This was the kind of scrape that Julia got into – and out of – the whole time: I always took dance classes while I was at school, and then at university I carried it on with the local Salsa society, but Julia would just turn up every few weeks to keep me company or to check out any new dancers I’d been telling her about. She never paid any attention to what the instructor was telling us, but managed to fit in with the rest of the class without her somewhat unorthodox technique drawing too much attention to the fact that she barely turned up. In fact, the only reason that she ever seemed to catch the instructor’s eye was because she would walk in looking so dramatic, and be so charming that most of the men in the room would be bewitched by her. If I could have had an ounce of her nonchalant confidence when I was not in Salsa classes, I do not think I would have been so devoted to dancing for so long. For Julia, the dancing barely mattered: she brought her personality to the class. For me, I needed the dancing to bring out my personality.
So I didn’t dwell on her sudden appearance, having seen her come up against such scrapes before. Instead, we got down to the serious business of two months’ worth of news. By the time we had got through our sandwiches, a massive bottle of San Pellegrino, and four coffees, we had just about covered her love life with an Italian boy who was clearly never going to be a long-term prospect for as long as he continued to live in his mum’s beautiful Milanese apartment, her applications for internships at Italian fashion houses, my total lack of any romantic action over the summer, and my new job at Strictly.
‘That is such fantastic news,’ said Julia, fiddling with the spoon in her coffee cup. ‘I’m so glad you’re working on a proper show now. And the dancing! I bet you can’t believe it. All those salsa nights at Uni … Have you actually shown anyone that you can dance yet? I bet you haven’t even mentioned it.’
My sheepish expression told her all she wanted to know. She was right. I had told no one about the number of dance classes I had taken over the years, or my passion for actually dancing myself. It seemed so crushingly embarrassing to admit to it when surrounded by the very best in the industry. I didn’t mind my colleagues knowing how passionate I was about watching dance, and about the show. If anything I thought that could only be a bonus in the eyes of my bosses, even if it did make me feel like a bit of a dance-nerd around people like Matt. But to admit to being a dancer myself? I’d rather die. It would put me in the position of being such a wannabe, such an opportunist. I didn’t want a single person to think that I was only doing the job as part of a dastardly plan to become a dancer. I was serious about my job, and about television. Dance was a passion. I was clear about the two, but I did not want anyone else to become muddled.
‘I knew it! Why don’t you say something? I bet one of the professionals would take you for a quick spin.’ She sniggered. ‘A dance … you know what I mean.’
I giggled too, and then opened my mouth to tell her about Lars, but thought better of it. Julia was so feisty, she would build it up into something it wasn’t, and I didn’t need that kind of pressure. But I was too late; she had spotted me.
‘What?’
I waved my hand to try and brush the conversation away.
‘Oh come on, what? Tell me …’
‘It’s nothing.’ ‘It’s not nothing or you would just say. It’s clearly something, and that’s why you have gone all coy.’
I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to diffuse the situation by not looking at her. She sighed.
‘Oh, now there’s only one thing for it.’ She looked up at the guy behind the bar, catching his eye instantly. ‘Could we get two glasses of Prosecco please?’
I sighed, and opened my mouth to protest but I was immediately ‘shushed’. As the waiter put two glasses down in front of us, but before he’d had a chance to fill them, I suddenly blurted out, ‘One of the dancers is completely gorgeous and I have chatted to him a bit and he seems quite flirty, but honestly I don’t want you to get your hopes up because nothing will happen, and I can totally tell that Matt thinks he’s a bit of an idiot too.’ Finally, I exhaled.
‘Woah, woah, woah!’ The barman stopped pouring, immediately. ‘No, not you Lorenzo! Amanda, you. Calm down. Breathe. I only wanted a bit of gossip. Please, rewind. Who’s the dancer and who is this Matt and why do you care so much about his opinion anyway?’
The barman moved to pour the second glass, trying very, very hard to pretend he wasn’t listening. I could see his smirk, and suddenly felt self-conscious discussing the show in public.
‘The less said about Lars the better—’
‘So he’s called Lars?’
‘Yes, but I don’t think we should talk about this here …’ I rolled my eyes towards the barman to try and convey my anxiety to Julia.
‘Oh Lorenzo won’t mind, will he?’ The barman winked at us.
‘I ’ear too mach in this jab to remember eet all, the gassip.’
‘Seriously, forget you heard anything,’ I replied.
‘Okay, okay, let’s forget about Mr L. Who’s this Matt then? Is he any better?’
‘Oh Matt, he’s lovely.’ I broke into a grin. ‘He’s a real honey. He’s totally helped me this first week, really shown me how things are run, been someone I can talk to, that sort of thing.’
‘Sounds cute.’
‘Yeah, he’s great.’ I paused.
‘Ri-ight …’
‘Oh no, nothing like that. Nothing at all. He’s not boyfriend material.’
‘You’re sure? How do you know?’
‘Yes, of course, we just work together. And anyway – he’s not a dancer. Seriously, it’s not even that he’s not a professional dancer. He doesn’t even dance at weddings. I think he’s one of those guys who even at their most drunk can only manage a little bit of swaying.’
‘Just checking. You seemed to go a little misty-eyed just then.’ I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, as I began to blush.
‘It’s probably the booze,’ I said swiftly, raising my glass to hers. But I knew Julia wasn’t going to press the issue, as she knew how much going out with a guy who could dance meant to me. Obviously I knew that a girl like me couldn’t demand a Jared Murillo kind of guy, but as dancing was so important to me I had always maintained that I couldn’t get serious with someone who was not relaxed on a dance floor. My romantic ambitions weren’t as high as those couples who performed scenes from Dirty Dancing at their weddings, but I was not going to compromise on a bloke who wouldn’t even dance with me at someone else’s wedding. I didn’t want to be the girl dancing with her friends while her boyfriend nursed a bottle of beer and talked about the football on the sidelines. I wanted someone who would be relaxed, hold me properly and then offer to dance with one of the doddering aunties. For me, that was charm, confidence and chivalry.
‘Yes, probably is the booze then.’ Did I see Julia wink at Lorenzo at that point, or was I imagining it? Either way, I didn’t want to encourage them so I looked down at my watch. It was much later than I had realised.
‘Oh my goodness, I’ve got to get back. I’m taking Natalie and Lloyd out for dinner tonight and we haven’t even decided where we’re going.’
‘How come?’
‘Urgh, I’m staying with them. It’s my final chunk of news.’
‘Oh, urgh. Natalie’s an absolute doll, I can’t say enough good things about her, but those two are loved UP. I can imagine being in their palace of perfection could get to a girl after a while.’
I remembered what Julia’s room had been like at university – the messiest I had ever seen.