Finally, it’s our turn. Ben takes my hand as I hop down from the stool, leading me to the centre of the stage under the heat of the overbearing spotlights and the scrutiny of six huge-lensed cameras each pointing squarely on us, from every available angle.
‘I give you Ben Battle and Shelly Williams,’ Aaron calls into his microphone and the crowd clap raucously. Wolf-whistling screeches through the air again. There must be a few of my Instagram followers here, because the welcome is certainly warm.
‘It’s early days, guys, but tell us how you’re finding the competition so far,’ Aaron says.
I clear my throat and Ben nods as if encouraging me to answer first. ‘It’s unbelievable. The costumes, the dances, the people.’
Ben nods and cuts in seamlessly. ‘It’s great to be here. Shelly is the best partner I could have ever hoped for. This show is notoriously a lot of fun and it’s living up to every expectation so far.’ He winks in the direction of the largest camera.
‘Yes, you two certainly look like you were having fun, if this week’s newspapers are anything to go by.’ Teddy sniggers and wiggles his eyebrows at the audience.
I know they’re trying to drum up drama for maximum viewers but this is not going to help my newly fragile marriage.
‘Don’t believe everything you read.’ There’s a cautious edge to my tone.
‘Ahh, but a picture tells a thousand words, right?’ Ben nods at a huge screen behind us where the image printed in yesterday’s newspaper has appeared in all its technicolour glory. The crowd giggle and a few ‘ah’s’ sound around the high ceilings.
Through the glinting of the bright lights, I just about spot someone in the crowd rising, pushing their way out to the end of the aisle. I’d recognise that outline anywhere, having traced it with my very own hands a million times. I should have recognised his wolf whistle too.
Marcus is here, but he’s leaving before I even perform. Yesterday’s national speculation was tough enough, but Ben’s outrageous stirring has finally tipped him over the edge.
‘Time will tell.’ Aaron winks at the audience. ‘There’s no such thing as privacy around here. Now, guys, you’ve been given the Argentinian tango. Would you care to show us a few steps?’
We perform a snippet of our routine, the first part because it’s the bit we’ve practiced the most. I mess up my steps but Ben guides me on, without faltering himself. The audience clap but I barely hear them. Ben answers the rest of the questions Aaron throws in our direction and we make our way back to our stools.
I, for one, am ready for a drink.
