The music was uptempo and jazzy as we finally reached the floor, my hand in his the entire time. After finding our spot, where the hard wood of the dance floor met with the carpeted area of the rest of the hall, I wrinkled my nose and huffed a small sigh, “I think this might be a Charleston?”
“It’s a Foxtrot,” Thomas explained, taking my hands to ready our stance, “Less kicks.”
“Lucky for you, then...” I nodded, my eyes glaring at the everyone elses’ feet to work out what I could do. In school, there were only a few classes that had ballroom dancing it in. They always tended to focus on a waltz, which was easy and sweeping. If you could count to three and as long as you had enough patients to remember where your feet were supposed to go, you could waltz.
It had been a few years since I had a standing agreement with Nancy that we would go to some dance every second Saturday night. Although my mum always fretted over me being out somewhere and away from the safety of our shelter when a raid was called, we always managed to find somewhere to squeeze in until everything tided over. It felt like a small piece of normality in the craziness of the world. We could almost forget about the Blitzes that were above us, and how people were miles away from home. Plus, Nancy was right - it was a good way to see what the boys were up to.
Towards the end of the war, it was a growing rarity to see any boys there. It seemed like they were calling them up younger and younger each year, whisking away good boys, good boys who sometimes never had the opportunity to become good men. It was only those who had a very good excuse that were around: the injured, old or unable. Or, if you were really lucky, those who had a job important enough to warrant you being kept here. It was a scrape to find yourself a male partner to have a dance with some nights. Most days, women typically partnered up to dance with each other. Of course, the men there lapped it up, taking their time to pick their partners, dancing through long lists of girls each time. It was like their own medals and awards for their war efforts, and they wore those medals proudly.
In the days before Nancy and Mike finally decided to make their fling official at one of these dances, she’d often take me to one side and would rattle through the instructions to get me up and running for each dance. A little of the Foxtrot. The basics of the Charleston. I wouldn’t dare even attempt anything but the basic step of Swing dancing. It honestly baffled me how people managed to meet for the first time, having never known or spoken to each other, but somehow dance these elaborate, intricate dance moves so cohesively that it looked like a work of art. Nancy told me it was just a matter of rhythm and connection with your partner. She made a joke about how we were bucking the curve, her being white and able to dance and me being black and struggling not to someone wound my dancing partners. There was a bit of a joke around the veteran attendees that they would have to see if any insurers would underwrite them for dancing for me.
It was because of this that I had more of a tendency of sitting at the side, watching folk swing and throw themselves throughout the room. There was always more than a tinge of jealousy, seeing everyone mingle and frolic. On the odd occasion I did have a partner to dance with, they typically let me go after one son, full of stepped upon toes and embarrassed apologies. I would return to my table to lick my wounds, and they would limp off to find someone who could actually make it around the room without breaking their toes.
It was there that I met Jack. In the last few years of the war, our shores slowly filled up with unfamiliar faces. Canadians and Americans replaced the boys who were overseas or underground. Most of them were adored and doted upon, treated like exotic kings from far away lands. Most of them, anyway.
Jack was lucky enough to be counted among them. Despite his smaller height than most of the other men there, Jack Allen had a swagger that bested them all. He said it was something to do with him being from New York. At first, he swore to me it was Manhattan, with it’s bright, shiny lights and swanky ‘apartments’ - until he finally broke down and admitted it to being from a small suburb in Queens. He also later admitted that his swagger was something he practised just before he joined the army. He knew he would have a tough time because of his height and he had to have some kind of self-made armour on. For him, it was his jokes and his swagger.
It didn’t matter to me that he lied about being from Manhattan. It was all the same. I didn’t care much for the grandiose stories of America, like it was some promise land of milk and honey. It’d heard what happened to their blacks there. It simply didn’t seem fathomable.
“Hey,” A soft chuckle interjected my thoughts, “Head up. Don’t worry. We’ll go as slow as you like.”
I pursed my lips and grumbled petulantly, “I don’t think that’s how dancing works. You’re supposed to move to the music.”
