We ended up coming in third, according to the judges. First, according to the unofficial vote of the Grace Choir and its equally unofficial fan club. First, if you rated our position on how much fun we had, how far we had come, how much passion we threw into it, and how many bows we took before the host herded us offstage.
The fun continued in the hotel lounge afterwards. My, those Grace women knew how to party. Throw in the actual winners, a group of ex-factory workers from Glasgow, staying in the same hotel, and the fact that the Irish need no excuse to party, and it looked as though we would be singing and dancing well into the night.
After all those years of organising other people’s special occasions, watching them go wild on the dance floor from behind the bar, I lingered on the fringes, not quite sure how to join in without Perry to hold on to.
‘Come on, Faith!’ Rosa wove through the other people currently jiving to some sixties classic and stopped in front of me, hands on hips as her chest heaved from exertion. ‘Come and dance!’
I scuffed my fancy shoe against the edge of the carpet. ‘Maybe later on.’
‘What? You don’t like dancing?’ She shimmied in place for a couple of beats.
I shrugged. ‘I’m not used to this type of music. The kind of parties I’ve been to were a bit more… sedate.’
‘Phooey. Even babies know how to dance. Come on, strut that funky stuff!’
She grabbed my hands and yanked me into the middle of the dance floor, where I stood swaying self-consciously to the music.
‘Nah-ah!’ Rosa shook her head. ‘Not like that. Copy me.’ She did a few shimmies, and I tried to follow along, stumbling into one of the factory workers behind me.
‘Okay. No. That’s not working. Try this.’ She stopped bopping and stepped right in front of me. ‘Close your eyes. Do it! Close them!’
I closed my eyes.
‘Now, listen. Feel the beat. Start to move your body. Don’t worry what it looks like. Pretend you are in your living room at home alone.’
I tried, sort of. I didn’t dance in my living room at home. And I had rarely had any time there alone since Polly and Esme had moved in, giving Marilyn and James space while I waited for Sam’s flat to sell so I could afford to move somewhere else.
I suffered until the song finished and made my excuses, finding a comfy sofa in the corner to sink into while recovering my dignity. A minute or two later, Marilyn came and plopped herself down on the seat next to me. Wiping the sweat from herbrow with a napkin, she took a large gulp of the glass of water in her hand.
‘I thought I might find you sat on your own in the corner.’
‘I’m soaking up the ambiance. Savouring the moment.’
‘It was awesome, wasn’t it?’
I smiled. ‘It was. Are the twins in bed?’
‘Yeah. James took them up. He’s making the most of some time with them before starting his new job.’
‘Is he looking forward to it?’
‘I’m looking forward to it. It’s been great having him around these past few months, but I’ll be happy to have him out of the house during the day so we can get back to some sort of routine. The place is a tip since he got back. Having said that’ – she nudged me – ‘I still haven’t got used to waking up every morning and finding the love of my life there next to me. Let alone him coming home to me every night. A good man is hard to find. We need to keep ’em close once we do.’
I gave her a sidelong glance, but she ignored me, taking another drink. We sat there watching the dancers for a while. I thought about good men. One good man.
‘Are you missing him tonight?’
I somehow managed to choke on my own breath.
Marilyn kept her eyes on the dancers in front of us.
I shrugged, ready to brush her off with a bland reply. Then she lay her head gently on my shoulder and my heart cracked open.
‘Yes. I’m missing him. I keep expecting to see him being chatted up by Millie, or laughing on the dance floor.’
‘It’ll take a long time to get used to him not being around.’
I sighed. ‘I feel like I should be over it by now.’
