Learning to Dance Again (6 page)

‘I did try
.’

‘
We’ll make a dash for it when her back’s turned. It’s Marianne remember; she’ll be after a drink any time now.’

As if she had heard Julia, Marianne stopped dancing and started
hunting around the coffee tables and sideboard for her glass. Then she left the room and headed for the kitchen.

‘Told you!’ Julia said, although she didn’t make a move to get up and go.

‘Would you like another drink before you go?’ Cameron asked.

‘I don’t know; i
f I have another, then I really can’t drive home.’

‘We can share a taxi.’

‘You live in the opposite direction.’

Cameron
shrugged and stood up.

‘Oh all right then,
I’ll have a whisky with ice.’ Julia sighed, knowing she had just committed herself to staying for the duration of the party, which could go on all night if Marianne had her way. Julia could always disappear upstairs to the spare room of course, which Marianne had reserved for her in case she stayed over, but there would be little chance of getting any sleep until the party was over.

Julia stood up and decided to go in search of
Cameron and change her drink from whisky to lemonade. She wanted to keep her options open. She found him standing by the fridge using the ice-dispenser.

‘Oh good, you haven’t poured me a whisky yet. I
think I might go for a soft drink instead.’

Cameron
turned and picked up a glass that contained whisky and ice.

‘I already got yours. This is for Paula.’

He handed Julia her drink and then turned and passed the tumbler full of ice to Paula who sparkled at him flirtatiously. Paula caught sight of Julia and her smile vanished. She dropped her head to one side with elaborate sympathy.

‘How are you Julia? This must be so difficult for you?’

Julia resisted the urge to slap her.

‘It’s not difficult at all. I’m just going to rake in the insurance
money and jet off somewhere hot and sunny.’

Before Paula cou
ld reply Julia turned and rushed back to the lounge and sat down, her face flushed with anger. Cameron sat down next to her a moment later.

‘What was all that about?’

‘I heard her talking about me while I was outside. Two faced bitch!’

‘
Is that why you wanted to go home?’

Julia nodded and took a large sip of whisky.

‘Well I’m glad you’re still here. We can be miserable together; with alcohol. What’s not to like?’

They sat and talked; about Duncan, their kids, marriages, careers and life in general. Occasionally someone else would come over and join in. Marianne cracked open some more Champagne and kept the drinks flowing. Before too long Julia started to feel a little woozy. She stood up to go to the bathroom, and swayed. Cameron took her arm and she giggled like a school girl.

‘I think I
’d better stop drinking,’ she said.

‘I must be getting old
; all I can think of is having a nice cup of tea,’ he replied.

Julia roared with laughter.

‘Me too! Go and put the kettle on while I nip upstairs to the loo.’

When she came downstairs she went to the kitchen and found
Cameron making tea. There was still a hard core of party animals in the kitchen. Brian was standing by the sink and he grinned at Julia.

‘
Are you moving on to the hard stuff now?’

‘It was
Cameron’s idea to make tea, but I’m desperate for a cuppa now. All that whisky makes you thirsty.’

Cameron
handed Julia a mug.

‘White no sugar, right?’

‘You know me well!’

Julia turned to leave the kitchen but not before she saw Paula nudging one of her friends and
sneering in her direction. As the music paused she heard Paula say, ‘…she’s moving on quickly…’

Julia carried her tea into the lounge and sat down again, this time next to
Marianne’s sister, Charlotte, and started chatting to her. Julia felt exhausted suddenly; the tea was not having the desired effect. When Charlotte got up to get another drink, Julia stood up and wandered out to the kitchen to put her mug into the dishwasher. She saw Paula and her husband were putting their coats on and saying goodbye to people. She turned and walked back into the hall and crashed into Cameron.

‘There’s a taxi outside. It’s not for you is it?’
Cameron said.

‘No, but I really want to leave
; I’m exhausted.’

‘Let’s go then shall we?’

