The Charleston. Georgia Hill

in her apartment. He was even better looking in the flesh and she admired the boyish grin, which lit up his face as he laughed and joked around. He might be fun to get to know. Angie, an incredibly successful musical star (Venetia had prepped her) had won the last competition and was a hot favourite to win this special short series. Judging from the journalists flocking round her, the rumour-mill could be right. Angie was standing entwined with a sinewy man. Merry heard the name Scott mentioned and remembered Venetia saying to be wary of him, as he was foul tempered. She watched, amused, as the first meeting of Angie and Scott, who must be dance partners, was then stage managed by a small rotund man. He could only be Bob Dandry. She recognised the greasy ginger comb-over that Venetia had described in such cruel detail. Merry hid a smile as she saw the couple greet one another in apparent astonishment. It was a little strange, as she’d walked past them in the bar ten minutes ago. They’d been sharing a bottle of champagne and looking very chummy.

      A woman in a stunning crimson sari strolled past and Merry recognised her as Suni, the celebrated Indian chef. A man with a hand held camera walked alongside her and another meet of celeb and pro was carefully orchestrated. This time, the professional dancer was a neat dark-haired man. He picked up the diminutive cook and swung her round.

      “Suni,” he said in a pronounced northern accent. “I’m made up that I’ve got you!”

      “Warren,” the woman gasped, “it’ll be fun but put me down now, please.” He did and they posed smilingly for photographs.

      Merry leaned against a giant bright pink cup and saucer, a prop, she assumed. She watched and absorbed, fascinated. So, this was to be her life for the next couple of months. It was like a pantomime; carefully choreographed and larger than life. Merry gazed up at the cup behind her. That was certainly enormous. What on earth was it used for? Everywhere she looked she saw over made-up women, with hair piled high and sparkling with glittery hairspray. Some of the men were hardly any more butch. They walked with a bouncing step, on the balls of their feet, gesturing and exclaiming.

      Mr Comb-Over rushed up to her. “You must be Meredith,” he gushed. “How lovely to meet you. I can see the resemblance to your great-aunt, of course. If you would be so good as to come this way, I’d like to introduce you to your professional dancer.”

      Bob Dandry barely came up to her shoulder. Merry looked down at him and smiled. He blushed an unbecoming puce and then, to her complete shock, put a sweaty hand on her bottom.

      Merry pointedly removed it. Venetia was one hundred percent right about you, she seethed inwardly. “How kind,” she said aloud, through clenched teeth. “I’m dying to find out who I’ve got. This is such fun, isn’t it?” She gave him an especially warm smile, amused to see him simper and sweat even more. How Venetia would love to hear about this.

      “We’re so thrilled you could join our happy band. Our family, as I like to think.” Bob leered some more. He looked around. “Ah! Your dancing partner is sitting on the steps over there. Daniel Cunningham – the one in the white jeans and leather jacket. Let me just organise the cameras. If you’ll forgive me Miss Denning, I’ll be right back.” He wiggled his fingers in a nauseatingly coy wave.

      “Don’t worry, I’ll stay right here. Hurry back.” Merry blew him a kiss and enjoyed the trembling hand across the brow it caused. “What a creep,” she murmured and then turned to meet a pair of the greenest eyes she’d ever seen.

      ***

      Daniel lolled against the most famous steps in television and decided he would try his damndest to win Who Dares Dances this time round. He had a habit of not getting very far in the competition. Casey, the comely model, had gone out early a few years ago and last Christmas his partner, the weirdly eccentric but totally charming writer Lucy Everett, had been hospitalised. He didn’t seem to have much luck with his celebrity partners.

      The production team had told them all that this was a special series which had been commissioned due to the show’s popularity. Daniel didn’t believe a word. He didn’t believe, either, the industry rumours about the new series trying to address the scandal of the last. He knew the viewing figures had shot up once the tabloids had an inkling of the race issue and the vote rigging row. Swimmer Max Parry, a contestant in the last series, had taken a payment to drop out of the competition early, to avoid leaving in just one black celebrity. Daniel was cynical enough to think the stories had been a carefully planted ruse to create publicity. Which it had done very successfully. He suspected any new scandal would be just as effective. He hated the way this business was making him so suspicious and disbelieving. Maybe it was time to get out?

      At least some previous winners were making a return; that was good news. There was new blood too, in the form of some new pro dancers joining. Perhaps it would freshen things up. And he was really looking forward to having Harri back. It meant Julia would be a frequent visitor. His heart quickened at the thought and, as was his habit, he damped down on the feeling automatically. He couldn’t go there; she was Harri’s.

      To distract himself, he pondered on what surprises were in store for this series. He felt sure Bob would have something characteristically evil to spring on them. In a previous series, he’d already made the contestants dance with each other and last year he’d made them learn each other’s skills. It had caused his friends, Lucy and Max, a few problems. Writer Lucy had been fine learning how to swim like a champion but writing a story had been torture for Olympic swimmer, Max. Still, it had all turned out alright in the end. Daniel smiled. He wondered why he did it sometimes. It certainly wasn’t for the money. The smile vanished. Thank God for the live shows; at least those padded out his meagre salary. No, the thing that drove him each time was the dancing. And this time he would win. It was his turn, surely?

      It would all depend upon his partner. The only thing Daniel had heard was that she was an actress or comedian. The actress bit sounded alright, as most had had some kind of dance training at drama school, but a comedian? A vision of some well-known ones rose unfairly in Daniel’s mind. And any hope of winning vanished.

      He’d tried to interrogate Julia, but she’d been knee deep in cream tulle, bridesmaids’ dresses and place settings; she was immersed in planning her wedding to Harri.

      “You’ll be fine,” was all she said. “You knock most of us into shape eventually.”

      It hadn’t done much to reassure him.

      And now, here he was, geared up for ‘The Big Meet’ with his new partner, after which would come the inevitable press call and then the circus that was Who Dares Dances would begin all over again.

      Sitting idly, watching the shrieks and carefully orchestrated emotions which accompanied the pro dancers meeting with their celeb partners, he became aware of a tall woman striding towards him. She had that wide hipped, loose-limbed quality that, for some reason, he always associated with Italian women. He guessed it must be the new Italian pro dancer joining them for this special series.

      The woman stopped in front of him and smiled. It was an attractively broad smile, with full kissable lips and white, even teeth. Daniel also liked the luxuriant auburn hair and almond shaped eyes. She was dressed in carefully distressed jeans, red espadrilles and a linen jacket. She looked very elegant, very European and very desirable.

      “Adelina?”

      “No,” the woman looked startled and then amused. “I’m Meredith Denning. Merry. I believe I’m your partner for this series.”

      Daniel managed to stand up and greet this gorgeous creature. She was very tall, he realised, probably one reason why they had been paired up, he topped six feet by several inches himself.

      “Daniel Cunningham. Erm, pleased to meet you.” He found himself stuttering and his lack of cool surprised him. Get a grip, he chastised himself silently.

      “Likewise. Can’t say I’ve seen you in action but you come highly recommended,” came the crisp reply.

      Daniel had the distinct impression he was being laughed at. Then, the moment passed, as Bob bustled over and began to direct the cameras, so they had to repeat the encounter all over again.