The Ballroom Class (13 page)

‘Oh, yeah, sorry.’ Ross looked around, as if noticing it all for the first time. ‘I meant to do that while these two were having their nap, but we  . . . got distracted.’

‘We watched the DVD!’ announced Hannah. ‘I did the foxes trot with Daddy!’

‘I wanted to show them what we were learning at dancing class,’ Ross explained. ‘Obviously, we concentrated on the twirling and the swinging.’

Katie lifted a pile of unmatched socks off an armchair, to reveal a crumby plate of toast crusts.

I just want to
sit down
, she thought wearily. Is this why my dad was so tetchy when he came home from work? Is it so much to ask?

But even though she hated herself, it still came out. ‘All day?’

Hannah gave her mother a clear-eyed glare. ‘Why don’t
you
have a sparkly dress like the ladies, Mummy?’

‘Because,’ said Katie, piling up plates and cups with quick, cross, clunking motions.

‘Because what?
I’ve
got a special dress for
my
dancing.’

God, first Angelica, and now Hannah, thought Katie, feeling got at. It wasn’t as if they were going to the classes for fun – and it definitely didn’t warrant new clothes.

‘Mummy?’ Hannah went on. ‘Why don’t you have a sparkly dress? Mummy? You never wear pretty dresses. Mummy?’

‘Hannah,’ snapped Katie, ‘that’s
enough
!’

Hannah put her hands on her hips, and opened her mouth to talk back, but Katie glared back harder.

‘I’ll pop Jack in his bed,’ said Ross, getting to his feet with Jack still cradled in his arms. ‘He’s about ready for it. Come on, Hannah, you can take your bowl through to the kitchen for me, can’t you?’

Katie felt a terrible yearning inside for Jack, who was nuzzling into Ross’s shoulder like a sleepy puppy, his eyelids twitching as he dozed. While she was at work, she could somehow switch off the part of her brain that missed him, but now she was home, the need to hold him, and smell his downy head was so powerful it actually hurt. Without realising she stretched out her hands, wanting to feel his soft weight against her chest. He was almost too heavy to carry around now, but she loved the feel of him in her arms.

‘Here,’ she said. ‘Let me. Please? I’d love to put him to bed.’

‘But you’re in a rush,’ countered Ross, turning his shoulder. ‘Aren’t you?’

‘Not that much of a rush,’ Katie pleaded. Jack’s dark hair was growing so quickly. She hadn’t noticed how long it had got at the back, curling in silky brown waves. ‘Come on, Ross. You know how much I love putting him to bed! I haven’t seen him all day!’

He rolled his eyes downwards and she realised too late that Hannah was listening in, taking their struggle over Jack personally, from the hurt scowl on her face.

‘You spoil everything,’ she said, with a rising note of pre-tantrum fury. ‘We were having a lovely time till you came home. I
hate
you.’

Katie’s jaw dropped, and a sudden pain, sharp and dull at the same time, spread through her chest.

‘Now, Hannah!’ Ross raised a warning finger.

‘I
hate
her,’ yelled Hannah and turned on her heel and ran out of the room.

Katie looked at him. It was easier to be mad with Ross than it was to deal with the shock in her heart. ‘Is that all you can say?
Hannah
?’

‘What do you expect me to do?’ he demanded, nodding towards the sleeping toddler in his arms.

Still in his arms, she noted. What was she meant to do? Prise Jack away?

‘I expect you to  . . . To  . . .’ She ran out of words, unable to bear the distress in her own voice. Katie swallowed. She knew what she should be doing – hadn’t she spent both pregnancies reading child-behaviour manuals? – but seeing Hannah look at her like that, with actual resentment that she’d come home, wiped every rational thought from her mind. All she was left with was the bitter sense that it was her fault.

‘What am I supposed to do?’ repeated Ross. ‘If she’s pissed off that you’ve come home late, then whose fault is that? What do you expect me to do? You’re her mother.’

‘But  . . .’

‘I’m not going to punish her,’ he went on. ‘She’s upset. Maybe you should have a talk with her in the morning.’

‘That’s so typical of you!’ Katie couldn’t hold it in any more. ‘Leave all the discipline to me, as well as everything else, so you can be Mr Nice Dad. Well, thanks. Thanks for that.’

