After a round of excitable hellos, the group congregated near Alex’s car, chatting away, an air of excitement in the air around them.
‘Is anyone else coming?’ asked Florrie, who was still none the wiser about what they had planned.
‘We’re just waiting for your mum and dad, and Leah and Marty, who are bringing Hayley and Josh,’ said Stella, glancing at her watch. She even managed to look well-groomed in her yoga gear, her long legs clad in smoke blue yoga pants, a matching fitted jacket showing off her slim waist to its best advantage, while her long blonde hair was scraped back into a high ponytail. At five feet ten, she towered over Florrie’s petite five feet two.
‘Hayley’s coming, too?’ Florrie was pleasantly surprised by this news. Hayley had worked at the bookshop part-time before heading to university. Like Florrie, she’d been a Happy Hartes weekend girl. Florrie had been chuffed that the youngerwoman had kept in touch and still popped in for a catch-up when she was back from university.
‘I’m sure they won’t be long, we’ve got another fifteen minutes before the session’s due to start.’ She waggled her eyebrows.
‘The session?’ Florrie asked.
‘Yup, “the session”,’ said Stella, ‘and it has absolutely nothing to do with pigs, or the herding of them.’ She pulled a relieved face. ‘Still can’t believe you actually fell for that.’
‘I’m just too gullible for my own good.’ Though Florrie smiled, she was beginning to feel distracted, wondering where her parents were – it wasn’t like them to be late, they were usually the first to arrive for anything. It was a running joke with Florrie and her mum that her dad had ‘punctuality-itis’ as they’d coined it, teasing him that there was a cream for it, which he took in good spirits. But as far back as Florrie could remember, he’d been insistent they set off ridiculously early for everything, whether it be for appointments, trains or airports.
Florrie nibbled on a hangnail, telling herself her parents weren’t late exactly, just late for them. She considered the idea they could’ve got lost en route. It was a distinct possibility since her dad abhorred the idea of a satnav and refused to entertain it. ‘There’s nowt wrong with a good old-fashioned road map. They’ve stood me in good stead for years,’ was a regular cry of his. And besides, Florrie told herself, there were plenty of twisty-turny roads and tracks on the moors which made it easy to take a wrong turn, as Bear had done at one point on their way here, and they’d found themselves having to turn around in a farmyard.
She was toying with the idea of calling her mum – provided they had phone signal around here, of course – when she felt her mobile vibrate from the depths of her backpack. She slid it off her shoulder and fished around inside for it. Tapping on the screen, she saw her mum’s name. Relief filled her chest. Her mum was probably texting to let them know they’d be with them soon, mindful they were running behind.
Florrie read the brief message, a prickle of unease creeping over her.
Hi Florrie, didn’t want to text before the lasses had a chance to tell you what they had planned for you. Am assuming you know by now. Unfortunately, your dad’s feeling a bit off colour so we thought we’d better give your celebration a miss – don’t want to pass around whatever it is he’s got. We both send our love & hope you all have a wonderful time xxx
‘Everything all right?’ asked Lark, who was standing beside her and picked up on her friend’s troubled expression.
‘I think so… well… I’ve just had a text from my mum saying my dad’s feeling under the weather so they won’t be able to make it, which is a shame.’ Florrie had thought he’d looked a bit peaky when she’d called in to see him last week.
‘Oh, flower, that is a shame. I know they were looking forward to it.’ Lark rubbed her hand up and down Florrie’s arm, her bracelets jangling. ‘He’s probably picked up the stomach bug that’s been doing the rounds. I know a lot of people have complained about having it. I’m sure he’ll be right as rain soon.’ She gave a kind smile.
‘Hmm.’ Florrie hoped that was all it was. Her dad was hardly ever ill and regularly described himself as being as strong as an ox. It was usually her mum she worried about, especially since she’d been so dangerously poorly with Stage 1B Hodgkin lymphoma when Florrie was in her last year at university. Florrie’s big fear was that it would return one day, though she tried to remind herself that her mum took great care with her health since her brush with death. She ate well, exercised and took a great variety of supplements that Charlie joked would put her in danger of rattling if she took any more.
Florrie’s mind went to the lift arrangements for that morning. It had puzzled her at the time, though she hadn’t had much of an opportunity to dwell on it with all the hilarity on theway here. She wondered when they’d been arranged. She’d been surprised that she and Ed hadn’t been put with her parents. That would’ve made more sense, and would’ve left Jenna, Jack and Jean to get a lift with Maggie and Bear along with Lark and Nate. The Landie boasted three spaces in the front and Jean could’ve sat in the comfier seat next to Mags rather than the smaller one in the middle where the gearstick was located. It would’ve meant taking one less car. Florrie guessed the travel arrangements would’ve been made in advance, which made her wonder if her parents had prior concerns about joining them before this morning, especially with her dad looking a little under the weather.
All of this was adding together and sending her mind running around in circles, but she was mindful of her friends looking at her expectantly.
Telling herself to stop overthinking, Florrie shared her mum’s message with the rest of the group, which was met with disappointment. ‘Won’t be the same without your dad’s jokes,’ Max said, with everyone agreeing, asking her to send their good wishes and a speedy recovery for Charlie.
A few moments later Leah and Hayley arrived with Marty and Josh, the girls bubbling with youthful excitement. Stella called for everyone’s attention, declaring it was time to make a move. ‘Right, now we’re all here, I can say, Florrie, it’s time to prepare yourself for a couple of hours of…’ She gave a dramatic pause while Bear obliged with a drumroll sound effect.
Florrie couldn’t help but laugh at the expectation on the sea of faces looking back at her, all eager to catch her reaction. ‘Come on, spill! It’s killing me!’ she said, giggling.
‘Okay, we’re going to be – count down with me, folks – three, two, one…’
‘Salsa dancing!’ the friends chorused loudly before giving in to a raucous round of cheers as the door to Danskelfe School of Dance opened and a young woman with a wide smile and long blonde hair appeared on the step.
NINE
‘Welcome to Danskelfe School of Dance, everyone. My name’s Anoushka Cartwright – though most people call me Noushka,’ the young woman said in a soft moorland accent. ‘And I can guarantee we’re going to have thebestfun this afternoon.’ She smiled warmly at them.
Florrie’s heart gave an excited lilt, the thought flittering through her mind that there was something familiar about Noushka. She looked over at Jasmine, the pair exchanging happy grins.
The group of friends had moved indoors and were now in the large, brightly lit dance studio, having divested themselves of their hoodies and jackets in the changing room. Black and white photos of dancers in action adorned the walls to the right and left of them above a line of ballet barres. Light flooded in through the large arched windows. Noushka stood before them with a wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors behind her. She was wearing black dance trousers and a pink T-shirt emblazoned with the dance school’s name and logo, tied at the waist, and sported black, heeled jazz shoes on her feet. Florrie would put her in her mid-twenties, and with her long flaxen waves and slim athletic figure, she put her in mindof Lark.
They were all standing in their couples – with the exception of Jean who was on her own, though Anoushka had assured Stella, who’d booked the session, that this wouldn’t be a problem. A buzz of excitement filled the room.
Noushka beamed a warm smile at them. ‘Ilovedancing the salsa; it’s my favourite dance. It’s so joyful and upbeat – you can’t help but have a great time whether you’re a learner or a professional; whatever skill level you are, it’s lots of fun.’
‘How about zero skill level and two left feet?’ asked Bear, brushing his wild mop of chin-length hair off his face. He was built like a barn door and had hands like shovels. That, combined with his thick, bushy beard, meant he was regularly compared to a Viking. ‘I’m not even joking.’ He flashed Noushka an apologetic smile.
