There Should Be More Dancing Read Free Page B

o’clock!’ – just as Margery opened her box.
    â€˜We got a watch each,’ Margery said. ‘Exactly the same.’ She showed the watch to Mrs Parsons.
    â€˜Marge had a twin sister,’ Judith said. ‘Did I tell you that, DeeAndra?’
    â€˜About fifty times.’
    â€˜She died,’ Judith said, and drained the last of her champagne.
    â€˜Hold it up to your ear,’ Walter said, so Margery held it up to her ear.
    â€˜Oh my, it’s ticking! Thank you, Walter.’ She slid it onto her wrist.
    Judith said, ‘I took it all the way to the city, Marge, especially. To a specialist old-time jeweller Barry knows.’
    Margery was trying to fasten the latch on the wristband, but her fingers were no longer agile. She said, ‘I’ll have to get a new band.’
    â€˜Tell us the time, Marge,’ Judith said, but Margery couldn’t see the hands, so Judith reached over and took the watch from her mother. ‘Well, that was a waste of my well-earned time and money.’ She dropped it into her handbag. ‘Let’s go.’
    â€˜That’s Mumsy’s watch, Judif,’ Walter protested, but his mother waved his concern away, pressed her hat into place, gathered up her handbag and turned to the waiter.
    â€˜Thank you, son’ she said. ‘It was good of you to try and make it special.’
    Behind her, Judith protested, ‘I organised it,’ and Walter added, ‘It was my idea.’
    It all went completely to mud when they dropped Margery back at home. As they pulled up outside 253 Gold Street, Mrs Parsons was already trying to locate the doorhandle. ‘Thank you for a lovely outing, you’re very kind, now I really must say goodbye.’
    â€˜The party’s not over yet,’ Walter said. He opened the door for her and lifted her out of the car, placing her gently on the road. ‘Come in for a cuppa.’
    â€˜I really should get home,’ she said, but it was no use. Although her little brown legs reached towards her house, Walter steered her straight through Margery’s gateway and into the house. He eased her coat from her small bony shoulders, folded it neatly over the arm of the couch and settled her in Lance’s old chair next to Margery. Pudding put the kettle on. Then Walter got Margery’s slippers and, just as Judith came in from the lavatory, turned the ceiling fan on. Four blades of fluff, dust and crusty flies dislodged and landed on her special hair. Barry laughed, and that’s when Judith said – shouted, actually, though Margery wasn’t deaf – ‘You should be in a nice air-conditioned home, Marge.’
    Barry told her to pipe down.
    â€˜No, Barry. You’re right. She should be in a retirement home.’
    Mrs Parsons tried to nudge herself forwards in her chair.
    Barry glared at his wife. ‘You could have waited until after her birthday.’
    Mrs Parsons raised her creaky little arm for Walter to help her get up. ‘I really should get going,’ but Walter was busy stepping from one foot to the other, rubbing his nose with his palm.
    Judith kept on, ‘You have to admit, she hasn’t got as much dexteritiveness these days, have you, Marge?’
    Margery said, ‘I dropped the prawn because the chairs were too far from the table,’ but Judith just said, ‘I’m talking about the fall you had,’ and lifted up Margery’s foot by the toe of her slipper. She pointed to the gauze held to her cigarette-paper-thin skin with blue bandaids.
    Walter stopped stepping from foot to foot. ‘Have a little fall, did you, Mumsy?’
    â€˜I tripped,’ Margery said desperately. ‘It’s the footpath.’
    It had happened the day before as she made her way back from doing up Mrs Parsons’ shoelaces. She stopped to check the letterbox – sometimes there was a card from Morris – and as she moved away, sorting through