Famous (35 page)

‘Present from my girlfriends,’ I explained, picking up the Ben Wa balls and
Playgirl
magazines. ‘Bit of a joke between us.’

‘Must have some interesting friends,’ said Les as they walked outside.

‘Oh yes,’ I replied. ‘They certainly are.’

‘L-l-l-l-lovely to m-m-m-meet you J-J-J-J-Jane,’ stuttered Denny, staring intently at the dirt driveway.

‘And you,’ I replied.

‘Take care and…ah…enjoy your stay here,’ said Les.

‘Thank you,’ I replied, just wanting the whole hideous experience to be over.

‘And th-th-th-thanks for the c-c-c-cuppa,’ said Denny, again.

And with that, thanks be to God, they hopped back into their police car and drove away. I walked back inside and slumped down at the table. The one time I had been paid a visit from the police in my lifetime and they wound up holding my vibrator and nipple clamps in their hands. Grandma Atkins would not have been at all happy with this outcome. It had all been going so well with the chocolate afghans too.

I spent the next few days working, interrupted only by my morning-tea breaks and runs. It appeared I had unwittingly constructed myself some sort of a routine. It wasn’t the most exciting routine known to woman, but it was a routine nonetheless. I found that my morning-tea break and daily chat with Elsie was the only thing that stopped me from going completely barmy from the loneliness. She had decided to take me under her wing. Exactly why, I had no idea. It seemed she needed a project, and I was it.

‘How about you coming along to our dancing class on Friday night?’ she asked, as I sat with my pot of tea and date scone.

‘Dancing?’ I replied. On a Friday night?

‘Our dancing class in the school hall. Mrs Holyoake takes it.’

‘What sort of dancing?’

‘Just dancing for fun, you’ll see. Nothing serious. It’s a blast!’

I must have looked entirely unconvinced.

‘You’ll enjoy it!’ encouraged Elsie. ‘I promise.’

‘But I can’t dance,’ I protested.

‘Don’t worry love, neither can I. There’s not much skill involved, trust me.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive. It’s a date then!’

‘Okay,’ I replied, completely stuck for an excuse.

‘Seven o’clock sharp,’ added Elsie.

Bloody hell! I worried. I hadn’t been to a dancing class for over twenty years. Somehow I didn’t think that grade-one ballet was going to cut the mustard.

I tried my hardest to get out of going. I even strapped up my ankle and limped into the coffee shop the next day, but to no avail. Elsie was determined to drag me along, even if it was on my hands and knees.

‘Well, what else are you going to do, love? Go to the disco? Har-har-har.’

She thought this was positively hilarious. The fact I would have rather sat in the freezing dusty cabin by myself and stared at the walls did not even register on her radar.

What else are you going to do on Friday night then? I asked myself, realising she simply wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Go on a hot date with some gorgeous man who suddenly sweeps through the village only to have his BMW break down in the main street and finds himself at a loose end?

That’d be nice, myself replied.

Get real! I shouted back at myself. You’ll be sitting in the cabin staring at the bugs. You should be taking any social invitation that comes your way. God knows you need it!

So, Friday night rolled around and there I was, off to a dancing class. A dancing class! Whereas I would usually have been found drinking cocktails in one of Darcy and Samuel’s fabulous bars, before heading to dinner at some just-opened restaurant with rave reviews, here I was going to a dancing class in a country school hall. What a dive my life had taken, and in such a short space of time.

I wasn’t entirely sure what to wear to a dancing class, especially when I had absolutely no idea what type of dancing it was.

Not likely to be salsa or hip-hop, I thought to myself. More likely ballroom or rock‘n’roll.

Just to be safe I opted for black leggings, a long red T-shirt, and slip-on red trainers.

I parked outside the old wooden school hall. I was five minutes late and, judging by the cluster of stationary cars and the lack of people getting out of them, I was also the last to arrive.

I walked tentatively into the hall. There were about twenty men and women milling around inside, all wearing blue jeans and checked shirts, and all at least a good twenty years older than myself. For some strange reason, about half of them were also wearing cowboy hats and boots. Including Elsie.

Bloody fantastic! And here I was looking like Madonna’s personal trainer. I had no idea there was a dress code. Bugger it! I was already having issues blending in and we hadn’t even started dancing yet.

I spotted Elsie waving madly at me under her huge brim and walked over.

‘Hel-lo love!’ she hollered, giving me a kiss on the cheek and ramming her oversized brim into my forehead in the process.

‘Everyone, this is Jane!’

Everyone turned to greet me, the men raising their eyebrows and tipping the brims of their hats and the women showering me with lots of ‘hello luvies’.

Oh God, I thought in horror as I spotted the two policemen, Les and Denny, on the other side of the room. Have mercy.

‘Hiya Jane,’ greeted Les, sidling up next to me in full cowboy regalia.

‘Hi,’ I replied, immediately turning bright red and sinking as far back as I possibly could. There was no doubt in my mind he’d told everyone here, and the village for that matter, about my box of sex toys. I would have if I were him.

‘Hi J-J-J-J-Jane,’ stuttered Denny, coming up also. He was a dead ringer for Lucky Luke. Beige plaid shirt done up to the top button, dark jeans and cowboy hat with cord hanging under his chin.

‘Hi Denny. How are you?’ I replied, praying for the ground beneath to open up and swallow me whole.

‘V-v-v-very g-g-g-good. Y-y-y-yourself?’

‘Fine thanks.’

‘Right ev-ery-body! Let us begin!’ came a blast of voice from the front of the hall, from the mouth of what could only have been Mrs Holyoake herself. ‘Assume positions.’

Thankfully this made Les and Denny retreat to the back of the group.