“Well, it’s how it’ll work for us,” Thomas replied, before gesturing to me, “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“That’ll do.”
With that, he scooped up my arms, laying my left arm over his right, his left hand cupping to slot into my grasp. His right hand was placed along the crux of my shoulder blade, hovering slightly against the soft fabric as though he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to touch me there or not. Everything about his embrace was delicate and polite, making sure that there was ample room between our bodies so that he wasn’t caressed up against me.
“Alright, let’s go...” He murmured, already slowly swaying from foot to foot. “We’re doing alright.”
I smiled and nodded, glancing over towards the other couples, “If we’re not comparing ourselves to all the...professional ballroom dancers-”
“And we’re not. We’re doing our own thing here and we’re doing it quite well, actually.”
“Well, I mean this is hardly hard-”
“Oh, we can start to ramp it up, then,” Thomas offered, his feet now starting to pick up tempo and move faster. His arms slid down mine and he gently pushed me out, holding me away at arms length so that he could kick his leg out.
“No!“I yelped, letting go of his arms automatically with a grin, “You said this wasn’t a kick-y one!”
“Well, you were getting so smug with your little two-step-”
“You inflated my ego-”
“If that’s the case, you’ve made it very easy to inflate,” He scoffed, bringing me back in original stance, “We’ll stick our little shuffle. You were really acing that.”
“Thank you. It makes it easier to talk as well.”
“Is that the excuse you use at all the dances?”
“Oh, of course. I’m much, much better at talking.”
“Mmm, we’ll see about that... you seemed pretty bowled over at the table.”
My brows furrowed, as we swayed in our little corner, “What do you mean?”
“I hardly heard your voice all night. But lil’ Liz, on the other hand...”
“Ah. Well, Liz takes after my mother. You could put either of them in an empty room and they’ll find some way to talk the wallpaper off the walls.”
“So it’s an inherited thing, hm?”\
“Seems like it. But me and Luis are quieter...”
“And Nancy?”
“Nancy? Well...she’s...she’s Nancy.”
“Yeah...I don’t think there’s any other way to describe that whirlwind.”
“Oh, there are many ways, but not many of them are ‘Nancy-approved’.”
“She does seem like a force to be reckoned with. Her husband often looks a little scared.”
“She has a glare that could stop a man’s heart where he stands.”
“Hm. Well, if only Churchill knew we kept our secret weapon over here all along...”
“Oh, sir! You’re not implying that Nancy Laughton should have these Great British Isles to fight for her Majesty? England would’ve fallen without her,” I tutted dramatically, shaking my head.
“Of course, of course. Well, it makes sense that I didn’t go very far with my military career. It does require such high level strategic thinking about such operations.”
“How far did you get, exactly?” I asked, glancing along his coat to try to decipher any of the insignia brandished on his shoulders and chest.
“Lieutenant. Which, isn’t as impressive as you think. I was part of the medic corp, so it was...pretty much a default.”
I leaned back slightly to look up at the man before me, my brow furrowed as I cast a glance over his face. Whilst there were some small flecks of grey shining through his hair, there were little to no other signs that could give away his age. Under my gaze, a smile spread on his face as he allowed himself to be inspected, jutting his chin out hold his head taut.
“Well?”
“Our local GP was in his 50s when he was called to be in the corp-”
“Ah. I was...still a student when I was called. Stayed at a local hospital down in Chelsea, then as soon as I was considered to be done, I was shipped out to France. They suddenly aren’t as worried about you completing the whole process when there’s a war going on. Which is hardly ideal, as you could imagine. I’m fairly certain I may have left a cotton swab in a man on the field one day... but that stays between us.”
“My lips are sealed. Makes sense that you weren’t promoted beyond Lieutenant.”
“Yes, I reckon that was a fair decision - hmm,” His chuckle at my chiding was cut short and transformed into a grunt through gritted teeth. He had turned me little unexpectedly and the tip of my heels jammed into his leg.
