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A Home at Honeysuckle Farm by Christie Barlow (17)

The last time I’d stood here was as a ten-year-old child, happy and carefree, before life got complicated. I couldn’t quite believe I was back here again, it seemed so surreal. A fizz of excitement popped inside me and there was no mistaking the huge beam etched on my face as I clutched the keys tightly in my hand. This place could actually be mine, the key I held could be the key to my future.

Grace was watching me with curiosity. ‘Are you ready for this? I’m excited, so goodness knows how you are feeling!’ She draped her arm around my shoulder and gave me a quick hug.

‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ I said, placing the key in the lock and turning it slowly, savouring the moment. ‘I can’t believe I’m here, it’s so bizarre.’

‘Me neither,’ Grace answered, hovering behind me on the pavement. I pushed open the door then waited.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, puzzled, looking over my shoulder.

‘Listening for the beeps, but it doesn’t appear to be alarmed. Are we ready for this?’

‘Eek!’ squealed Grace in my ear.

‘I take it that’s a yes,’ I chuckled.

‘I’m feeling a tiny spark of jealousy,’ Grace admitted, following me inside the foyer. ‘This could all be yours.’

‘Look at this place!’ I said, rolling my eyes around the room.

It was as though time had stood still. Even though Jim had been keeping an eye on this place, dropping in every now and again, everything looked like it had remained untouched. There was still an old jacket hanging on the coat stand behind the reception desk, and a shrivelled-up plant on the window-sill.

Pulling on the cord of the blind, I spluttered as a cloud of dust mushroomed into the air. The sunlight flooded the room and Grace gasped.

‘OMG, the noticeboard is still up,’ she exclaimed, pointing to the large cork board hanging on the wall.

‘Extra show rehearsals for ballet,’ I read out.

‘And look, there’s our names.’ She ran her fingers over the cast list.

The A4 paper pinned to the board contained information for all the dance classes: ballet, jazz, tap and modern. Under each class was a list of the names of the children who attended, and on a separate sheet were the adults.

‘Big band night was popular,’ I mused, looking at the list of names. ‘Dorothy and Bert were regulars.’

I was in awe of the place – all those names, all those classes filled to the brim, bringing hours of joy to the students – and now Grandie was giving me the chance to bring this place back to life. All this was going to be mine.

‘Why didn’t Ted keep it going? There were other teachers here apart from your mum.’ Grace turned towards me.

‘I think he was heartbroken, and it was a family business,’ I answered, still taking in my surroundings.

It was a little sad knowing the school had closed down after Grandie and Mum argued, but knowing what I knew now, Grandie would have found it difficult to carry on without Mum. And he wouldn’t have wanted just anyone taking over, he’d have wanted to keep it in the family, just like Honeysuckle Farm.

‘Come on, let’s have a look through here.’ Grace followed me towards the double doors at the far end of the foyer, which I pushed open.

‘I used to think this room was massive when I was a kid,’ smiled Grace, immediately grasping hold of the ballet barre. ‘First position, second position … I feel like I’m ten years old again.’ She laughed.

The room was exactly how I remembered it, mirrors all down one side, a small stage area at the far end framed by red velvet curtains that were still hanging, giving it all a very regal effect. Folded chairs were stacked to the side of the stage alongside the old, battered, out-of-tune brown piano that Mr Cork the caretaker used to play in times of need.

‘Everything’s still here, by the looks of things, even the lost property,’ remarked Grace, as she opened the cupboard door and was faced with a heap of old clothing. ‘Aww, look how tiny these are,’ she said, holding up the cutest, tiniest ballet shoe. ‘Very adorable.’

‘This place, it wouldn’t be that hard to re-open,’ I said admittedly.

‘A fresh lick of paint, the windows cleaned, a brush and a mop, you could have it up and running in no time,’ Grace agreed.

‘I think you’re forgetting a tiny detail,’ I smiled, pinching my thumb and forefinger together. ‘The students.’

‘Advertising … distribute leaflets to all the local schools. The local WI and community groups would jump on board. Dorothy would pin up a poster in The Old Teashop, word of mouth … this is just what Brook Bridge needs.’ Grace had it all fathomed out as she followed me into the kitchen.

‘This place reminds me of a school canteen,’ I pointed to the large stainless-steel water urn hanging on the wall and the small tables and chairs dotted around. ‘We used to sit and have our snacks there, do you remember?’

‘And you’ve got to love the hatch,’ Grace giggled, poking her head through it.

