Dancing in the Dark Read Free

you really did, you’d let me stay with you.’
    â€˜I can’t. One day you’ll understand.’
    I recognized the finality in her words. ‘You’ll look after my father, won’t you?’ I said resignedly.
    She stared at me, blood draining from her face. ‘Of course,’ she said, after a pause.
    â€˜I don’t want to go.’ I began to cry.
    â€˜You’ll be OK, my darling. Remember . . . remember that I’ll think of you every single day.’
    â€˜When? What time?’
    â€˜Five o’clock, sweetheart. Every evening at five o’clock. Now, don’t worry, when you get to London, someone will meet you.’
    â€˜How will I know who they are?’ I said, but she was already hurrying away towards the exit.
    As she had promised, someone did meet me when I arrived at Heathrow. The man who claimed me was wearing a suit which even I could see was of superb cut and material. The pink rose in his buttonhole perfectly matched his silk tie. ‘You must be Miss Theodora Cairns,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘I’m Hugo, a friend of your mother’s.’
    He took me off to a big London hotel for the kind of tea I’d only ever imagined: tiny savoury sandwiches, scones and clotted cream and strawberry jam, plates of cakes. I’d never seen so much food in one place. ‘If you can’t eat it all,’ he said, ‘we’ll ask them for a paper bag and take the rest with us.’
    â€˜Where are we going?’
    â€˜To the Cartwrights,’ he said.
    â€˜Are they the ones with a girl the same age as me?’
    â€˜Jenny,’ he said. ‘Yes. Didn’t your mother say?’
    â€˜She didn’t tell me much.’ I reached for another scone.
    â€˜I wonder why that was.’
    â€˜Because I might be indiscreet,’ I said. ‘That’s what she said, anyway.’
    â€˜Indiscreet? What about?’
    I shrugged, reached for another sandwich. ‘Are you English?’ I asked.
    â€˜No, I’m from Boston, Massachusetts.’
    â€˜My mother’s from Canterbury-in-Kent, so how did you meet her?’
    â€˜I met her years ago, when she was a little older than you are.’
    â€˜What was she like?’
    â€˜Funny. Interesting. Pretty, just like you.’
    Was I pretty? I stored the possibility away, while Hugo poured another cup of tea. ‘She was always dancing,’ he said. ‘We used to call her the Dancing Queen.’
    â€˜That’s a song.’
    â€˜Yes. She and her parents were staying with some friends who had a house in France, with a pool and a lake and tennis courts and everything, and I was there too, with my parents. I remember one day, your mom was dancing along a tree branch which hung out over the lake – and suddenly it broke.’ He leaned back and sipped his tea, watching me.
    â€˜What happened?’
    â€˜She fell in with this almighty splash.’
    â€˜Honestly?’
    â€˜Cross my heart. And what a splash that was! It must have been one of the biggest splashes ever seen in France. There were eels and ducks and herons and minnows flying all over the place. Frogs, too. Even a couple of boats, with people who’d been fishing.’
    I recognized a brilliant storyteller. ‘What did she do then?’
    â€˜Just went right on dancing.’
    â€˜Even in the water?’
    â€˜Not in it, on it.’
    I could see it clearly, the heavens dark with birds and frogs, fishing lines trailing from the clouds, black-bereted men in the sky peering over the edge of their boats to see what had happened. And Luna dancing on tiptoe across the sparkling surface, her supple hands catching rainbows from the sun. ‘That’s typical of my mother,’ I said gravely.
    â€˜I think you may be right.’
    â€˜I wish I was back with her.’ I tried not to cry. ‘She really needs me. I don’t know why she’s sent me