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A Home at Honeysuckle Farm by Christie Barlow (31)

Wake up, wake up.’ I felt myself being shaken lightly.

I tried to create a gap between my upper and lower eyelids in a vain attempt to loosen the grip of the mascara holding them together. My head throbbed, and then I remembered. Last night, I’d drunk myself silly with Grace after discovering my mum was in touch with William Hall, a man whom we suspected was my father, a man who probably didn’t even know I existed.

Finally, I prised my eyes open. ‘What time is it?’ I groaned, ‘and where’s the fire? It feels like I’ve only just gone to bed.’

‘It’s eight-thirty,’ Grace stated, throwing me a pitying look. ‘Hangover, by any chance?’ She smiled kindly, placing a mug of tea by the side of my bed. ‘Here, drink this, two sugars in there.’

‘Eight-thirty, why the heck are you waking me up at this time?’ I grumbled, pulling the duvet back over my head.

‘You told me to,’ she laughed. ‘You have thirty minutes to get up, shower, dress and attempt breakfast.’

‘No breakfast,’ the very thought turned my stomach.

Grace chuckled as she left the room. ‘Get up, Elsie and the quick step will be waiting for you.’

Elsie was unswervingly sweet, and at the age of sixty-five a bundle of fun. She was a small voluptuous woman with rosy cheeks who worked part time for Dorothy at The Old Teashop. Yesterday, her enthusiasm to learn her steps had been faultless, but a dancer she was not. By the end of the session her Latin ballroom satin sandals with a chunky heel had trodden on my own feet more times than I cared to remember. However, she looked the part in her racy red-sequinned dress. Elsie had proudly announced it had been purchased from last year’s village-hall jumble sale and had been a bargain at three quid, which I couldn’t argue with. But with its plunging neckline, it was a revealing little number and what you might class as risqué. I didn’t think it was designed with a sixty-five-year-old woman in mind but Elsie was delighted with it and that’s all that mattered.

This morning we were trying again to learn the quick step, an early-morning start before she began her shift at the teashop. I’d advised her to wear trainers; hopefully she’d taken my advice, as I wasn’t sure my poor feet could withstand another bashing.

Slowly climbing out of bed, I risked a cautious look in the mirror and really wished I hadn’t.

I felt dreadful, I looked dreadful. I’d fallen asleep in my clothes, my hair was messy, my eyes were swollen and I wasn’t going to win any beauty contests any time soon. As the shower water cascaded over my face my thoughts switched back to last night. Grace and I must have drunk at least two bottles of wine, and thankfully Grace had taken the iPad off me before I had a chance to drunkenly message Mum or William Hall.

Ten minutes later, I’d climbed inside some clean clothes, tied my hair back and ambled downstairs into the kitchen where Grace was tucking into buttery scrambled eggs on toast.

‘There’s plenty left, if you’ve got time.’

I shook my head, not able to face any food. ‘Why did I drink so much?’ I groaned.

‘It always seems like a good idea at the time,’ she mused.

After a quick drink of juice, I grabbed my heels and welcomed the outside breeze, heading towards the dance school.

‘Good morning,’ chirped Elsie, sounding a lot brighter than I felt. She was knocking back a large espresso. ‘I’ve been practising all night.’ She gave me a twirl on the step as I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

‘Dedication, Elsie, that’s what you’ve got,’ I smiled at her and was thankful that after the brisk walk I was beginning to feel human again.

Elsie followed me into the foyer, hung up her coat and whipped out a mobile phone from her bag. ‘It’s my grandson’s,’ she said proudly, ‘and I’ve borrowed it. He’s shown me how to load apps and I’ve been stalking that Bruno Tonioli on Bluebird.’

‘Twitter,’ I chuckled.

‘I told my Cecil, he needs to start this dancing lark. It would tone up that belly and bottom of his no end,’ she sniggered dryly, rolling her eyes at me.

‘He doesn’t know what he’s missing. C’mon, let’s see how you’ve got on.’ Before I had time to press play on the iPad, Elsie was already in position in the middle of the dance floor.

‘Left-foot start,’ I instructed, and Elsie mirrored my move.

‘Back … side close … side … forward … side close and side.’

Elsie had been practising hard, her face radiated happiness as she danced the quick step in time, around the room.

‘Oh my,’ she breathed, when the music stopped, ‘that felt amazing, I feel like a million dollars. You, young lady, should be proud of yourself.’

‘Me? What have I done?’

‘Brought a smile to all our faces.’

‘You are more than welcome, Elsie. I’m just glad I could be of some help. Shall we do it again, but this time I’ll lead as the male,’ I suggested.

For the next few minutes we glided around the room. Elsie had come on in leaps and bounds, she was a different woman compared to yesterday.

‘Nearly there,’ I announced, side-stepping on my heels as the music began fading out, and that’s when I became aware of two people standing in the doorway.

With one arm linked through Connie’s and the other leaning on his walking stick, Grandie bellowed, ‘Bravo, Bravo,’ smiling at us both, his eyes proud and tearful.

‘What are you doing here?’ I asked, switching off the music and hurrying over to greet them.

‘Ted Parker, how are you?’ Elsie was already smothering his cheeks in kisses. ‘Your granddaughter is simply wonderful, spending so much time with us all to whip us into shape. A credit to you.’

‘You looked wonderful, Elsie, simply dazzling.’ Grandie’s kind words caused Elsie to blush.

‘And we hear you are going to be a judge at Village Day … I hope you’re going to be the kind one.’

‘Always, Elsie! I’m looking forward to it.’

After a quick conversation, Elsie gathered up her belongings and left for her shift at the teashop, leaving me in a complete spin that Grandie was out of hospital.

‘What are you doing here?’ I asked again, flicking a glance between him and Connie.

‘Fit for purpose again,’ he laughed, unlinking his arm from Connie’s. ‘They let me out early for good behaviour and Grace told us you’d be here. So, we thought we’d look in on you on our way home.’

‘But the doctor says he needs to take it easy,’ Connie reminded him in a firm tone. ‘Tell him, Alice, he needs to take it easy.’

Grandie didn’t let me answer. ‘Look at this place,’ he waved his stick in the air, causing him to slightly wobble. ‘You’ve done wonders, I’ve not set foot inside this place since … since …’

‘Now don’t go upsetting yourself, Ted,’ Connie soothed, patting his arm.

‘This school meant the world to my Florrie. Just then, when you were dancing, I could picture her, leading the class at the front of the room, just like you, Alice.’

I was overwhelmed by his compliment. His admiration was strong and being compared to Grandma made me feel worthy and joyful.

‘You are a natural, so patient, bringing out the best in people. Look at me, silly old fool,’ he said, dabbing his eyes with a hanky. ‘I’m getting all emotional,’ he continued.

‘It’s understandable,’ I cut in. Seeing Grandie upset caused me to swallow down a lump in my throat. A couple of seconds ago I was lapping up his praise but in a split second my mouth was bone dry and I was beginning to feel fretful, as I thought about the lie I’d told. Grandie had been so kind to me, and had offered me a chance to turn my life around. And how had I repaid him? Instantly, my mood was dampened. This was not what I’d planned. I’d had it all mapped out in my head: time to prepare both him and my mum, to ease the reunion slowly.

But now he was out of hospital, the timing couldn’t be any worse.

What the hell was I going to do now when Mum arrived?’

One thing I knew for sure was that the next twenty-four hours were crucial in saving my own relationship with Grandie, before my mum had even arrived.