Strictly Love

Emily frowned. Katie, who was the most repressed person she had ever met, would never ever admit that things weren't right, but Emily couldn't help feeling something was wrong. Katie had barely mentioned Charlie the last time they'd met, and the few times Emily saw them together Charlie seemed incredibly distant. In the meantime, Katie was developing a weird kind of cleaning fetish. Emily blamed Anthea Turner, whom Katie had actually started quoting as if she was Shakespeare.

‘Penny for ‘em?’ Emily looked up and was surprised and pleased to see Mark standing next to her. ‘Just wondering what I'm doing here, again,’ she said. A warm glow suffused her. How stupid. She barely knew Mark. ‘Me too,’ said Mark. ‘Rob was busy tonight. I wasn't going to come, but …’

There was a lot left in that but. Was it a but that said, I just thought it would be fun? Or a but that said, I wanted to see you again? Or maybe it was just a but that meant nothing at all. Poor little but, thought Emily, so very lonely …

‘I'm sorry?’ Mark looked puzzled. ‘What are you talking about?’

Oh bloody hell, Emily must have let that last bit slip out loud.

‘Oh, nothing,’ she gabbled. ‘Sometimes I have weird random thoughts. And sometimes in a weird random way they flow from my mouth, without me realising it. I think it's because I live on my own.’

‘Oh,’ said Mark. He looked around. ‘Your friend not with you today?’

‘Nope,’ said Emily. She had been about to mention Molly being ill, but as Katie had been adamant she didn't want to give anything away about her private life, she said instead, ‘She was busy this week.’

‘But you came anyway?’ That flash of a smile, utterly dazzling, had a rather unsettling effect on Emily.

‘Oh, you know. I thought since I was so good last week, I'd come and show them all how it's done.’

‘Me too,’ agreed Mark.

‘Actually,’ confessed Emily, ‘I didn't have anything else much on, so I thought, oh bloody hell, why not? What's the worst that can happen?’

‘Dancing with me?’ Mark was only semi-serious.

‘You're on then,’ said Emily. ‘And I really will try not to step on your toes this time …’

‘How does it go again?’ Mark said as he tried and failed to perfect the open hold that Isabella had shown them earlier. Sweat was dripping off him, and his hands were clammy as hell. Hardly a way to get Emily to take the right kind of notice of him.

‘Well, I think you're supposed to step forwards, while swinging your hips, while I step backwards,’ said Emily, ‘and then we're supposed to sway slightly and transfer our weight onto the other foot or something. Oh, and I think you need to hold your hand up higher.’

‘I thought I'd got that wrong,’ said Mark. ‘Shall we stop and watch what everyone else is doing?’

‘Perhaps we'd better,’ said Emily, and they stood trying not to giggle as they watched the rest of the class sashaying round the floor to the Cuban music that was playing in the background.

‘I have to say, it does get your toes tapping,’ said Emily, unable to stop herself from swaying in time to the music, ‘even if I can't go in step. Shall we have another go?’

‘If we must,’ said Mark. ‘Okay, so it goes, one, two, step forward, three, transfer weight, four; one, step side, two, step back, three, transfer weight, four, step forward. Hey, I think we did it!’

Growing in confidence now, and by dint of watching their neighbours who seemed to be really in the swing, eventually Emily and Mark found themselves making a reasonable fist of the steps Isabella had shown them. Emboldened by their efforts, Mark decided to really push the boat out and attempted to fling Emily to one side as he had seen other people doing. Unfortunately, in doing so, her foot got entangled around his heel, and before he knew it the pair of them had tumbled unceremoniously to the floor.

‘I don't think that's how it's meant to go,’ said Mark ruefully.

‘Me neither,’ said Emily. ‘I think someone is telling us something.’

‘Like why don't we go next door for a pint?’ said Mark with a cheeky grin.

‘I thought you'd never ask,’ said Emily.

It seemed an entirely natural thing to do until they actually got into the pub. It was only when they were facing each other over a pint that there was a sudden awkward silence.

‘So what do you do when you're not picking up strange women at dance classes?’ Emily broke the ice first.

Mark pulled a face. He hated telling people what he did for a living. Nine times out of ten they felt obliged to tell him all about their abscess, or their granny's dentures. ‘I am that incredibly rare beast, an NHS dentist,’ he said. ‘And you?’

‘Well –’ said Emily. She felt the need to prevaricate. She wasn't quite sure why, but suddenly she felt rather ashamed of what she did for a living.

‘I hope you're not going to say you're a lawyer,’ Mark added. ‘I can't stand them.’

‘Oh, why not?’

‘My wife ran off with one,’ said Mark.

‘You're married?’ Emily looked disappointed.

‘Divorced,’ said Mark. ‘She went off with the lawyer, and I didn't see much point in contesting it.’

‘And you've not found anyone else?’ Emily was determined to steer the conversation away from the subject of lawyers at all costs.

‘Not yet,’ said Mark. Again that dazzling smile. He paused briefly and then said, ‘what about you? No significant other in your life?’

‘Not any more,’ said Emily, looking down.

‘And no kids, I presume?’ Mark was feeling his way. Perhaps if he could steer the conversation around to children, he could let slip he had a couple himself.

‘Oh God, no,’ said Emily. ‘Why on earth would I want children? I've watched too many of my girlfriends turn from bright, intelligent women into poor demented creatures whose only topic of conversation is the content of their child's nappies. And then they expect you to be as entranced by their puking, shitting, squealing little bundles as they are. Children utterly ruin your life. Who in their right mind would ever want them?’

‘Who indeed?’ said Mark faintly. That put paid to that then. There was no way he could mention Gemma and Beth now. He scrambled around frantically for something else to say.

‘So, you like Green Wing?’ he said pathetically.

‘I sooo love that programme,’ said Emily, ‘the scene where Statham kills the dwarf …’

‘… is brilliant,’ agreed Mark.

‘I missed quite a bit of it, unfortunately,’ Emily said, thinking back to all those nights when she'd been out aimlessly partying, or stuck at her desk trying to see an important deal through, and wondered why she hadn't been home more.

‘Me too,’ said Mark, thinking back to the days when he'd been so busy keeping Sam sweet that he'd had to watch all the crap she liked, which included drivel like I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here and Big Brother. Love Shack, which had shot Jasmine to fame, had been on at the same time as the first series of Green Wing, so he'd pretty much missed the lot.

‘I've just bought series one on DVD. I could lend it to you if you like.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Emily. ‘I might never give them back. In fact, faced with the opportunity of being able to watch Julian Rhind-Tutt forever, I'll definitely never give them back.’

‘Nope. I can't let you do that,’ said Mark. ‘In that case, we'll have to go for a full-on Green Wing fest at my place.’

‘Oh.’ Emily was slightly taken aback.

‘There's nothing behind that,’ said Mark hurriedly. ‘I mean, it's just watching a DVD and having a beer if you want. Nothing more.’