Julia grinned. She grabbed her coat and handbag from the rack by the front door and ran outside. Cameron hurried after her.

Julia opened the
rear door of the car and jumped in.

‘Hi Julia, I thought I was p
icking Paula and Dave up,’ the driver said.

‘Oh they’re not ready y
et, if you call them another taxi it will be fine.’

Cameron
climbed in beside Julia.

As the car pulled out of Marianne’s drive Julia looked back and saw Paula open the front door and raise her hand to call back the taxi. Julia couldn’t resist waving at her.

‘Well that’s blown it. Paula’s going to be furious with me now,’ Julia whispered.

‘Serves her right,
’ Cameron replied.

Julia reached into her handbag and took out her phone and started writing a text to Marianne.

“Sorry I did a Cinderella on your party. Fit for nothing but my bed now. It was a great evening! Xx”

8

Julia went indoors
, slipping off her high heels as soon as she closed the front door. She hurried upstairs to her bedroom and undressed quickly. Despite being exhausted, and it being long after midnight, she decided to take a bath. She poured a generous measure of Jo Malone’s wild fig and cassis bath oil under the hot tap, lit the matching scented candle and then switched the light off. The candle flickered, and she stood watching the bath fill up, breathing in the scented oil; last year’s Christmas present from Duncan.

The
bathroom filled with the sweet perfume and warm steam. It should have been comforting, but Julia felt a renewed sense of grief, ably assisted by too much whisky and Champagne. She felt like her heart would break. She sank beneath the water and sulked, not caring the bath oil would make her hair greasy.

She surfaced again;
breathless. She was wide awake now; having a bath never seemed to have the desired soporific effect on her.

She sat on the bed wrapped in a towel and switched on the television. As usual for a Saturday night/Sunday morning, there was nothing of interest to watch. She scrolled through the Sky+ menu looking for something she had recorded and not got around to watching. She came across the holiday programme she had watched with Duncan the night before he died. She pressed play as she rubbed her hair dry and then dropped the towel on the floor beside the bed, in the same way Duncan used to do. As she climbed under the duvet, Sicily came to life on the screen.

When she had watched the
programme before, she had been too busy to concentrate. She had been fussing around in the kitchen, making Duncan’s lunch for the following day. The television had been on in the lounge and Duncan had called her in a couple of times to watch it with him. She had seen the last twenty minutes, enough to agree Sicily looked lovely.

This time, with no interrupt
ions, she watched the whole programme, gawping at the bright blue sea and sunshine. She understood why Duncan had been attracted to the place. It looked wild, exotic, and stuffed full of history; and the food looked amazing too. She watched as the presenter tucked into a dish of Parma ham and grilled figs. She pulled at a damp strand of her fig perfumed hair and inhaled.

The handsome Anglo-Italian presenter
was talking about the weather and said one of the best times to visit was September, when the summer crowds had gone and the weather was more bearable. It was still in the mid-twenties Celsius and would stay reasonably warm through to December. It sounded like heaven.

Julia woke up with a headache, to the sound of rain battering the bedroom windows and the roof of the conservatory. She sat up stiffly, put her hand on her head and pulled at her hair, surprised to find it hanging in limp oily rats’ tails. Her hair still reeked of figs; then she remembered taking the bath after the party. She picked up her mobile phone and checked for messages. There was one from Marianne, sent around 3.00am.

“
Cheeky mare taking Paula’s taxi! She was hopping mad with you. Why did I invite her anyway, she can be such a bitch? FYI she thinks you have your “hooks” into Cameron. Silly cow!”

Hooks? Into
Cameron? Oh for fuck’s sake, thought Julia. She felt like screaming.  Wasn’t it bad enough to be grieving for Duncan without people saying stupid things about her? She wished she hadn’t gone to the party. She pulled the duvet over her head and prayed for sleep.

She woke up
an hour later when the phone rang. It was Marianne.

‘I’m so hung-over, what was I thinking at my age?’

