Chapter 8

The day of the first dancing class dawned and again Becca was very excited. After the monotony of the home, every day was exciting but she had discovered dancing and she loved it: the music, the rhythm and the dreams it conjured up. She was held in the arms of a man and she felt, as he had put it, confident. That still was not the right word. Secure. That was it; plus a warm tingly feeling.

That afternoon, long before it was necessary she had a bath. The water had not heated up and so it was a quick one. She put on a dress and debated on shoes but sensibly decided not to wear the heels. She would hate to stumble because she was not used to them. She wondered whether Steven would be able to dance with her. She hoped so. She really did like being in his arms. That was the secure bit.

They arrived at The Alhambra and Steven booked Becca in.

"What about you?" the receptionist asked.

"The young lady's chauffeur," replied Steven which brought a smile from the woman.

"It's the fathers that cop the waits," she said.

Stephen nodded sadly.

"You're not my father. You're my uncle," hissed Becca vehemently as they moved away.

Steven smiled at her but said nothing. "Thank God," he thought and then mentally kicked himself. He felt a feeling of self-loathing. "This girl is breathtakingly beautiful," he thought, "and I could take advantage of her so easily but I never, never must."

Becca stayed with him until the class was called together. The instructress was a woman of indeterminate age. She was lithe and fit but Steven suspected that without make-up she might be quite a lot older than she looked. She also had a stentorian voice which Steven thought was clearly an advantage if she was to get through the initial hubbub and then be heard above the music.

The instructress called the gathering to order. "My name is Giselle," she said. "I have done a lot of ballroom dancing, Latin-American dancing and also ballet. I hope to teach you at least some of the things I learnt. Hands up those who have never danced before."

Becca glanced questioningly at Steven who shook his head. She shrugged and smiled.

"Right, all of you who raised your hands come into the middle with the rest of you on the outside."

Becca made sure to be on the edge of the novices. Giselle started with the quickstep and had them all coming forward and going backwards. This took some twenty minutes and then she launched into the forward turn.

"OK," she said. "Boys seek a partner."

Three boys immediately descended on Becca. All three were sixteen or seventeen. One of them was much Becca's height, had flaming red curls, wore glasses and had clearly made a major effort to even attempt to approach Becca. She smiled sweetly at the other two.

"Perhaps later," she said and turned to the redhead. The other two shrugged their shoulders and moved off in search of another partner.

"Hello," she smiled. "I'm Becca."

"Tom."

"Hello, Tom. You weren't in the beginners' group. Have you done a lot of dancing?"

He shook his head. "I only started last term," he said shyly.

"Oh well! You'll be lots better than me. I only started three days ago."

They had no time for further chat before Giselle took command again. A number of assistants had materialised and the students all began to dance with Giselle bellowing instructions.

Suddenly she stopped the music. "All of you," she said, "dancing is a contact sport. You can't dance properly unless you are close enough for the men to lead and they can only do that with their chests and a bit of help from their left arm. Ladies, don't be coy. I'm not asking anyone to misbehave but, as I say, dancing means body contact so don't be shy. Now, back into the hold."

Her assistants went back into action. Tom went puce with embarrassment when he was told he was holding Becca much too loosely.

The class went on. Giselle did not allow people to change partners. Time was too precious.

When the class ended Tom thanked Becca shyly. "Come and meet my uncle," she said.

Her previous two suitors bore down on her again. "We're going to meet my uncle," said Becca friendlily. "Come with us."

With a certain amount of foot-shuffling they declined. Steven watched the pantomime with amusement.

"Uncle Steven, this is Tom." She turned to him. "I'm sorry. I don't know your surname."

"Edwards."

"Edwards."

Steven smiled and held out his hand. "Hello, Tom Edwards," he said. "How do you do?"

"How do you do, sir?"

"Did she allow you to lead?"

"Uncle Steven!"

Steven grinned unrepentantly. "Well, Tom?"

Tom, despite his shyness, could not help but grin back. "Some of the time, sir."

"Ooh!"

"And did you tread on her toes?"

"Several times, sir, I'm afraid."

"You never did."

Tom smiled at her but said nothing. She smiled back.

"He's actually pretty good, Uncle Steven, and he's only been doing it one term."

"Did you both enjoy it? That's the main thing."