“Oh God - sorry! I’m sorry. Sorry,” I chanted, my grip on his shoulder and hand tightening.
“It’s fine. I’m a doctor. I’ll patch it up.”
“I just wasn’t expecting-”
He chuckled, shaking his head, “It’s fine. You did warn me.”
“I did.”
“I just thought we were doing so well... so I’m going to warn you next time, okay?”
I nodded forlornly, glancing down between us to his foot, which he gave a slight shake under my gaze.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get the feeling back soon, hopefully,” He teased, a whisper of a smirk on his face, “In the meantime you should tell me more about you. What do you do?”
“Well...I studied to become accountant, but um... I work as a secretary in a small family law firm, watch over their accounts as well.”
“Ah. So you’re a double threat? Smart and a mean kick-”
“Oh, it wasn’t that hard, was it?”
“I’ll need a second consultation to make sure it’s not due to be amputated, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“I’m so glad you’re putting a brave face on.”
“Of course. Stiff upper lip. It’s the Englishman’s way. And being ever so gallant, it’s also my time to get you I’m going to spin you and we’ll do a fancy dip. You ready?”
“You promise you won’t drop me?”
“You have my word. I promise.”
His wink at me brought a wide smile to my face. As he promised, he counted to three and twirled me around, bringing a short gust under the skirt of my dress to spray it around too. It felt like I was suspended in air for a second, like I was a ballerina in a music box, sprung to life to spin forever and ever...until-
I was brought back in, the line snapped and the box closed over. The world was tipped on it’s axis as Thomas leaned forward, dipping me down towards the floor, his arms cradling my back. He held me there, hovered for a while as his eyes traversed across my face as the bar riffed on the conclusion of the song.
The transition to being righted was as smooth as everything else, utterly seamless and without any feeling dizziness, “Well...look at us. Fred and Ginger would be jealous.”
“It wasn’t half bad, considering I have two left feet and I brought you down to one.”
“Should I check your ego again, or are you okay?”
“I think I might survive.”
“Good,” Thomas nodded, giving me a lopsided smile that I swear made the room a little brighter, “Because I think it was exquisite.” It was so hard not to smile back.
As the music slowed, it felt as though the whole world did. The Lieutenant tilted his head down ever so slightly, so I could feel his warm breath against the bridge of my nose. His pink tongue flickered out, catching those soft lips for a moment and I could just see the lump in his neck quiver as he hesitated. I could feel the anxious energy in his arms, in how he seemed to want to say something but was scared to voice it before some kind of determined resolution covered his face.
“May I...draw you in closer?”
I could feel my breath catch in my throat, but I nodded mutely, allowing his leading hand to be drawn in closer to our bodies, his other hand smoothing down the slope of my shoulder to rest on the curve of my spine, letting myself be drawn in closer to his warmth. I could feel his fingers searching through the velvet of my green dress, splaying out wide before he raked his nails back through the soft, green material, like his was digging through grass for some buried treasures. They stopped after a moment, like they had finally found what they were looking for.
Pressed closer to him, now rectifying our stances, I could feel the warmth radiating from his cheek against the crook of my nose and smell the clean scent of soap from his hair mixing with the musky sent of his cologne. When he breathed, his chest swelled and grazed against my frame, and I could feel the soft, sweet puffs of air curling against my hear with every exhale. It took every fibre of my being not to melt into his hold and rest my cheek against his shoulder, the crown of my head into the crux of his neck, in that old familiar embrace that lovers have. That I had with Jack all those years ago.
I closed my eyes, trying to whisk away those thoughts in my mind.
Where we were so talkative before, a silence stretched between us, accented only by the soft wail of the trumpets. I was so aware of everything within our little space, of the feeling of his lips mouthing the words against the curve of my ear.
“...those charms about you...will carry me through... to Heaven. I’m in heaven...”
The softness of his voice, lulled me into closing my eyes, simply wanting to enjoy the moment as it happened, with us gently swaying to Cheek to Cheek.
