Breaking the Ice

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Breaking the Ice Page 13

by Mandy Baggot


  ‘Well I don’t think anything much has changed. Dave may have had the fancy job title but I think you know you ran the hall,’ Jimmy stated.

  ‘No offence but you’ve only been here just over a week, how can you…’ Samantha began.

  ‘I’m a terrific judge of character! Ask anyone. So, shall we skate? Try the routine again? Learn a little more?’ Jimmy suggested to her.

  Samantha nodded. At the moment, with Cleo on her back about the imaginary Darren and the hall in crisis with her at the helm, meeting Jimmy in the solitude of the auditorium was what she looked forward to more than anything. And when she skated she somehow changed from Samantha Smith Miss Self-Conscious to Samantha Smith Ice Queen. Well, maybe not quite worthy of the title of Ice Queen yet, but she was definitely improving.

  The routine Jimmy was teaching her wasn’t one from the show, but one he had performed in a previous ice tour, ‘Pop on the Ice’. Although not very technical it did include some overhead lifts, some tricky footwork and spins. So far they had only got a quarter of the way through learning it.

  ‘Are you ready to learn a lift?’ Jimmy enquired as they stopped skating at the end of the section they had learned.

  ‘No, no thanks,’ Samantha answered straight away and she hurriedly skated away from him.

  ‘Come on, it isn’t really all that hard. We could just start with a roll up into a crucifix hold or something. It’s simple really, once you learn how to position your body,’ Jimmy spoke as he followed her across the ice.

  ‘It’s fine, I’d rather not. I’m a keeping my feet on the ground kind of girl,’ Samantha answered, upping her pace to try and shake him off.

  ‘Now hang on, you promised me you’d let me teach you - let me teach you this,’ Jimmy spoke, skating in front of her so she couldn’t avoid him.

  ‘Yes and you said skating, not lifting. I didn’t sign up for being thrown in the air. Besides I’m sure the crucifix position was what did for Jesus,’ Samantha spoke as she attempted to swerve out of his way.

  ‘Maybe, but no one I lifted ever died that way I promise,’ Jimmy replied.

  ‘I’d rather not take the risk, thanks all the same. Argh! Argh! Goodness! What are you doing? Arrgghh!’ Samantha shrieked as Jimmy lifted her up, rolled her up over his shoulder until she was held high on his back, with her arms outstretched - hence the name of the position.

  ‘Just hold the position, keep still and keep a smile on that face. Eyes and teeth remember,’ Jimmy spoke as he carried on skating holding her over his head.

  ‘Eyes and teeth?! Just get me down!’ Samantha shrieked hysterically, seeing the hall from a whole different angle than she ever had before.

  ‘Ready? Same way you came up. Whoa! There you go - put your feet down on the ice. Sam, put your feet down!’ Jimmy ordered as he rolled her back down towards the floor.

  She didn’t put her feet down and landed with a bump, bottom first, on the ice. She let out a gasp as the cold, hard, landing shocked her.

  ‘Always be ready to land the lift,’ Jimmy reminded as he leant over her.

  ‘Thanks, but I wasn’t actually ready to be lifted sky high in the first place,’ Samantha answered.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Jimmy asked, offering her a hand up.

  ‘Another bruise to add to the dozens I have already,’ she replied, accepting his hand and hauling herself up from the floor in as ladylike a fashion as possible.

  ‘Listen, why don’t we take a break and start thinking about that proposal for the council - brainstorm some ideas. Say, wanna go to a club?’ Jimmy suggested.

  ‘A club?’ Samantha exclaimed as if the very words were alien to her.

  ‘Yeah, didn’t Cleo say there’s a club just down the street? It sounds good. Wanna try it?’

  ‘Oh no, I don’t think so.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking about the rave room or anything, they have quieter chill out areas where you can talk.’

  ‘It’s quiet here.’

  Jimmy laughed out loud and nodded. He skated towards the edge of the rink and sat down on one of the seats, taking a drink from his bottle.

  ‘What’s funny?’ Samantha asked, following his lead.

  ‘Cleo was right - you really don’t go out do you?’ he remarked.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course I do. Just because I don’t want to go to a silly club doesn’t mean I don’t go out.’

