Wishing Water (13 page)

A waltz followed, then a succession of quicksteps. Lissa could see Jan changing partners, clearly enjoying herself while she herself declined every offer. Privately she wished Derry would come and ask her to dance but knew he was too busy getting his skiffle group organised. She longed for the interval when she would see him up on stage.

The memory of that kiss rose in her mind, making her stomach go all wobbly. Yet she knew for a fact he’d been out with several girls since, so it was just as well she hadn’t thought too much of it.

Even so, she wanted tonight to go well for him and didn’t envy the skiffle group facing this lot. Lissa hoped he wasn’t dressed too outlandishly. Somehow she knew that she would be embarrassed if he looked too much the Teddy Boy.

‘Would you do me the honour of this dance?’
 

Startled, Lissa was about to refuse when she looked up into a familiar face. ‘Oh, Mr Brandon.’ He looked different, smartly attired in evening dress with a silk shirt and cummerbund. His best bib and tucker, as Jan would say.

‘It’s a slow waltz, not too difficult. I noticed you don’t seem too keen on dancing but you look far too lovely to hide away in a corner. Perhaps you would care to try? I’ll be most gentle with you, I promise.’ He smiled, which made him look younger somehow. Very debonair.

‘I’m not really hiding,’ Lissa protested, smiling shyly up at him. She didn’t want to appear a complete fool. ‘Well, perhaps I was, a bit. Thanks. I’ll give it a try if you don’t mind my two left feet.’ She placed her hand in his and let him lead her out on to the dance floor.

‘No legal matters tonight. Agreed?’

‘Agreed,’ she said, her smile warming.

He guided her with perfect expertise right around the floor, not once crashing into any other couples. Nor did he step on her toes or attempt to take liberties by pulling her too close. Lissa began to relax and enjoy herself, clinging tightly to his shoulders as he whirled her around. She couldn’t help noticing that his dark eyes rested upon her in a most admiring way.

When the music ended he didn’t take her back to her seat as expected but stood smiling down at her, chatting about the weather, saying how good the band were, waiting for the music to start again.

He talked to her all through the next dance and listened most carefully to her replies, as if he were truly interested. Though what he asked and how she answered Lissa could not afterwards recall.

‘You must remember something,’ Jan insisted as they exchanged notes over a Coca-Cola in the bar. ‘You do realise who you were dancing with, don’t you?’
 

Lissa looked puzzled. ‘Yes, of course. Philip Brandon. What of it?’
 

‘He’s not normally one for dancing. You must have caught his eye.’
 

‘Don’t be silly.’ Lissa felt herself flushing.

‘He’s a very good dancer as a matter of fact. A real gentleman.’

‘He never goes out these days, though he used to at one time. Or so Derry says.’ Jan pulled Lissa close to whisper in her ear against the loud chatter of voices all about them, and above the music coming from the other room. ‘He was engaged, just after the war, to a girl called Felicity. Only she had some mysterious illness or other. Very highly strung and delicate apparently. He was supposed to be absolutely devoted to her but she died.’ Jan’s myopic eyes were wide as she nodded at Lissa’s expression of horror. ‘Found her drowned in the lake, just like the poor mad girl in that fairy story.’
 

‘What fairy story? You mean Ophelia? That was Shakespeare, not a fairy story,’ Lissa laughed. ‘Are you telling me the truth, Jan?’
 

‘Course I am.’ Jan looked affronted. ‘Just because I’m not informed on books and stuff, like you, doesn’t mean I don’t know the truth about life and death.’
 

‘Sorry. When did she die?’

‘About three years back.’
 

A wave of compassion for Philip Brandon washed through her. Why was life filled with pain? ‘How terrible. No wonder he looks sad.’

As they walked back on to the dance floor Lissa’s eyes circled the room and found him gazing across at her. She turned quickly away, blushing in scarlet confusion.

‘He’s been a lonely bachelor ever since, so watch out. Don’t get mixed up with him,’ Jan said.

