The 9th Feb 2013 WriteOnSite Winning Entry
"Tonight's the night! We'll see you at half past six, Terry."
With a cheery waggling of many arms (and a well aimed Dorito) from the van window, Terry Lane turned his broad wax-jacketed back and kicked the grim chalky mud from his working boots as he began the trudge to his Land Rover. He grimaced into the sleet. Damn the British winters.
The prospect of 'tonight' was something that he knew that the other boys (well, junvenile-minded chaps of of a certain age actually, there was not one of them under half a century in years) were positively relishing. As builders, a work 'do' at Christmas was not really something that one gave much thought to. His wife Christine for example, had been very surprised to hear that The Boys would be venturing forth, out and about in search of the fabled cheer of the season.
"The Inn on the Pond?" She had exclaimed on hearing about the proposed event. "Well I never! Shall I wear my ball gown my dear? Or is it more likely a jeans and jumper sort of thing?"
Terry had responded in typically humble fashion, by giving a shy grin and a hug to his lady wife. They'd just celebrated their fourteen wedding anniversary, and he absolutely adored his glamorous, once red-headed woman. She remained stunningly youthful. A dancer in her youth, she had the sleek physique that would never leave the heart of fashion, and with continued support of 'Olay' she was leaving little to chance in the wrinkle department too. A devine creature indeed! Terry counted his blessings daily. Dancers indeed!
He had met his ex-ballerina after a performance in the West End. In a bar. She'd got a little carried away and had indulged in a handful of celebratory gin and tonics, seen Terry at a table alone, and had sashayed sexily towards him. Hooked, he was. Absolutely.
At the alloted time to leave for the party (officially a dinner dance, but builders will be builders) Christine Lane took her husband's navy blue suited arm and they stepped out to meet the taxi.
The icy rain invaded warm clothing as the couple attempted to dash from the haven of the cab into the foyer of The Inn on the Pond. The stinging slivers stung, and then ran screaming downwards where they warmed into to unpleasant damp patches that looked of dubious origin.
Tickets were taken, and Terry and Christine slipped into the golden dark glow of the hall. Festooned with Christmas decorations, an immense tree, with a live jazz band at the far end, the Christmas spirit was indeed amidst them all that night. Well laid tables and the muffled chink of glasses and be-calming babble of merry voices infected Terry and Christine with a gorgous glowing feeling.
They found their allotted table, and moved to the dance floor where a few couples had begun pre-dinner moves.
Christine held Terry, and they danced close and seductively. Lost in the moment, the cries from behind them broke the magic just slightly.
"Oi oi! Terry mate! You didn't tell us you could dance!" The gang had arrived, and seemed set on seeing further light footed delights from their foreman and his lady.
Christine whispered in Terry's ear. Her eyes twinkled, and he returned the gaze. "Alright darling, let's show 'em!"
The floor now more or less to themselves, Terry and Christine used the raucaus jeers of their slightly tipsy troop to jostle them along. They'd show them! Little did the other men know that Terry had once been a dancer too. That night that he and Christine had met in the bar, he had been in the background of the performance. Christine had not even noticed him until that moment.
But now, oh how they span, twirled, performed the perfect adagio. Pliat, on the toes, Terry had it all down to a fine art. The miraculous display had quietened all in the hall, and at the finale of Christine's leap through the air into Terry's arms, applause burst forth in magnanimous volume!
"MORE!" They shouted, whistles and hoots, screams, laughter and chuckles of wonder.
Terry and Christine held each other, the joy of their union sparkled for all to see.
" You can take the ballet shoes from the builder." He said. "But you try getting the ballerina away from the builder! Come HERE you little minx!"
And they kissed for all to see.
Copyright © 2008 - 2013 Rob Richardson. All Rights Reserved.