  ‘OK so where?’

  ‘Well, there’s a pub just round the corner and there’s a couple of nice restaurants and Cleo says that…’

  ‘Where do you go out round here?’ Jimmy continued, looking at her.

  ‘I work most days,’ Samantha admitted. ‘and there’s always stuff to do round the house.’

  ‘God Sam, you really do need to get out more.’

  Samantha couldn’t help but blush. She knew he was probably right. Cleo was always telling her exactly the same thing but she didn’t like hearing it.

  ‘Look, I wasn’t trying to sound patronising, just suggesting it might be an idea to broaden your horizons.’

  ‘My horizons are the exact width I like them thank you.’

  Jimmy laughed.

  ‘Anyway I would have thought you were avoiding nightclubs. Aren’t you barred from most of the ones in America?’ Samantha snapped defensively.

  ‘Who told you that?’ he enquired.

  ‘Star Life magazine,’ Samantha replied with an air of authority.

  Jimmy laughed again, his brown eyes crinkling at the edges in that sexy way.

  ‘Sorry, that’s funny. I can’t believe you read Star Life magazine.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It isn’t something I’d expect you to read.’

  ‘So what would you expect someone like me to read?’

  ‘The instruction manual on anything you ever bought?’

  Samantha felt her cheeks heat up and tears sprang to her eyes. He thought she was boring.

  And he was right, just like Cleo was always right. She didn’t do anything outside the hall and she didn’t have many interests. She was a nobody, insignificant.

  ‘Hey, it was a joke. Sam, it was just a joke. You’re always so organised and it was just a joke about that, I didn’t mean…’ Jimmy began, seeing he had upset her.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ Samantha spoke, swallowing down a boulder of tears.

  ‘No, don’t go. Please, I apologise, unreservedly. I apologise for what I said, it was stupid and I’m stupid. It was jealousy that made me say it.’

  ‘Jealousy?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m the least organised person I know. I can’t pack a suitcase, I never show up anywhere on time and I have trouble remembering my schedule for the next week let alone any further ahead. I wish I was more like you.’

  ‘What, a non-nightclub goer, an ice cream seller with nothing better to do than read instruction manuals?’

  ‘You shouldn’t be ashamed of who you are, but you shouldn’t be afraid to try new things either.’

  Samantha didn’t reply. It would be so easy to forgive what he said when he was looking at her like that. The large puppy dog eyes, the warm expression, the sincere lips and not forgetting the lovely hair.

  ‘Look, I won’t mention another word about nightclubs. Just don’t go. We need to brainstorm don’t we?’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to now.’

  ‘Please. Do I have to beg? If I have to beg I will, I’ll get right down on my knees and beg, over there on the ice if you want so I’m wet and everything,’ Jimmy told her.

  Samantha let out a laugh.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jimmy spoke, taking hold of her hand.

  Samantha felt the warmth of his fingers in hers and she had never wished she was Cleo more than she did now. Cleo would make the most of the opportunity of holding his hand. She would pounce on him, suction her lips to his and have him vowing eternal love in a matter of minutes. But that was exciting, vibrant, flighty Cleo, not plain, boring, Samantha Smith who only got excited by filing
systems and seating plans.

  ‘Come on let’s go wild and brainstorm here. Take a seat - d’you want some water?’ Jimmy asked, offering her his bottle.

  Samantha shook her head but sat down next to him.

  ‘Come on, let’s hear your ideas,’ he encouraged.

  Samantha let out a sigh.

  ‘Well I’ve been having a think today and the first thing that needs to be decided is who I choose to deliver the speech. It can’t be Jane, she gets more tongue tied than me, if that’s actually humanly possible, and Felicity is really…’ Samantha began to talk.

  ‘Whoa! Hold on, you have to give the speech,’ Jimmy told her.

  ‘Who says? I’ve thought about it and it doesn’t have to be me,’ Samantha carried on.

  ‘You’re the manager,’ Jimmy reminded her.

  ‘Which means I can delegate. Dave always delegated.’

  ‘And I thought we agreed Dave was a God awful manager.’