The spell was broken as the music changed, introduced with a rasp on the drums. It was like the lights had been turned back on, brightening up the room once more, welcoming everyone else back into existence, like they had all left and we were there alone. And now that they were back, now that they had appeared once more, I could feel the sting of a thousand eyes prickling my back, searing into my face.
Someone shook their head, the lips pursed tightly. Others made furtive glances, their lips moving tersely. I could feel the tension in fists and jawlines across the room.
“Ruth...” Thomas voice was deep and gravely, “I-I’m sorry if I-”
“Would you excuse me? I um...I have to visit the ladies...”
“Ruth-”
“I’ll be a minute.”
As I slipped away from his embrace, I walked through the crowd that seemed to part for me, ever aware of my presence. I was thrown back to that memory of Nancy coming up to me in Primary school and declaring that my blackness wouldn’t rub off on anyone else. My pace quickened as I worked my way through the hall, slipping out into the foyer and tread down the hall to find the ladies’ room until I found myself sitting on top of a closed toilet seat, staring at the heavy, dark wooden door.
The bitterness in my mouth clung to my tongue, tainting the sweetness that was there before. It felt like I had to remind myself constantly, incessantly that moments like that were never bound to last, that at any second the rug would be pulled away from under me and the world would remember to put me in the place it thought I belonged in. When we were younger, Mum always tried to distract us from the stares and tuts that would follow us as we went out as a family. But there came a stage when Dad had to sit us down one day, after a particularly bad walk home from watching Luis play football.
“The Frasers hold der heads high. We don’ let ’em see us down. I never done dat and neither will any o’ you. Da best way to get ’em is to be betta den dem. You do dat, and you’ll be doin’ alrite.”
In Dad’s eyes, revenge was a dish best served with sugar and a sweet smile. He was likely right about that.
When I finally managed to calm myself down, to take a deep breath and shake away the feeling of eyes on me, I slipped out from my stall and took the chance to drink in my own surroundings. The opulence of this bathroom was surprising. Two large, golden gilded framed mirrors hung above two porcelain sinks. The yellowed clam-shell style up lights were bathing the room in a soft glow - likely specifically chosen to help hide imperfections in the room and in yourself. I’d hear Grace say several times that the enemy of every woman was harsh lighting. Somehow, I couldn’t help but find myself agreeing with her in that moment as I stared at myself in the mirror.
The hand soaps were shaped like little shells and flowers. White, fluffy towels were sitting on the side of each sink, looking plush and heavenly like little clouds. Under the sinks was a bin that contained more them, waiting to be taken away and washed. Those were the whitest, fluffiest towels I’d seen in such a long time. Back home, our towels were either soft and slightly grey, or white and stiff with bleach. These though, these towels seemed so inviting and warm-
“Are you just going to stand there holding that towel all evening?”
The click of heels closed the gap at my elbow and Helen placed down her purse on the counter top the sinks were in to zip it open in one fluid movement and pick out her lipstick. She puckered her lips and leaned in towards the mirror, gliding the red lipstick along her already perfectly red lips.
My fingers clenched into the towel as I continued to glare at her from the corner of my eye, “I might, yeah. See how I feel about it, but I might.”
Her lipstick stopped mid-swipe, hovering away from her face as she turned, just a fraction towards me. I could actually see words dancing on her open, pouted lips, I could hear her mind whirl and spin as she tried to pick them carefully. She was selecting her weapon. I ran the towel endlessly around my hand, looping the material under and over each finger. She remained silent, though, and in that silence my mind spun. Hours ago, this woman was resolute in not allowing me and my family to enter this party, was on the cusp of throwing us out. Now I stood inches away from her, I felt the overwhelming urge to set the world to rights, to explain to her that my family didn’t deserve to be accosted, that we were just as equal as anyone else in that room.
“My family-”
“I’ve known Tommy my whole life. His father and my father went to school together. Our families are close.”
I twisted slightly, turning to face her profile as she continued to primp and preen. She wiped a finger along the outline of her lips, delicately swiping away any stray lipstick there.