‘You know why he’s stuttering?’ whispered Elsie in my ear. ‘It’s because he fancies you, love.’

I think Denny’s stutter probably had to do with something else entirely, something large and black and shaped like a penis, but I saw no need to enlighten her.

Under Mrs Holyoake’s instruction the congregation promptly divided themselves into four evenly spaced lines, with Elsie dragging me into position between her and a man with one of the largest moustaches I had ever seen. It appeared to have eaten his face. In fact there were a lot of mo’s present, I observed with horror, including Denny’s.

Perhaps it was a village trend? I wondered. Even a few of the older women had jumped on the bandwagon.

Dear God, I prayed, please never let my sight deteriorate to the point where I can’t see the presence of my own facial hair.

I glanced down our line and saw clean-shaven and moustache-less Ethan at the end. I returned his wave, relieved I wasn’t the only person under forty present. He looked almost as uncomfortable as I felt, I noticed. And then, without warning, some very frightening-sounding music burst out of the stereo beside Mrs Holyoake.

My God! I balked in dread. It sounded like country! A cross between Lyle Lovett and the
Deliverance
soundtrack. Sort of a do-si-do, but with lyrics. Bad ones. Everyone began to move, shuffling from side to side, with their forefingers looped through the belt holes on the front of their jeans.

God no! It can’t be! I thought in horror. They’re bloody line dancing! Christ above! Surely they were joking? This was far too much of a country cliché to be true.

‘C’mon love!’ urged Elsie. ‘Time to get a groove on!’

I stared back at her, aghast.

‘Thatta girl!’ she encouraged, as I reluctantly shuffled across to the right. Due to the fact I didn’t have any belt holes on my leggings, I had hooked my fingers into the waistband, not the most attractive look I had ever perfected.

Elsie beamed at me, as everyone did some sort of cowboy-style three-hundred-and-sixty degree twirl.

I decided to let that one slip me by and stayed facing forward instead.

Now they were stepping forward on their right legs into a bow-type pose, and then stepping back.

I attempted to follow suit.

When in God’s name will this torture be over? I wondered, as Elsie nudged me with her elbow and gave me a huge grin. She was clearly having the time of her life. I glanced back at her with what was supposed to be a semi-smile, but no doubt looked much more like the silent scream of childbirth. But she was far too busy jigging along to notice.

If only Mands and Lizzie could see me now, I thought to myself. What had become of me? Line dancing that’s what.

I had only witnessed this abomination once on television. I had no idea people actually did it. And for enjoyment? I was positive it was banned in the city. And if it wasn’t then it should be.

‘How much longer?’ I hissed at Elsie, as I shuffled towards her in a ridiculous sidestep.

‘Notha forty minutes, love.’

Hell! If only I wasn’t sandwiched between Elsie and the moustache I probably could have sidestepped all the way back out the door without too many people noticing.

The twirls and sidesteps seemed to be building up pace now, as the do-si-do soundtrack took on new whining heights. The odd shout of ‘Yee-ha!’ from anyone who felt like it appeared to be growing more frequent too. Elsie even let one slip, which nearly made me ricochet straight into the side of the moustache.

‘Isn’t it fun, love?’ she hollered, grabbing me by the arm, when we were finally permitted a water break.

Now was my chance to flee.

‘Hiya Jane,’ smiled Ethan, walking over to me. ‘How’s things?’

‘Great,’ I replied, as if being at a line-dancing class was just part of my normal weekly routine.

‘So, how are you finding it?’ he asked.

‘Um…good.’ This was clearly a lie. But I didn’t want to offend him.

‘You don’t have to lie,’ he whispered, with a smile. ‘As long as you don’t tell anyone I absolutely loathe line dancing.’

‘Your secret’s safe,’ I replied. ‘So, what are you doing here then?’

‘My uncle,’ said Ethan, pointing at a very handsome silver-haired man in a black cowboy hat, ‘made me come along.’

‘Couldn’t you say no?’ I asked.

‘About as easily as you could,’ he replied, raising his eyebrows at Elsie.

‘Gotcha,’ I replied. ‘I even told her I’d sprained my ankle.’

‘I doubt that even if you’d lost a leg Elsie would take no for an answer.’

I laughed. How right he was.

Our conversation was interrupted by an announcement from Mrs Holyoake that the second half of the class was about to start. Dwight Yoakum blared from the stereo. It was too late to run now. Damn it.

The line formation got underway again and I found myself standing between Ethan and Denny.

‘Hiya Denny,’ smiled Ethan.

‘Hiya Ethan,’ replied Denny, without one waver in his voice.

I guessed he didn’t fancy Ethan and had never tripped over a box of his sex toys.

‘You’ve got some rhythm there,’ said Ethan, turning to me.

‘I don’t think so,’ I replied. ‘You’re just being kind.’

‘Well, you’ve got more than me anyway,’ he said, smiling.

‘I’m the antithesis of a black woman. Whatever that’s called.’

He had a lovely smile, all dimples and straight white teeth. I smiled back. He was pretty funny too, in a sort of goofy farm-boy way.

‘So, what are you up to this weekend?’ he asked, when the whole nasty experience was over, and we were finally free to go.

‘Oh I don’t know, probably doing the crossword or something,’ I replied.

Usually when a man asked me what my plans were for the weekend I assumed he wanted to ask me out, and therefore made out I was busy as all hell and it would virtually be impossible to squeeze him into my schedule, even if all I had booked was a facial and massage with the girls. But for some reason I couldn’t be bothered lying to Ethan. I’m sure he wouldn’t have believed me anyway. I could hardly say I was busy with beauty treatments in this town.