‘Everything is still in here – cups, mugs, and cutlery,’ I said, sliding open the kitchen drawers and peering inside. ‘It even comes equipped with stale biscuits!’ I held up an out-of-date packet of Rich Tea.

‘Eww!’ Grace scrunched up her face. She sat down on one of the tiny tables and I heaved myself up on to the hatch.

‘Come on then, I’m dying to know.’ Grace locked eyes with me. ‘What do you reckon to all this?’

‘I reckon …’ I thought for a second, ‘I reckon after seeing this place again, I’ve got to do this!’ My face broke into a huge grin.

‘Are you serious?’

‘I think I am!’

Grace let out a whoop. ‘With you at the helm, what can go wrong? It’s going to be the making of you, and not to mention a little goldmine.’

The excitement in the pit of my stomach was telling me exactly the same thing too.

‘I’ll help you devise a leaflet, decide what classes to do, what age groups to teach and what interest we can drum up.’

‘We …?’

‘Yes, we! You didn’t think I’d let you do all this by yourself, did you? And I bet if we sweet-talk Mum, she’ll help you with the book-keeping until you get up and running. She takes care of the accounts up at the farm.’

Listening to Grace’s excited chatter, I could see this place transforming right before my very eyes.

‘I’m really going to do this!’ I squealed, feeling that this was my future, a project I could really get my teeth into. The excitement rushed through my body just thinking about it. I really hoped Mum would get behind the idea when she realised I was serious about staying here.

‘If anyone can do it, you can,’ said Grace, smiling winningly.

‘So, how long do you think it would take to get this place up and running?’ I gazed around the room, thinking. In the cold light of day it did all look very tired, the décor needed a little updating and the studio needed a deep clean, but this place could be brought back to life in no time at all.

‘Six months, maybe less. The building is sound, it’s just cosmetic. A fresh lick of paint will transform this place in no time at all and I’m sure we can talk Jim into helping too. This school,’ she paused and looked around, ‘is crying out to become the heart of the community once more.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

‘I’m always right,’ she grinned.

‘Knock, knock, anyone there?’ we heard a voice shout and Grace jumped off the table.

Bert’s worried-looking wizened face appeared around the door.

‘Girls, you nearly gave me a heart attack … and I don’t want to be having one of those at my age.’ Bert gave a small chuckle but his hand was clutching firmly against his chest.

‘Or any age,’ smiled Grace.

‘The front door was ajar. Is everything okay?’

‘Yes, we were just reminiscing,’ I said brightly.

Bert walked into the room and sighed contently. ‘Look at this place. Dorothy and I loved our Thursday nights here. Twinkle-Toes, she used to call me, even though I stepped on her toes more often than not. I won’t repeat what expletives she called me then.’

Both Grace and I laughed.

Bert told us about the fun this little place had brought to the community of Brook Bridge. It wasn’t just the hours of dance he’d enjoyed but the friends he’d made too – good solid friendships. My heart swelled when he told us of the summer day-trips to the seaside that Grandie and Mum had organised for everyone and the winter quiz nights at the pub.

‘When you get to our age we need places like this to bring us all together. There were plenty of laughs to be had and always something to look forward to, and now … and now … look at me, getting all maudlin. This place will always be special to me and Dorothy … happy times when I was a little more nimble on my feet. These days all I have to look forward to is the Daily Mail crossword and keeping a watchful eye over the ovens at The Old Teashop so the cakes don’t burn.’

A wave of pure sadness washed over me and that’s when it hit me. This place wasn’t just a dance school, it was much more than that to everyone who lived in Brook Bridge. It had been a hive of activity that brought everyone together to enjoy dance and each other’s company.

‘We hoped this place would re-open again but as time passed, everyone realised it was more and more unlikely.’

‘Some things are worth resurrecting,’ chipped in Grace, cocking an eyebrow in my direction with a huge beam.

Bert’s eyes crinkled with hope. ‘Are you thinking of re-opening, Alice?’

A smile hovered on my lips as I looked between Grace and Bert. ‘Absolutely, Bert!’

‘I knew it!’ exclaimed Bert, ‘I knew this place would get under your skin, I said those very words to Dorothy. Wait until I tell her! Young Alice following in Ted’s footsteps. Florrie would be so proud of you. We all still miss her very much, especially my Dorothy.’

‘Bert, about this afternoon …’ He looked towards me as I spoke. ‘Grace has filled me in …’ I took a breath, I didn’t want to sound disrespectful. ‘Grandma’s death was a long time ago and I know Dorothy and yourself were the best of friends with her, but if I’m moving back here I need calm, I can’t take on anyone else’s battles. Do you know what I’m trying to say? I want to look towards the future. This dance school will be open to everyone.’

