Julia Williams - Strictly Love

The women sat down and looked around the room. Predictably, there were more women than men. The dearth of decent ones ensured they all at least had partners. The room was lined with women sitting alone.

‘Oh God,’ said Emily, ‘this feels like the school disco all over again. I am so going to feel like a wallflower tonight.’

‘You'll be fine,’ Katie assured her. ‘Though I'd be a bit cagey about what you tell people about yourself, if I were you. In my experience a lot of these things tend to be full of sad blokes on the pull.’

‘What, you mean like those two?’ Emily nodded towards the door where two men had just entered. One of them was rather plumpish and balding, though the other –

‘Actually, the one on the left looks quite dishy, don't you think?’ Katie nudged her friend. ‘If I wasn't married already, I wouldn't say no.’

The one on the left was tall and dark, and looked ill at ease. Unlike his friend, who strutted confidently into the room and looked around him with a cheeky grin, eyeing up the talent. As if aware of the women's scrutiny he whispered to his friend then turned towards them and winked.

Katie and Emily snorted into their hands.

‘I see what you mean,’ said Emily. ‘Right, my name is Amelia Earhart and I'm a pilot.’

‘Aren't you a bit lost, then?’ said Katie.

‘You're not the first to say so,’ Emily replied. ‘Come on, I think it's time we got going.’

Isabella was busy rounding people up and organising them into groups. Katie and Emily followed her.

‘God, I hope I don't make too much of a fool of myself,’ said Emily. ‘I have a feeling I might regret this.’

Mark had been having similar thoughts all day. He had very nearly cried off when he'd got home from a hideous day at work. Despite accepting his decision the previous week to pull out her tooth, Jasmine had put in a complaint to Head Office to say that not only was she unhappy with Mark's treatment, but he had been 'really brutal, know what I mean?’ It wasn't the first time she'd made a complaint, and as she didn't really have any grounds to do so, Mark was intending to ignore it, but it was tedious nonetheless and he could have done without it.

However, Rob was having none of it when Mark tried to get out of going.

‘You're coming out tonight, and that's that,’ said Rob. ‘So quit moaning and get your coat.’

Mark felt even more ill at ease when they walked through the door and saw the place was heaving with women, many of whom were dancing already. Rob had insisted Mark couldn't go in the jeans and trainers in which he felt comfortable, so he'd dug out a pair of smart trousers he barely ever wore and a pair of ancient brogues. Rob himself was dressed in black chinos, a dark blue shirt and tie, and black shoes with a Cuban heel. He had piled on the aftershave, evidently hoping to make a conquest. Mark looked around the room. There were hardly any other men there, so Rob wasn't likely to have much competition. But it made Mark feel more self-conscious than ever. He was going to stick out like a sore thumb.

Rob had no such worries. He swaggered through the room, smiling at the women he knew, and trying to catch the eyes of those he didn't. He nudged Mark.

‘See those women over there,’ he said. ‘Gagging for it. They‘ve been watching us since we came in the room.’

Mark glanced over at the women in question: a slim, dark brunette with a smart bob wearing a sleek black dress, and a rather plumper blonde, dressed in a frumpy skirt and baggy top. She was also quite pretty, and would have probably looked slimmer if she'd been standing up straight. Rob nodded over to them, and then turned back to Mark. ‘Keep 'em keen, that's the trick of it. I've got them interested, and now I'm going to ignore them. They're bound to come running.’

Mark wasn't so sure. The women had gone off into peals of giggles, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being laughed at.

‘Oh, and a word of advice,’ added Rob. ‘If you do start chatting someone up, for God's sake don't tell her you've got kids. She'll run a mile.’

Thinking that the chance of even talking to a woman was about zero, Mark nodded absently. He wished he was anywhere but here.

‘Ooh, I didn't have you down as a dancer,’ a familiar voice squawked in his ear. Mark turned round. A tarty-looking blonde was eyeing him speculatively. Where did he know her from? Working in the same town he lived in meant he was always running into people he vaguely knew, and he could never work out if he had filled their root canal or met them over the fish counter in Sainsbury's.

‘Your Beth looking forward to going to the Isle of Wight?’ Oh. Right. School. Mark delved into the furthest recesses of his brain. She had a son in Beth's year. What was her name?

‘Yes, I think so,’ said Mark politely, though he couldn't remember Sam mentioning the trip.

‘It's about time I made an appointment,’ the woman continued. ‘You'll be telling me off again about the state of my molars.’

Oh bugger. A patient as well.

‘I'm a bit booked up at present,’ said Mark, ‘but give the surgery a ring. Diana may be able to find you a cancellation.’

Mandy Allwick. That was it. A single mum whose predatory nature was renowned. That was all he needed. Maybe he should palm her off on Rob. It would serve him right for getting Mark into this mess.

‘Save a dance for me, Doctor Davies,’ was Mandy's parting shot, as she wandered over to the double doors at the end of the room, where a petite dark-haired woman was sorting people into groups.

Forbearing to mention that he wasn't technically a doctor – calling dentists doctor was a stupid fashion that had come over from America, along with too much litigation – Mark got up and followed Rob into the crowd.

This was going to be a long evening.

‘Tonight, chicos , we will start with the social foxtrot,’ announced Isabella with a smile. ‘For those of you who‘ve come for the first time, it is quite simple and is danced in four/four time. Take your partners – if you are two women one of you will need to learn the man's steps, but remember it is always the man who leads.’

‘That had better be you,’ said Emily to Katie, who was suddenly feeling ridiculously nervous about the whole thing. ‘After all, you've done it before.’

‘For the social foxtrot, you need to learn the cuddle hold,’ continued Isabella. ‘The man places his right arm round the lady, and rests his hand under her right shoulder. The lady puts her left hand on the man's shoulder and holds the man's right hand in her left hand like so.’ She demonstrated with a baby-faced lad who looked nearly young enough to be her son, before going round the room and checking everyone was in the right position.

‘Now, the man leads off first with his left foot, to two beats of music, while the lady steps back with her right. Then the man takes a step to the right, the lady to the left, the man's left foot closes to the right, and the woman's right foot to the left.’

‘I don't think I'll remember a word of that,’ muttered Emily.

‘It's okay,’ said Katie, ‘just follow me.’

Miraculously, mainly thanks to the fact that Katie clearly knew what she was doing, Emily did get it right, and was able to follow the next steps, which involved her stepping forward with her left foot, then stepping to the right, before closing with the left foot.

‘Right, now we put it together,’ announced Isabella with a clap. ‘I will clap out the time and you dance the steps. Slow step forwards, quick to the side, quick and close, slow step backwards, quick to the side, quick and close.’

‘I'll never get the hang of this,’ said Emily, muddling up her lefts and rights and stepping on Katie's toes.