“There’s a time to cry,” Kira interrupted in a ridiculous American accent.
“And a time to laugh,” Urvi replied to her, also unsuccessfully faking a stateside drawl.
“A time to grieve.”
“And a time . . . to dance!” They both put their hands straight up in the air and their heads back, attracting more than a few curious looks from the bystanders.
“Come on Urvs, don’t be wet.” Kira grabbed her hand and dragged Urvi up on stage. She kicked off her shoes and they flew across the polished wood, landing next to my feet.
Urvi laughed and took the microphone. “Hello everyone,” she said into it, and the entire room turned to look at the stage. “My friend here feels that this event could do with a little livening up. As you know, my stuff is on the mellow side so we’ll take it back and steal one from the eighties.” She smiled and, after the intro from the band, she started to singFootloose.
Urvi Bailey’s music style was much more blues and jazz with a commercial edge, sort of Norah Jones meets Sia. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined her singingFootloose.
After the first couple of lines of the song, Urvi grabbed Kira’s hand and they started the most bizarre dance routine I had ever seen, while Urvi somehow managed to continue to sing. It became clear that Kira was not content with staying on the stage after the first verse. She kissed Urvi on the cheek then repeated her near knicker-exposing manoeuvre to get down from the platform and come into the crowd. She managed to pull a couple of unsuspecting ladies in from the side and started to teach them the dance.
Unfolding before me was the unholy mash up of an American line dance with The Macarena, performed by inept but insanely enthusiastic women. Add a large dose of crazy, and you would be about halfway to the reality of the shit-show I was witnessing. She had managed to get a whole crowd involved by the third verse and they were all miming twirling lassoes above their heads. Kira swung one my way and then mimed pulling on it, pretending to put all her strength into the effort.
I did not move.
Eventually she gave up. Urvi had had more success pulling Jack Bailey, her husband and the owner of the largest advertising company in the UK, into their clutches and making him join in with the bizarre routine. Kira must have realised she was never going to lasso me anywhere. She turned her attention to bloody Moseley. The bastard was only too happy to pretend his arms were pinned to his sides and that each time Kira pulled, the rope he was being dragged forward. I felt a burning in my chest. When he reached her and they laughed together as he attempted the steps to the routine, I felt a flash of white-hot jealousy. I’d never experienced anything like it before in my life. All I knew was that I wanted that small face smiling up atme, laughing withme.
Other people started joining in, with Kira leading from the front. The change of atmosphere was unbelievable. Even Mary was laughing. When I looked back at Kira, I was pleased to see she’d distanced herself from Moseley and was dragging even more women from the sidelines of the dance floor.
It was incredible the way she flung herself about, her small form about a head shorter than nearly everyone else involved, but still remaining the centre of attention.
And the laughter.
It echoed off the tall ceilings and filled the room along with the music.
As I watched her out-of-time dance movements, her attempts to drag a reluctant Mary into the mix, her absolute and complete lack of self-consciousness, I couldn’t hold back my own smile any longer. By the finale, my whole body shook with laughter.
And it felt . . . amazing.
Shewas amazing.
Chapter 12
Sure. . . I lock the door
Barclay
“Buggering badgers,” Kira huffed out as she flung herself into the car. “That was seriously fun! Why’d you tell me it’d be a snooze-fest Barcos? I loved it! Yo, Sambo! You missed out, big man.”
“I was inside the venue, Dr Murphy,” Sam told her. I’d seen him on the outskirts of the room the entire evening, but Kira had been too busy creating a stir to notice.
“What? Hey, why’d you hide away, Lurky Lurkerson? We could have had a laugh.”
“It’s kind of my job to be inconspicuous, Dr Murphy.”
“Kira.”
Silence.
“Well, you could have at least joined in with a little dance, couldn’t you?”
“I’m not being paid to dance. I’m being paid to protect you.”
“Me? I thought you were there for Barc–”
