Georgia Hill - The Rumba

“Larry!” It was Eva, her Swedish accent could never quite master his Welsh name.

“It’s Harri,” he muttered under his breath and then pinned a cheery smile on his face as he turned to his professional dance partner. His coach. His nemesis.

“We will work now, I think. Come. And Larry, hold me like a man this time please.”

Harri gritted his teeth and got into position. With any luck, he’d be so dire they’d be voted off in the first show. Then he wouldn’t have to put up with this termagant any longer. But he didn’t really mean it; already the old competitiveness, a relic from his college rugby playing days, had taken hold. He was in it to win it, he decided as he was steered round the floor by the determined arms of his partner.

“No Larry, take the lead! Hold me like you mean it!”

***

Before she knew it, Julia had completed her waltz to subdued applause from the audience and was standing in front of the judges, waiting for their comments. Her heart sank; she could see from Jan’s rigid shoulders that he wasn’t pleased with her performance.

Arthur, the senior judge, was first to comment. He had a reputation for being straight-talking but kind. “Well you had a good attempt, you sell the dance well but you were letting Jan do all the hard work. You need to something about raising your ribcage and your neckline is dreadful. Not a bad effort, work on those things and you’ll get better.”

Not that bad, Julia thought cautiously.

But the others were much harsher, even cruel. Her timing was out, her footwork was bad and they repeated Arthur’s criticism about her poor posture. Jan dropped her hand as soon as they left the main studio and went to the back room for the results. He was a silent mountain of disappointment. The scores were disappointing too – a paltry ten in total and they were in penultimate place at the bottom of the leader board, with –inexplicably - Suni and Scott taking the other last place.

“Don’t worry,” said Harri as he went past to get ready for his dance; he was up next. He squeezed her arm quickly and then left.

Jan stormed off in search of water, muttering Russian curses. Julia went to sit on the sofa with the others and got her breath back.

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