‘Why not? He looks harmless enough.’
 

Jan wrinkled up her tiny nose. ‘He’s thirty.’
 

‘Then he’s probably learned a bit of sense,’ Lissa smartly replied.

As luck would have it, Philip Brandon chose that moment to ask for another dance. ‘How are you on the tango?’
 

‘My favourite dance for getting in a muddle,’ said Lissa, and cocked a cheeky grin at Jan’s stiff-faced disapproval as he led her out on to the floor.

‘But have you any sense, lass?’ Jan murmured.

The band departed at the end of the square tango. Lissa and Jan held their breath as Derry’s Skifflers sprinted on to the stage. Would he be successful? Would the Yacht Club members like him?

Lissa’s heart swelled with pride. He was dressed in smart narrow black trousers topped with a red silk shirt shot with silver thread, and a black bow tie. He carried a guitar which he started to pluck with something he held in his hand. Jan explained it was a pick, to save his fingers.

‘You should have seen them when he first started to learn. Made them bleed it did.’ But Lissa wasn’t listening. She was swaying to the lilt of the music, a Lonnie Donnegan number, thrilled by the skill with which Derry played, the way his hips swayed to the beat of the music. He looked so good up there, different from the young man in cords and sweater. It was hard to work out what kind of a person Derek Colwith really was.

Her eyes shone, her smile widened, and she nodded her head and tapped her pointed toes in time to the music. It was pulsing and irresistible. Yet the dance floor remained empty.

There were five in the group. One other guitar, played by Tony who strummed the chords while Derry picked out the melody. John, who rattled a washboard with dancing fingers tipped with silver thimbles. Another boy was getting a surprisingly rhythmic and pulsing beat from a single string attached to a tea chest and broom handle, while the fifth member of the group played his heart out on a set of drums. Even if Lissa had not known the hours they’d spent in practice she would have been able to tell. They were good, no doubt about it, they deserved to be appreciated.

‘Why didn’t I come before?’ she shouted to Jan, clapping her hands in time to the beat. ‘They’re great.’
 

Jan grinned delightedly. ‘Told you. Think of all those dances you’ve missed, sitting at home being sad.’
 

Lissa realised Jan had guessed her unhappiness but had made no comment on it. But she wasn’t miserable now. Oh no, this was glorious, this was living. Just to listen to this music made you feel happy.

She glanced about the room and found that the stuffy, over formal Yacht Club types were not even paying any attention to the skiffle group playing their hearts out. They stood about in tight little groups, their backs to the stage as they chatted to each other and laughed too loud. It was as if the group didn’t exist.

‘Why aren’t they dancing?’ forgetting that only a short time ago she had been the retiring wallflower, reluctant to join in.

Jan’s face was grim. ‘They wanted a trad jazz group in the interval and since they didn’t get one, they’re determined to make their feelings known. They like to imagine themselves above this sort of music. Derry was afraid it might be like this. If no one dances, the MC will get fed up and could sack the group on the spot. Then they mightn’t get paid and certainly wouldn’t be asked again.’
 

The prospect of Derry failing, of not being liked by this crowd, had not until that moment occurred to Lissa.

‘Then we must do something.’
 

‘What can we do?’
 

‘We must
make
them dance,’ Lissa said.

‘Oh, yeah? How? Brought your magic wand, princess?’
 

Lissa spoke without even thinking, aware only of the expression of pain and discomfort that was tightening Derry’s face, of the faltering beat as unease began to affect his confidence. ‘If no one else will dance, then we must. We’ll shame them into it.’
 

‘Go out there alone, you mean?’ Jan sounded appalled.

‘Come on, don’t just stand there. Action is called for.’ The two girls’ eyes met and mischievous excitement bubbled out of Lissa. She could have been that young girl again, daring Nick to catch her a jar of fish.

Jan hesitated, glancing anxiously at the empty dance floor, the stiff backs turned resolutely away. ‘We’d look a proper pair of clucks dancing out there all on our own. All eyes upon us.’
 