‘Katie, I am doing my best. What do you
want
from me?’ asked Ross, and she shrugged.

She didn’t know what Ross wanted. She couldn’t see inside his head.

They stared at each other in painful silence.

Two words, thought Katie. I could say it now.
I’m leaving
. I could just get in the car and drive.

Then Jack stirred on Ross’s shoulder, whimpering in his sleep, sending a tremor of guilt and love through her, and just as she was about to speak, the doorbell rang.

‘Jo!’ squealed Hannah, hurtling for the door, and Katie felt punched again.

‘Sorry,’ said Ross under his breath, but it was too late. Katie could hear Jo and Hannah in the hall, Hannah giggling gleefully, obviously doing spins on her toes from the audible clunks. Katie flinched, half for Hannah’s feet, half for the scuffed hall wallpaper they never had spare money to redecorate.

‘Careful, sweetie! Oooh, clever you! And what a lovely outfit!’ she could hear Jo saying. ‘Are you a ballerina, or a ballroom dancer? I love your spangles!’

Katie carried on holding Ross’s gaze, willing him to say the right thing. Anything that would make her feel less like her dad and more like his wife.

Don’t
make
me make you say something, she pleaded inside. Please just say it of your own accord.

But he didn’t say anything. Instead he blinked behind his glasses, then turned to take Jack to bed, just as Hannah and Jo barrelled into the sitting room. Jo was wearing a red dress underneath her usual warm parka, and little sparkles glittered in the light.

‘Hi, Ross, isn’t she back yet? Sounds like you’ve had a grand afternoon with these two  . . . Oh, hello.’ Jo looked between the two of them, sensing the tension hanging noxiously in the air like burnt toast. Her friendly face suddenly became cautious. ‘Everything OK?’

‘Not really,’ said Katie. ‘But we’re going to be late for
dancing
.’ She glared at Ross. ‘I told Ross you and Greg were going to come with us – I’m sure there are other people he could have called.’

‘Like who?’ Ross demanded.

‘Look, don’t worry about it,’ said Jo, hastily. ‘I talked Greg into coming to the class after all, so I was going to take my two round to my mum’s for the evening. She’s said she’ll pop over here and sit all four of them here instead, if that’s OK with you? It’s nearer for her, less fuss for your two, and we’ll pick ours up on the way back. Greg’s just bringing them in.’

‘That’s sweet of her,’ said Katie. Jo got her domestic goddess genes straight from her mum, Dorothy. She was the white-haired, sweetie-giving substitute granny Hannah didn’t have, and Katie wasn’t sure Jo knew how lucky she was.

‘You don’t mind Mrs Sanderson coming over to babysit, do you? Will you show her how clever you are at big-girl reading now?’ Katie said to Hannah, in the hope it might elicit a cuddle.

Hannah ignored her, the latest adult skill she’d learned. ‘Where are you going, Daddy?’ She leaned against Jo’s legs and looked lovingly at Ross, her blue eyes sharp.

‘Dancing!’ said Ross, brightly. ‘So we can do some new steps in the morning.’

‘Ooh! That’ll be fun, won’t it?’ said Jo, bending down to distract her with tickles. But Hannah looked far from convinced and Katie noticed, to her dismay, that her thumb returned to her mouth for the first time in months.

Jack stirred in Ross’s arms, and Katie seized the chance to swoop him up to bed herself.

‘Have you time for a coffee?’ she heard Ross ask Jo, after a pause in which she was sure eyes had been rolled. But she nuzzled her nose into Jack’s hair, and let herself focus on her baby for once.

The hall was chilly when they arrived, as if all the hot air had floated up off the frilled cast-iron radiators and into the rafters, but Katie couldn’t help feeling her trepidation at what was to come mixed with a bit of pleasure at being somewhere different, for once.

They were the last ones to arrive, and from the way the heads swivelled when they walked in, it was clear everyone saw Greg and Jo and thought: the New People.

Already, thought Katie. After only one week.

Angelica was standing next to Lauren the Fiancée, chatting to her about something or other to do with shoes, from the way they were pointing their feet. Lauren, she noted, was wearing a pair of white satin Louis XV heels. Her wedding shoes, obviously.