  ‘Well maybe, but…’ Samantha started.

  ‘There are no buts or maybes about it. You have to be the one to give the speech. Not only are you the manager, but you’re the one person who’s truly passionate about this place,’ Jimmy told her.

  ‘I can’t stand up in front of all those people,’ Samantha stated seriously.

  ‘Sure you can,’ Jimmy responded, producing a pen and some paper from his bag.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You can.’

  ‘This isn’t panto you know! I can’t do it, I cannot do it!’ Samantha yelled, her voice echoing around the empty auditorium.

  Jimmy looked away from her and began to write, ignoring her hysterics.

  Samantha took a deep breath, the thought of public speaking made her feel sick. Her heart was racing now, just contemplating the idea of it. The future of the Civic Hall could not hang on her ability to stand up and sell its merits to an audience of councillors.

  Jimmy had written half an A4 page before Samantha found the courage to speak again.

  ‘I’m not like you. Performing to a crowd is way out of my comfort zone,’ Samantha stated.

  ‘I get it,’ Jimmy replied, not lifting his eyes from the paper.

  ‘I’m just not very good at talking - in crowds - well, at all really - basically talking in general,’ Samantha continued.

  ‘I said I get it,’ Jimmy answered.

  ‘I mean it isn’t that I don’t want to do it, I just can’t. It would be an impossibility for me to do anything, like even breathe, in front of anyone,’ Samantha carried on, making excuses for herself.

  ‘And I thought you really cared about this hall,’ Jimmy said, still not lifting his gaze from the paper he was writing on.

  ‘I do! Of course I do, the hall means everything to me,’ Samantha answered immediately.

  ‘But obviously not enough to break out of that comfort zone,’ Jimmy retorted this time raising his eyes to look at her.

  ‘That isn’t fair,’ Samantha said straight away, swallowing a knot in her throat.

  ‘If you don’t start believing in yourself you’re never going to be able to achieve anything in your life - let alone be able to save the hall,’ Jimmy stated firmly.

  Samantha felt the urge to weep creeping over her again. She could feel the tears forming in her eyes and her lip was trembling. She bit the lip hard inside her mouth and attempted to quell the emotion that was threatening to take over and embarrass her.

  ‘Every so often I have to walk into a room full of strangers and stand up at the very front of that room, looking at each and every one of them. I have to tell them my name, the fact that I am an alcoholic and how many days it’s been since my last drink. Believe me, there’s nothing in this world more embarrassing than that,’ Jimmy told her with a heavy sigh.

  ‘You didn’t have to tell me that. I know how pathetic I am,’ Samantha answered, feeling smaller than she had ever felt in her life.

  ‘You aren’t pathetic and I wanted to tell you. Although I’m embarrassed by it and ashamed of it, it’s also really liberating to get it out there. Sometimes in life you get given this amazing opportunity to try and make something good happen out of something bad. In your case, although you know it could spell the closure of the hall, you’ve a chance to get across to that council everything you feel about the place and its importance to the area. And, even if it doesn’t work, you’ll know you had the courage to stand up for something you believe in and you’ll know you gave it everything you had to give. Things like that can’t be delegated,’ Jimmy told her.

  Samantha just stared at him. His handsome face, the sincerity in his dark brown eyes, his full lips. Before she could stop herself she was conjuring up thoughts of what those lips would feel like on hers. It would be a movie moment kiss. It would be Richard Gere and Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing. If only she were blonde and slim.

  She was brought out of her daydream when a mobile phone began to ring. Jimmy reached into his bag, pulled out his phone and accepted the call.

  ‘Hey Giles,’ he greeted and stood up to move away from Samantha to talk.

  She was a first class bird brain. Why couldn’t she just be more like Cleo? Cleo always knew exactly what to say and do in any situation. Samantha couldn’t even bring herself to go clubbing. She’d never been clubbing, again, like the tube, it was a case of too many people and too little space. If she were Cleo she would’ve not only written the speech by now she would have had Jimmy undressed and on top of her by now.

  Just as Samantha was thinking back to the nosebleed and seeing Jimmy’s bare torso, he turned back towards her and came to retake his seat.

