need it after all.’
Patrick bent his head and kissed me on and on. I heard a thundering in my ears, which I thought was the sheer emotion of it all, until I realised it was the audience clapping and drumming their feet on the floor.
We broke apart and the crowd cheered.
Melissa was holding a card and standing in front of us, laughing.
‘Ready?’ she said.
‘Going to live, in three, two, one …’ said the producer. My heart began thumping, the crowd whooped again, and the band played.
‘The votes have been counted and verified,’ said Melissa.
The lights dimmed, and I caught my breath. Patrick squeezed my hand tightly.
‘And the winner of Strictly Stars Dancing 2015 is …’
Epilogue
I was immensely proud of Amy. I watched her smiling and dancing her way round the wrap party. Chatting to everyone, laughing, posing for photos on people’s phones – and all the time with Patrick stuck to her like glue. I was thrilled they’d finally got it together. She deserved a good’un like him, after all that business with Matty.
I wondered where Ginny had got to. She was supposed to be finding me a drink but she’d disappeared. I shifted in my seat. They were very uncomfortable, these studio chairs, but I couldn’t stand up for much longer.
‘Cora Devonshire as I live and breathe.’
I looked up. Standing in front of me was the head judge, Frank. Or Francis as I’d known him, back in the sixties.
‘Francis,’ I said, with a smile. ‘I wondered when you’d track me down.’
He sat down next to me.
‘It was Alice who told me you were around,’ he said. ‘She didn’t know we were old friends, of course.’
A Step In Time Page 25