Valentine in June, Chapter Two

I ducked down into the shrubbery and hid, mortified to be in my pyjamas. The girl herself was wearing a simple black leotard with a thin pink belt, and although she looked no older than me, she tapped like a professional. But who was she, and what was she doing here?

Her brown-blonde hair was scrimped back in a tight ponytail, and with lipstick and eyeshadow and long lashes she looked all set to dance the lead in a lavish theatre production. As for that fixed stage-smile, baring her teeth...I didn't know why dance class girls had to do that. Not that it wasn't without its own special kind of appeal.

She finished her routine at last, and I couldn't help wanting to see more of her. Even though I knew I was taking a risk, I tried to shift closer.  

The girl had started doing little stretchy exercises, all the while singing to herself. I tried to push closer still. Then all of a sudden she bent with her back to me, which nearly made me swoon. She took a sports towel out of her bag and began to dab the bare bits of her body. I watched, enraptured, almost overcome.

Then, suddenly, she said aloud in a clear voice:

"I can see you, so you might as well come out."

Much abashed, I exited the shrubbery. This was the worst embarrassment ever. The girl seemed so perfect that I cringed to appear before her thus.

She, however, turned that all-made-up stage smile on me full-beam.

"You don't have to hide, you do live here," said the girl in patient tones. "I'm Amelia, we've just moved in next door. Your sister said I could practice in your garden because my studio things aren't unpacked yet."

And she held out a dainty hand.

I shambled forward and held it gently for as long as I dared, my head spinning as though this was the most exciting moment of my life.

"What a funny boy you are," sang Amelia. "May I come and practice on your patio again tomorrow morning?"

With very little hesitation I answered in the affirmative, and I had to admit, the smile was growing on me.

I didn't even look at my messages that night. An hour ago I'd been thinking of no-one but Nichola, but the rest of the evening passed without her so much as crossing my mind! No sooner was I back indoors than I was dashing around the kitchen with apples, squeezed cherries, pear and lemon juice, ice and sugar and syrup. At last I'd made a whole pitcher full and slammed it into the fridge, panting, mere minutes before my bedtime. I wondered whether Amelia's tap-dancing had ever tired her out so much!

At ten on the dot the following morning she arrived as we'd arranged, although I'd been waiting by the patio for half an hour, not by coincidence showered and pink and wearing some of my best things. The girl meanwhile was dressed just as she had been last night, ballet slippers on her feet and tap-shoes in her bag. With teeth fixed dazzlingly in welcome she trotted over to me.

"Um!" I greeted her shyly, flapping a hand, for I'd brought outside two garden chairs and a small table with my jug of concoction on it.

Without waiting for Amelia to say "Um" in reply I poured her out a tall glass and clumsily handed it to her. Cautiously she put her nose inside the rim. Hers wasn't a little nose, but it was part of the loveliness that had me in rapture. Something about her face however suggested she didn't like the smell of the apple juice very much.

"Did you make this?" asked Amelia dubiously, and smelled it again.

Squirming I mumbled that I had. Suddenly the famous smile so illuminated Amelia's face as to stagger me.

"But that's so sweet!" she exclaimed. "It must have been very difficult for you, and I do appreciate it."

Politely she put the glass back down on the table.

"Not before I dance," she explained, and whipped with a confident look into her start-position.

A little skipping in her ballet slippers started things off. Amelia had such muscle-control that the whole world seemed to slip away from me. Quietly I sat down in my garden chair, needing to, I was so weak. The prancing girl with soft smooth ivory legs possessed me utterly.

"That's nice," I managed to gasp, when she stopped to change shoes.

"The boys at my school wouldn't even want to watch, let alone take part," Amelia declared. "You're full of surprises!" and the teeth flashed happily.

"Um...take part?" I repeated, hearing a few alarm-bells.

"Well, obviously you couldn't in those smart things," Amelia went on. "But I can lend you some of my old dance clothes later."

And having handed me that to cope with, she finished tying her tap-shoes. There was no way she was making a dancer of me though, however much I may have started to like her! I was absolutely inflexible on that, as one of Amelia's tap-shoes began to work. First just the toecap, followed by the heel, but before long she was drilling out the rhythm like a noisy whirlwind. Never putting a foot wrong, spinning and smiling that brilliant smile, her slender frame all flexibility and lithe strength and grace...

I gulped.

"So how soon can we start lessons?" were my blurting words the minute she was done.

Then I jumped up right away and pulled out Amelia's chair for her. How different to being around Nichola! Instead of scornfully rebuffing me, this girl seemed to expect such courtesies as a matter of course. Her shining head was right under my nose as she slipped elegantly by and sat.

I too sat down with a bump, while Amelia sipped from her glass.

"What a funny boy you are," she commented again. "Yet you made apple juice, which still amazes me."

"It was nice watching you," I managed to say, because it really had been.

"It'll be lovely to watch you too," Amelia returned. "I bet you'll show no end of potential at modern and tap."

She spoke as from knowledge, then pinched her nose shut between finger and thumb and took another sip.

"Maybe don't get your hopes up too much," I felt it only fair to warn her.

Amelia sighed happily, had a luxurious long stretch in her leotard, and squeezing her nose again sipped her drink. Nothing could have torn my eyes from her, and I felt in that moment an urge to share everything with this girl. That being the case, I decided I'd better start with the most important bit.

"There was a time I used to think romantically about a girl in my class," I confessed.

Amelia affected a look of fawning sympathy. "How painful for you," she declared.

I liked her immediate assumption the romance had been a failure. "It was a long time ago," was my brave reply.

Yes, I then added privately, well over twelve hours by now.

I grinned at Amelia, who returned her starry smile, and we clinked our glasses of apple juice together.

THE END