Chapter 7

After lunch, much to her delight again, Steven helped Becca tidy away and wash up the lunch things. They then settled down in the study to compile the list of children that she knew had been abused and by whom. It did not take that long. Afterwards Becca went off to do the ironing to the accompaniment of her new records. She had to put the iron down several times to dance round the room. She was very taken indeed with the Chris Barber. She particularly liked Tiger Rag with its rude noises on the trombone which made her laugh. She was also most impressed with the clarinettist. So caught up with everything was she that she did not notice that Steven had come out of his study and from some way back in the hall was watching her with a warm and pleased smile on his face.

Despite being so entranced by the music she did not forget about tea and biscuits at half past four. They had it together in the sitting room with the Chris Barber playing quietly in the background.

"Thank you again, Uncle Steven," she said. "I've been playing these records all afternoon."

"I know you have."

"Oh, crikey! Was it too loud?"

"No, my dear," he replied with a smile. "Don't worry, I'd have told you if it had been."

She smiled gratefully at him.

"By the way," he went on, "'crikey' is not really a word for my niece to use. Try 'gosh' or 'golly'.

"Sorry, Uncle Steven. I never learnt to talk posh."

"Don't worry, my dear. You don't know any better so I'll help you. There's posh and posh and the way I talk is nowhere near the top of the ladder. Listen to the news readers. That is the really proper way to speak and I don't do that having lived in Yorkshire virtually all my life. It's part of our tradition that there are different accents all over the country. It's just that some words, like 'crikey', are not really used by us nobs." He grinned at her and she smiled back.

"By the way, tonight after dinner," he added, "there's another programme on television that you might like: Z Cars."

"What's it about?"

"Policemen in patrol cars. It can be quite exciting."

"Gosh, yes!" She got the giggles and he laughed with her.

Soon afterwards she gathered up the tea things and dealt with them. She prepared dinner so that all she had to do was cook it and went to have a bath. It was still a novelty to her and she revelled in the luxury. She changed into a dress and brushed out her hair. She was pleased that it maintained the shape Miriam had given it. In fact, looking in the mirror she was pleased with the pretty and nicely dressed girl who looked back at her.

"You look very nice, Becca," she said, "but," she went on sternly, "you've got to learn to behave and speak nicely too."

That was too much for her and she pealed with laughter. She clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh golly," she thought. "Uncle Steven will hear me." The 'golly' set her off again.

Steven had indeed heard. He smiled delightedly. "She's coming out of her chrysalis," he thought happily. "I wonder what it's all about. I do hope she'll tell me."

He asked at dinner. She blushed and looked down shyly.

"I hoped you didn't hear," she said.

"I'm glad I did. I love to hear you laugh like that."

"Really?"

He nodded smiling, "So share it with me," he cajoled.

"It's embarrassing."

"Let me be the judge of that."

Haltingly she told him and he laughed heartily. She looked at him warily and then joined him when she realised that he was laughing with her and not at her.

"You're a comic," he said at last, "and I love it."

Once more a wave of warmth washed over her and she looked down to cover her confusion.

She enjoyed Z Cars. She sat next to him on the sofa and did not strain to keep her distance. As a result, from time to time their arms and shoulders touched. She was surprised to find that she rather enjoyed it and her mind wandered briefly from the programme. She wondered why it seemed more intimate than a kiss of thanks.

After the programme Steven said, "I want to try something out on you."

Forty-eight hours previously she would have been wary but no longer.

"What?" she asked.

"Another sort of music. It is actually a waltz but you would be pretty pushed to dance to it the way it's played on the piano. It's written by a man called Chopin and it was later included in a ballet of his music called Les Sylphides. I'd like you to tell me what you think of it."

"OK."

He put it on the record player and covertly watched Becca's face. At first it was full of concentration and then it relaxed into a dreamy look. The fast section brought a look of wonder to her face and then, as the music reverted, the dreamy look returned. Steven did not say a word.

"Can you play it again, Uncle Steven?"

"Of course."

He did so and watched the same range of emotions, less the intense concentration, move across her face.

"Well?" he asked at the end.

"Beautiful! It's so romantic."

"It is, isn't it?"

"How does the player... ?"

"Pianist."

"What?"

"The pianist. That's what a piano player's called."

"Oh! How does the pianist manage to play that fast bit?"

"Years of practice mostly."

"I bet. I'd love to see the dance that goes with it some day."

"You shall and that's a promise."

She beamed at him and bounced up and down on the sofa. "Oh, thank you, Uncle Steven. Um, could we do a bit of our own dancing now?"

"Why not? Mr Loss?

"Yes, please."

The first dance was a quickstep and they were much better than the previous evening.

"Your practice round the breakfast table paid off," he said.

She smiled and nodded as the music started for another one. Off they went again. Steven tried a reverse turn on her and she did it almost without thinking.

"Clever girl!" he enthused.

She smiled up at him delightedly.

Next came a waltz and they did that with confidence. The subsequent foxtrot caused her to look up at him questioningly.

"Slow quickstep," he said and off they went.

At the end he said, "Well done, Becca! With it being slower you can take bigger strides on the slows though."

"OK. Can we do it again?"

He moved the head back to the start of the track and they had another shot at it.

"Even better," he said. "You're a natural, Becca."

She blushed with pleasure.

"Dancing class the day after tomorrow. You'll go to the top of the form."