“Close enough, in fact, that we often spend Christmas together. And people like you? People like you are never there at the table. In fact, people like you would clean the table afterwards, when everyone was long gone from the room and no one ever had to see even you. All we had to do, was come back to make sure the silverware was still there.”
Helen picked up a towel and delicately patted it against her red lips, smearing a bloody gash into the fluffy whiteness. With one last look into the mirror, as she flicked away a clot of mascara that congealed on her eyelashes, threw her stained towel into the bin and gathered her belongings to plop them into her purse. In the silence that stretched between us, she strode towards the door, but stopped to turn and smile so sweetly as she added, “Just so you know, I think that they count the towels here. Just in case.”
********
“I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”
I started quickly, turning away from the view of the dark fields and silhouettes of trees against the light of the moon. The cold, freshness of the air washed away any of the warmth that was clinging to my skin, and I folded my arms against the chill. My body felt tight and stiff, but I nodded at Thomas who wandered closer to me, away from the building and towards the broken concrete pathway that led down towards the pastures.
“Sorry. Needed some fresh air.”
I could see the outline of his frame, and the soft nod he gave as he stared out with me, towards the night’s sky, “Understandable. It was starting to get quite clammy.”
“Mm. It was quite warm.”
“Yes. Here is...much more...fresher.” A half sigh, half groan was emitted to the air and I glanced at Thomas out of the corner of my eye to see him with a pained, eyes closed expression as he bowed his head.
“Indeed.”
It was easy to sense a tension in the air, something nervous and buzzing. It was probably made easier to work this out because Thomas kept taking a breath, as though he was about to say something before he decided against it. Suddenly, he let out a small tisk, clapped his hand to his thigh and turned to me, “Ruth, I just want to say...that I’m sorry if I did anything wrong or something to make you feel uncomfortable earlier. That would never be my intention and- s-sorry? Did I say something funny?”
I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to bite back the “No! No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have - I’m not laughing at you. You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It’s just... I-I um... I don’t know. It’s like...I felt a lot of people watching us.”
The Lieutenant’s shoulders softened and his hands found their way into the pockets of his trousers as he furrowed his brow, “I suppose there were but...you could hardly blame them. We’re a good looking pair, and when people have the opportunity to see the moves we were pulling - did you just snort? now, that one really wasn’t that funny.”
“I didn’t snort!”
“You did! It was a little,” he snuffled, pressing his hand to his nose as he imitated me, his shoulders shoogling in a dainty way, as he took on a high pitched voice”*Oh, Tommy, you’re just *hilarious!”
I scoffed, looking at him in amused disbelief, “I don’t sound like that!”
“Oh, I just think you’re the finest dancer.”
“And I certainly didn’t say that - maybe it was your ego we should have kept in check all night.”
He held up his hands in innocence, a cheeky grin on his face, “It’s not my fault. I knew you were thinking it.”
“Is that something they taught you in medical school, now?”
“Only the half that I got in the military. Comes in quite handy every now and then.”
“Oh, I’ll bet,” I scoffed again, “Then you’ll know what I’m thinking of right now, then?”
“Of course. You’re wondering how you got so lucky to dance with the most handsome man in the room tonight. You were really quite lucky,” he deadpanned, swinging a leg over the small stone fence that separated the car park from the rest of the plush and verdant green lawn grass that stretched before the marshy fields.
For the life of me, as hard as I tried, I couldn’t get rid of the smile on my face from his audacity.
“Do you know anything about astronomy?”
I chewed my lips, trying to cast my mind back. Sucking my lip, I gently shook my head, “Beyond what they taught us in school? I don’t think that there’s much I can remember. I think I can just about remember the order of the planets...”
“Great. Then what little I remember is going to be really impressive...” He muttered, patting a space on the wall before his spread legs to get me to sit down. I did, with some measured distance between us, dipping the heels of my shoes into the grass as I looked out at the velvety dark sky that was studded with stars. He waited for me to settle in before he started, raising a hand to point things out, “That’s the North star there. We’ll use that as a reference. If you get lost, we can always go back to that one. Now...if you look down a little, you’ll see three bright stars in a line...and then a square going off it right there... d’ya see? Good. Okay, then we have two arms...and two legs from that... that’s Hercules.”