Jo nudged Katie. ‘That the teacher?’

‘Yes,’ Katie whispered back. ‘Fame costs, and right here’s where you start paying. In sarcastic comments about your posture.’

‘So!’ Angelica clapped her hands together, and everyone’s attention snapped her way. ‘My goodness, I can’t have been mean enough to you all last week – everyone’s back for lesson two! I’m so pleased that you listened to what I said about dressing up! Well, nearly all of you.’

Katie looked round the class, and instantly regretted not getting changed. There hadn’t been much time after she’d put Jack to bed. Everyone was looking decidedly festive, it was true. Lauren was wearing a pink prom dress, left over from the summer, with a thick cardi on top, while her mum had stuck a feather clip in her short dark hair, and thrown on a diamanté-studded black top to jazz up her sensible red skirt. Even Chris and Frank were in brighter shirts. Of the other older couple, Peggy had swapped last week’s caramel twinset for a heavily sequinned M&S one, while Baxter had added a blue silk hanky to the top pocket of his blazer. Trina was resplendent in a swirly bias-cut skirt that made her look like a gift-wrapped skittle, while Chloe had gone the whole hog with a pair of black fishnets, and put a silk flower in her curly blonde hair as well. The two of them were still looking hopefully at the door, and seemed to cheer up considerably when Greg arrived.

‘And two new people!’ beamed Angelica. ‘Welcome to the class!’

Jo and Greg were drawing attention, and not just from Chloe and Trina, who were eyeing Greg up unashamedly. Jo’s ample curves were filling out her red dress into something spectacular – the spangles made her look as if she was about to take part in some kind of professional dance competition. Greg just looked competent and at-ease, tieless and with just the right number of buttons undone. He always did look right. It was good to have them there for moral support, but at the same time, Katie felt even more conscious of her work skirt than before, and her jaw jutted defensively. At least she was wearing a skirt this week.

Trina, she saw, was glaring at her. Or she might just have been looking. She had an unfortunate face, in that respect.

‘Are you a policewoman?’ she asked Katie, straight out.

‘No!’ Katie protested.

Ross coughed, trying to disguise a giggle.

‘Oh.’ Trina screwed up her nose as if she didn’t quite believe her. ‘You look like one.’

‘Come on, Katie, where’s your nice dress?’ said Angelica. ‘Ross can hardly feel as if he’s taking his favourite girl out dancing if she’s dressed for a ten a.m. conference call! Everyone else has made the effort, look.’

‘This isn’t 1959,’ she snapped. ‘Women don’t have to put on pretty dresses to look nice. Anyway, Ross hasn’t dressed up!’

‘I have!’

Too late, Katie spotted, now he’d taken his jacket off, that he’d put on a fresh shirt – his ‘going-out’ shirt as they used to joke. He’d never owned a suit, much less formal shirts, and this was a soft sea-island cotton one she’d bought him in London for a birthday present: a pale buttery yellow that used to make her think of spring chicks. He’d even put in the pair of silver cufflinks she’d given him to go with it.

He’s trying, she thought, and felt terrible that it didn’t make much difference.

‘See?’ said Angelica, and Katie sensed a wash of curiosity from the others, as to why they were acting so childishly.

‘You’ll find it much easier to move in a swingy skirt,’ she went on persuasively. ‘And I promise, it makes the dancing easier when you have that swish about you.’ She met her eye, and Katie had the uneasy sensation that her mind was being read.

‘OK,’ Katie heard herself say, for a quiet life. ‘Next week.’

‘Wonderful!’ And in an instant, Angelica was in demo mode.

‘Now, you were all so good with your rock’n’roll basics last week that tonight we’re going to learn something new! Then we’ll go back and recap what we did so you don’t forget,’ she added, reassuringly, as Chris started to mumble nervously.

She gestured that they should all spread out in a horseshoe, so they could see her feet.

‘So, you’ve got your fast dance to do at the wedding reception, but what about something a bit smoochier, for the end of the night? Hmm? This sort of music. Think about white tie and tails, and satin dresses, and big bands, and
romance
!’