A Step In Time. Kerry Barrett

      ‘That you’re beautiful, funny, talented and you’ve made me the happiest man in England,’ Donnie said.

      ‘Sounds about right,’ I said, striking a pose.

      ‘Have you told your mom about me?’ Donnie asked.

      Up ahead was a parked jeep. Not wanting to answer Donnie’s question, I saw my chance to distract him, so I bounced over to the car and climbed up onto the bonnet.

      ‘Come on,’ I said. I lay back against the windscreen and looked up at the stars, bright in the clear December sky. Donnie climbed up next to me and gripped my hand.

      ‘So we’ll call in on the folks in Connecticut and then we’ll get on a train,’ he continued.

      ‘A train,’ I said. ‘That’s good. I like trains.’

      ‘We’ll go all the way cross country. We’ll go to Chicago – I love Chicago. And to Las Vegas – take in a few shows.’

      I was getting impatient.

      ‘And where then?’ I said.

      ‘And then we’ll go to Hollywood,’ said Donnie, propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at me. ‘And you’ll be snapped up by some big movie producer and you’ll dance in films and become the superstar you were born to be.’

      I reached up and rubbed his buzz cut with the palm of my hand.

      ‘What will you do?’ I asked, looking deep into his blue eyes.

      ‘I’ll devote my life to making you happy,’ he said, bending his neck to kiss me. ‘That’s all I care about.’

       Chapter 7

      ‘This is a very bad idea,’ I said to Phil as we went up the stairs to the theatre.

      ‘Oh, get over yourself,’ he said, giving me a delicate nudge. ‘You can’t shut yourself away for ever.’

      ‘It’s hardly for ever,’ I said. ‘It’s only been a week.’

      ‘One week and two days,’ Phil said. ‘And one royal pregnancy announcement, one pop star falling off the stage at an awards ceremony, and one fabulous dress worn by Beyoncé. The gossip mags have moved on. Everyone’s moved on. It’s time you did, too.’

      ‘I’m moving on,’ I said, sulkily. ‘But unfortunately, I’m moving on to a bloody dance show when I’ve got two left feet and I’m going to be a laughing stock.’

      ‘You’re not that bad. I’ve seen you throwing some magnificent shapes on the dance floor after a few drinks.’

      ‘Yes, but I can’t get hammered before every rehearsal, can I?’ I said, wondering if, in fact, I could.

      ‘Relax,’ Phil said, taking my hand. ‘You’ll love this show and I guarantee it’ll give you the dancing bug.’

      We were at a West End theatre to watch the opening night of a revival of a classic Broadway musical. Phil had promised me old-school Hollywood glamour and lots of dancing to get me in the mood. I wasn’t convinced, but he was right that I needed a night out. A week rattling round in my empty flat had made me stir crazy.

      ‘You look fabulous, by the way,’ Phil said as we found our seats.

      I bobbed a curtsey to him.

      ‘Well, thank you, sir,’ I said. ‘I had to go shopping because sodding Matty virtually gave away all my clothes and this dress just fell into my basket.’

      Phil raised an eyebrow.

      ‘Sure it did,’ he said, looking at the Gatsby-style beaded shift dress appraisingly. ‘Don’t forget you’re not earning at the moment.’

      ‘Shh,’ I said, not wanting to hear his words of wisdom right at that second. ‘It’s starting.’

      Phil was right. It was a gorgeous, gorgeous show and it did make me want to get up and dance. Though I wasn’t sure I could pull it off with quite as much style as the leading lady. It was glitzy and sparkly and wonderful and as the curtain went down I clapped until my hands stung.

      ‘Sooooo,’ Phil said, hopefully. ‘Did you love it?’

      I nodded.

      ‘Yes, I loved it.’

      ‘And is Phil always right?’

      I made a face.

      ‘About this,’ I admitted. ‘But I wouldn’t say always.’

      ‘What about this?’ Phil said. He produced two tickets to the opening night party and I groaned.

      ‘A party?’ I said. ‘Really?’

      ‘Really,’ he said, grabbing my hand. ‘It’s fine. You need to get back out there and this is a good place to start. It’s going to be quiet, classy, and there’s absolutely no chance Matty will be there.’

      ‘Okay,’ I said, letting him lead me up the stairs to the bar at the very top of the theatre where the party was. ‘Let’s go and party.’

      Phil was right. It was indeed a quiet party. But it was kind of nice, and knowing it was Matty’s idea of a nightmare made it easier for me to relax. There was a barbershop quartet in the corner, singing songs from musicals, and groups of people stood together chatting and drinking glasses of champagne.

      ‘It’s very sophisticated,’ I said to Phil. ‘Not sure I belong here.’ Phil took two glasses from a passing waiter and stuck his tongue out at me.

      ‘Of course you do,’ he said. ‘We both do.’

      I shook my head at the glass he offered and swapped it for an orange juice when the waiter passed us again.

      ‘I’m off booze,’ I said. ‘It just gets me into trouble.’

      We stayed for a while, chatting about mutual friends and eating as many canapés as we could get our hands on. But it wasn’t the most exciting party in the world and, eventually, Phil looked at his phone.

      ‘Do you mind if we call it a night?’ he said. ‘Bertie’s round the corner with his parents and I said I’d go and meet them. Do you want to come?’

      I shuddered.

      ‘God no,’ I said. ‘I’ll head home.’

      ‘Do you want me to find you a cab?’ Phil said.

      ‘Nah,’ I said, picking up my bag. ‘I’ll pop to the loo first and then head out. Call me tomorrow?’

      Phil gave me a quick squeeze.

      ‘Will do,’ he said. ‘Stay safe.’

      I blew him a kiss as he headed for the stairs, then I went to find the loo.

      I was still in the cubicle when I heard two women come in, chatting in that slightly too loud way that told me they’d had rather a lot of champagne.

      ‘I just hope this is it,’ one was saying. ‘I’ve fucking had enough of being in the chorus line. If this isn’t my big break, then I don’t know what else I can do.’

      ‘You could get your boobs done,’ the other one said. ‘Everyone does it.’

      ‘How would that help?’

      ‘Dunno,’ the second one said, giggling. ‘I have no idea.’

      I went to flush the toilet, then stopped as I heard them say my name.

      ‘… like Amy Lavender,’ the first one said. ‘She was here earlier, did you see her?’

      Great. I couldn’t burst out of the cubicle now, could I? Surprise! Quietly I put the seat down and sat