“Hercules?”
“Mmhm.”
“Like, the half-God, half-man, Hercules?”
“The very same.”
“Hm. He doesn’t seem so...heroic here. It’s hard to tell which are arms and which are legs...where’s his head?”
“Ah. Well, you’re right there. It’s a bit harder to see it all now-a-days. Pollution from the factories have messed up how we can see the stars so... he used to have a head, but now, not so much. He used to have a lot more stars, actually.”
I nodded a little, staring out to the sky to try and find the rest of the twinkling lights to make him whole again.
“I guess it’s rather fitting,” Thomas murmured after a moment.
I tore my eyes away from the sky to see his profile, his soft, white skin glowing in the moon light. I almost didn’t dare to ask, not wanting to disturb his mind, deep in troubled thought, “What do you mean?”
He huffed a small, weary sigh, that spiralled into the air, wisping away from his open lips. He hesitated a moment, his tongue flickering out to touch each of his lips before he elaborated, “That he’s losing his stars. I wonder what it must have been like back then, when he shone the brightest. Most people would have...worshipped him? Or believed in him at least. The stories would’ve been passed around more, anyway and people could point to those stars and see him all and tell the story, like those stars were proof. Not many people do that any more. So, maybe as his story fades, so does his stars.”
I turned to look back out at the faded hero, ruminating on Thomas’s macabre musings, “Hm. That...that seems pretty sad. And wrong, I think.”
“How so?”
“Well...you said that the pollution was changing how we can see the stars, right? So...his stars are still there. They’re still burning as brightly as they ever did. It’s just us. We can’t see them as well, but they still exist. It’s up to us to uncover them again, I suppose?” I asked, tilting my head back towards Thomas, who was looking at me with furrowed brow.
He was gravely silent for a while, his glaze not straying from me, even when I turned back to look at the field of lights before us.
“Plus,” I added, folding my arms close to my body for warmth, “I think they have movies about him every once in a while and you can’t go to any sporting events without someone being called ‘Herculean’, so...he’s hardly obscure.”
“I guess you’re right,” He nodded, not a single hint of humour or mirth in his voice, his brows knitted in serious thought. He was quiet once more for a second before blurting out, like he was embarrassed for realising so late, “You’re cold.”
“Yeah it’s...it’s a bit chilly now. I’ll go to nip back in, grab my coat-”
Before I could even get up from our perch, Thomas had started to take off his coat and draped the shoulders over mine, “Here... they teach you how to deal with the cold in the army. It might seem impossible, but some nights there were even colder than it could get here.”
“Are you su-”
“Of course. Plus...I like sitting with you here. Look, I’ll show you some more stars. Now, this one’s...”
Time must have ran away from us. Before we knew it, behind us cars were brought back to life, beaming their headlights throughout the darkened night.
“Well, I think that’s my cue,” Thomas admitted, standing up and offering me his hand to help me as well, “I’m on driving duty tonight and I think the Wright brothers may want a quick get-a-way.”
“You’re their ride home?”
“Of course. My mother only sent me from London to fulfil my duty to them as their nephew and make sure they get home in one piece. For them being two grown men, it’s harder than you’d think but they seem to be on their best behaviour this evening. At least there was no thinly veiled threats...”
“So you’re related to the Captain?”
“Yes, that’s generally what being a nephew means.”
“Well, you didn’t make it very well known, is all. How do you know that it wasn’t his idea to pay for the drinks tonight.”
“That’s easy enough - Uncle Ken made it up on the spot. Truly, a work of genius if you think about it. Saves uncle Ronald’s arse, but still manages to stick it to him, just a bit,” He grinned, helping me back over the wall so we could make our way back towards the crowds that were spilling out from the hall, “I think...if I’m not mistaken...that that is your mother over there pointing towards us.”