  ‘Are you free tomorrow night?’ Jimmy asked, turning to face Samantha.

  ‘Free?’ Samantha asked stupidly not understanding the question she was being asked.

  ‘Yeah, you know, not doing anything. There’s no ice show tomorrow, are you busy?’ Jimmy enquired.

  ‘Well, I don’t know, I…’ Samantha began, trying to digest exactly what it was she was being asked.

  ‘No clubs I promise. That was a friend of mine, Giles Palmer. He’s a singer in a band called Air Patrol and they’re playing at the Presbook Centre tomorrow night - he’s given me two tickets,’ Jimmy informed her matter of factly.

  ‘That’s nice, I’ve heard some of their records, at least I think I have, or perhaps it was Air Supply,’ Samantha questioned herself.

  ‘I looked into the type of acts the Presbook Centre get, saw they were playing and gave him a call. I thought if we went we could have a look round at the competition - see what the Presbook Centre has that the Civic Hall doesn’t,’ Jimmy carried on.

  ‘Me and you,’ Samantha stated before she could stop herself.

  ‘Can you come? I think it would be really useful for you to see first hand what you’re up against,’ Jimmy repeated, ignoring her remark.

  Samantha was panicking. She didn’t know what to do or say and she could feel her chest start to tighten. She couldn’t spend an evening with him, going out at night, to a concert, it would be like a date. A date with Jimmy Lloyd and not an ice skate in sight. He would want to talk and she wouldn’t know what to say, although she could talk about Cleo, she could talk endlessly about Cleo. Well, perhaps not endlessly. What if she couldn’t talk endlessly? What if she ran out of things to say?

  She began to cough loudly and struggle to breathe. She needed a focus. She stared at his chest. It only made things worse.

  ‘Here, have some water,’ Jimmy said to her and he passed his bottle of water to her.

  Samantha took a large gulp and regained control of her breath.

  ‘If you give me your address I could pick you up about seven,’ Jimmy spoke no longer waiting for her to reply.

  ‘No!’ Samantha shrieked, her voice reverberating around the hall for the second time that night.

  Jimmy didn’t react but just kept looking at her, waiting for a response.

  ‘No, no don’t
pick me up. I’ll, I’ll meet you there,’ Samantha spoke hurriedly.

  ‘Good, about seven thirty then. Now, shall we work out what you’re going to say to the council at the meeting?’ Jimmy suggested, putting his pen back to the paper.

  ‘I’m not sure but I think I might rather attempt the crucifix lift thing again,’ Samantha responded with a sigh.

  ‘Well perhaps we’ll have time for both,’ Jimmy replied with a smile.

  Samantha managed a weak smile back, but inside she felt sick. It was almost a date. It was the closest thing she had had to a date in almost a year, since the nipple ring incident. And it was with Jimmy Lloyd, who’d probably dated a hundred women and never had any of them take so long to accept an evening out as she had. But it wasn’t a date, not really and she mustn’t think of it as a date. In fact why was she so worried? It wasn’t a date at all. It was intelligence gathering for the greater good of the Civic Hall. Although thinking of it like that didn’t stop Samantha from starting to panic about what she was going to wear.

  Thirteen

  The following day Samantha printed off flyers advertising up and coming events, together with a ‘meal deal’ voucher. She sent Karen up town to distribute some of the vouchers in shops and also to hand them out to passersby. By lunchtime Karen had got rid of all the leaflets and the restaurant was full to capacity. In the end Samantha deployed Milo to help serve and clear and she also took her turn on the till.

  In the afternoon, as soon as she had finished helping Mabel and Margaret clean up the restaurant, Tyrone arrived. Tyrone was Jimmy’s friend who was going to create the hall’s website. He had taken charge of the computer in the office and by the end of the day he said he had all he needed to create the site, including the on-line booking section. He was going to come back to the hall when the site was ready to go live and give the employees training.

  ‘It’s alright for you Gobby, all you have to worry about is avoiding the traffic and the sharp ended boot of Andre from the kebab shop. You don’t have to worry about talking to a load of official people, all looking at you - all waiting for you to faint,’ Samantha spoke as Gobby polished off a left over portion of cod, chips and peas.

 

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