He nodded his understanding. ‘Say no more, lass.’

‘And I hope you and Dorothy will be back through those doors.’

‘You try and stop us! This is great news for the village.’

‘I’m glad you think so.’

Bert tipped his cap, his eyes a little teary. ‘This place saved Dorothy and I after Janice passed away. It was a place where we’d lose ourselves in the music and dance away the grief.’

Janice had been Dorothy and Bert’s only daughter. She’d passed away twenty years ago after a short battle with breast cancer.

‘One of the cancer charities we donate to on Village Day is in memory of Janice,’ chipped in Grace. ‘Great cause.’

Bert mopped his eye with his hanky and composed himself. ‘It is, everyone is very generous. Ted and your mum were always a great part of the day, and if Ted wasn’t under the weather I’d be asking him for help right now, instead of trying to grapple with the technology of today.’

‘Help with what?’ I asked, intrigued.

‘Our golden wedding anniversary … that daft wife of mine still believes she’s Ginger Rogers and I’m Fred Astaire.’

Grace raised her eyebrows. ‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning, I’ve been watching those tube videos.’

Grace gave a small laugh, ‘YouTube.’

‘Dorothy has always loved to dance, and I wanted to surprise her. I’d visions of twirling her around the stage on Village Day, foxtrotting around in front of the whole of Brook Bridge. It would make her anniversary special, you see. And I like my Dorothy to be happy … makes my life easier if she’s happy.’ He tipped us a wink.

‘Aww!’ exclaimed Grace, ‘how romantic. If you weren’t taken, Bert, I’d snap you up for myself. You are a definite keeper,’ she marvelled.

Bert chuckled, ‘This is true, I’ve been telling her that for years,’ he said, taking the weight off his legs and leaning against the edge of the table.

‘But I’m no Anton du Beke,’ he quirked a bushy eyebrow. ‘The old pins don’t move like they used to and for the record, I’ll wear a tuxedo but there’s no way I’m pouring this body into any type of colourful Lycra for the whole of the WI to witness – or Brook Bridge village, for that matter. I have my limits.’

‘We hear you, Bert,’ I grinned.

‘But …’ his shoulders sagged, ‘I’m struggling.’ He attempted a half-hearted smile. ‘These feet haven’t danced for over a decade and can I remember the steps?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘No … that’s why I was going to ask Ted to give me a few pointers. I don’t want to let my good lady down.’ He blew out a breath.

Anyone could see the love in Bert’s eyes for his beautiful Dorothy. He really wanted to give her a golden wedding anniversary to remember.

Grace caught my eye and grinned. ‘I’m sure Alice can help you. You can be her first student!’

Witnessing the glint of hope in Bert’s eye, I asked, ‘The foxtrot you say, Bert?’

‘Dorothy’s favourite dance.’

‘One of my favourites too. I’d love to help.’

Bert’s gaze locked with mine. ‘Really? You’d do that for me … for us?’

‘Yes, really! I can’t have you letting down Dorothy after all this time. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night! Let’s give her an anniversary to remember.’

His eyes lit up as he sprang upright, closely followed by Grace. Unable to take the huge grin off his face, he said, ‘But promise me I don’t have to wear Lycra.’

‘No Lycra,’ I agreed, with a grin.

Bert darted towards me, his hand stretched out. ‘Thank you, young Alice, but let’s keep this to ourselves, we mustn’t tell Dorothy.’

‘Your secret is safe with us!’

‘When do we get to work?’

‘How about tomorrow morning?’ I suggested, feeling my heart give a little leap at his excitement and the challenge ahead.

Bert saluted. ‘Bright and early, which means I’d best keep off the cider tonight. Will we be seeing you later?’

‘Later?’ I asked.

‘The barn dance at The Malt Shovel,’ he answered.

‘I forgot all about it. It’s usually a good night.’ Grace looked at me.

I shrugged, ‘We can nip along.’

‘Good, good, now I’d best be off, and thank you, young Alice, you’ve made an old man very happy.’ He shook my hand heartily before turning and whistling his way through the door. Both Grace and I stood and watched him leave with huge grins on our faces.

‘See, your first customer,’ Grace whispered in my ear. ‘New beginnings.’

I blew out a long, calming breath.

‘Team Bert and Dorothy, let’s give Dorothy a golden wedding anniversary to remember. I just hope I’m up to the …’

‘Stop right there, Alice! You’ll be fantastic,’ she reassured me, with a twinkle in her eye.

‘I hope so,’ I replied, not wanting to let anyone down.