Lissa tilted her chin. ‘We won’t be on our own though, will we? Your brother is out there already.’
 

A slight pause, then a grim smile. ‘Too right he is. OK, you’re on. Let’s see how good my teaching was.’
 

The two girls stepped out on to the floor and began to jive. Not a moment too soon it seemed. The MC was already looming close, the music having lost its excitement, and everyone was expecting Derry’s Skifflers to be evicted at any moment. The whole room held its breath with anticipation, liking nothing better that a little fracas to liven up the evening.

Derry, who a moment ago would have welcomed being struck down by a bolt of lightning, missed a beat as the girls came on to the floor. Then, beaming his delight, yelled, ‘Come on, lads, let’s give it to them.’ He started singing and thrumming for all he was worth, backed by the renewed enthusiasm of his group.

‘We’ll give it everything we’ve got,’ Jan gasped, crooking her arm and catching Lissa expertly as she spun her round. They made a colourful, arresting sight in their pretty cotton frocks and can-can petticoats showing just the right amount of shapely leg as they twirled about. Not a male eye in the room missed one moment of the dance.

By the time the two girls had rock ’n’ rolled a second time around the dance floor they came close to the dais where Lissa caught the full force of Derry’s lopsided smile. He winked at her and she felt again that lovely warm feeling flow within her, that secret message flash between them as if only they existed.

Now some of the audience were smiling, picking up the beat as they started to clap.

‘They think we’re the floor show. We ought to get some of them up,’ Jan whispered, gasping for breath as they swirled and rocked and skipped about the waxed floor.

‘Oh, goodness.’ Lissa hadn’t bargained for this. ‘D’you think we should?’
 

‘Come on. Don’t weaken now. I’m game if you are.’
 

So they split up, Jan dashing off to choose a rather good-looking young man who had danced with her earlier. For a moment Lissa felt stranded, alone in the centre of the floor with all eyes upon her.

Then she became aware of a particular pair of eyes, of a dark, familiar face, and she crossed the floor in a whirl of floating colour to stand before Philip Brandon.

‘Would you do me the honour of this dance?’ she asked, very properly, face alight with laughter.

In the normal course of events Philip Brandon would have refused instantly. Not for the world would he ever risk setting himself up as a stooge. For him to rock ’n’ roll was unthinkable. But this girl was giving him such a radiant smile, such a delightful beckoning in her beautiful eyes that he could not refuse. Besides, he was flattered that she’d chosen him, and wanted everyone to see that.

‘You must show me what to do,’ he groaned, taking her hand and following her on to the floor.

‘I’ll be very gentle with you,’ she teased, and they both laughed at her repetition of his own words. As she turned into his arms he noted the firm roundness of her young breasts, the smiling pink mouth that he had a sudden urge to kiss. His arm felt extremely comfortable around her trim waist. ‘Take my hands. I’ll show you the basic step,’ Lissa said. ‘It’s very easy. Lean on this foot, then back on the other and do a kind of wiggle. Like this. Do you see?’
 

‘Yes,’ he said, eyes on her swaying hips. ‘I do.’
 

Moments later the dance floor was filled with happy, laughing people. Even the fat dowagers in regal satin and swinging pearls were attempting to learn the steps of this new-fangled dance and loving every minute of it.

‘Thank you,’ he said at the end, dark grey eyes on her flushed face. ‘I really enjoyed that. You made me feel young again.’
 

She looked surprised. ‘You are young. At least…’ She shrugged her shoulders in a captivatingly elegant gesture. ‘I never think age is of any importance, do you?’
 

He held her close for just a shade too long, the pressure of his fingers at her waist strangely compelling, before letting her go with obvious reluctance. ‘You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say that.’
 

Lissa was thoughtful as she watched him walk away. Were the idea not entirely silly she might have imagined be was making a pass. But then Derry and the group bounded up and she forgot all about Philip Brandon.