“I don’t think I even need to look over to tell you you’re right about that,” I sighed, feeling a warm blush spread along my cheeks under my mother’s eye, “If I were you I’d run off now before she asks if she should buy a hat...”
“I’ll make a hasty exit, then,” He chuckled, his lopsided grin again taking up residence on his face, “I...very much enjoyed our astrology lesson.”
“I did as well. It was certainly a nice surprise to come out of the evening.”
“I’m glad. I hope it made up for you not getting the afternoon tea.”
“Not quite, but I suppose I have the jam to make up for that.”
“I suppose you do. Right...I see your mother heading this way, so I’d best be off,” He smirked, placing his hand back into his trousers as he walked backwards from our little bubble, “Have a nice evening.”
“You too...oh! Y-your um...your coat?”
With a little dismissive wave, the Lieutenant shook his head and turned away, “You keep a hold of it. It suits you well...”
I stood in the car park, watching him melt into the crowd. It was just as he was finally out of sight that I felt my Mum’s gloved hand tug at me, her effervescence fizzing in the air, “Ruth Miriam Flores! Your Dad has been grumpy the whole night since you disappeared and now we find out outside here with Tommy! Oh, watching you two dance on that dance floor...that was something-”
“Ye’ stealin’ clothes from soldiers now, Ruth? Ye’ know dat’s naht right.”
I chuckled, shaking my head as Dad swaggered over to the car with a sleepy Liz nestled into his shoulder. As he approached the car, his keys fell to the ground and he took a moment to stare at them in contempt before trying to adjust Liz so he could bend down and get them. It seemed to be quite the challenge, given how much he had drank that night.
“Downright disgraceful, Ruth. We’re supposed to celebrate our vets, not beat them up and steal from them...” Luis tutted in my ear, before jogging towards the car and picking up the keys, the jars of jam tucked safely under his arm.
“Ignore him. I thought that you two looked lovely together, you know,” Mum smiled, squeezing my arm, “Nancy! Nancy, I’ve got her here!” she shouted through the crowd, giving me a one more squeeze before letting go, “I’ll give you two five minutes - she’ll want a word with you, you know! As do I, but we’ll have the whole drive home!”
Like a bull in a china shop, Nancy came stottering through the crowd, making a beeline towards me. her arm linked with mine as soon as she reached me, her wide, drunken eyes glaring straight into my soul as she yanked me away from the direction of the car that my family plodded towards, her grip tight on my arm as she babbled away.
“Once we left the dance floor and couldn’t find you, Mikey said you were dancing with the Lieutenant! You were with him there for ages - yous both danced loads! And when he pulled you in for that slow dance? Ugh! It was like something out of a movie! What did yous talk about? Are you going to be seeing him again, then? I mean, of course you are-”
“Nance, Nance...you’ve gotta slow down,” I laughed, shaking my head. I could basically feel her bubbled and pop at my side, her grin as unshakeable as her grip on my arm.
“Slow down?! Are you kidding? Ruth, it was like something out of a movie and- wait. Wait is that his coat?” I was hardly able to even nod before she squealed once more, clapping her hands together, “This is great! Well, now you guys have to meet up so you can give it back! And then he’ll obviously take you out for dinner and before we know, wedding bells-”
“God, Nance. When did you turn into my mum? We need to get your head checked if you’re starting to hear bells... I won’t be meeting up with him. Look - we’ll talk about this later. Dad’s in no fit state to drive, so I’ll have to be Louie’s backseat driver.”
Nancy’s nose wrinkled in distaste at me cutting through her fun, but Mike seemed grateful that I managed to cut her off when I did. Lacing his arms through his wife’s he nodded a little, “Alright, time to get you home. You can bother Ruth tomorrow.”
“Maybe once she’s had her breakfast and kept it down, at least.”
Mike’s a paled at the prospect, his arms wrapping tighter around his drunken wife, as he whispered in a chilling confession, “I think I forgot the HP.”
“My brown sauce?!”
“Oh, woe betide you, Michael.”