‘You don’t sound hung-over? Go away and let me go back to sleep,’ Julia said.

Marianne laughed before she replied, ‘o
h, are you still in bed? It’s nearly eleven.’

‘I didn’t
get much sleep last night.’

‘You OK?’

‘Yes, no, maybe.’

‘Thanks for coming
last night. I know it’s hard work being at a party when you feel so terrible. I really appreciated it though. And I’m sure Cameron enjoyed your company too. He’s not in a good place either.’

‘
I really hope people don’t start thinking there’s anything going on.’

‘What does it matter what people think?’

‘It matters to me; and I certainly wouldn’t want Jamie and Bryden to hear anything.’

‘But nothing happened last night, so why would they?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m paranoid. I probably just drank too much.’

‘Well you’re entitled to let your hair down once in a while. I really missed Duncan last night. It’s not a proper party without him.’
Marianne sighed, and they were silent for a moment.

Julia
got out of bed holding the cordless phone to her ear and looked out of the bedroom window. The rain had stopped but the sky was still gloomy.

‘I don’t know what we’
re going to do for your fiftieth in a few weeks. Maybe just a quiet dinner eh? Will the boys get back for it?’

‘I don’t think so. I hadn’
t really thought that far ahead,’ Julia replied, without any enthusiasm in her voice.

‘Well anyway, thanks for coming. I’ll let you get back to sleep. See you later in the week
, eh?’

Julia put the phone down and decided to get up. Her headache h
ad subsided and she was hungry. She went downstairs thinking about her own forthcoming “big” birthday. She felt a sense of dread at the idea of turning fifty. She felt so old, which was not helped by having two grown up sons and being widowed. It was different for Marianne, whose younger daughters were still at school; or even for someone like Cameron who had married a much younger woman and now had a five year old daughter to keep him young.

As she waited for the kettle to boil she stared at the calendar and the
little red heart drawn in felt-tip which Duncan had scribbled on her birthday. She doubted her sons would be able to get home in time. Bryden would be busy teaching and wouldn’t be able to get away until a week later, for the school holidays, and Jamie would be in the middle of a surgical rotation.

Julia made herself a sandwich an
d some coffee and took her breakfast into the lounge. She moved her iPad along the sofa and put her feet up and thought about her birthday. She was certain Marianne would plan something for her. It would be lovely and thoughtful; but Julia didn’t feel like being sociable, especially if it meant she might have to deal with Cameron again.

What she ha
dn’t told Marianne was Cameron had tried to kiss her, in the back of the taxi. It was probably only intended to be a friendly kiss on the cheek, but somehow his lips had met hers, and she had pushed him away, jumped out of the taxi and hurried indoors without saying goodbye, or even offering to pay her share of the fare. She really didn’t want to see him again for a while.

Julia finished her sandwich and switched on her iPad to check her emails. Her Facebook habit had diminished considerably; she only looked at it occasionally to check up on her sons.

Her
only emails were spam and as she scrolled through the titles, checking them off to delete without reading, she spotted an email from a travel website announcing a sale on flights to Europe during October and November. She opened the email and clicked on the link to their website. One of the first offers to appear on the page was a return flight to Palermo in Sicily for £69. Despite the fact she knew this incredibly low price would not include anything such as luggage, booking fees and was probably for silly dates and times she clicked on the offer to see more details.

Without thinking very clearly about what she was doing she booked he
rself a return flight to Palermo from Gatwick for the entire month of October. She entered her credit card details and completed the purchase, and then leaned back on the sofa in triumph. Then she sat up again quickly. October was less than two weeks away and she hadn’t booked any accommodation or flights down to London. She would be away for her birthday now and Marianne would not be pleased. Or maybe she would, but she wondered what the boys would say about her taking off on her own like that.

‘I’
m a grown-up!’ Julia said aloud. ‘Oh help. Where am I going to stay for a whole month?’

She got up and took
her tray out to the kitchen then picked up the phone to call Marianne.

‘I’ve just booked a holiday in Sicily.’

‘Oh good for you. When are you going?’

‘In a few days
; for the whole of October!’

‘A whole month? Are you serious? What are you going to do for
so long on your own?’

‘Four
times what I would do if I just went for a week.’

‘Very funny! Where are you staying?’

‘I don’t know yet. I just booked the flights and haven’t even looked for somewhere to stay. I’ll look for a nice hotel somewhere.’

‘Why don
’t you rent a villa? We used that website, villas-direct or something, when we went to Spain last summer. It was far nicer than staying in a hotel.’

‘Brilliant idea;
I’ll do that now. I don’t know what Jamie and Bryden will say. They’ll probably think I’ve lost my marbles.’

‘So? Y
ou’re a grown up now.’

Julia decided to book all her accommodation before telling her sons she was going away. She followed Marianne’s advice and found a two bedroomed villa in a small village near Cefalu, close to the sea. The owner lived in the adjoining villa and there was shared access to a swimming pool and a lovely terraced garden with fig and olive trees. The rent she negotiated with the English owner for the whole of October was a bargain, as it was out of season.

There was so mu
ch to do before her holiday she really didn’t have time to be miserable. She spent the next few days running around, buying clothes for her holiday and then taking them back to the shop when she realised they made her look like somebody’s granny. She bought euros, travel insurance and medication. She made sure all her bills were paid, spring-cleaned the house, bought batteries for her camera and then packed and repacked her bags, unable to decide what to take. She took her houseplants around to Marianne’s for her to water, and then raided Marianne’s wardrobe for holiday clothes to borrow.

She rang Jamie to tell him her plans.

‘Hello darling. I’ve got a surprise for you and Bryden. I’m going to be in Edinburgh for a couple of days?’

‘Why
?’

I’
m travelling through, on my way down to Gatwick. I’m going on holiday.’

‘
Who are you going with?’

I’m going on my own – to Sicily.’

‘On your own – to Sicily? Are you mad?’

‘What’s wrong with Sicily? It looks lovely
.’

‘I’m su
re it is; if you stay out of the way of the mafia.’

‘Don’t be silly, I’m sure they’re much too busy to bother wi
th me. I bet that stuff’s all exaggerated.’

‘Really? Well I don’t suppose you’ll get in too much bother in a week. Might be good for you to have a break.’

‘I’m going for a month actually; and Jamie, do try to be a little less patronising. I’m nearly fifty. I can look after myself.’

Clearly all Jamie heard was “a month.”

‘You can’t go away for a whole month on your own, what if something happens to you?’

‘There’s Wi-Fi in the villa
, I can email you or ring you every day if you want. Nothing’s going to happen to me,’ Julia replied, feeling less and less sure of herself as Jamie railed against her mad idea. Eventually Julia got annoyed with him and snapped she would see him in Edinburgh before she left, and put the phone down.

She rang Bryden and he was a lot more cheerful about the prospect, particularly when she told him she had
booked a two bedroomed villa. He said he would think about coming out to see her during the school holidays. When Julia offered to pay for his flights he was even more enthusiastic about the idea.

Julia
had finally packed everything for her trip. Her suitcase and handbag were in the porch and her raincoat was folded over the top; all ready to go the next day. She had gone through the “tickets, passport, money” routine until she thought she was in danger of developing OCD.

She was in the kitchen making something to eat when she heard
a car. She went to the door and saw Cameron’s Toyota Prius parked on the drive. He got out of the car and then opened the back passenger door and let his daughter out. Amy was struggling under the weight of a large bouquet of roses. Cameron took them off her and held his daughter’s hand and led her to the house.

‘
Hello Amy,’ Julia said, trying to sound welcoming, at least to the little girl. ‘Come along inside. I’ve got some juice and chocolate biscuits.’

Amy let go of
Cameron’s hand and ran indoors and headed straight for the lounge. Julia heard the television channel change to a cartoon.